Phillip Shelan lies on the hard cell deck. He lies devoid of all emotion. His body is wracked with pain and sorrow. Phillip is weary of his long interrogation. Every day he visits death. He says a final prayer to Lord Crichton's God. "Please save me."

His mind has been striped from him. All of the horrors he has seen he remembers in gripping detail to highlight his life. His most personal memories of Chiana, his liberty with her is all on data crystal for Scorpius' amusement.

The cell door groans open. A guard detachment enters and lifts him from the deck. They cuff him and let him drop to his knees.

Scorpius enters and surveys his work. Phillip lifts his eyes briefly to see his captors. The pain of his life still fresh in his mind, his tears trace lines down his face.

"Captain Phillip Shelan." Scorpius begins. "The detailed information you have given us on the renegade resistance instigator and assassin Chiana and your Intel on Lt. Commander Crichton and their co-conspirators means a great deal to us. However, your interrogation also shows that you have been irrevocably contaminated."

"No! I have not..." Phillip is struck into silence by a guard's rifle butt. He falls to the deck and groans. "Uuuh."

"This is not a death sentence, Captain." Scorpius paces, watching Phillip's reaction. "Peacekeeper Command has been experimenting with a new process called 'reconditioning.'" He tells him. "They have had some success." He says thoughtfully.

Phillip tries to raise himself from the deck. He looks up. "Please, Scorpius. I am a loyal Peacekeeper." His eyes beg for mercy

The guard moves to strike Phillip again. Scorpius raises his hand to stay them.

"I don't doubt that Captain. I am saving you from High Command's judgement." He corrects him. "You will be sent to the facility for reconditioning." Scorpius smiles. "You will then be returned to active duty."

Scorpius turns to leave. He pauses at the hatchway. "Thank you for rescuing me, Shelan. I am sorry that it had to end this way." He walks out of the hatch.

The guards lift Phillip from the deck. They drag him out of the cell and up the dark passageway to a waiting Marauder. They board and secure him to the bulkhead without a word.

******************

Phillip's cuffs are secured behind him to the bulkhead. The cuffs are cutting into his wrists as he is forced to sit on them. His ankles are shackled. He can hardly move. He cannot rest. He looks up trying to identify the pilot.

"Lieutenant." He tries to shout. His voice is so weak. "Lieutenant. Please, do not do this. I am your Captain."

The Lt. does not answer. There is a titter from the guards in the corner. One of them approaches him.

Phillip watches the guard carefully. It is hard to tell from the uniforms what capabilities.

"At least loosen my chains so that I can rest." Phillip pleads, he swallows. "Please."

"You were a good Captain. That also means you could probably escape if I did." The officer says. "So you'll have to stay like that for the duration."

Phillip recognizes her voice. "Officer Meizar, please. If I give you my word as an officer, will you remove my chains?" Phillip begs. His eyes fill with tears from the pain and exhaustion he is feeling. He looks up at her.

Officer Meizar looks back at her crewmen, then to Phillip. "I'm sorry Captain. We are Peacekeepers. We've been trained not to fall for lies."

The other guards break into laughter at her comment. Phillip hangs his head and cries at the cruelty of it.

She looks back at Phillip. He looks up at her. He can't see what is beyond the helmet. She turns as if to go then spins around and strikes him with her pulse rifle butt. "You made me lose my leave when you put us on security 3 Velca!" She growls. "I earned that leave." She turns and walks back to her fellows.

Phillip's head is pounding from the hit. His tastes his own blood in his mouth. Escape is impossible. But he must escape. He has heard of reconditioning. All the records he has seen showed that no one has survived the reconditioning process. He was just another animal for their experimentation.

Scorpius must have known that he would be tortured to death there. The living death would have been better.

**************************

ChianaGray
2/6/01
The Scentencing of Phillip Shelan
IC:

Mokan powered up the prowler and shot out of her docking bay. She gazed over the controls at her helm, punching on the comm.

"Jaboan Rai!" she hailed.

"Dddrrrii," Geyo came back with a soft trilling like purr. "They're changing course."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes," he paused. "Why doubt? You're the one who placed it and it is still as undetectable as it was then. Kreth'an iridaosh ba."

"Uh huh," Mokan narrowed her eyes sharply as she came into space and turned her course. She eased in her breath when she began to aproach a marauder. "Akuren dekrrrii?"

"You're not my species," Geyo came back with a snicker. "Goandoghk."

"Kinky," she snickered back and put on her helmet. "Marauder, this is security code Gan Fie 39 requesting emergency assistance."

"Prowler specify your identity and emergency."

"Unspecifiable on this frequency," Mokan rolled her eyes. "Procedure code being sent."

She waited, her nostrils flaring as the ship began to open its docking bay to her. She landed, beggining to sweat in the heavy guard uniform until its cooling system triggered. She hated the uniform, but it was beggining to become one of her favorites. She stepped out, hefting her pulse rifel over her shoulder as a guard dressed as she was aproached. She slung her hand out at him, her gun sized qualta flying out into his chest. He fell to his knees as she stepped up to him and snapped his neck before he could cry out.
She moved to the keyboard beside the docking bay entrance to the rest of the ship, sliding his ident chip in before hanging it around her neck. She moved down the hall in a slow, almost casual gaint until she saw two guards and then Shelan chained to the bulk head.

She narrowed her eyes on Shelan as she came closer, the guards aproaching her. She fired, ducking down to her knees as the first fell and the second fired back ducking for cover. She fired again, her pulse rifel ringing through the hull. She leaped into another crouch, firing into the corner the man had ducked into but he wasn't there. She gasped as he tackled her and they went sprawling on the floor. She rolled with him, screaming as she felt a searing warmth pierce into her side just below her lower ribs. Meizar twisted the blade, grunting as Mokan elbowed her in the face of her helmet and sent her sprawling back. The second guard snatched Mokan by the throaght. She grabbed his hand, crying out with rage as she jabbed him in his diaphram and sent him into a fit of gasps. She jumped back, firing into his chest with her hand sized qualta before whirling to Meizar. Meizar kicked the qualta dagger out of her hand and punched her in the face of her helm. Mokan's head rocked back before serving a kick of her own.

They fought, blocking and jabbing, rendering several kicks before Meizar punched Mokan in her knife wound and sent her to the ground in a wild, almost panther like yowl. Meizar slamed down on Mokans back with her elbow in a harsh cry, ignoring the Jaboans low growl as she planted her knees into her back and began to try to cuff her. Mokan twisted around, half rising as she planted her open hand across Meizars helmet and tackled her to the floor, holding her head down as she traded places with her. Mokan threw off her own helmet and shot out her toung into the womans neck, easing off of her as she lay still.

"Mokan..." Shelan spoke quietly. "Mokan."

Mokan growled, her eyes filled with rage and pain as they turned on him. His look of relief suddenly came to fear as he held on to the chain of his cuffs and waited.

"Stop!" A shout came from the walkways above. Mokan turned her piercing gaze to it beneath her brows as she crouched again and placed her fingers on her qualta dagger. She growled deep within her throaght, the rattle like sound almost vibrational as the lieutenant pilot of the marauder gazed down. She shot him in the chest, her brooding glare unchanging as he screamed and fell back.

She returned her attention to Shelan slowly, her nostrils flaring as he inched away closer into the bulkhead, his dark eyes wild with confusion as she came closer. She placed the blade to his neck, the strange growl still emmiting from her as her copper eyes blazed into his.

"Do you want to die?" She asked.

"No," he shook his head slightly as he raised it to try to escape the cut of her blade. "Mokan, please."

"You will die," she spoke in a clear, commanding tone as she narrowed her eyes beneath her sharp eyebrows and brought her face closer to his.

Shelan felt a sharp pain in his neck and screamed as darkness sparkled around his eyes and swallowed him in.

**************************************

"Moya," Mokan hailed as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Mokan," Pilots voice returned with mild suprise.

"Pilot," she shook her head slightly with a slow blink. "Sorry, I forget."

"It is understandable," Pilot offered back. "I'm picking you up in our sensor range."

"May I land please."

"Yes, of course." Pilot chirped.

Mokan nodded as she wiped her damp face and veered for one of the docking bays. She sucked in her breath as she came too close to chipping Moya in her entry, landing hard. She poped the hatch and stood, turning her moca face towards D'argo as he came to greet her.

"Are you alright?" D'argo asked. "What is going on?"

"Everything is fine," she stated as she looked back into her prowler. "I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?" He eyed her suspiciously as he scrambled up. His features seemed to flare as he looked into her prowler at the PeaceKeeper laying half scrunched in the co-pilot seat.

"Keep him contained until I get back?" Mokan swallowed hard as she wiped her face again and swayed slightly. "I need you to hold him for a while."

"Who is he?"

"My prisoner," she muttered. "But I can't take him with me while I'm hiding Chiana and Crichton. It's resistance stuff."

"Resistance stuff," D'argo snorted as he snatched Shelan up by his shoulders and hauled him out easily, cutting Mokan a sharp look. "Are you even going to help me take him? You do not look well."

"No, I have to be back before they think I'm missing," she grumbled as she eased back into her seat as carefully as she could. "I'll come back for him. Don't let him out of his cell for any reason."

"Mokan," D'argo rose up again, touching her shoulder as he looked gently into her eyes. "Why don't you stay for a microt, I think Zhaan should see you ... I would like to speak with you."

Mokan winced her face as if his words had given her a blow and shook her head as she began to power up again. She blinked, seeing in blurrs as she began to pilot out and shot back into space again.

****************************

She landed, her trades vessel quiet. Chiana and Cricthon didn't seem to have noticed her gone even though it had been quiet a few arns. She smiled softly at that thought as she made her way into the bowls of her ship. She moved through its mechanics, scrambeling through the network of pipes and wires until she came to a very small area consisting of blankets and a few capsules of rations and medicals. The sounds here were drowning and methodical like a constant drumming thunder that soothed at her as she sat down and began to pull the uniform off of her. She grimanced deeply with the pain, trying to get a better view of the deep wound she had only half hazardly bandaged on the marauder. It was deep, a very nasty stabb after the blade being twisted and then the wound being punched a few times. The ribs around it were broken and badly bruised. The fresh blood escaping from it was a dark crimson. She bled more like the human than luxans did. She didn't have to worry about her blood running clear and the internal injuries weren't fatal but it was going to take a long time to heal.

She began to cry, sobbing deeply as she tended to herself, cursing herself for having compation for Shelan, unsure if Chiana would truely forgive her for doing so or not. She gazed over her surroundings in the pain, tears mingeling with her sweat as she comforted herself with the familiar surroundings. She drifted near unconsiousness, almost able to hear the bruital orders of Peace Keepers as her past enfolded the dreams awaiting her. Chiana would know not to come down here for her, at least for a while, she only hoped Crichton would.

***********************

"So this is your room," Crichton smirked as he entered the quarters filled with different crafts, jewlry boxes and pictures. He put his hand over a ball, chuckeling to himself as a static current raced out of its center to touch with his fingers. "We got these at home!"

"Is Earp home anymore?" Chiana asked as she brought folds of burgondy gold satin sheets to change her covers with.

"I don't know," he shrugged as he picked at what looked like a lyre on a shelf of musical instruments. "Don't you have a sterio? Maybe it's hiding in this pile."

He chuckled as he toed a box of cloaths and gowns as Chiana slapped her fingers on a panel above her with a light sigh and a subtle music began to fill the room.

"So Mokan won't trade my stuff even if she was starving," she defended as Crichton raised his head, his shoulders laxing. He couldn't remember the last time he actualy heard surround sound music. Chiana eyed him as she fitted her bottom sheet with some difficulty in how sleek and easy to slip it was. "Here, you try this. I'm going to scann the area again to see if she snuck back in yet."

"I'll join you," he smiled as he raised a small silky lace.

"Give me that," she scowled with a wry smile as she snatched it from him. "Mine."

She tilted her head to him as he came closer to her, kissing her forehead as she hid the lace behind her back from him. He rested his hands on her hips, chuckeling as he took her chin.

"You hiding that from me?"

"Oh do you want to wear it?" She teased as she twisted away from him and let it fall from her fingers onto the bed. She smiled as she backed towards the door.

"It might not fit." She narrowed her eyes as she looked him over. "Not you anyway."

"Now you're getting me very interested in this room," Crichton smiled, his jade blue eyes sparkeling as he followed her.

***********************

Nhfearme
2/8/01
The Sentencing of Phillip Shelan
IC:

John and Chiana make their way to Mokan's Command holding hands, smiling. Suddenly Chiana lets go of his hand and stops walking. A shock runs through her body. A cramp attacks her like a bursting stone, dragging her down, down. She falls to her knees.

John turns. "What's the matter? What's wrong?"

She cannot answer him. Tears come to her eyes. Her arm crosses her hips as though that will protect her from her growing pain. She reaches to John as he kneels by her. She gasps and loses consciousness. John catches her in his arms.

John lifts her from the deck and carries her. "Mokan!" He shouts, hoping she has returned to the ship. "Mokan!"

He enters the galley and places her gently down on the floor. He opens the refrigeration unit looking for her berry juice. There is none. He looks again. He turns and looks at Chiana. His lips part.

He goes to her and lifts her from the deck. He carries her, running to Mokan's prowler. The prowler powers up and blasts out of the landing bay. John turns on the stealth systems and flies low toward the house in the grove.

As he lands, Rather emerges on the steps. John carries Chiana up the stairs and into the house.

"Rather!" John is near panic. "Her berry juice, fast!"

Rather runs back up the steps and into the house. John sits at the dining table with Chiana in his arms. He caresses the hair from her face with his hand. He swallows, watching her and begins to cry.

"Just hold on sweet heart. Help is coming." He says and kisses her, holding her face to his.

Rather enters from the kitchen with the chilled berry juice and places it on the table. John lifts Chiana up into a sitting position and caresses her cheek with his hand.

"Wake up honey." He says hopefully. He rubs her hand then gently slaps her cheek to wake her. "Wake up darlin'."

Chiana is still unconscious. John looks at Rather.

"Allow me master." Rather holds a vial under Chiana's nose.

Chiana chokes, then coughs awake. She groans and holds her stomach.

"Honey, here." John says and offers her the juice.

Chiana chokes down some of the juice. She wraps her hand around John's hand as she continues to drink from the glass. She stops drinking and gasps, letting go of John's hand.

Chiana hugs John tightly, crying in desperation from the pain. "John." She sighs between sobs. "Oh, it hurts."

John lifts her and carries her to the bedroom. He places her gingerly onto the bed and sits with her. He leans over and kisses her. He cries quietly, watching her.

*****************************

ChianaGray
2/8/01
The Sentencing of Phillip Shelan
IC:

"I said get up!" The mans voice tumbled through the drowning noises.

Mokan lay asleep in her corner, drenched in sweat, unmoving as her eyes half opened.

"Frelling curr," the man snareld in a place Mokan could not discern between past or present. "Get up!"

Mokan turned her head slowly, gazing into the golden eyes of a black panther that rested slightly above her on a large pipe. She closed her eyes, a brilliant swirl of lights and currents seeming to drift through her vision until she could see someone dancing in it. She swallowed as Scorpiuses face showed and then a large gray lynx came running towards her. It pounced, seeming to leap into her and then ran into the compounds of some estate. She half rolled, resting on her hands as her sweat patted on the blanket she was on. She closed her eyes again, her heart pounding hard in her chest as she heard the screaming whails of a keeva.

It seemed like Crichton was sitting next to her, her qualta in his hands, dressed in the dark red of the PeaceKeepers as he stared. She came to her hands and knees, not looking at him.

"I know you're not there," she muttered and forced herself to stand, holding onto the pipes for support.

"Where do you think you're going?" D'argo asked gently from a few yards ahead of her.

"I don't know," Mokan swallowed as she tried to keep her eyes open. "Out of this mess. Allot of dren ... is on its way."

She grimanced as she made her way back out, into her bedroom where she welcomed the coolness of her sheets. She scrambled roughly for her comms, grunting when Crichton and Chiana didn't pick up on them.

"Frelling gone," she shook her head, sensing their absence within the silent walls as she got up again and went to her helm. "D'argo."

"Yes, Mokan." D'argo commed back. "This is not a safe frequency."

"Won't matter forever," she muttered. "Is my prisoner awake yet?"

"No, you sound worse."

"My company bugged out," she seemed to chuckle with a small smile. "I just have to be sure. Let me know as soon as he wakes up?"

"I will notify you immediatley."

**************************

Nhfearme
2/8/01
The Sentencing of Phillip Shelan
IC:

Rather stands in the bedroom arch. John finally acknowledges him.

"Master." Rather says respectfully.

"Please call me John, Rather. Thanks for your help." He sighs. "What is it?"

"Peacekeeper patrols fly by regularly, searching." He says. "They come by every arn. It has been 2000 Microts since the last patrol."

"Thank you Rather." John says. "If I have to, I'll move the prowler before then." His attention goes back to Chiana.

Rather still waits by the bedroom arch. John looks askance at him. "Yes, Rather. What is it?"

"Well, John. I just wondered if you were injured." Rather says. "The blood." He points.

John looks where he points and sees he has blood on his leather pants. "Where the Frell did I get that?" He says surprised. "No. It's not my blood." He glances at Chiana. "Chiana's is blue." He thinks for an instant. "God, it must be from the prowler. Mokan."

He leans over and kisses Chiana. "I'm sorry darlin'." He says to her. "I have to go and check on Mokan."

Chiana grabs his arm. "Be careful." She tells him. "She gets fierce when she's injured." She gasps, still breathing through her pain. "She may be hiding near the engine, healing."

"Hiding?" John asks, puzzled. "Why would she hide?"

"It's her way." She says turning sideways, trying to embrace him. "There is no way of knowing how bad off she is until you see her." Chiana tries to smile. "She's like that."

"So she could be dying and we wouldn't know it?" He says concerned.

Chiana looks at him. "I don't think she would hide if she were that bad." She grabs his hand tightly.

"Are you saying I shouldn't help her?" John asks, questioning.

"No." Chiana sighs and closes her eyes to rest. "I just wanted to warn you."

John leans over again and kisses her. "I love you. We'll talk about this later." He says and leaves lingering.

John sighs and leaves her, glancing back at her. He finally turns and walks quickly to the prowler.

John powers up and blasts off toward Mokan's ship. He quickly lands and enters cautiously, glancing into hatchways as he makes his way to the engine core.

*************************

ChianaGray
2/8/01
The Sentencing of Phillip Shelan
IC:

Mokan returned to her place in the corner, eating a bowl of hot meal that looked something like oatmeal as she stared off at nothing plaintivly. She let her thoughts drift over Shelan and the others, comming back to D'argo and the gentle sincerity in his eyes when he touched her shoulder before she left. She hoped he didn't kill Shelan when he woke up if he told the luxan who he was. She doubted he would though knowing her kind as well as luxans did. She saved his life, she was responsible for him. She was his keeper. That was how it had been though since the first time Chiana saved his life from her.

She jerked her head up at a clanging sound that wasn't consistant with the usual noises, her tendons flying around her as her eyes widened.

"Mokan!" Crichton's voice came through dully. "Yo Jamaica! You in here?"

Mokan crouched, comming through the pipes just enough to watch him as he passed her below. A low growl escaped her. Crichton paused, snorting to himself as he turned his head.

"Hey, come out."

"I hope you are glad you are John Crichton," Mokan stated above him, her eyes flashing wildly as he turned to her. "Other wise, you would be a very dead PeaceKeeper."

"Yeah but I'm human," he blinked as he waved his hands to show he was weaponless. "What the frell are you doing down here?"

"It's our way."

"You're wounded," he nodded slightly. "I can get you help. Why don't you just come with me."

"Right," she narrowed her eyes. "Why are you not with Chiana? Get the frell out!"

"Sure, fine." He wiped his face as he took several steps as if to leave and then turned to her again. "Is this one of those Jaboan customes or something? I mean, I have this problem with walking away from a friend who needs help. Doesn't that sound odd to you at all?"

Mokan leaped, a snarel escaping her as she landed on Crichton and sent him to the ground. She planted a knee into his chest, her eyes wild as she held her qualta dagger to his throaght.

"I just don't think it is wise," she stated as she gazed over her surroundings and then back into his eyes. "Five cycles of imprisonment can do it to you. Crichton. You have to leave."

"Yeah," he spoke carefully as he placed his finger on her dagger and pushed it gently from his neck. "But you're not a prisoner."

"I'm in pain," she slammed her eyes shut, opening them again with a curl in her nostril as she curved her head to glare at him from the corners of her eyes. "And you're pissing me off. I'm trained to kill ... stop you ... don't corner me Zareth, I'm warning you."

"Jamaica," Crichton nearly whispered as he raised a hypo-gun in his hand and stabbed her in the neck with it. "I'm not Zareth."

She tensed, struggeling with her blade, his hand holding tightly to her wrist until she let go and backed off of him. She cried out, slinging at him when he rushed at her to catch her falling. She caught him across the jaw, drawing limp as his arms wraped around her. He shook his head, letting his breath out sharply from his tensed lips.

"Catch a tiger by the toe," he muttered to himself with a grunt as he hitched her over his shoulders.

**************************

Zareth Stands tall and walks among the slaves, singling out those for each task. His dark eyes flash as he continues his duty.

The epitome of Peacekeeper breading, Zareth has grown his black hair to battle braid length, yet lets it hang free. His uniform coat hangs open showing his Peacekeeper uniform, pulse pistol and an exquisite dagger.

Mokan stands with the other slaves, bound in chains. Zareth comes to Mokan and stops. He looks at her.

"Luxon." Zareth says in his impeccable peacekeeper accent. His chin rises as he examines her.

"I am not Luxon, I am Jaboan, their genetic cousin." She says.

"I don't recognize this tattoo." Zareth gently touches her cheek.

"That is the Curl of Semet. It is my warrior marking, watching for our foe." Mokan says nervously as Zareth's hand caresses the intricately scrolled eye tattooed on her cheek. "Women of my tribe are awarded its presence when we are to enter battle."

"They are quite unusual. Beautiful." He smiles. His hand goes to the base of one of her Jaboan tendons, examining the markings. "They are superbly done." Zareth says admiringly. "What rank are these tattoos?"

"Those are not of any rank." Mokan blushes slightly. "My tribe was preparing me for my right of marriage. They represent my ancestry." She says with pride.

Suddenly Zareth grabs Mokan's tendon and grips it tightly.

"Aaaaa!" Mokan cries out in pain and falls to one knee. Her chains rattle as she falls to the floor.

Zareth pulls his dagger slowly from its sheath. It scrapes the metal scabbard as he gradually draws it out.

He positions the point of his dagger precisely below his hand and into her tendon. He forces the tip of his blade against her skin, stabbing into its delicate tissues.

"IEeee!" Mokan screams at the stabbing, in severe pain of the delicate tendon. "Mercy!" She gasps through her tears.

Zareth looks down at Mokan, studying her every movement. He watches as her blood pours out of the wound and over his blade. "I've always wanted to see a Luxon bleed. I have heard that they can die from a simple cut like this one."

Mokan grasps Zareth's wrists in a pleading manner. Her pain has sapped any strength that may have been her defense.

She cries in a deep-throated groan as the dagger blade continues to move gently in the cut bringing such excruciating pain to her that she is near to passing out. Her eyes flutter as she begins to slip to the deck.

Zareth releases her to the deck and turns to the guard. "Take her and chain her in my quarters. I want to see her when I finish my duty."

"Yes, Sir!" The guard snaps to action unchaining Mokan and removing her from the group. "Get up you!" The guard shouts, kicking her in her ribs. He turns to another guard. "Help me!"

Mokan wakes to the kick. The guards lift her to her feet and drag her by her chains. She stumbles and falls, getting up only to the guards abuse of her on the long way to Zareth's quarters.

************************

John pilots Mokan's stealth prowler to Moya. He gets out of the prowler and lifts Mokan out.

D'Argo meets him and sees her injury. "Crichton! What happened to her?" He asks excitedly. He hits his Comms. "Zhaan! Meet me in the Maintenance Bay! Quick!"

"Don't know. I found her like this." John says. "There is a lot of blood in the prowler. Wherever she went, it happened there."

D'Argo looks at him. "She went on a mission for the resistance." He says solemnly.

John's mind suddenly flashes on Chiana. She is resistance. He finds himself fearing for her life if she remains fighting her own people. He remembers what she told him. "Worse things have happened to me." He looks at Mokan and knows it is true.

John saw how fiercely Chiana fought Scorpius in the hanger; before he passed out. His fear of having her life in danger is mixed with his knowledge that she is tough and stubborn and will certainly continue with the resistance even in the face of death.

John enters the Maintenance Bay and places Mokan gently on the table. Zhaan enters and asks. "Mokan! What happened to her?"

"I don't know. She's lost a lot of blood though." John says. "She wasn't making any sense. She called me Zareth and attacked me. I had to knock her out with this." John shows Zhaan the injector.

"Zareth. I don't know that name." D'Argo says.

"I'll run a scan." Zhaan picks up the scanner and begins to run it over her. "D'Argo I have never treated a being like Mokan. What can you tell me about her species?"

"Their bleeding is more like John. It will not turn toxic. However, we should do something to stop it. She could bleed to death." D'Argo says upset.

"The bleeding seems to have stopped. She has internal injuries though. The ribs surrounding the wound are broken." Zhaan says while viewing the scan. "I will bind her ribs. Then it will be safe to move her."

John turns his attention to D'Argo. "You say she got this while working for the resistance?" He says concerned. "Why didn't she ask for our help?" He asks as though asking himself.

"I blame myself." D'Argo answers, angry with himself. "When Mokan brought her prisoner here I saw that she was weak from battle. I should have stopped her." He shakes his head, nearly in tears at Mokan's close brush with death.

"Prisoner?" John asks.

"Yes. He is in a cell on tier 7. He has been tortured." D'Argo answers. "I don't know why Mokan wanted him in a cell."

"Is he a Peacekeeper?" John asks cautiously.

D'Argo's face snaps toward him. "Yes, but how did you know?"

John turns sharply and leaves the maintenance bay. D'Argo stands with a look of surprise etched on his face then follows quickly after John.

They enter tier 7. "Which cell?" John asks sternly, nearly shouting.

"Just up ahead." D'Argo says. "What's this all about?"

"I have to see for myself." John answers. His lips are tight with anger. He tightens his jaw as he approaches the cell. He stands at the bars and looks in.

Phillip lies unconscious on the bed still in his Peacekeeper handcuffs.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" John draws his pulse pistol and aims it through the bars at Captain Shelan.

"No! Wait!" D'Argo shouts and bumps the pistol up.

John fires the pistol. The shot explodes into the ceiling.

"What the Hezmana are you doing Crichton?" D'Argo yells.

John aims his pulse pistol again. D'Argo wrestles with him forcing him into the bulkhead.

"No!" John yells. "Don't stop me!"

D'Argo overpowers John forcing him to drop the pistol to the deck.

"No." John begins to cry. He collapses in D'Argo's grip. "No, D'Argo. I have to."

"What is the matter with you?" D'Argo says angrily.

"That's the damn Peacekeeper that hurt Chiana." John says through his tears. " The bastard! I have to kill him D'Argo. Please don't stop me!"

*************************

ChianaGray
2/10/01
The Wounded
IC:

"What do you mean," D'argo furrowed his brows sharply. "Who is he?"

"Captain Phillip Shelan," Cricthon grimanced tensly, his face flushing red as he stared into the cell. "He - raped my wife."

D'argo gaped at him as his grip loosened. Crichton took the advantage to yank his arm free and fire. D'argo snareld as he batted his hand, the shot straying wildly against the wall as he snapped the gun out of his fingers.

"Crichton..."

"Not now D'argo," Crichton cracked his neck. "I'm starting to feel a little pissed off at every last one of you. You want to do that again? Hand it over."

"John," D'argo let out a soft breath as he laxed his shoulders. "Mokan has saved his life, she's responsible for that life as a Jaboan warrioress."

"I could give a squirrels nut!" Cricthon shouted as he half leaped into a kick at Shelans cell. He screamed, smashing his hands against the cell. "Mokan! Damn you Mokan! Why!"

"You have always lived by your own rules," D'argo stated as he crossed his arms and sighed heavily as he tilted his head to him. "Will you still kill him now that he is no longer yours?"

"See," Crichton shook his head as he jerked his first two fingers at his ear. "That's what frelling kills me about this end of space D'argo. Why can't Chiana's pain be mine too? She's my - WIFE!"

"I love her too," D'argo stated gently, his composure suddenly lost as tears streamed down his face. "She left me to find you because I wouldn't listen to her."

"She - doesn't know he's here." Crichton balked suddenly and began to laugh as he backed against the wall with his hands to his face. He slid down it, his laughter streamed with tears as a fire raged in his chest.

He felt as if he could almost see his house burning again, Aeryn alive, dead? Chiana ... his child, Shelans child?
He began to scream in the horror and rage he felt, wanting to reach out and grabb onto something ... preserve some sense of the life being mangled and tormented around him. Salvage some part of the tenderness he felt was slipping away from the existance around him.

**************************

Nhfearme
2/10/01
The Wounded
IC:

Phillip begins to waken at the shouting from the two men. He hears and tries to get up.

"Shelan has to die for what he did to us. If he gets loose he'll do it again!" John gets up and faces D'Argo. "You don't know what this guy is capable of! What he did to us!" He chokes down his pain. "You have to let me do this D'Argo. It's the only way I can be sure she's safe!"

"No." D'Argo answers. "I stand in Mokan's stead until she recovers."

John stands for a long moment staring at D'Argo. His heart is steeped in pain. He hears Shelan move inside the cell. He goes to the cell door, gripping the bars. "You bastard! You deserve to die."

"I know I do Crichton." Phillip answers. He stands with some effort. He walks to the cell door and faces Crichton. "I know I do. Please forgive me Crichton. I know what I did was wrong."

"What is this?" John says not believing Shelan's change of heart. "The new and improved Phillip Shelan?" He snorts. "I don't believe it for a second!" He yells. "The minute you get out you'll do everything you can to capture me and kidnap Chiana! You planning to drug her again? Or are you just going to take her?"

"No. Please believe me Crichton. I would never harm her." Phillip says softly.

"That doesn't mean much to me. You already did the damage!" John yells and points at him wanting to rip his head off.

"Scorpius has sentenced me to death." Phillip says, his head down. "He was transporting me to a Gammak base for reconditioning when Mokan saved me." He looks at John. "No one survives it. It is just a way for command to use us for research." He says bitterly.

"You're a liar Shelan!" John screams. "You are and always will be a loyal Peacekeeper!" John paces. His hand on the back of his neck he looks up at the ceiling and back at Shelan. "This is just another mission. You are on another mission for Scorpius."

John gives Shelan a look that could kill. "I can't deal with this." His soul screams. He glances angrily at D'Argo. "I have to get outta' here!" He says and walks away toward the landing bay. "When you come to your senses D'Argo? Call me."

**************************

John enters Mokan's stealth prowler and sits in the cockpit. Every nerve in his body drives him to kill Shelan. D'Argo stopping him makes his mind burn with passions he never knew existed.

John closes his eyes and screams. "God! Oh god! Help us!" He pounds his fist against the bulkhead. Tears stream down his face. "Please, help us."

John is one microt from walking back to Shelan's cage to kill him. He will have to fight and defeat dargo to do it. He has no intention of hurting his friend for this. There was a time that dargo would have trusted him, believed him to do what is right. That time is past.

Shelan's death represents freedom for them to enjoy their lives together. His life means always having to watch over his shoulder. The thought of her just going to town, her responsibilities with the resistance, their child; everything he holds precious is now in danger.

John tries to calm himself. If he is to do the quick flight back to the house he has to be sharp. It will be dangerous with Scorpius' patrols flying every arn. He sucks back his pain and makes the determination that next time. The next time he sees him, Shelan will be dead.

*************************

Zareth walks slowly toward his quarters. He is hungry, yet wants to see the beautiful Luxon he has wounded. He must soon give her assignment with the other slaves. He knows the danger of her barbed tongue. His own father was murdered in such an attack. He even wishes she would try to sting him; A test of his own abilities to subdue her.

He enters cautiously, looking at her. She appears to be asleep, unconscious, perhaps dead. He circles, trying to see without getting too close. Mokan raises her head and strikes with her tongue. Zareth moves quickly to avoid its barb. He closes on her and grabs her from behind. He pulls the cravat from his neck and deftly ties it around her mouth, tightening it against the wounded tendon.

Mokan winces and moans in agony at the tightening of the silk cloth against her wound. Her hands reach for his throat. The chains pull her clutching hands up short from his neck. Her gold eyes flash in anger.

"You told me the truth. Jaboan, is it?" Zareth rises from his knee and stands above her looking down at her. "I expected you to be dead."

Zareth straightens his coat and his hair. He pulls down his sleeves. He studies Mokan's eyes, her skin, her clothing. "I wanted to hear your response to my questions." He says with remorse. "However, it is your face that I wish to see most." He paces and turns to her. "I have made inquiries to see why you are the only one from your tribe to arrive here. I must tell you, from all reports, they are all dead."

Mokan gasps through the cravat. The odor of his neck upon it, she suddenly feels as though it is choking her. She sighs in disbelief.

"The reports are true. If you wish, I can arrange for you to see the bodies; though we will have to hurry. I understand they must be destroyed soon due to their state." He looks askance at her. "It has been some days since your capture, has it not?"

Mokan can feel her heart breaking. Her mother and betrothed were with her when she was taken. She can feel the warm splash of tears penetrate the silk cloth, bleeding into her mouth the salty sweet taste stings of bitterness. Her eyes cut to him suddenly wishing for her Qualta. Her tribe no longer exists. She is alone.

"You will suffer at my hands." Zareth says coldly. "I will personally see to it." He looks at her pain through her eyes. "I owe it to my father. He was murdered by a Luxon traitor serving in his ranks." He says bitterly. "I will not make his mistake." He lifts her chin to him. "Your beauty will not sway me, nor your suffering." He chokes back his emotion.

Unnerved Zareth turns from her. He hits his Comms. "Lt. Camet. Come and take this trash from my site."

Zareth stands frozen waiting for the Lt. to come. Finally, Lt. Camet enters with two guards. They unlock Mokan's chains from Zareth's wall and take her out of his chamber.

The Lt. stands at attention. "What are your orders sir?"

Zareth looks at the floor. "I have changed my mind about this prisoner Lt. She attacked me. I believe she should receive the standard treatment for such behavior." He raises his eyes to Lt. Camet. "See to it personally Lt. I will check on your progress after my rest cycle."

"Yes sir!" The Lt. answers smartly. He salutes and leaves Zareth's quarters. Entering the corridor, he moves double time to catch up to his prisoner.

Zareth goes to his door and shuts it slowly, latching it. He leans his face against the door. His hand slips over his eyes. He fights his tears. Still they come against his will. He gasps for one instant at the pain as it stabs his heart, his soul.

Zareth stands and hardens himself against his tears, his emotion. He swallows and wipes his face with his hand. He goes to the facility and washes his face. He dries it and leaves his quarters toward the galley for his supper.

******************

John powers up Mokan's stealth prowler and hits the launch sequencer. He finds himself working strategies to kill Shelan upon his return. Once a place of joy, now a place of heartache, he pulls out of Moya's landing bay toward home. He engages the stealth cloaking.

John changes the frequency and opens the Comms. "Rather." He says. "How is she?"

"Fine mas John." Rather says cheerfully. "She awaits you."

"Thank you Rather." He says and closes Comms.

John smiles through his tears that she is awake and waiting. His heart is breaking at the threat Shelan represents. Scorpius seems suddenly not to be feared. John's mind turns to the destruction of Captain Phillip Shelan.

*********************

ChianaGray
2/10/01
The Wounded
IC:

Mokan grasped out, her hand clutching around a throaght as she snareld. Her eyes came open into the face of Stark. Her teeth flashed as she hoisted him, sending him sailing to the ground as she half rose. She came off the medical bed, crumbeling to the ground as Zhaan reached for her, taking her shoulders.

"D'argo come quickly!"

She yowled wildly as she leaped, crashing into several stands of shelves, nocking one over. She rose from her hands, gazing the place over for the door. Her eyes widened as it opened and D'argo stepped inside. She ran for it, slipping between him and the wall into the corridor. D'argo chased after her, tackeling her to the ground. Mokan struggled, her deep ratteling grow escaping her as he held her arms tight to her sides in his embrace and began to carry her back. She kicked the wall when he tried to enter, his back slamming into the hallway wall. He gruffed as Zhaan slipped up to them and met Mokans eyes. Mokan blinked at her, gazing into the gentle quietness of her depths, her kindness. She drew still in D'argoes grasp as the Delvians hands came to the sides of her head.

"I will ease your pain," she stated gently. "Will you accept our help?"

Mokan shook her head, her eyes wild with fear as she tried to struggle with D'argo again with less strength.

"No, you're scaring me. I should be alone, I could hurt you. You should get away."

"From you?" Zhaan seemed to smile as Stark aproached and hypoed her in the shoulder.

"Yes from me," Mokan pursed her lips, a curl in her nostril. She looked her surroundings over fearfully as she let a moan escape through her nostrils, becoming lax and droggy to the sedative. "Where am I?"

"It's Moya," Stark muttered as he took her hand and patted it with a boyish smile. "Get some rest."