Kaz (kazbaby) wrote,

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Scorpius ficathon entry.

Author's Note: This was written for suenix who's request was: Somehow Scorpius ends up on earth. What happens then?
I apologize for the tardiness of the story, but yesterday was chaos mixed with a headache. I hope you enjoy it, although the only thing I couldn't think of was a really cool spaceship. :p Thank you so much for the excellent beta by oneeyethedrd, she suggested things that made this story actually readable.
Rated: G
Spoilers: Goes AU at Bad Timing.
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, we'd have a Farscape channel.



Scorpius strides down the darkened hall, feet barely marking his presence. The only light comes from the open doorway a short distance away on his right. He stops upon reaching it and watches the lone man sprawled on the bunk, arms crossed, staring into space.

Crichton's relaxed posture belies his true state of mind, as revealed in the chaotic energy signature swirling around him in waves. Anger and fear, twisting and wrapping around each other, dancing to soundless music, his thoughts more than likely turning back to the decisions he had made less than a quarter cycle before.

Crichton’s reluctant request for Scorpius and the Peacekeeper’s assistance had come too late.

By the time their leviathan found Braca’s command carrier and a contingent of prowlers was transferred over, the Scarran Stryker had already traveled through the wormhole to Earth.

They were lucky that their arrival was unexpected and the Scarran ship swiftly dispatched by the Peacekeeper fighters, but not before millions had already died on the surface. The governments of his world, impotent in the face of such a threat, chose instead to posture and argue and place blame. Crichton and the crew of Moya had come down to the surface against Scorpius' advice, hoping to make them listen to reason. It was a mistake that some of them had not lived to regret.

There were many, even within the elder Crichton’s circle of friends, who had thought to bargain a reprieve by offering the Scarrans the head of John Crichton. Others sought revenge for their own losses, striking out in their grief and rage. Unable to escape back to Moya, the survivors of John's doomed mission had been brought here as 'guests' of the government, for their own protection.

Outside these walls, the sun had disappeared below the horizon arns before, but that mattered little in this place. They were nearly a metra below ground, with no windows or sunshine in this lonely bunker.

Sanctuary. Prison. There was really no difference in the words when it came to matters of war. If Earth’s governments had not done it, then Scorpius would have seen that the Peacekeepers kept permanent guardianship of the one man that could either save them, or destroy them all with his stubbornness.

John did not look up, but Scorpius knew he was listening. Waiting for the question he knew was coming.

“A decision has been reached,” Scorpius stated, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” John glanced over, rolling his head lazily against the wall behind him. “You’d have made a damn good snake-oil salesman a hundred years ago, y'know that? Of course they agreed. To everything. You and your boys get full access to our equipment, the whole kit and caboodle.”

“And you, of course, are unhappy with this. Even after finally seeing the truth for what it is: that our two species need one another. If the Scarrans…”

“Save it, Scorpius. You’ve already given me your spiel. You’re here, aren’t you?”

John rose off the bed and paced across the room to the bureau where a small mirror hung. He stared at his reflection for a microt, then looked over at Scorpius. “Can’t you tell how giddy I am to have you and the Peacekeepers helping with Earth’s defenses?"

“I do not have tell you that we have no desire to control your world. Our only priority is to protect this feeble planet, in order to stop the Scarrans from gaining the Crystherium.”

“What we should do is just kill off the plants, but then that would screw up something in the food chain and the environmentalists say that there wouldn't be an Earth to protect, and yadda, yadda, yadda. In other words, they're going to tough it out with your generous offer, and we stay prisoners.”

Scorpius crosses the room carefully. He knows that John’s anger is near a breaking point, has been teetering for quite some time. Now more than ever is the time to act with caution. “You know how to end this threat, once and for all. If you don’t, and the Scarrans return with an even larger ship, what will happen to your planet? Billions more dead, if not from the attacks then from disease and starvation.”

He draws closer, moving slowly. He can see that John’s imagination is aiding him, now that the human has seen the destruction first hand. "Your people have already locked you, Aeryn, and your son away, for your own protection. What will happen if they decide that you should be held accountable for the Scarrans finding this world? It was you that told them that the flower can be found here. It was D’Argo’s ship that gave them the coordinates they required to locate it. How long before this shelter becomes your tomb?”

The waves of anger swirl more brightly around Crichton; he grips the bureau tightly enough to make the wood creak. “Get us out of here, and you’ve got a deal,” he finally whispers through clenched teeth.

Patting John on the shoulder, Scorpius steps away, nodding his head once in acceptance. “Very well. I’ll see to it immediately,” he states quietly before turning back the way he came.
Tags: fic, ficathon

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