TITLE: "THE DEVIL YOU KNOW"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: No specific pairing

RATING: PG-13

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "UNEXPECTED GIFTS"

WEBSITE: http://www.carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "With Stark dying Crichton convinces the others to take drastic action. Meanwhile Scorpius and Lt Braca reach a watershed."

The usual disclaimers apply. No infringement of copyright is intended.

"THE DEVIL YOU KNOW"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL


The cries at last grew muted, muffled. Pain ebbing away but not his distress. Scorpius watched as Lt Braca tried again and again to release himself from the mask. Panic was building. Scorpius made him sit in a chair and observed him as if he were something under a microscope. "Interesting. Do you realise how lucky you are?"

Lt Braca did not feel lucky. He felt trapped. The strap hanging unfastened, the mask sealed to the right side of his face as if it had been glued there. The searing heat had eased but that just left him even more sensitive to what was crawling under the skin of his face. Like infinitely fine prehensile threads worming their way through his pores. A creepy sensation that made his heart beat with an eratic pace that merely intensified his mounting horror. "Get it OFF me!"

Scorpius smiled disingenuously. "Describe what is happening."

It felt as if the metal of the mask were eating into the side of his face. He just wanted to rip it off then wring the genetic half-breed's neck but he knew he was neither strong enough nor suicidal enough to do that. The trouble was all his thoughts were amplified by the mask. He began to see things he did not want to see. Things about Scorpius that made his soul quail. He knew the half-Scarran half-Sebacean Commander had some very strange appetites but what he was picking up through the mask went beyond revolting. Some sense activated in him, piecing together what passed for emotion in the abomination he had sworn to serve. It made him want to gag. Was this what the Banik saw? Was he as transparent to the former slave? His stomach churned. A kind of guilty fear slithered through his arteries and veins, stretching out to insinuate itself out to the capillaries. He felt hot and was getting hotter. His skin was burning, his flesh overheating. Fresh panic pulsing with every beat of his heart. A searing sea that scorched him yet left no mark. "Help me!"

Scorpius tilted his head, his look thoughtful. His voice sounded clinical. "Tell me what is happening. What do you feel?"

A hot tear threatened but he held it back. Filled with the irrational fear that it would cut through the skin on his cheek if it fell from his uncovered eye. He was trembling now. Perhaps if he gave Scorpius what he wanted he would be released? He shuddered and gulped air into his steaming lungs. "I'm burning. Too hot. Fire. Can't breathe. Help me!"

Scorpius touched his exposed cheek, slid a leathered hand down his cheek and tilted Lt Braca's agonised face so he could look him in the eye. "You do not feel hot. Your skin is cool to the touch."

"No, no, burning! Burning!"

"Where are you burning?"

"All over."

"Anything else?"

The Lt was finding it hard to concentrate on Scorpius's words. He felt as if he were on fire, flames washing over him. The heat licking his skin and setting it alight wherever it touched. Framed in the fire was Scorpius. Always Scorpius. He hated him. Feared him. Was impressed and drawn by his power. Jealous of his position. Scorpius gave him a curious look and images flashed through Lt Braca's mind that stripped him of every private thought he had ever indulged in. The clarity shocked him. The heightened echo of past emotions began to excite him even as the fire that felt like it was consuming his flesh spread ever outward like questing fingers. He closed his eye and tried to block the images. Push the feelings being manipulated in him to a dark distant place where they could not betray him.

* * * * *

Crichton left Zhaan with Stark. It hurt to leave but was easier than staying. He walked a few steps down the corridor then stopped. Too stunned and overwhelmed with emotion to go any further. He turned to face Moya's curved wall and leaned his forehead against the soothing warmth of her pulsating biomechanoid skin. Moya reacted to his need like a mother to a child. Her pulsing slowed to carry his eratic heartbeat with it, her quiet song filling him with a semblance of peace. A DRD watched over him. Small, inconspicuous and discreet. He did not notice. Aeryn found him microts later. Alarmed she hurried over to him. "John! What happened?"

He could not look up. Did not want her to see him like this. "I'm okay, Aeryn. Just give me a microt."

But Aeryn was not the most patient of people even on a good day. And this was *not* a good day. She turned him round so she could get a good look at him. What she saw made her heart miss a beat. She had rarely seen him this upset. With an effort Crichton raised his red rimmed eyes to meet hers. "He's dying, Aeryn."

He was talking about Stark. "I know, which is why we should Star Burst out of here immediately."

Crichton shook his head. "No, Aeryn. That's the one thing we can't do."

"Why not?"

"Because we have to get the masks back."

The Sebacean looked at him as if he had completely taken leave of his senses, which being a human was always a possibility. "John, the mask won't help Stark now. We have to get out of here. Pilot says a Peace Keeper Command Carrier has been picked up on Moya's sensors."

He nodded and took a breath to steady himself. The scared haunted look in his eyes was dimming. "I know Aeryn but Stark is *dying*. He isn't *dead*."

Her voice softened. She loved him so much even if she did not always understand him. "Let go, John. You can't help him."

"How can you ask me to do that, Aeryn? I wouldn't do it to you or D'Argo or any of the others."

For a microt neither of them spoke. Crichton was not so much hurt by Aeryn's reaction as disappointed. At times like these he was painfully reminded that although Aeryn looked human she was *not* human and never would be. Yet a part of him still willed her to understand. Aeryn's frown actually deepened. She looked at him in alarm. "You are glowing."

"I am?"

"Yes."

To add to her consternation he laughed softly. Crichton knew what it meant. He found the thought comforting. As if the Banik had somehow blessed him.

"Why are you glowing?"

A smile hovered on his lips, his hands reaching up to frame her face. His eyes looking deeply into her alien ones. All his heart and soul laid bare for her in just one look. "It's okay, Aeryn." He said softly. "It's nothing to worry about."

And although Aeryn did not understand she found herself believing him.

* * * * *

Dominar Rygel XVI had never actually liked Stark. The Banik had always struck him as weak and unstable. Completely fahrbot. Definitely a few marjols short of a banquet. Yet as their time together lengthened and they shared more and more dangers he had come to have something almost akin to affection for the tormented former slave. Naturally he did not share the odd kind of bond that Crichton had formed with him and they had never been friends but more importantly to the Hynerian they had never been enemies. So he mourned the impending loss of the Banik as he would any ally. It was yet another score he had to settle with the hated Peace Keepers. Ka D'Argo was riven with sadness. He did not understand Stark but he had come to respect him. To think of him as an ally and a friend. He was also sad for Zhaan and understood in part Crichton's sorrow.

Chiana watched the sombre faces as Crichton and D'Argo lifted the Banik and gently placed him in the statis chamber. Zhaan stood next to him, her face so filled with quiet grief that it was heart breaking to see. Chiana could not understand it. Stark was not dead yet and they were placing him in a frelling pod as if they planned to jettison him in the path of the nearest comet. Stark was Stykera, a Banik attuned to the dying. In the traditions of his people the comet was a powerful harbringer of change. The death of the old life, the birth of the new. To fire the dead into the path of a comet was the greatest honour that could be bestowed upon one of their own.

A blessing and a promise of better lives to come. For the Baniks the physical body was no more than a suit of clothes. It was not who or what they were. Just another illusion in a whole universe manipulated by sleight of hand. Chiana jerked her head forty-five degrees and stared at Zhaan. Watched her gentle hands smooth the Banik's clothing, the understated browns and muted colours more like camoflage than clothing. It was as if he had made a career out of blending into the background. Of not being noticed. Now here he was, the centre of attention. A place he would have shunned.

"Hey! He's not dead yet, you know?"

Crichton opened his mouth to say something but Zhaan spoke first. She sounded sad. No anger in her voice. No impatience. "We know, child, but this chamber will extend what life he has left."

Chiana tilted her head the other way, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. "I don't mean to sound cold but what's the point? He's dying. He should be allowed to go in peace, you know? This is wrong."

"You may be right, Pip. But if we can keep him alive until we get his mask back..."

"You are dreaming as usual," Said Rygel gruffly. "We should depart this place with all speed. Worry about Stark later."

D'Argo turned fiercely towards the Dominar. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

He seemed surprised at the accusation.

"For a time Stark was one of us." The Luxan continued. "We are here to honour him, Hynerian."

The tension was getting heavy. Aeryn put a hand on Zhaan's arm to comfort her. The Delvian priestess inclined her head a little in thanks. Crichton looked down at Stark. His friend. He looked so peaceful. As if he were merely sleeping rather than in the deepening coma that presaged death. When he looked up at his friends his eyes were suspiciously bright but the others pretended not to notice. They had long ago accepted that the human was a very emotional creature. The flaw was obviously genetic. He cleared his throat carefully and watched the sombre faces sharpen to listen to his words. "I have a plan."

Rygel closed his eyes and groaned. Chiana nudged him hard in the chest and he managed to swallow an angry huff. Everybody ignored them. Aeryn was frowning like a big black cloud poised to rain on the human's parade. "What plan?"

"It's okay, I'm not asking any of you to come along. It wouldn't do any good anyway. This isn't a problem that can be solved with numbers."

Alarm flashed on every face but he ploughed on before anyone could interrupt him. Aeryn watched him as he started to pace. A sure sign that he was nervous and not at all convinced he could make his plan work. It did nothing to reassure her. "We know what Scorpy wants and now we know the lengths he will go to get it."

"You cannot give yourself up to him, John." Said D'Argo stoutly. "We will not let you."

"There is no other way, Big Guy. This isn't about strength, it isn't about honour, it isn't about getting even. It's about saving a life and stopping the bad guys from creaming the rest of the universe."

The others exchanged baffled looks, not understanding the terminology but catching the gist of what he meant. Crichton paused and looked straight at Zhaan, his grim expression softening into a sad smile. "Stark explained about the mask and it's time I explained it to the rest of you." He paused and Zhaan gave him the tiniest of nods to encourage him to continue. "When the Baniks were first enslaved the masks were created, moulded to each individual Banik's face. Sealed to them in fire. Each mask created to tune in to the individual's energy signature. Bind his or her energy to the mask."

"Bind their energy?" Queried Rygel. He did not like the sound of that.

"Yeah. Stark once told me his people are energy beings, they express themselves in light. They are a peaceful race but they are also very curious and like Pilot's people they wanted to see the stars. To visit planets beyond their own birthplace. Meet other beings and exchange views and cultures. To do that they needed to lower their vibrations enough to be comfortable among other races. The bodies they inhabited enabled them to do this and at night or when resting they could leave their bodies and replenish their spiritual energies by remerging with one another across vast distances. When they were enslaved all that stopped. The masks looped their individual energy through the faceplate. They could take the masks off for short periods of time without suffering any harm but when they did so it would allow part of their energy to leak away. With the mask in place the energy would be continually flowing within the confines of their physical bodies like a closed circuit. Effectively keeping them prisoners in their own bodies." He paused. "Take away a Banik slave's mask and he *will* die. He will quite literally fade away as his energy disperses."

For a microt there was a hushed silence.

"I have never heard such fanciful dren!" Scathed Rygel. D'Argo glared at him but he just drew himself up to his full diminutive height. "If you believe that then you are as tinked as he is."

"He was telling the truth." Said Crichton softly.

Aeryn's look sharpened. He would not meet her eyes. All of sudden she had the strangest feeling. A glimmer of understanding striking horror in her heart. It was Zhaan who broke the silence.

"What is your plan, John?"

* * * * *

Lt Braca felt disorientated. It did not help having Scorpius dogging his every step. His Commander was driving him fahrbot. He needed to be left alone not podded and poked, examined and questioned. He needed time to *adjust*. They were in the lab of the Command Carrier and he was sitting on a table trying to quell the panic rising in his chest. The mask was no longer painful but its' dubious gift still terrified him. He could not hear what Scorpius was thinking but he could see his energies, the bright flare of colours changing with his mood. A sharp sense of what to expect from him came like waves that he still found disconcerting.

Scorpius watched as one of the medical technicians removed a sample of blood from Lt Braca's neck.

"What are they doing?"

Scorpius smiled. The swirls of energy coming off him told Lt Braca that dark thoughts were manipulating the half-breed's actions. There was something he wanted from his second in command. Something he was searching for. "Tests. They are checking your DNA."

"What do they hope to find, sir?"

Amusement glanced off Scorpius's face as if reflected off something else. Something Lt Braca could not see. Odd thoughts flitted through his mind. They danced and spun but were too illusive to take hold in his mind so he could see them more clearly. It annoyed him that he was a passive receptor to images and emotions that were not his own. He felt like a Barkan, being manipulated and forced to perform for the entertainment of others. It made him angry. Something sizzled like low voltage through the mask. A warning. <Hide your thoughts> He frowned. Not yet wise enough to keep his face blank. Scorpius picked up on it immediately.

"What happened?"

He thought of lying for all of a microt. Scorpius would see the change in his energy signature and he would be dead - or worse - microts after he finished speaking. "I don't know, sir. It felt like an energy surge from the mask."

Interest sharpened in the leather clad face. He drew a gloved finger thoughtfully over the mask, his fingers tracing the curves of the metal over eye and cheek and brow. It made Braca's flesh crawl but he managed to hide any reaction this time. He was learning. The mask was teaching him. If he listened he might even be able to survive what Scorpius was going to do to him. He did not know how he knew that but guessed it was the mask. Or was some remnant of the former Banik slave trying to guide him? To save him from Scorpius? It made him go cold as if every cell in his body were slowly being haunted by the mask's owner.

Scorpius tapped the mask. "Lie down."

Lt Braca nodded and did as he was instructed. Trying to still the frantic beating of his heart. He felt trapped. An animal being led to the slaughter. He did not like it. Fear rushed through him in waves that threatened to disrupt his ability to think clearly. The mask urged caution. A calming pulse of energy, faint but seductive, leaked from the interior of the mask directly into his brain. He found himself embracing it. A drowning man clutching at straws. He prayed the straw would bear his weight.

* * * * *

D'Argo glared at the screen. Wondering why the Command Carrier did not *do* anything. It was unnerving to see it on the sensors, neither closing in nor moving away. The Command Carrier was pacing them, an unwanted shadow that darkened their hearts with a feeling of impending doom. Aeryn, Chiana, and Rygel were with him in command. Silent and glum no one spoke. Zhaan was keeping vigil over Stark, performing a deep ritual of meditation and prayer for the protection of her lover. Crichton had asked for some time alone. He needed to think, to ready himself mentally as well as physically so that he could implement his plan. There would be no chance to turn back if he changed his mind. He also had the growing conviction that Stark wanted to commune with him. How crazy was that? So he went deeper and deeper into the bowels of the ship, the little DRD following him with muted circuits. Not wanting to intrude on his thoughts or distract the human but expressing Moya's concern for him. She knew he was troubled. That his heart was in pain. His thoughts in turmoil. The human had always been sensitive to everyone around him including Moya, Pilot and the DRDs. They had responded in kind and taken to the gentle human as one of their own. None of which was expressed in words but actions. Even now Moya monitored him through the DRD and used the hum of her systems to soothe him as he walked. He did not realise she was gently leading him deep into her inner sanctum.

Pilot watched and approved. Knew that there was no one wiser than Moya with the possible exception of Zhaan. But Zhaan was keeping vigil over Stark and could not be there for Crichton. Moya could.

Crichton's steps began to slow. He was near the aortic chamber. He stopped and that was when he became aware of the DRD. He turned his head and looked down, a gentle smile describing an arc of pleasure on a face too long wrapped in pain. He hunkered down. "Hey Blue, are you following me?"

The little DRD waved his lightstalks. One bent at an angle and bound in blue electrical tape. The other in one piece. Muted beeps and clicks responded to the human.

Crichton ran a hand over the curved bug-like shell. The DRD rolled closer to him and nudged his foot. The human laughed. "Don't worry, Blue. I'm okay."

A mournful sound came out of the little biomechanoid and Crichton sighed. "You're right, who am I kidding? It sucks to be me."

The DRD rolled back then nudged him again. Crichton tilted his head, watching him carefully. "What, you want me to follow you?"

Blue rolled back and forth a couple of times then rolled over to the chamber. Crichton shook his head. Why not? He got down on his hands and knees and crawled after the DRD into the aortic chamber. Moya gently closed the chamber wall, the muted glowing light comforting him. Her padded walls and floors eased his aching body making him realize just how much sleep he had missed. "Moya, I know you mean to help but I really can't afford to take a nap right now."

Her song gently hummed through him, the rhythm rippling the light gently in walls, floor and ceiling. It grew warmer, his eyelids drooping slowly as a yawn surprised him. The DRD nudged his foot until he was standing right in the middle of the chamber. Then he felt it. Something so beautiful and irresistable that his eyes pricked with the familiarity of it. He sat down stretched his legs out. Another yawn, slower this time. His heartbeat was steadying and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He felt the nurturing warmth of Moya, the light dimming further in the chamber but never leaving him. Another light washing him internally with knowledge so intimate that he caught his breath. <Lie down, my friend. Rest>

It was Stark. His friend. Tears pricked his eyes but he nodded obediently. He would lie down. Rest. For Stark. The wash of light deepened, memories shared were gently replayed. Phantom hands touched him bringing comfort and peace. He sighed and gave himself up to Stark, let the light he carried find expression in his own soul. Marshalling his dark thoughts into ribbons of light that lifted his spirit and soothed the pain in his heart. As his breathing deepened another breath accompanied it, showing him things on a molecular scale that dazzled the scientist in him. His mind expanded to Stark's gentle touch, his body falling deeper and deeper into a healing sleep while his mind awakened to mysteries that settled deep inside his heart with a quiet celebration of joy. It was an expression of love and trust. Something only another Banik would understand. Yet Stark was sharing it with him. The part of Zhaan that rested in him was activated slowly. Between them his friends soothed him and cradled his soul while he slept. No nightmares or horrors haunted him. Nothing stirred in the chamber but the quiet and gentle hum of Moya. Blue nestled close to him and dimmed his lightstalks. As Crichton rested it was as if the Universe itself paused.

* * * * *
END