TITLE: "MOYA KNOWS BEST"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/STARK

RATING: NC-17

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "THE DEVIL YOU KNOW"

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

SUMMARY: "Crichton's plan to recover the masks hits an unexpected snag."

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


"MOYA KNOWS BEST"
A "Farscape" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL


Aeryn could not understand it. As Crichton would say *the clock was ticking* but she could not find him. She frowned. "Pilot?"

"Yes, Aeryn?"

"Can you give me John's location?"

"I am sorry but Commander Crichton has switched off his com." He paused a microt. "He did say he wanted some time alone to think."

Aeryn nodded to herself. Of course. "Thanks, Pilot."

Confident, she went to the Terrace but it was empty. She stood for a microt. Baffled. So sure this would be where he would come. If he was not here then perhaps he was checking over his module? She turned quickly and made her way to the docking bay. The module was there but there was no sign of Crichton.

* * * * *

Lt Braca felt so totally and utterly weird. Omniscient and Omnipresent, as if his mind were a free floating platform of knowledge that could not be contained within physical parameters. It was awesome. Too amazed to be frightened he extended his senses and found he could stand outside himself after a fashion. The nearest he had ever come to such a sensation was when he had got completely smashed on Raslac then compounded his drunken stupor by drinking Doxin. Doxin was a powerful excretion from the bloodroot, a plant only found on outer rim planets. It was so called because if you crushed the bulbous root fibres they bled a red substance that looked like blood and was highly intoxicating.

His head was swimming but he hardly cared. Scorpius had him strapped into the Aurora Chair and watched as his technician placed the cradle around his head. Scorpius looked into the one eye not covered by the mask. "Lt Braca, are you ready?"

"Yesss, sir!"

His speech was slurred but at least he was conscious. Scorpius slid the control slowly and waited to see what would come up on the screen. A fast blur of images bled colours that ran and ruined any definition. He could not make out a single image. Annoyed, Scorpius shook him. "You will *concentrate*, Lt Braca!"

He struggled to respond. "Yes, sir."

At least he sounded less slurred now. Scorpius slid the control right up to full power. This time Lt Braca went tense and began to cry out as images were ripped from his mind. Images of Peace Keepers, training, battles too numerous to count. Better but not what Scorpius wanted. He eased the control back and leaned forward to whisper in Braca's ear. "I want to know what the mask shows you."

A kind of resistance gripped Braca's mind. It was hard to explain. As if an intelligence resided in the mask. The pain from the chair increased. Whatever gripped his mind held him in a vice. His screams rent the air, the cries bubbling up from his throat as the spittle flew out of his mouth. After three arns Scorpius switched off the power and looked down at his lieutenant. Puzzled and frustrated. How had Crichton been able to hold on for so long when a single session in the chair finished the good Lt Braca? And the Banik had lasted not one session but hundreds. He indicated for him to be taken out of the chair and taken to the lab. Whatever secrets the mask held it was clear they could not be wrenched out by physical force. He looked at the other two masks, the ones that had belonged to Alphia and Heronn. While the good Lt rested and recovered from his ordeal in the chair, he would begin tests on the other masks. Then he would have the leviathan disabled and collect Crichton and the Banik. For now let them panic and wonder what his intentions were. They would all find out soon enough.

* * * * *

He was warm, comfortable. Safe. He could not remember the last time he had felt all three. The DRD watched over him, Moya's gentle hum soothing as he slept. Stark's light flowed back and forth through his senses touching off a plethora of memories. He felt loved. He felt such peace and contentment. Stark smiled at him, shared his light with him then took him on a journey that gave him such a rush he almost cried out. The piece of Zhaan he carried inside him calmed him. Reassured him that here nothing could hurt him. They would keep him safe. All he had to do was trust them. A sigh was exhaled and his sleep level deepened. Moya watched him sleep using the DRD's and Pilot to make sure he was okay. Pilot was unsure what she wanted to do with him. He felt the leviathan's concern.

<We cannot keep him prisoner, Moya>

*He is not a prisoner* Soothed Moya through the amniotic link that bound the Pilot to her. *I am afraid. The DRDs are afraid. I sense the same fear in you*.

Pilot could not deny it. <I think his plan is flawed but he is determined to go through with it and the others will not stop him>

He sensed the leviathan's sadness. Almost a frustration. *The others will not come up with a plan*.

Pilot was surprised. It was not like Moya to criticise her crew. <They have become used to following the human's lead>

*Yes*. The ship responded.

<Is that why you are troubled, Moya?>

*No* She admitted, her thoughts like a sad song drifting through Pilot's brain stem. *I am worried that this time if he goes he will not come back*.

The same growing fear was settling in Pilot. He watched Crichton as the human slept, the DRD moving his lightstalks and panning slowly across the sleeping face. Pilot sighed. For all his higher brain functions the human was little more than a child to them. No wonder Moya felt so protective.

*So do you* Chided Moya gently.

Pilot hung his clamshell head slightly, his four clawed hands moving in an endless ballet over the many controls that kept the leviathan in optimum working order. Anyone looking in on the Pilot's Den would have been unaware of the conversation going on with the leviathan.

*They take advantage of him* Concluded Moya.

Pilot tilted his head and watched through Blue's optical sensors as other DRDs entered the aortic chamber. Moya sealed the wall after them. Pilot watched with detached interest as they gathered around the sleeping human. Wondering what Moya was up to. <What are you going to do?>

*We need an ally*

He raised his eyebrow ridge in surprise. <An ally?>

*Yes* Said Moya, moving one of the new DRDs closer to the human. A little hatch opened on the front of it and an appendage emerged with something which looked like a syringe.

<What are you doing?>

*Making sure he does not wake up*

<Moya, this is wrong. We must not interfere>

*Would you rather let him die?*

<We do not know that his plan would fail>

Pilot watched in mute fascination as the DRD rolled close to Crichton's neck, the others moving back to give him room. Blue appeared to be torn between a desire to protect the human and trust in Moya. Pilot privately admitted to feeling the same dilemna. He watched the slow insertion of the needle into the base of his neck. The human shuddered a little. Carefully the DRD emptied the contents of the syringe into him then slowly eased the needle out. Pilot's mouth had dropped open. <What was in the syringe?>

*A sleeping potion*

<How much?>

*Enough*

<He is fragile, Moya. Human. The potion could be too strong for him>

He felt Moya's gentle humour. *He is unhurt, dear Pilot, and we will help to keep him that way. This time we are determined that nothing must happen to him*

Pilot was curious. He still could not get over what Moya was doing. <What about the plan?>

He could sense the leviathan laughing lightly. It made his heart fill with joy and love. Moya was his whole life. *Let the others come up with a new one*

Pilot watched the human sleep. He did not move at all now, not even when Blue gently rocked up against his hand to check if he was alright. Idly, Pilot wondered what the other DRDs were doing there. Moya did not enlighten him. Instead she asked him to do something for her. *Please ask Zhaan to join us, Pilot*

He nodded and activated Zhaan's com. Surprised to be interupted while she was in deep meditation, Zhaan nevertheless promised to come right away. A faint trace of suspicion coloured Pilot's thoughts. <What are you up to, Moya?>

*We need an ally. Who better to speak for us than Zhaan?*

* * * * *

Dreaming. He had to be dreaming. Stark smiled at him.

"Where are we?"

"Where do you want to be?"

Crichton frowned but somehow the frown would not stay on his face. He was too happy. Too content. "That's no answer, Stark."

"You're resting."

"I am?"

Stark looked at him with such love that Crichton felt the warmth of that emotion in every cell in his body. Every thought in his mind cradled in that special joy. "I feel so strange."

Stark wanted to show him something. "Look John and tell me what you see."

He looked, the brightness turning to shadow, the image of Stark dimming until he was looking inside him. With a jolt he realised he was inside the mask. How the hell did he do that? Oh. Yeah. He was dreaming. Of course. "Is this your mask?"

"Yes, John."

He felt the Banik drape an arm around his neck. Casually as if they did this often. It felt over familiar but he liked it. His heart soared. No barriers between them. No fear of rejection, misunderstandings, or clashes of culture. Nothing taboo. Nothing forbidden. Nothing denied to them. Honesty in action as well as thought. Just sharing emotions without consequences. Knowing instinctively that they would never hurt one another. Stark spoke softly into his ear. "Touch the interior of the mask, John."

Tentatively he touched the dark shadowed surface. To his surprise he felt warmth and a wash of colour illuminate the underside of the mask. Little bright images rose up from the mask like vibrant specks of dust dislodged by his touch. They sparkled as they made a picture before him then twinkled brightly as they faded. "Wow! What was that?"

"A memory." Said Stark softly. "A gift."

He could feel the light warm breath stirring on his neck, the comforting reassurance of his friend's arm around him. The closeness of their two bodies felt right. He wondered what else Stark wanted him to see.

"Place your hand against the inside of the mask."

Crichton spread his hand and lay his palm gently along the inside of the mask. Immediately his hand started to tingle and glow with living energy. He felt it seep up his hand, along his arm and into his body until it flared with joy inside his heart and echoed with the essence of Stark in his mind illuminating him. "God Stark, you are so frelling beautiful!"

Stark smiled at the awe in Crichton's voice and kissed his cheek gently. His every touch tender. Crichton reached out with his thoughts, his hand still connected to the inside of the mask. As he projected his thoughts the mask amplified them. <Oh God, this is better than sex>

Stark shared his thought and laughed in his mind, his lips caressing his cheek and drawing open kisses down his neck as he loved him. His hands stroking him gently as he undid his vest. The friction of his hands warming the human's skin. Crichton did not react. On some level he knew he was experiencing thoughts made flesh. In the realm of mental imagery anything was possible. He absorbed the titilating sensations without responding to them, so calm and content and full of curiosity over the mask. "What else can it do, Stark?" He whispered.

His friend turned Crichton's face so he could see him clearly. "Why don't you experiment and find out?"

For a moment Crichton was thunderstruck. Stark was giving him complete control. Sanction to do any damn thing he wanted. But what did he want? Then Stark was kissing him, turning him to face him so he could embrace him properly. The mask was still in Crichton's hand. He was tempted to let go of it but something told him to hang on. To take the Banik's invitation and go further than simple surrender. He opened his mouth and let Stark caress him with his tongue, closed his eyes and held the mask firm in one hand while again laying the palm of his other hand inside for maximum contact. Then he reached out with his mind, a sudden deep thrust that sent his body and mind reeling. He could feel the reaction in Stark as he touched every cell in the Banik's body with every cell in his own at the same time. Bodies and minds fused in an understanding so complete it was like a mental and physical orgasm combined. The contact sizzled between them so intensely they burned for one another. <Oh God, full contact. Oh my God!>

He was shocked. He was climbing, flying, soaring. Wheeling and dipping, the wind beneath him unable to deflect the perfection of his flight or the eroticism that set him afire. He burned. He burned so brightly he shamed the stars. Stark laughed in his mind, the beautiful cadence of his thoughts running fingers down his body and caressing him as he fell. Down, down, down, then he was caught so gently. Rose so swiftly. Drunk on love. Energised and filled and then emptied again and again and again. Succulent lips robbed his of speech as they fed high above the firmament. His mind sang, his spirit soared, his body was remade and fashioned in the molecules of desire. He burned. A glorious flame of ecstasy that exploded the myth of creation. A grain of interstellar dust he formed the heavens. A single tear from his eye filled every sea. The breath from his lungs propelled the solar winds and gently swept across unknown continents while storms raged on distant worlds he would never see.

* * * * *

Ka D'Argo listened to Zhaan with barely concealed fury. "Think of *another* plan? Where is Crichton?"

"Yeah, Zhaan," Asked Chiana curiously, her head jerking to one side. Her tone cautious. "Where is he? How come you want to change things at this late stage?"

"John is *resting*."

Rygel snorted. "What is that supposed to mean? Resting?"

"He is asleep, Rygel, and I do not propose we wake him."

Aeryn was pacing. Unhappy and unsettled. Not by the change in plan but by the fact that she could not see Crichton. Reassure herself that he was alright. What was Zhaan hiding? "Where is he, Zhaan?"

"Resting."

"We got that the first time, Zhaan." Said D'Argo impatiently. "Aeryn is right. We should discuss this with John. If something has happened we need to know. The Command Carrier will not wait forever."

"Very well," Said Zhaan with a sigh. "But you are not going to like the answer."

When she finished explaining the room errupted into chaos, everyone talking at once. Voices raised in anger, annoyance and sheer disbelief. D'Argo could hardly believe his ears. "How can you blame this on Moya, Zhaan? Moya would *never* interfere!"

Pilot interrupted the Luxan's tirade. Everyone fell silent to hear him out. "P'au Zotoh Zhaan is correct. Moya asks you to understand why she felt it necessary to do this." He paused, feeling awkward and more than a little embarrassed. "Moya is worried that Commander Crichton will once again put his life in the hands of Scorpius. She feels it is a mistake. That if he goes he will not return to us. Moya does not want him to die. Neither do I or the DRDs."

D'Argo's face began to darken. He gripped his qualta blade tighter but did not switch it on. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing. Zhaan is right, he is sleeping."

Chiana tilted her head, her expression suspicious. "Then why not wake him and let us tell us himself?"

"Because he would go ahead with his plan."

Rygel was baffled. "I do not understand, Pilot. Moya has never interfered like this before. This plan was John's invention. *His* decision. This is not something we are forcing the human to do. I do not think he will be pleased that you have stopped him."

"Moya is prepared to explain her reasons to him when this is over."

"What if we all die?" Asked Chiana.

Pilot looked at them all slowly. His gaze coming to settle on Aeryn Sun. "It has become apparent to Moya that we have all become too reliant on Commander Crichton to solve our problems. Moya does not think that is fair and I agree with her."

"Commander Crichton *is* the problem!" Grumbled Rygel.

Chiana hit him in the face with her elbow, a satisfied smirk forming as all the air huffed out of him.

Zhaan took a deep breath and gave them all an expectant look. "We need to come up with another plan."

* * * * *

Scorpius looked in again on Lt Braca. He looked much better this time, the colour returning to his face. At least the half he could see. The single eye looked at Scorpius warily.

"How do you feel?"

"Like every nerve has been set on fire and put out with chakan oil, sir."

Scorpius chuckled softly to himself.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Lt Braca?"

"I want this mask off, sir."

Scorpius looked at him for a microt. His voice when he spoke was deceptively mild. The cultured easy going tone belying the words. "Very well, Lt Braca, though I must point out one thing to you that I may have failed to make clear in the beginning."

The man wet his lips, so nervous he could not speak. He waited.

"The mask will only come off in the event of your death."

All the colour left Lt Braca's face. He did not want to die and they both knew it. A thought occurred to his dazed mind. "It didn't kill Stark, sir."

"Not yet but it will. His energy is keeping him alive but without the mask to conserve it time is running out for him."

"And me?" Whispered Lt Braca, half fearing the answer.

Scorpius smiled at him. "You will die if you remove it. Only one thing can save you." He paused for effect. "We must find the Banik and get him to remove it for you."

"But you said he was dying, sir."

Scorpius leaned back in his chair. A smug look on his face. "I see that you understand your predicament perfectly."

Lt Braca closed his eye and inwardly cursed. The mask amplified his anger, his frustration and the utter desperation that flooded his senses. Too much. This was too much. If he did not need the half-breed so much he would honestly have thought of killing him there and then. The consequences be damned.

* * * * *
END