They say
Peacekeepers don’t dream, don’t they? (This is the Cohort’s-version)
Peacekeepers don’t dream
By GitonCrais
Crais tossed
in his sleep, the dream was taking a firmer grip with each passing micron.
He had been
tired when he went to sleep. Talyn was having growing problems. Crais could
almost see the expansion of the rooms happen before his eyes. It wasn’t much, a
little here, a little there; the deck rippled to accommodate the newly build
space.
The strain
Talyn went through was felt through the transponder and had been giving Crais a
headache. Finally he had gone to his quarters to rest. There was nothing he
could do to ease Talyn’s strain, he knew that from past experience. He only
took his short tunic off. He had not expected to fall asleep…
He had found
Lt Velorek where Officer Sun said he would be, asleep with Pilot, luckily the
bed was large enough.
Officer Sun
spat at Velorek that she had never loved him and had found someone else.
When Crais
looked at her he saw a very small Sebacean perched on Aeryn’s shoulder. It
grinned at him, “Hey, I’m John Crichton. Are you the Big Bad Wolf?”
Crais wanted
to swat the little man but Officer Sun protected him with her hand.
Crais
immediately condemned her Irrevocably Contaminated upon which words she disappeared.
The dream
shifted…
…and Crais
became restless. A fiery explosion, over and over and over again. Tauvo’s face
appearing the centre of the explosion, “I want vengeance! You haven’t avenged
my death.”
The same
phrase repeated , the last word timed with the explosion. In the brief silence
that followed Crais whispered, “It was an accident.”
Shift again…
Crais was
dressed in white, a diagnosian’s viewer perched on his forehead. A physician’s
garb.
Crichton
parts were scattered over the table, spluttering and bubbling, alive but not
alive.
Jool looks
at his progress.
Crais holds
a brain in his hand and positioned it over Crichton’s abdomen, “Are you sure
this is where it goes?” Jool nods.
Crais
dropped the brain in the open cavity, “Don’t want to mess up the Erp-man.”
“It’s
Earth!” Crichton’s mouth bubbled somewhere in the mass of organs and parts,
“Earth! Not Erp, you moron!”
Crais smiles
sweetly down, “Erp sounds better.”
The dream
shifts again…
Crais found
himself in the galley. The Moya crew was waiting for him.
Crichton
smiles, “We already had our repast but we saved some for you.”
When Crais
got closer to where he was supposed to sit he saw a huge amount of chocolate.
Crichton
grinned, “Dark chocolate for the dark Captain.”
Crais made a
dash for the door…
…and found
himself in a low corridor. He had to bend in order not to hit the ceiling.
There were
no doors on either side of the corridor, just one, right at the end of the
corridor.
The corridor
narrowed and grew lower. By the time Crais reached the end he was on hands and
knees and only just managed to squeeze himself through the door. He was glad to
leave the claustrophobic place.
He stood in
a meadow, quite pleasant, almost like the Carrier’s Biogarden. He took a deep
breath. The air was cleaner and thinner than most planets. He smiled.
A lone
figure came skipping to where he stood. Crais squinted but couldn’t make out
the features. He waited.
It was
Stark. He grinned at Crais, “I know your secret.”
“What
secret,” asked Crais.
“The one that
only you and Talyn know about.” He started skipping around Crais.
“I have no…”
Crais started to feel light-headed with Starks’ continued movements.
“Oh yes you
do, you do, you do. A secret deep and dark.”
“No, I…”
“I help you
to the other side. Your secret, my secret, your secret…”
Crais drew
his pulse pistol and hissed, “Let me give you a hand reaching the other side
sooner.”
He fired at
Stark. Stark was split, right down the centre and then there were two smaller
versions, “Your secret, my secret” the two Starks chanted.
In
frustration Crais continued shooting at the multiple Starks but it only
succeeded in creating multiple smaller Starks, all skipping around him in a
whirlpool of movement and all singing the chant, “Your secret, my secret,
your…” until it became a deafening roar.
Crais
clasped his hands over his ears and slowly sank to his knees, “SHUT UP!”
The chant
continued, pounding against the side of his skull. He tightened into a ball.
Suddenly
there was complete silence. He looked up…
He woke with
a start and a feeling of unease, he couldn’t explain why. Maybe the dream…
He shook his
head, Peacekeepers don’t dream.
The End