What if Talyn wanted his Pilot with him forever? First part in the Resistance series; this story is set five hundred cycles in the future.

When reading this story, one might encounter 'discrepancies'; these are done deliberately, they are not mistakes. They will be addressed in future adventures of The Resistance, which will start at the founding of The Resistance. You might want to see this story as a long Prologue.

A Lonely Road To Redemption

by GitonCrais

James John Crichton asked permission to dock, and shortly thereafter, his prowler touched down in one of Talyn’s hangar bays.

Talyn had grown to very large proportions, even for a leviathan, and he was now twice the size of Moya. He could accommodate a crew of two hundred easily. His once red hull had darkened to a lustrous, almost black hue.

James couldn’t help but be impressed as he inspected the sentient gunship from the inside.

James wore his dark brown hair cropped short, much like another Crichton once had, and his steel-blue eyes held a familiar look of nearly perpetual amusement in them.

He walked quickly to Command in the knowledge that he would find Talyn’s pilot there. From what he had heard, the man hardly left it.

Talyn opened the doors for him, and James stepped through.

Crais turned around slowly and a welcoming smile appeared on his face. Crais’ voice had a deep, calm, slightly husky timbre, “James, it is good to see you again. How is the family?”

James smiled back, “They’re doing fine. How are you?”

James looked at the older man. Crais’ bearing was ramrod straight. His raven black hair showed some strands of white; in sharp contrast, his goatee and eyebrows were still black as pitch and his beard was trimmed neatly to perfection. There were a few, but only a few, wrinkles around the eyes and across the forehead. The hazel brown eyes scanning the young human betrayed a hint of amusement.

James found it difficult to believe that the man standing in front of him was close to six hundred cycles old.

“I also am fine,” replied Crais. “We have had some major successes and luckily suffered only minor losses. Still, there is so much to be done.” He turned his attention to the major view-port of Talyn, from which was visible the small but effective fleet of Renegade Peacekeepers and Resistance fighters flying alongside the Leviathan.

James observed the older man. It was as difficult as ever to read Crais’ expression.

He kept as much to himself as was necessary. Generations of Crichtons had passed down the stories about him and now it was James’ turn to serve under him. He wondered how much of those stories were true.

Crais turned back to him as though he had been aware all along that he was being observed, and asked, “Robert has finally retired then?”

James nodded. Robert John Crichton was his father. As was tradition, Robert had passed as much of his fighting knowledge as he could to his eldest son, James, and was now sending him off to join Crais. As had been the tradition, the name of the original John Crichton lived on in the middle name of the oldest son in each generation of Crichtons.

“Yes, dad is feeling his years, and he wants to spend the remainder of them with his family. I hope I will not disappoint you, Sir.”

For a brief moment, a hint of sadness flitted past Crais’ features before it was replaced by the well-known calm. Crais gave him a small smile. “The Crichtons haven’t disappointed me for generations now. I’m sure you will do your family name proud.”

James beamed, unaware of how much his smile reminded Crais of the original Crichton’s. “It will be an honour to serve at your side.”

Crais nodded then said, “I’ll show you to your guest quarters for the night. I take it you will be spending most of your time on Nelvix?”

Nelvix was one of Talyn’s sons.

“Yes, Sir.”

Falling in step with Crais as they left Command, he felt around in his jacket, “Mother sent you a message.” He handed a vidchip to Crais.

A smile curled around Crais’ lips as he accepted it. “I hope that this time it isn’t another recipe.”

James blushed, “I don’t think so, Sir.”

Crais looked at him, “The first time she sent me a vidchip, she included a lengthy explanation on how to cook Montak pie. I fear it has become a family joke; don’t take any notice.” The smile slipped a bit.

“I won’t, Sir.”

They had reached James’ temporary quarters.

Crais stood quietly, hands clasped behind his back, “When you have refreshed yourself, you may join me in my chambers.”

James nodded and watched Crais walk off before he entered the room.

Crais stared at the vidchip in his hand, curling his fingers around it, caressing its metal surface.

Once inside his chambers, he inserted it into the vid-player and then sat back in his chair.

The cheerful face of Mylane sprang into view. She had always been one of his favourites. Mylane was his oldest great-granddaughter by the third, and last, of his mates. Their only daughter, Mylane’s own mother, had settled planet-side after his bond-mate died. Mylane had inherited the strong dark looks of the Crais’; generous and honest facial features, prominent nose, black curly hair and a golden tan. Pretty? Maybe not. Beautiful? The captain was not the only male who thought so. And she always wore a smile.

“Hi, Bialar,” she said cheerfully. Crais had encouraged his family to call him by his first name. With so many offspring over the generations, it had been easier than great-great-great grandfather etc etc, especially since the founding father of the line looked so young.

The vidchip showed her sitting behind a desk. “Since you are watching this, I take it that James has arrived safely on Talyn. Keep him safe and well for me.”

She turned her head, obviously talking to someone out of view for a moment. Then she turned her attention back to the recording device. “Robert says ‘Hi’ and that he wishes he could be there himself. I think that’s because I asked him to tidy up the garden”, she grinned. She continued with hardly a pause, “How are you, Bialar? We haven’t heard much from you for much too long, other than the standard reports of successful raids. The children are doing fine. Tamsit is pregnant and is expecting to have her firstborn in a couple of monens, and Tauvo is seeing a girlfriend. Don’t know how serious he is about her, but at least he seems to be happy.” Crais was used to her unceasing flow of words.

She looked a bit worried, “Speaking about happiness and girlfriends… Are you happy? Have you found someone to share your life with on Talyn? It is almost two hundred cycles now since grandmother died and…”

Crais turned the vid-player off.

He would listen to the rest later.

Although Mylane made him smile, she also had the ability to make him reflect, and sometimes that wasn’t what he wanted to do. This was one of those times.

Unbidden, the thoughts intruded on his mind…

Past…

It wasn’t until Lyane was about one hundred cycles old that Crais noticed something was out of the ordinary. By now, Crais himself was one hundred and ten cycles old.

Aeryn and Lyane were starting to show their advancing age, and more grey appeared in their hair. The lines on their faces were becoming more pronounced too.

Crichton, advanced as he was in Human years, was actually ‘old’, and looked like a Sebacean of close to one hundred and seventy cycles. He was becoming forgetful, and his steps weren’t so sure anymore. He hadn’t been up to accompanying them on missions for some time now.

Although Aeryn and Crichton’s children had inherited combinations of genes from both of their parents (they could withstand the heat better, much like Humans could, and they were as agile and strong as Sebaceans), they all seemed to age more like their father, and they looked older than the offspring of Crais and Lyane. Some of the two families’ offspring had bonded with each other as time went on.

Only Crais seemed not to have changed. His hair was still as black as ever. Hardly a wrinkle showed on his face, and his body was still in top condition. It looked as if he had hardly aged at all.

Over the cycles, Crichton had remarked more and more often that Crais looked ‘disgustingly young’ for his age, and Crais had dismissed that each time as just ‘being Sebacean’.

But as his Sebacean peers continued to grow physically older, and Crais appeared closer to the age of his offspring than to their own ages, Crais knew it wasn’t as simple as that.

Crichton finally died at the age of one hundred and twenty. A remarkable age for a Human, made even more remarkable when one took into consideration the life he had led.

Aeryn didn’t survive him long, but she didn’t die of old age.

After Crichton’s death, she took increasing risks, until she finally reached the point of endangering the lives of the others in her group.

She died quickly and cleanly from a single stray shot. At least Cholok had been kind to her in that respect.

When Crais was one hundred and eighty, he saw the light sparkle for the last time in Lyane’s eyes. She died peacefully in his arms at the ripe old age of one hundred and sixty eight.

Her face was still beautiful, even though marred by the passage of time, and a wrinkled hand caressed his young face, “Find someone to share your life with you, my beautiful young mate. You shouldn’t be on your own. You have given me a wonderful family and a good and adventurous life. I love you, my Sh’lee.” Those were her last words before her hand dropped away from his face.

His battle roar when she died could be heard all over Talyn.

He sat by her side for several arns, mourning in silence.

Finally, Tauvo, an old man himself, came into their chambers and took his father to the galley where he prepared him something to eat and drink before making preparations for his mother’s burial in space.

Crais roamed the corridors for days. Talking to no one and looking almost like the living dead. At one point they feared they had lost a father and a leader too. But he pulled through.

Crais took another mate after nearly twenty-five cycles on his own, and after his second mate died at the age of one hundred and twenty, he waited for another twenty cycles before bonding with his third mate. She died at the age of one hundred and sixty.

And now Crais had been on his own for nearly two hundred cycles.

He had been happy with all of his mates, but he couldn’t face it again, watching them age and die while he continued to look young, and outlived them all.

All of his children were dead now too, even the youngest, and only their offspring were still alive.

The face that looked at him from the mirror was that of a Sebacean male barely seventy cycles old. Only a few strands of white streaked his raven black hair, which flowed lustrously over his shoulders. His almost unlined face seemed to mock him, and his body remained supple. Age seemed not to have touched him at all, or at least only barely.

He still wore his customary black clothes, and over the cycles, his family had given up trying to change his fashion sense.

Present…

Talyn informed him that James was waiting outside, and Crais directed him to let the Human in.

James stepped inside, his gaze hungrily registering ever detail he could of Crais’ Inner Sanctum.

It was just as his father had described it to him. Spartan.

The chamber was separated into two areas: the sleeping quarters and living quarters.

The sleeping quarters were shrouded in darkness.

Little touches in the living quarters suggested that at one time, a female’s touch must have had a hand in it. Other than that, it held only the barest of necessities. A desk in the old Peacekeeper style, one chair in front of it, and another behind it, in which Crais now sat. The furnishings looked comfortable enough.

One of the walls was decorated by a large holo-image of star-charts, and underneath was a rudimentary nav console.

To one side of the room, a low bookcase was to be found. A cursory review sufficed to reveal that the books it held were written in a variety of languages. Most of the decorations in the room reminded James of Peacekeeper insignia.

But strangely enough, above the bookcase a large painting could be seen of a landscape at dusk. A bay was nearly encircled by high cliffs, and storm clouds gathered overhead.

The other wall was completely bare.

Crais gave James a chance to take it all in. Meanwhile, he himself used the opportunity to observe the young man. James reminded him of the first John Crichton of the dynasty. But his face also betrayed some strong Sebacean features, which had been a characteristic Crais had always been drawn to in his mates. The straight slightly prominent nose was one of those characteristics.

James turned to Crais, saying, “Mother sends her love and was wondering if you would visit them soon. Father is getting on in age and hopes to see you one final time before you leave.”

Crais nodded, “I might visit them before we leave this area.”

“That would please Mother.” James grinned, “She’s been complaining that she hasn’t seen you for at least five cycles. She misses you. Why don’t you visit anymore?”

Crais looked calmly at James, “Partly because I have been busy.”

“And the other part?”

Crais raised and lowered his eyebrow as if to shrug, “She reminds me of Myra, what I can remember of her.”

“And that’s not good?” asked James in puzzlement.

“It reminds me of what I am now and what I have lost,” replied Crais. He wondered why he had said this. He wasn’t usually this open in expressing his inner thoughts.

James looked at him in puzzlement.

“It’s not important,” said Crais, waving it away.

James’ steel blue eyes rested on Crais. His gaze and silence began to make Crais a little uncomfortable.

Finally, James spoke, “You must be very lonely, Bialar.”

“I have Talyn. I’m never alone.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Crais’ dark eyes settled on James.

James was not intimidated, and he continued, “What is it like to be this old? Growing older but always staying young, and watching everyone else grow old and die. I’m not sure I could do it.”

For a moment longer Crais looked at him, then glanced away briefly.

James had been the first in a long time to ask him that. Even Mylane had never asked him, perhaps afraid that voicing it aloud would only make her aware of her own passage of time.

Crais looked back at James, his voice soft, and answered, “Your founding father was as inquisitive as you are, asking questions I never wanted to answer.”

James grinned, “I do?”

Crais nodded, “There were times that I would have liked to rip his head off for the impertinence.”

James’ grin disappeared.

Crais continued as if he hadn’t seen this, “But he made me stop and think.”

Crais got up and walked over to the one bare wall in the room.

Talyn, sensing his reflective mood, opened the port view, which encompassed that entire section of the wall. Suddenly, it almost seemed as though they were standing in space. The full beauty of space was revealed. It showed the fleet of ragtag ships of various sizes travelling alongside the Leviathan, always moving.

James was impressed.

He watched the straight back of Crais, silhouetted against the backdrop of the view port. Saw how he slowly relaxed.

He stood up and moved to Crais’ side, “It’s magnificent!”

Crais said nothing but continued to gaze outside.

James wondered what he really saw.

Finally, Crais spoke without taking his eyes off the view, “Space is beautiful. Ever changing but ever so slowly. It never tires me to watch or listen to it.”

“It makes a sound?” James asked incredulously.

Crais nodded, “Through Talyn I can hear the planets sing. I can see the ever-changing colours of their life. Planets are vibrant when they sustain life; they have a beauty unparalleled by anything else.” Crais’ eyes moistened, “Their ancient beauty has made it easier for me to bear growing this old.”

James remained silent, not wanting to break the reflective mood Crais was in.

Crais continued, “Your founding father, John Crichton, was the first to see the change in me. I either didn’t see it, or perhaps I just didn’t want to see it. I deluded myself into thinking that there were Sebaceans who looked young for a long time, and I was merely one of them. I would still grow old. At first he was content to only tease me about it. Later, when he truly became an old man in appearance, the teasing turned into barbs and when his mental faculties were sufficiently eroded, they degenerated into true verbal attacks. We tried to keep his mental and physical deterioration to a minimum, but in the end, his Human DNA betrayed him.”

Briefly he turned his gaze on James, before staring outside again. “I regretted losing him as a comrade. We had our…differences and arguments, not to mention mutual, downright animosity, when he first arrived in this sector of the universe. But as the cycles progressed, we started to respect each other as comrades in arms. Our understanding changed and strengthened with the first joining of Crais and Crichton offspring. He became family. In effect, he became my brother.”

Crais chuckled deeply, “It must have come as a surprise to him. I think Aeryn must have neglected to explain this to him, or maybe she didn’t realise this either. She still had so much herself to learn about Sebacean tradition.” Crais walked away from the view port and sat back down at his desk. Talyn left the view port open.

James sat in the chair in front of the desk.

All the stories he had heard about his founding father, had been stories passed down by the Crichton line. When he was a boy, hearing these tales had made him believe that he was looking at a superhero, someone invincible. Now he would hear those same stories, but this time, from someone who had actually known him.

He stayed silent, hoping to hear more. Crais was in a talkative mood and didn’t disappoint him.

Crais pressed a button on the desk and someone came in only microns afterwards with a tray and two glasses and a bottle of Raslak.

Crais waited until they were alone again, before pouring two measures into the glasses.

He sat back and resumed…

“When meeting John Crichton for the first time, you either liked or disliked him. There was no middle ground. He had that kind of air about him. Our first meeting didn’t start off well. He had come hurtling through a Wormhole and rammed my brother’s prowler, killing him instantly.

It took me a full cycle to realise that it had been an accident; meanwhile, the initial shock of losing my brother in such a fashion had sent me over the edge.

The collision had taken everything away from me in an instant; my brother, my only family, my past and my future. Everything I had worked so hard to keep together. Life was meaningless without him.

I wanted to kill this Crichton for what he had done to my brother…to me. I could only feel anger and hatred. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands, right on the spot. Only the idea that it would have been too quick a revenge, too quick a death, for the crime he had committed, as I saw it then, of murdering my brother, stayed my hand. I wanted him to suffer much, and I wanted him to suffer long.”

Crais’ breath had quickened as he relived the memory.

For a moment Crais closed his eyes as he brought himself under control. When he opened his eyes, he resumed in calmer tones, “My…weakness…made it possible for him to escape.

He, Aeryn and the others all escaped to Moya. For a full cycle I hunted them down. Revenge…blood revenge…was the only thought that was on my mind.

They managed to elude me for a full cycle.”

Crais looked down at his hands, “The hybrid Scorpius caught him before I could. One thing can be said for the Crichton-line, they were always lucky.

I know that it is not a scientifically proven fact, but somehow the Crichtons have always had more than their fair share of luck. This time was no exception.

I nearly lost my mind and my life that day. You must have heard about that (James nodded). Instead, it gave me back my sanity or as much was possible at the time, even if I did not appreciate that at first. Most importantly, it resulted in my becoming Talyn’s pilot.”

Crais took a deep gulp of the Raslak. He winced as the sharp taste hit his taste buds. He was not used to drinking anymore, but today it seemed to be only fitting.

He continued, “For the best part of that first cycle, Talyn and I were alone. It was only after Talyn found out that his mother had not abandoned him, as I had claimed at first, that we began to meet with Moya and her crew again. At first, we did this on an infrequent basis and the results of those visits were…varied.”

Crais smiled wryly, “They didn’t trust me, and why should they? They still saw me as the Peacekeeper who had devoted himself to hunting them down. It was not an easy memory to forget. But I accepted their treatment of me because Talyn needed his mother. I owed that to him.”

Crais took a deep breath, “Crichton and I still had our differences. That only worsened when he decided that Aeryn and I had a certain …attraction…for each other.”

Crais looked amused, “I must admit, that for a while I even took some perverse pleasure in not setting him right on the matter. However, that didn’t do much to mend our relationship.

Crais looked at James, “You must have heard about the cloning of John Crichton? (James nodded and Crais returned the gesture) The Crichton who came on board Talyn was as full of prejudice against me as the one who had stayed on board Moya.

He refused at first to even try to understand me, and it didn’t help matters any that Talyn was becoming more and more mentally unstable. Talyn even tried to kill Crichton, who, in turn, tried to kill me. But that is a long story, and you’ve probably heard it before.

It wasn’t until Dam-ba-da, that Crichton realised that I had no ulterior motives, and that I had a genuine interest in keeping the others safe. And as for me, I was finally able to see his self-sacrificing warrior side. It was a pity that that John Crichton died.”

Crais looked down at his glass with a sad frown. In the end, he had genuinely liked that Crichton. Had there been a choice, he could have readily accepted him as a brother. Instead, Fate played a cruel trick on him, and he had to start from scratch to re-establish a tenuous relationship with the other John Crichton.

By then, Aeryn, having now lost her lover and her mother, laid partial blame for that at Crais’ feet. Crais sighed.

Crais took another sip from his glass, “It was not so easy to convince the remaining John Crichton of my good intentions. He had not lived through the monens the other John Crichton and I…we…had spent together. It took Talyn’s and my sacrifice to blow up the Command Carrier to make him see that I was not the man he believed I was.”

Crais finished the last of the Raslak in one gulp. He did not move to refill his glass.

Crais stood up and walked over to the view port.

His voice became gentler, “Talyn and I survived. We had entered a Wormhole but were thrown to the far reaches of the Uncharted Territories, barely making it out alive. For a while we remained on our own, recuperating.

Then I met Lyane, my first mate, and the twins were born. I would have probably lost my sanity, had it not been for them.

It took us twelve cycles to make it back to the known parts of the Uncharted Territories. It would have been longer, had it not been for another Wormhole through which we re-entered this universe.”

Crais turned his back to the view port. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back. “We met up with Moya, Crichton and the others. For them, only a cycle had passed.”

Crais shook his head as if to dispel an unpleasant memory.

“Crichton did not believe that our survival had just been a matter of luck and coincidence.

Funny, when you consider that the man who couldn’t believe that we had somehow survived and made our way back by the whim of Cholok had survived so long himself by luck alone.”

Crais sat down again, “It wasn’t until Aeryn’s and Crichton’s daughter was born, that Crichton started to accept me. Luckily, Lyane and Aeryn got on well together. The twins enjoyed having two Leviathans to play on and more people to terrorise with their charm.” Crais smiled at the memory.

As much as their father was avoided during much of the first monens, the twins had stolen the hearts of everyone on board Moya with their charm.

“Had it not been for Lyane and the twins, I would have left Moya and just visited them occasionally, if at all.

As it was, Talyn stayed with his mother, feeling the need to protect her and, as a result, the Crais family and the Crichton family grew closer and closer together.”

James felt a pang of remorse that this man had been doomed to a life alone even such a long time ago.

Crais sighed, “I have only one regret. The Crichton on Moya and I never grew close. We showed mutual respect over the cycles as comrades in arms, but somehow Crichton could never quite fully shake the idea that I had a hidden agenda, and a part of him always believed that I still felt attracted to Aeryn. Things only slightly improved when Tauvo showed more than a passing interest in Jaeryn, Crichton’s and Aeryn’s daughter, and then bonded with her.”

Crais sighed, looking at the Raslak and contemplating whether he should have another glass.

Without asking, James refilled both of their glasses.

Crais continued, “By that time, Crichton was seventy cycles old, and showing his age. We compromised on the bonding ceremony. For Crichton’s sake, we held a large celebration before the youngsters had their private bonding ceremony. Crichton always enjoyed big parties, the bigger the better.

It was then that he began to realise that he was beginning to look old, despite our efforts to keep him young.

Worse, I did still look young.

There were times that he resented me for that, and even believed that Aeryn felt a certain attraction to me because of that.

Now that so many cycles have passed since then, I think I’ve begun to understand how he must have felt.”

Crais took another sip of his glass.

“Why do you keep calling him Crichton?” James asked. He had wondered about this all through the conversation.

Crais smiled ruefully, “Because he asked me not to call him John, and I never did after that.”

James nodded in understanding. He asked, “What was he like as a warrior?”

Crais looked at the young man, “He was a good warrior, stubborn and impetuous at times, didn’t take orders that well, but then his luck always seemed to get him out of tight spots.

He never truly mastered the full Vahni Panthak, even under my tutelage. His physiology just wasn’t suited for that, but he tried hard and at least he mastered the first two stages.

His marksmanship was good and his flying abilities improved to excellent under Aeryn’s coaching.” He smiled, “Although in the beginning, her patience was tested to the limits. Overall, he became an excellent warrior.”

James beamed with pleasure at hearing Crais’ praise of the first Crichton. It was a well known fact that Crais didn’t bestow praise lightly, one really had to earn it.

“Was he still alive when you formed the Resistance?” James asked.

Crais nodded, “About two cycles after my return, the tenuous alliance between the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans started to crumble, each race vying to capture the other’s territory.

It wasn’t long before the name of John Crichton and the topic of Wormholes began to crop up again.

I realised that we had to do something drastic, and suggested that we form a Resistance movement.

At first, Crichton believed that running and hiding was a better option; it had kept them alive and out of their enemies’ hands for cycles before. Perhaps it would have worked again.

But I convinced him that with two different factions hunting him, the chances of staying alive and out of both sides’ hands for very long were looking slim; we would more likely survive by banding and working together.

Aeryn and Ka D’Argo saw the validity of the plan. Lyane was worried. Crichton still thought I just wanted to start a new Peacekeepers’ empire.”

Crais got up and started pacing. “Over those two cycles, we had met people, including ex-Peacekeepers (and sometimes their own once upon a time prisoners) who had escaped from the exploding Command Carrier when Talyn and I StarBurst inside, Luxans and Nebari and a variety of other races, all of them fearful of being captured, one way or another, by the Peacekeepers or the Scarrans. It was time to unite them all. There is strength in numbers.”

For a brief moment, Crais paused and looked out at the small fleet outside.

He resumed his pacing. “As I mentioned before, Crichton was concerned that I wanted to create another Peacekeeper force, my own this time. I have to admit that for a while it appeared that way, since most of the early Resistance was mainly composed of ex-Peacekeepers.

Slowly others began to join. It was not easy in the beginning. Old grudges and distrust ruled.

The Peacekeepers had to overcome their feelings of superiority. The others didn’t trust the military precision and regimentation of the Peacekeepers. But after a while, they started working together. They worked as one group, one force, in pursuit of one goal.

Even after more than five hundred cycles, we’re still fighting for a little bit more freedom and some of our goals have widened in scope, but we slowly continue to gain ground; we’re becoming a force ourselves in helping to stave off the progress of Peacekeepers and Scarrans in gaining too much ground themselves. For the first time in a long period, the different races have joined together against common foes.

We might not be as big an organisation as the Peacekeepers or the Scarrans, but we are still a determined force. We’re tasting a measure of freedom again.”

Crais’ eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. His voice was slightly raised in zeal and the glance he directed outside was one of pride.

His gaze was drawn to the other big ship out there, an older model Command Carrier.

“My biggest moment of personal joy and satisfaction came when an old comrade joined our group. I had not expected him, or maybe in my heart I had. Somehow, I always hoped that he would join. Hoped that his honour demanded that of him. Still, it came as a surprise when he finally did.”

Crais stopped in front of the view port and looked at the Command Carrier, “When Lieutenant Braca, by then Captain Braca, asked permission to join, we couldn’t believe our ears. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

Crichton was reluctant to let him join; he suspected a trap. But I knew that Braca’s offer was genuine, that it was only a matter of time. After all, in the first cycles of my escape from my own Command Carrier, he had provided me, secretly, with information.

To my surprise, however, he brought a Command Carrier, that Command Carrier (Crais pointed outside), with him and with it twenty-five thousand Peacekeepers, who had had enough of the corruption that was eating away at the Peacekeepers, and of the broken alliances with the Scarrans. I am glad that they joined and were accepted.

I believe that one of your ancestors bonded successfully with one of Braca’s offspring.”

Crais was silent.

“They accepted you as their Supreme Commander?” asked James.

Crais nodded.

“Don’t you get tired sometimes of fighting?”

Crais turned around and faced James, “Someone has to do it, and right now I have the most experience. I will not step down.”

“I’m not suggesting you should,” said James, “but don’t you ever wish you were leading a…normal…life, away from battle? On some planet, for instance?”

Crais canted his head, “And leave Talyn?” He shook his head, “Talyn and I have been together for over five hundred and fifty cycles. I suspect that one of the reasons for my longevity is due to that. I will never leave him.”

Talyn chirped happily and James smiled. The Leviathan must be following their conversation.

Crais smiled too, “At some point, either before we StarBurst in the Command Carrier, probably when Talyn and I shared our engrams, or perhaps during our passage through the Wormhole, Talyn and I must have merged into full symbiosis. As a Leviathan, Talyn needs a pilot, if possible, for life. As for myself, I need him to keep my sanity.”

“But you are sane. I don’t know what I would have done had I lived as long as you have; fighting all the time.”

Crais turned his back on him and once again gazed outside, “As I said, he’s keeping me sane. I am well aware that someone needs to lead the Resistance, and any of a number of the leaders under my command could direct them. But what better fear can we instil in our enemies than of a Resistance which is led by a man who cannot die?”

Crais’ voice caught, “Besides, Talyn needs me. Not that much as a pilot anymore, but more as a companion and a friend.”

~A father~ Talyn happily amended, his voice a lighter version of Crais’.

That startled James, “I’ve heard that Talyn could speak, if he chooses to do so, but I had never believed the stories.”

Crais smiled proudly, “Thank you, Talyn. Yes, he can speak. He uses the voice modulators to do so. You see (he turned back to James), Talyn is not an ordinary Leviathan, in more ways than one. And not just as a gunship. Over time, he has been able to produce offspring with gunship capabilities, a side effect that was never expected. We had not even believed that he would be able to reproduce, because of his hybrid form. Yet, like me, he’s an anomaly.

Not very many female Leviathans care to mate with him because of his gunship characteristics. They can sense the difference in him. However, apart from Nelvix, his offspring has grown armament for defence.”

Crais resumed pacing again, “I travelled to Pilot’s planet when I reached my one hundred and fifteenth cycle, but none of them would bond with Talyn. They didn’t consider him…peace-loving enough. They couldn’t nor wouldn’t see past his hybrid form. Wouldn’t see the good in him.” There was an edge of anger and annoyance in Crais’ voice.

“Luckily, my…longevity…must have already been activated. So, you see, even if I were to retire as Commander of the Resistance, I would not settle down on a planet. Not while Talyn is alive.”

“But you can leave Talyn for short periods?”

“I could even leave for longer periods if I chose to do so, but I don’t.”

Talyn chirped happily.

Deep in his psyche, Crais felt a wave of gratitude at the idea that they would never be separated.

James watched him smile as Crais conversed silently with his friend.

“You don’t want to take another mate again?”

James’ question penetrated Crais’ musings, and Crais refocused his attention back on the younger man, “Perhaps, I don’t know.”

Crais sat down, toyed with his glass and took another sip, “I have been lucky so far in my choice of mates. All have given me wonderful offspring and their love, and times to remember fondly. I would not have wanted to miss that.”

Crais sighed, “But watching your mates die of old age… Watching your children die of old age, while the face I see in the mirror every day has hardly changed, is daunting.”

Crais took another sip, bigger this time, and stared at his glass. “This is a terrible thing to admit, but if not for the holovids that Talyn made, I wouldn’t be able to even remember their faces anymore. They have become blurred in my memory over time. I can’t hear the tones of their voices anymore or the words that were theirs for me alone. And I truly loved all of them.

When I want to remember them, I have to ask Talyn to play a holovid for me. I haven’t listened to the holovids for a while now.

Although the vids give me pleasure, they bring pain too. They make me realise that the women I loved are all long gone now; and that I will never see or hear them again. They make me face the truth, that I am truly alone with only Talyn to keep me company. I am in no hurry to go through that experience again soon.”

Crais fell silent as he rolled the glass between his hands. The pain of remembering was plain on his face and James was witness to the depth of loneliness Crais must be experiencing. He remained silent, not quite sure how to react.

Finally, Crais looked up.

The sadness, which had been there for a brief moment was once again replaced by the calm for which he was renowned, “You will be staying for the night?”

James nodded.

“Good. I will introduce you to the others at evening repast. Then, in the morning, we can show you your place in the formation and introduce you to Nelvix. He will be pleased to have another Crichton on board. Two weekens from now, we will go on another campaign. Until that time, you have sufficient opportunities to visit with our family.”

“Will you come with me? To visit them?”

Crais nodded.

It was obvious that Crais had concluded the conversation.

James stood up, “I will be seeing you at dinner then?”

By now Crais was used to the different names the Humans gave to their repasts and nodded.

Crais stood up too; he walked to the view port.

James turned towards the door and stepped into the corridor. When he turned around to Crais, he saw that he once again stood in front of the view port, looking out. His hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders thrown back; a lone figure.

Crais disappeared from his view as the doors closed.

The End

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FanFiction on Captain Bialar Crais