This story begun to emerge after I saw Kiichi Nakai in Warriors Of Heaven And Earth. A Samurai-Crais story. Crais is alive and is feared for his swordsmanship. Thanks for Betas Nota and LtG.

On The Edge Of The Sword

by GitonCrais

“Uh-oh!”

Aeryn turned her head sharply towards John Crichton.

Although the translator microbes had never been able to translate that word, she had come to recognize it over the past 5 cycles as “trouble ahead” and “we are in deep dren!”

She frowned at him. Couldn’t he be a little more specific?

Crichton looked first at his pulse pistol and then at her, “We’re in trouble!”

“I gathered that,” replied Aeryn, her annoyance rising.

Crichton elaborated, staring at the pack of 20 or so men grinning dangerously in front of them, “Well, Sundance, there are over 20 of those goons coming at us, and we seem to have two non-working pulse pistols between us. You got any idea how we’re gonna get out of this?”

She looked down at her pulse pistol and noticed for the first time that it no longer seemed to be holding a charge. Yet she knew that, until now, she had not had occasion to so much as draw it from it’s holster since they had first set foot on this frelling planet. A growl issued from her throat, “I guess that we’ll just have to fight our way out without them and hope for the best. At least we’ll take some of those frelniks with us to Hezmana.”

She put away her pistol and took up a fighting stance.

Crichton admired her willingness to fight and die in battle, but he had no hope of getting out of this alive, let alone unscathed, if their assailants really wanted them dead. And he was getting the distinct impression that those guys really wanted them dead.

The men in front of them grinned even more widely at the prospect of a relatively easy victory.

“I’m sure you don’t consider this a good day to die,” a deep-throated voice behind the throng uttered.

Neither Crichton nor Aeryn could see who the newcomer was.

Some men at the back turned around in annoyance, “This is none of your business. Begone!”

“Oh, but I think this IS my business,” the deep voice replied calmly.

The men in the back drew their swords, long, very dangerous looking swords, brightly polished, “Then prepare to fight for your life!”

“I am. Are you?” There was a hint of menace in the voice.

Aeryn and Crichton heard the sharp “zing” of metal leaving scabbards.

Soon, they could see the light reflected off of highly polished steel as it repeatedly arced up and slashed down. The shrieks and groans of men whose flesh met those sharp blades reached their ears.

The men immediately in front of them turned around and transferred their attention to the mysterious stranger. They drew their blades, beginning to regard him as a bigger threat for the moment than the two easy marks who had been their original targets.

Shifting their positions as they moved forwards to give their rescuer assistance, Aeryn and Crichton were finally able to observe the man in action.

Dressed in black and with his blades slashing, he cut a swath in front of him in a lethal dance.

His right arm swung in a high arc before slicing the man in front of him almost in half, while at the same time, his left arm thrust deeply into the next man’s chest.

Another man, who had tried to attack him from behind, was caught in the backwards upswing of the right-hand blade, his face split like a melon from chin to forehead.

A booted foot against the chest of the dead man in front of the unknown savior freed the left blade, which then made a sideways cutting stroke at the next man.

The right blade swung high and then down again, neatly separating an oncoming assailant’s head from his body.

By the time the man’s foot had come down again, the left blade had arced down and the right blade had been repositioned in a stabbing motion, swinging out and up, splitting the next man in half from groin to keel bone

Trying to attack the stranger from the side two at a time had not been any more successful. Well, at least it had not helped the attackers. The right blade had changed position quickly in his hand again. A full sweep sideways took both heads off in one fell swoop.

Apart from shifting slightly forwards to press his advantage, the man in black had barely moved from his initial position.

Aeryn and Crichton had finally overcome their initial surprise and were attacking the men in front of them. Their Panthak-jabs were meant to kill, and between the two of them, they had managed to bring another four men down.

The remaining three assailants wisely decided to flee.

A calm settled over the street.

It was hard to believe that less than three microns had passed since the appearance of the man in black.

Fourteen lay dead at his feet.

He had his back turned to Aeryn and Crichton as they cautiously approached him.

He methodically wiped his blades clean on one of the dead men’s shirts before standing to his full height.

Raven black, very curly hair, cascaded down his back, a leather knot at the nape of his neck held it neatly together. The broad shoulders and trim waist spoke of his strength.

“I believe we owe you our lives,” said Crichton humbly, in case the man’s appetite for blood hadn’t diminished.

The man turned around slowly to face them, “I believe they were after more than your lives, Crichton!”

“How do you…” started Crichton. His faculties of speech nearly deserted him as the stranger turned to face him, “Crais?” He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Crais smiled a slightly lopsided smile, the result of a nasty-looking scar that ran from his left eye all the way down to the corner of his mouth. A black patch covered that eye, “Yes, Crichton, I am still alive.”

Aeryn stared at him with a mixture of puzzlement, hope, and pleasure. She finally found her voice, “It’s good to see you again, Crais.” She stepped forward, feeling a sudden and unexplainable urge to hug him.

As Crais took a quick step back, Aeryn halted her forward progress.

She felt a sudden, biting twinge of disappointment, “And Talyn?”

“He’s alive too,” Crais’ face showed complete calm again.

Crichton moved forward himself, and before Crais could retreat again, he had wrapped his arms around Crais’ shoulders. Relief at not only finding himself and Aeryn alive, but in addition, at so suddenly and unexpectedly facing his presumably deceased, sometimes former rival in a similar state, momentarily overwhelmed his more typical feelings for the man facing him. He could feel Crais tense in his arms, “We were sure that we would never see you alive again!”

“Ah…uhm…It is a pleasant surprise to see you both also,” muttered Crais, resisting the urge to push the Human away, “However, we may not enjoy our good fortune much longer if we linger here until the others return with a new batch of their friends.”

Crichton retreated a step, managing to look slightly embarrassed by his action, “You’re right, Crais.”

Crais lifted an eyebrow.

Aeryn tried not to smile too broadly as she detected the embarrassment being broadcast by both males.

Crais sheathed his long sword, the one he had used with his right hand, in a scabbard that was strapped across his back. The shorter sword was returned to the scabbard hanging from his belt at his right hip. Neither human nor Sebacean heard any sound as the blades slid home, not until they barely detected a final soft click indicating that they were fully sheathed. The sound of withdrawing blades that they had heard earlier must have been for the assailants ‘convenience’.

Crais looked at them, his right eyebrow raised as if asking them whether now they would condescend to hurry. Without further word, he turned around and walked off at a rapid pace. Aeryn and Crichton quickly retrieved the packs they had discarded such a short time ago, and proceeded to follow Crais’ long strides away from the spot.

They noticed that he limped slightly whenever he put weight on his left leg, even though that had been cleverly disguised until now.

About ten microns later and half a dozen streets away from their encounter, Crais halted for a microt, and then led them down a side-street, stopping finally before a door. The door opened onto a corridor, which in turn led to a small courtyard.

Crichton put down his packs and watched in amazement as Crais walked to one of the doors facing the courtyard.

The courtyard was surrounded by small apartments and the hustle and bustle of the street did not reach here.

“Is this your place, Crais?” asked Crichton, still looking around him.

Crais had already opened the door, and he hurriedly motioned them inside.

The apartment was more spacious than they had expected.

“You can leave the packs in the corner for the moment,” said Crais, closing the door behind them. He walked over to the dresser at the other end of the room.

Without turning around to them, he replied, “No, I’m just renting this for the moment. I’m waiting for some supplies to be delivered. They won’t be ready for another couple of days. You can stay here for now, unless you have your own accommodations, although I would seriously advise you to consider abandoning them for the moment, at least.”

He turned around with two glasses of water in his hands, which he handed to them.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, “Sorry, nothing stronger than this.”

He turned back briefly to take his own glass.

Aeryn and Crichton had settled down in two chairs which were positioned next to each other. Crais took a third chair facing them.

For a moment there was silence.

Finally, Crichton spoke up, “Was it just coincidence that you found us, Crais? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

Crais crossed the ankles of his outstretched legs. “Not quite. I was already on this planet, and I am awaiting a delivery. In that, yes, it is coincidence that our paths have crossed once more. Talyn had warned me that his mother was nearby, and shortly afterwards, that your bio-signature was to be found planet-side. He has been quite anxious to meet up with his mother again ever since…but he was also aware that we need the supplies. Since he has been desirous of visiting with Moya anyway, it only made sense that we take advantage of this opportunity to reunite, and perhaps, travel together for a while. Once here it was not difficult to find you, Crichton.”

Crichton shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “If Talyn can find me this easily…”

“You forget that Talyn is already intimately familiar with your signature. Although you are unique as a species, one still must know your signature first in order to recognize it. Unfortunately, you have been physically recognized on this planet, hence the attack.”

“Once more we are indebted to you,” admitted Crichton almost reluctantly.

Crais’ eye rested calmly on the human for half a microt before he shifted his gaze to Aeryn, “You have a son?”

“Yes,” Aeryn smiled warmly, “How did you know?”

“Moya has told Talyn,” replied Crais.

“Can’t keep secrets in space,” Crichton smiled and then resumed, “Your rapport with Talyn is now instantaneous even over extended physical distance, Crais?” Crichton’s smile had an edge of disbelief. He had not so far noticed that absent look which Crais customarily bore whenever he was communicating with the young Leviathan.

Again Crais looked over at Crichton, his right eyebrow slightly raised, “Yes, you are correct in your observation.”

“Which means, we can’t surprise you with our adventures since our paths parted,” Crichton chuckled.

Crais flinched a little, “No, we know everything that has happened to you since then. Besides, Talyn and I don’t like surprises…anymore.”

“But you do still like to hand out the occasional surprise, don’t you, Crais? Or how else would you describe your entrance earlier?”

“Fortunate,” was the curt reply.

“Well…yes…but a surprise nonetheless.”

“It was necessary to gain the advantage,” Crais admitted grudgingly, but Aeryn saw a small twitch, the barest hint of a self-satisfied smirk, at the corner of his mouth.

To the best of her recollection, her former captain had never been fond of surprises, at least not when he was on the receiving end of them, “So how did you…and Talyn…survive your StarBurst in the Command Carrier, Crais?”

Crais looked up and drained the remainder of his glass in one gulp, “Barely.” He got up and refilled his glass, then held up the pitcher in a wordless question to them, but they shook their heads. He walked back to his seat and eased himself back down again.

For a moment he sipped in silence.

Curiosity was gnawing at Crichton’s insides, “So, what happened, Crais?”

Crais looked at Crichton. His voice was deep and soft, and had a slightly gravely undertone, “When we StarBurst, Talyn surged forwards. We had believed that StarBurst in a confined area would be a quick, if not merciful, end for both of us, and for long microns, it appeared that our assumption would be correct. The build up of power in such a small place was tremendous.” Crais cleared his throat when he heard his voice change in pitch as he relived the painful memories.

He resumed his account once he believed he had himself under control again. “The light and crackling of StarBurst energy engulfed me…Talyn…The sheer power was drowning out all of our senses. The power conduits were coming apart, it ran like liquid fire through Talyn’s nerve endings. The…force…was beginning to overwhelm me too, when suddenly Talyn moved forwards. At first I thought it was an involuntary reaction. But then we began to feel the pull of the Wormhole, the residual remains reacting to Talyn’s surge of power. Given the state Talyn was in, we could not resist the forward motion.”

Crais took another sip of water. “The combined pressures inside and outside the hangar must have almost instantaneously weakened the molecular structure of the Hangar Bay. Talyn’s body pushed against the Bay doors, the Wormhole seemed to extend itself to exert a grip on him, and suddenly the entire structure buckled under the pressure. I could feel and see how the doors grumbled…screeched as the structure’s integrity was lost. And then the doors exploded outward. Debris and bodies followed in the aftermath. Talyn too surged forward. The pain…” Crais flinched and took another deep sip.

He was breathing deeply now, his face had a pained expression, and it didn’t even seem as if he were totally aware of the other two anymore. Finally, he managed to pull himself together, and he resumed his account in an almost calm, detached voice, “The jagged edges of the Bay doors scraped over Talyn’s back. One of his fins was ripped off violently. It hampered his forward movement…”

“That must have been it!” Crichton exclaimed.

Crais looked up in puzzlement, “It?”

“We found Talyn’s fin later…when we were looking for…survivors. It was all that was left, we thought, and so we presumed that you and Talyn had perished.”

Crais nodded in understanding and continued. “He…we…were pulled in…sucked in…more or less sideways, because of the loss of his fin. His agony was overwhelming and I found it difficult to keep to my feet. He couldn’t focus…was in panic…but shutting him down wasn’t an option by then. We bumped and scraped along the walls of the Wormhole’s corridors but couldn’t see our way out. At some point…”

Crais drained what remained of his drink and this time, Aeryn stood up to refill it.

Crais’ voice had grown hoarse and he had to clear his throat several times before he could continue, “At some stage, I finally managed to take control of the Navigational console and I was able to override Talyn’s controls manually.” He smiled wryly, “Not that it did us a lot of good, due to the missing tailfin, but at least some control was regained. That also allowed Talyn to shut down some of the neural pathways for the time being, to shut out the pain and slip into a, what might best be described as a semi-conscious state.”

“Couldn’t you have shut down Talyn by remote control?” asked Crichton. Crais raised his brow questioningly and Crichton tapped the back of his neck, “You know…”

A wry smile glanced over Crais’ lips and he shook his head slowly, “Had I done so, we would have died.”

Crais pondered for a moment, trying to pick up the threads of the story, “Navigating Talyn wasn’t easy. We had been sucked in by a tremendous force, and our momentum became completely uncontrolled. Somehow, I managed to straighten Talyn out to a certain extent, and we were eventually flung out of the Wormhole. Unfortunately, the Wormhole had re-opened very near a planet, and it closed immediately behind us.”

“Why was it unfortunate to be so near a planet?” asked Crichton. But even as he asked the question, the answer formed in his mind. He quickly tried to retract the remark, but Crais was even faster to reply. He looked at Crichton, “With the Nav controls as good as useless, the instability caused by Talyn’s missing tailfin and the proximity of the planet’s gravitational pull, it was nearly our undoing.”

Without being aware that he was doing it, Crais was slowly massaging the muscles in his left thigh. Aeryn noticed the small gesture, although Crichton was totally oblivious to it, so intent was he on the story.

“What happened?” Crichton’s eyes shone with curiosity. This was the first time he had ever heard Crais speak in such detail and at such length about anything.

Aeryn rolled her eyes, thinking, ‘Let the man finish his story.’

Crais sighed deeply and stood up to pour them some more water.

Aeryn noticed that his limp was a little more pronounced, probably worsened by having sat in the same position for so long. When he finally took his seat again, she noticed that he nearly imperceptibly eased himself down instead of straightforwardly and naturally sitting right down.

After Crais had taken a few sips, he swirled the water in the glass, watching as the mini whirlpools twirled around the sides of the vessel, “What happened, Crichton? Luck happened.” He downed the remainder in one gulp.

“Luck?” asked Crichton, wondering why Crais had chosen this term to describe it.

Crais nodded, “Talyn wasn’t strong enough to pull himself away. I was beginning to lose consciousness myself, from the strain of controlling Talyn, and keeping focused on manually overriding and continuously correcting Talyn’s path. It appeared as if we had just replaced one manner of death with another. It was as though we had just bought ourselves a few wasted microts.”

Wearily, Crais brought a left hand toward his forehead, lightly massaging his temple. Remembering what had happened and the pain that had resulted was bringing on a massive headache.

Aeryn looked at her former Captain with concern, “Maybe we should let Crais rest a bit before continuing?”

Crais’ head shot up and his hand dropped from the side of his head, “No, I’m fine.”

Aeryn stifled the urge to purse her lips and say, “Sure you are, Crais…”

As John grinned and took a breath to voice what Aeryn herself was thinking, Aeryn’s elbow dug into his ribs, cutting him off.

Crais continued. “The moment that we entered the planet’s atmosphere, Talyn woke up, a most inconvenient time for him to do so. At least that was how it seemed at first. Talyn was panicking, and I can’t blame him for that. My own mind wasn’t at ease at that moment either and he must have felt that too. His panic overrode my manual handling of his systems, and it looked as though we were headed for a completely uncontrolled crash. It took me several microts to wrest even partial control back.”

Crais’ voice was hoarse with emotion, “I had to take readings quickly. Luckily, that portion of the console was still fully operational. I found a sector that was very sparsely populated and heavily vegetated. I directed Talyn towards it.”

Crais took a deep breath. “The only thing controlled about our crash, I wouldn’t even call it a descent, was our choice of direction. I was positive we traversed the atmosphere so quickly that we couldn’t have been anything more than a blip on anyone’s recognition screen. We crashed on a small island completely surrounded by water. The trees on the island cushioned our landing, at least to a certain extent.”

Crais paused for a moment, his brow furrowed, “First, I was thrown forwards into the Nav-console, I guess, and then flung away from it as the bulkhead seemed to rush to meet me. I remember hitting my head rather hard, and Talyn’s screams. Then there was nothing.”

Crais stopped for just a moment, but it felt like ages to them all. Then he finally looked up. There was a haunted look in his eye.

“If you want to rest for a bit…” offered Aeryn.

At first it seemed that Crais would protest against it, but then he nodded.

They had all become so caught up in the story, that none of them had noticed the gathering darkness outside.

Crais stood up stiffly. Sitting in the same position for so long hadn’t done his sorely abused muscles any good. He looked at the others, “I presume that you are hungry?”

They hadn’t given it any thought until he brought the issue up, but now they both could hear their stomachs rumbling. Embarrassed by how loudly his stomach was complaining, Crichton looked at Crais sheepishly, “I could eat a horse. Any suggestions?”

Crais raised an eyebrow. He didn’t know the expression and wondered if the translators had been right, “I’m not sure whether this planet has handoks, but I’m sure they must have something similar to accommodate your needs. I hope that you have the credits to afford such an extravagant luxury?”

Crichton stared at Crais, his eyes blinking rapidly. Had the man made a joke? But when he saw the deadpan expression he found no trace of humour, only confusion.

Crichton grinned, got up and slapped Crais on the shoulder, “God, Crais, I’ve certainly missed that.”

Crais scowled at him, offended by the human’s forwardness and impertinence. Crichton’s grin widened, “And that too!”

With a certain disdain, Crais turned to Aeryn, “I trust that he has not contaminated you so thoroughly that you feel obliged to display similarly outlandish behavior?”

Aeryn tried in vain to hide a grin behind the palm of her hand, “No Crais, none of that.”

“Good. You can leave your packs here. We will go out and eat. As you might have already noticed, firearms won’t work on this planet. You have blades to protect you?”

Aeryn nodded and reached behind her to draw a blade from the concealed sheath at the back of her belt. She also showed him another long, thin knife which had been well hidden in her boot.

It always amazed Crichton where her weapons were concealed. He smiled sheepishly, “I have none. Besides, I’m not very good with them anyway.” He felt embarrassed to admit that and was therefore surprised to see Crais nod in approval rather than accusation.

“It’s good that you tell me this. I wouldn’t like to be caught by the wrong swing,” Crais said calmly. He walked over to his own pack in the corner of the room and rummaged through it.

While going through his pack, he asked Crichton, “I believe that you are reasonably adept at knuckle fighting?”

“Yeah. I’m not too bad with the old fisticuffs,” replied Crichton a little surprised, wondering where Crais’ question was leading.

Crais turned around, “Then these might be of use to you.”

He offered Crichton a pair of gauntlets.

Crichton’s eyes went wide, “Crais, your hands are bigger than mine. They probably won’t fit me very well if they were tailored for you.”

Crais’ jaw twitched in slight annoyance, “They have adjustable straps on the insides of the wrists.”

Crichton pulled the first gauntlet over his left hand and was surprised by how supple and light the material felt. The glove almost fit like a second skin and when he moved his fingers, his grip felt as flexible as if he had been barehanded. The back of the glove had a layer of fine mesh, the…pieces, whatever material they were made of, glided over each other in a way that reminded Crichton of the scales of the fish he had caught with his father when he was a young boy. The top of the gauntlet almost reached to his elbow and protected his underarm. It had the same kind of mesh as the glove section, although these scales seemed to be bigger. The straps on the inside of his wrist made it easy to fit the gauntlet tightly to both hand and arm. “Looks impressive, Crais, but are you sure it will be effective against a sharp steel blade?”

Aeryn had looked at the gauntlet in awe and was running her fingers lightly, almost sensually, over the surface, “They are beautiful, Crais. Where did you pick up a pair of Na’shots?”

Crais smiled, gratified that Aeryn had recognised them for what they were, “On Zarini-1.”

“What are these nachos, anyway?” asked Crichton.

“Na’shots,” Crais corrected him, “They are fighting gloves.”

Crichton pursed his lips, “I gathered that much. But why would Aeryn go all funny over them?”

Aeryn hadn’t stopped stroking and fondling the glove in her hand. She only became aware of the gesture when Crichton mentioned it. She dropped her hand immediately, a faint blush spreading over her face. She looked around the room quickly, then spotted something outside. Opening the door and dragging Crichton outside, she stopped at a nearby tree and turned to Crichton, “Hit this! Hit is as hard as you can.”

With an amused smile, Crichton drew his hand back and hit the tree with as much force as he could muster.

He had not really believed the gloves could pack any unusual amount of force, however much Aeryn seemed to gloat over them. He was therefore very surprised when not only the bark splintered when he hit the tree but that the wood itself showed a crack. He had hardly felt the impact.

He looked at Aeryn, who grinned back at him, “And it wards off blows by blades…to a certain extent, anyway. For instance, don’t try and take on a blow from a sword like the one Crais is carrying. But against a smaller sword, certainly a dagger at least, you should be well protected.”

Crichton stared at the gauntlet, turning his arm slowly, “Amazing!”

“Quite,” she replied as they walked back inside and Crichton strapped on the other gauntlet.

“Hmm…thanks Crais,” said Crichton with a tentative grin, flexing his gloved hands, still amazed by the feel of them.

Crais looked across at him, “They are only on loan, Crichton.”

“Yeah…sure…I understand...still…”

Crais motioned them out of the house, making sure that he locked the door securely behind them.

His blades were prominently displayed.

Crichton commented on that as they left the courtyard.

Crais explained, “Showing the outward signs of your skills with the blades acts as a deterrent against the potential foe who desires nothing more than to find an easy target.”

Crichton gave him a wide smile, “Then I think your average run of the mill hoodlum will be well warned at the sight of you.”

Crais’ one good eye glared at him, not sure whether to take that remark as a compliment or as mockery.

The eating establishment wasn’t that far from the house. Crichton’s misgivings that they would look completely out of place with all the hardware on them dissolved quickly as soon as they entered the place. He grinned mentally, they might even be considered ‘underdressed’.

Crais chose a table near the middle of the room but also not too far from a wall. He sat down facing the room, while Aeryn and Crichton took two of the other seats. Like Crais, Aeryn took a position from which she could observe the room easily.

They let Crais order the food, since it was obvious that he had been here before. Not to Crichton’s surprise, he had chosen a hearty stew.

They ate in relative silence.

Now and then, Crichton would steal a furtive glance in Crais’ direction. Crais’ eye patch was strangely unsettling.

“Is there something on your mind, Crichton?” Crais asked casually.

The Human who sat on his right was actually almost in his direct line of sight.

“Doesn’t that hinder you,” Crichton finally asked.

Crais didn’t pretend that he didn’t know what Crichton was referring to. He continued eating, but between mouthfuls, he replied, “Of course it does…to an extent. Not enough to prevent me from engaging in combat. Not enough to prevent me from winning”

Crichton smiled, “We have seen that it doesn’t obstruct your skills.”

Crais looked at Crichton briefly before returning his attention to his food. Crichton could barely hear his whispered words, “Not here.”

Aeryn picked up on the cue, and nudged Crichton as he got ready to continue this line of conversation. Although she hadn’t said much yet, the silence seemed to deepen around the table.

Crichton sighed and made a mental note not to invite any more Peacekeepers than necessary, ex or otherwise, to a dinner party…or a stag night. He grinned at the picture that came to mind and when he looked up again, he was met by twin stares of puzzlement. He had to look quickly back at his plate to stop himself from giggling hysterically.

Before they left the establishment, Crais had a word with the proprietor, and received a small satchel, which he carried with him. It was nearly dark by now.

Aeryn, if not Crichton, noticed that Crais had made sure that the guards over his swords were off, and could be withdrawn quickly in an emergency. She checked her blades accordingly.

“Are you expecting trouble, Cr…” Crichton hadn’t even finished his sentence before a figure sprang from the shadows in front of them. In an instant, Crais had drawn his long blade and held it in a defensive stance before him, at the same time positioning himself in front of Aeryn and Crichton. The satchel dropped to the ground.

The newcomer was nearly a head taller than Crais, and wider. His powerful neck sat atop a muscular torso and narrow waist. He too had his blade drawn.

He slowly placed his feet in front of him, testing the ground and making an almost circular movement around Crais.

At first glance, it would probably not have been apparent that Crais himself had moved at all in response, but a more careful observer would have detected a slight shift in position. His watchful eye never left his opponent.

“So, Su’meroh, we meet at last,” drawled the man.

Crais lifted his eyebrow but remained silent.

“This star system speaks highly of your skills, and I had to see for myself if they were true.” The man smiled as he moved his sword slightly, impressed that Crais didn’t take the bait. He glanced at Aeryn and Crichton quickly, in case Crais took advantage of the opportunity to attack while his attention was focused on them, “Are these your new companions?”

Silence.

“I hear you are a man of honour.” The slow circling resumed. The man was looking for a better opening. Crais only shifted his position marginally, keeping Aeryn and Crichton behind him. The man continued, “I also hear you are a ruthless killer. Can the two be equally present in one man?”

“Who can tell me that your intentions are honourable? So far, you haven’t given me the name by which you are known,” Crais replied softly.

The man paused, “I go by the name of Tengu.” His eyes searched Crais’ face for any kind of recognition.

“The Dancer,” said Crais, “Yes, I have heard of you.”

The man smiled.

Crais continued in the same soft tones, “But why would you want to dance with me? I have no quarrel with you; nor have I heard anything against you, that would warrant my attention.”

“I have heard stories about you. I want to know if they are true. I want to mete with you,” Tengu flashed a disarming smile.

Aeryn could see some of the tension leaving Crais’ shoulders but he didn’t relax his stance.

“Very well, since there is no malice intended, we do not have to battle till death.”

“Agreed,” answered Tengu. He stepped back and lowered his sword.

Crais did likewise and motioned Aeryn and Crichton to move back. Aeryn picked up the small satchel from the ground.

“What are you doing,” Crichton asked in a whisper, not quite believing that Crais would actually duel with this man. It all seemed like a strange gunfighter’s showdown.

“It’s a matter of honour,” replied Crais calmly as he returned his attention to his opponent.

Tengu was ready too.

Crais’ eye roamed the street quickly; then he addressed Tengu, “I see you have brought your witnesses. Will they step out from the shadows?”

At a motion from Tengu, two men stepped from a concealed doorway and now stood off to the side, like Aeryn and Crichton, to observe the duel.

Satisfied, Crais moved into position.

For long moments, the two opponents circled each other, each of them searching for a weakness in the other. Tengu made a couple of feints, but they drew no reaction from Crais.

Then Crais lowered his sword slightly, tip towards the ground, in an almost indiscernible move to ease the strain, and shift his balance to his right leg. Crais’ physical weakness did not go unnoticed, and Tengu’s sword arced in the air, bearing down on Crais’ left side.

Crais’ sword had gone up faster. He had anticipated the move, since he had enticed it.

The two swords met with a resounding ring.

Both men straining against the pressure before stepping back.

The next few thrusts and slashes were parried easily by Crais.

As they stood apart again, both men were breathing heavily.

In the next flurry of moves, the combatants had changed tactics.

Instead of the one slash or thrust, they now attacked each other with speed.

Their swords caught whatever small light was still available in the rapidly deepening dusk, small sparks coming off of the two blades as they slid over each other.

The blades were moving too fast for the untrained eye to follow.

It was easy to see how Tengu had got his name as he moved lightly on his feet, whereas Crais sought to find a more steady balance to compensate for his lame leg without getting drawn into Tengu’s movements.

Crais parried the swift thrusts and slashes easily, just as Tengu was able to brace Crais’ more forceful blows, which were rooted instead in his physical strength.

Suddenly, Tengu stepped back and dropped the tip of his sword to the ground.

To Crichton’s surprise, Crais followed suit.

The two combatants sheathed their swords and bowed to each other.

Tengu and his men left and Crais resumed his journey towards his residence.

For a moment, Crichton stopped and stared warily at both sides of the street, watching Tengu and Crais part, totally confused by what had just transpired.

He ran a short distance to catch up with Crais and Aeryn, “What was that all about?”

Crais glanced sideways, “We acknowledged each other skills and honour.”

“That’s it? Just slash and bash each other and then part?” Crichton sounded surprised.

Crais raised an eyebrow, “We agreed to the duel. We agreed that no life needed to be taken. We found we are even in skill. There was no need to prolong our meeting further.”

Aeryn grinned as she watched Crichton’s jaw drop slightly in disbelief.

Crais had already resumed walking and she hooked her arm into Crichton’s and walked with him, “It’s just a test of strength, John. You told me that males on your planet do it as well. What’s so difficult to understand?”

“Yes…but…”

She laid her head on his shoulder and almost whispered seductively, “No ‘buts’, just accept it. You want me to teach you?” she almost purred.

Crichton smiled.

They were sitting once again in the same chairs as before.

To his surprise, Crichton saw that the mysterious contents of Crais’ satchel contained nothing more than jars of fruit juice. It wasn’t Fellip nectar, but it was a welcome change from water.

Crais poured the fruit juice into two glasses for Aeryn and Crichton but poured only water for himself. He handed them their glasses.

“He called you Su’meroh,” said Crichton.

Crais nodded and a small wince pulled at the corner of his mouth, “One-eye.”

“Do you lose much sight with…uhm…the patch?” asked Crichton.

For a moment, it looked as though Crais was not going to answer, “There is some peripheral loss, but fortunately, my hearing is still excellent. It compensates for the loss of vision.”

“And nobody speaks of my modesty,” quipped Crichton with a smile.

Crais raised an eyebrow, “I assure you, Crichton, there is no…”

“Nothing intended, Crais,” soothed Crichton.

Aeryn turned to Crais, “So, what happened after you crashed?”

Crais shifted his attention to her and continued his story where he had left off earlier…

(Crais narrates)

The fall through the atmosphere was fast, very fast indeed…and almost uncontrolled.

Just before entry, Crais had been able to steer the Leviathan to an area which seemed lush in vegetation and not so heavily populated. Somehow, the controls locked after that.

Crais was still not certain whether it had been due to a malfunction in one of the systems or a sudden spasm of panic from Talyn. Whatever the reason, the landing site was approaching too quickly and at a steep angle.

The stabilisers had finally given out and Crais clung to the Nav-console for dear life.

The front viewer blinked off and all of the lights dimmed to their minimal baseline status.

He was just wondering if things couldn’t get worse when Talyn crashed.

Crais had been hanging on to the Nav-console. Now he was slammed hard forwards into it by the impact, while Talyn ripped and slid through the undergrowth.

The speed with which Talyn slid forced Crais to let go of the console. He was now sliding over the floor as well, hitting various objects on the way, until he finally slammed hard into the bulkhead, hitting his head. He was already unconscious when Talyn came to a stop.

Talyn was quiet and the lights were so low that it looked at first as if they weren’t even on by the time that Crais regained consciousness.

Pain ripped all along his left side, although it was concentrated in his leg and head.

A cursory examination showed him that he had probably broken his leg. He couldn’t see how serious it was yet, but his hand had come away sticky and wet.

He gingerly rested his head back onto the floor, his main focus on Talyn first.

Talyn was there, but only barely. Perhaps that was all that could be expected and maybe it was even for the best. At least he was alive, and he was being spared the worst of the pain.

Crais gathered up as much strength as he thought he could before attempting to move.

Progress was slow and painful and confirmed his suspicion of a broken leg.

As to his head wound, he would only establish the extent of that days later.

He did have some luck; he had found the torch close to the console where it had fallen.

After making sure that Talyn was resting as comfortably as could be hoped for, Crais tried to determine where they were.

Whatever was still working on the consoles gave him an almost unanimous ‘unknown’.

No Tech planet, no nevlix planet; that would have been a miracle.

He sat down against the console and leaned his head wearily back.

His head was throbbing maddeningly.

He wondered whether Talyn would survive, and if so would they be trapped on this planet for whatever remained of their lives if he couldn’t be healed.

Crais drifted off to sleep, or unconsciousness, he wasn’t quite sure which. Nor did he care about it that much by then…

Crais paused in his narration.

Darkness had fallen completely now, and the room was totally dark.

Aeryn and Crichton had been so engrossed in the tale that neither had noticed the gathering darkness either. They almost jumped when Crais paused and stood up to flick a switch to illuminate the room.

He limped across the room to refill their glasses; his voice had gone rather hoarse.

“Must have been a nasty break,” commented Aeryn.

Crais looked over, and then nodded before turning back to the glasses, “The Techs had not left a regenerator and I had to reset the bone manually.”

Aeryn winced at the thought.

Crichton quizzed Crais, “Couldn’t the inhabitants of the planet help? Surely…”

Crais glanced briefly at him and turned back to the drinks, “They were not that…evolved. Besides, it was only later that we finally encountered them.”

He sat down again after passing the full glasses around.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been out.

Talyn was still resting, and since Crais detected no panic in the youngster, he switched to privacy mode.

He got up with some difficulty, supporting himself by leaning against the console. Putting weight on his leg sent spikes of agony through his body.

Using the walls for support and putting as little weight as possible on his leg, he slowly and laboriously made his way to his chambers. His progress was hampered by debris in the corridor, both from the crash and from equipment that the Techs had left.

A cursory look in Medical confirmed what he had suspected; they had stripped the room bare.

When he reached his chambers, he found that they been had stripped as well.

There was a pang of regret as he remembered the feel of the soft A’utan silk of his bedding, one of the few luxuries he had allowed himself to keep, a gift from a grateful populace of that colony.

He bent with some difficulty to access a hidden panel near the floor and sighed with relief when it sprang open at his touch. They had not found it.

The concealment had been devised by him and Talyn, and he was grateful as well as relieved that their strategy had worked. The locking mechanism only reacted to his bio signature and the secret compartment had neither opened for nor even been discovered by the Techs.

He sat on the floor, resting his back against the bulkhead, while he dragged the contents out of concealment.

He left the changes of clothes in the compartment. He would need them later.

He also left the small box filled with mementos, the satchel with his spare shaving gear, and the pouch with gemstones.

“You left all the gemstones on Talyn?” Crichton interrupted the story.

Crais blinked in confusion for a moment, wondering why the Human had latched onto that particular piece of information, “Yes.” He noticed the hint of confusion in his own voice.

“Why?” Crichton sounded genuinely surprised.

Crais looked at him, “Had I taken it on board the Command Carrier, it would have been confiscated, one way or the other, as was everything else I took on board. I would have had no use for it if Talyn had been destroyed…”

“They could have found it!”

“Again, I would have had no use for it had I not been able to board Talyn again.”

Crichton grinned, “It would have also frelled up your nursing techniques had they found your stash…ouch!”

Aeryn had poked him in the ribs.

After another scowl towards Crichton, Crais continued…

He had taken out the medkit. A syringe, six ampoules of pain reliever, some antibiotics, suturing tools, three rolls of pressure bandage, a hand scanner and a sonde; it would have to do.

He shrugged out of his coat, laid it aside and took his shirt off. He used the shirt to clean off as much of the blood and grime as he could.

The sonde revealed what he had already knew. His thighbone was broken and bone gleaned white under a deep gash. With the use of his queue and the belt tied to his ankle and the wall, he managed to straighten the bone enough to let the sonde repair the break as well as it would. He nearly passed out from the agony. He left that part out of his account, although he could see Aeryn wince at the thought.

He used the sutures to close the gash before letting the sonde finish its job, knitting the flesh underneath. Only then did he allow himself the relief of the painkiller.

Crichton shuddered as he realised what Crais must have gone through just fixing his leg.

A graphic picture of Crais trying to repair himself with bloodied and shaking hands made him feel nauseous.

He looked up at Crais’ face. The patch covering his left eye was such a sharp contrast, mesmerizing him.

This time it was Aeryn who refilled the glasses.

Crais seemed to be immersed in his story and Crichton captivated by it.

“That must have hurt big time,” he said.

Crais nodded, “I passed out from the combination of the drug and blood loss. When I came around, I had no idea how much time had passed. Talyn’s condition had remained the same. A relief, I suppose. At least he had not deteriorated while I was out. I tested my leg. It would still be uncomfortable for a few days…”

“Uncomfortable,” Crichton blurted out, not sure whether this was some macho-Peacekeeper talk or whether Crais was trying to impress Aeryn, “You had just fixed your leg and not had done a particularly good job on it either -judging by the limp you have now- you must have been in frelling agony! Who are you trying to impress?”

“John!” Aeryn spat out sharply. She still remembered how jealous this John could be around Crais. She wasn’t sure she could handle this again.

“No need to defend me, Aeryn,” replied Crais, before he returned his attention to Crichton, “Yes, Crichton, uncomfortable. Even then, I realized, that if I gave in to the pain and let it take over, I would not be able to repair either Talyn or myself. I had to reduce its importance in order to save us both!” He continued…

After a period of drifting in and out of consciousness, Crais had finally felt well enough to apply a pressure bandage over the healing wound.

He took a small satchel out of the compartment, emptied it of the unnecessary contents, and filled it with the medkit, a small toolbox, and some dried food-cubes. If he was careful, they would last him a month. His knives he placed in their appropriate places on his body. He had not stowed away a pistol in the compartment, the Techs would surely have detected it by its residual energy.

With the aid of a makeshift crutch, he made his way back to Command.

After many long hours, he managed to get most of Talyn’s systems working after a fashion, enough to run the diagnostics anyway. Talyn was still unconscious, and Crais needed the consoles operational to gather as much data as he could to determine the extent of the damage. It didn’t look too good, but it wasn’t completely hopeless either. At least the planet’s gravity allowed for Talyn’s bulk not to collapse under his own weight .

Crichton had been enthralled by the story so far, but when it looked as if Crais was going to grow overly technical and would explain in excruciating detail everything that had happened to the Leviathan/PK systems, he couldn’t prevent a small, badly concealed yawn escaping. He wanted to hear what had happened next, not a lecture on PK mechanics. It wasn’t something that escaped Crais’ notice.

The damage was extensive, and it had taken Crais nearly two weekens to repair the consoles, reroute most of the power, and most important of all, calm down Talyn. The latter project had taken quite a bit of energy out of both Leviathan and Sebacean.

After the Chromextin incident, Crais had ensured that the leftover supply was stored on board Talyn, well sealed and ready to be released, as needed. He turned his attention to this as soon as he had the environmental system working properly again.

“How did you manage to conceal it from the Techs?” asked Crichton with curiosity.

Crais smiled, “It was stored in Command but well concealed behind a wall panel, quite similar to the one in my chambers. The release valve is in the environmental console. I was sure that it wouldn’t have been high on the list of priorities for the Techs to repair as they had wanted to control Talyn by remote control at first.”

Aeryn smiled.

Crais continued…

The feeling of relief which flooded from Talyn almost felt like a caress to Crais.

Now that Talyn could take a bigger part in his own healing process, Crais was finally able to pay more proper attention to his own, and he could consider leaving the confines of the ship to find out if he could get help or at least find the materials to help repair Talyn.

The air on board was no longer stale and oppressive and this, coupled with the lights working only in the areas Crais was working in, was helping Talyn in his regeneration.

Crais returned to his chambers, granting himself the first decent rest in three weekens. It was no surprise he had fallen asleep almost immediately…

“So, Talyn and you were both resting,” Crichton interrupted him and stretched, hearing the little kinks in his back crack. He wondered if Sebaceans had the same problems after sitting in almost the same position for so long.

Aeryn took the glasses and refilled them. She got up from her seat in a fluid motion and Crichton smiled and thought, as he looked at her shapely behind, ‘Probably not.’

He returned his attention to Crais, who was leaning back in his own chair. He had closed his eye, thankful for the short break.

“Then what about the eye patch?” Crichton’s voice broke his reverie.

Crais opened his eye, casting a doleful glance at Crichton but waited with his answer until Aeryn sat down again and had handed everyone their drinks. Crais took a long sip from his glass, “It was the crash.”

“But if you had…”

“My first concern had been Talyn. I had just assumed that I couldn’t see through that eye because of the swelling on that side of my face. The headaches I attributed to my stress and exhaustion while working on Talyn.”

“Then…”

“Yes, Crichton, I found out after I woke up. Although rested, I still had an excruciating headache…”

“You can’t be Superman all the time,” grinned Crichton.

Not quite sure he understood just what Crichton was saying, Crais ignored the comparison, “The injury to the eye had been untreatable from the start, as far as I could tell from the scanner’s readings, but by then, it had been given time to fester over the two weekens that I hadn’t treated it. And that was what was causing the headaches.”

“Were you able to treat it yourself?” asked Crichton.

Crais looked into his glass with a small frown. When he lifted his head, his face was calm and impassive, “I tried to treat it at first with the sonde, but it didn’t help, and I had no regenerator on board to treat it properly. There was no chance of saving it. I took it out.”

Crichton swallowed and turned green at the thought. Somehow the picture of Crais taking out his eye settled into his mind and grew more gruesome with each passing moment. After swallowing a few more times, he excused himself and rushed for what he figured was most likely the bathroom. When he returned, he looked more composed, “But why Crais? Some healer might have helped you…once you found one.”

Crais sighed. “Crichton, I had no idea where I was or if Talyn would ever take to the stars again. I had no idea if there were any healers on the planet with sufficient knowledge to even treat the spreading infection. Had I not taken the eye out, the infection might have spread to the other eye, infecting that as well, or even to my brain, resulting in complete blindness or death. Talyn’s regeneration and my life were both in jeopardy. I had no choice; it was the only option.”

Crichton nodded, “And did you find out?”

“What?”

“If that planet’s healers could have helped you if you had waited?”

Crais replied calmly, “Let me ask you a question first. I assume that when you entered our universe, you were astounded by our medical progress compared to what you were used to?”

Crichton grinned, “Aeryn must have told you.”

Crais’ expression did not change.

Crichton shrugged, “Yes, of course I was impressed. Comparing what you had to what I had left behind, I came from a planet of witchdoctors. Why do you ask?”

Crais replied calmly, “When I stepped out and later encountered the first inhabitant of that planet,, I encountered the witchdoctors. To be more precise…” he paused while he kept his eye steadfastly on the Human, “I had crashed on your planet. I had found Erp!”

The End

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FanFiction on Captain Bialar Crais