It took some time for Bialar to determine where Talyn's starburst had taken them. For now, they were safe. The sector they'd landed in should be free of PeaceKeeper presence. Of course, that was what he'd thought the last time, just before he'd been captured. He took a mentar to send off a message coded for Moya, on the off-chance she might be somewhere in the area to receive it. If his last distress call had reached Moya, the older leviathan might walk into a PeaceKeeper trap if she responded and tried to rescue her offspring. Well, he'd done the only thing he could do to prevent that. If things went wrong - and at this point there was no reason to think they wouldn't - he hoped Talyn would understand that he'd tried.

The Med Lt. Commander was standing against one of Talyn's bulkheads, staring at the forward viewer. Her dark blue eyes were too wide; he could plainly see she was in shock. She was also standing as far from the body of the detachment officer as she could get. "Dr. Payne?" She didn't respond immediately, but turned her head slowly to look at him, seeming not to recognize him. He pitched his voice lower, sharper, "Dr. Payne!"

"Where are we? Are we safe?"

"Yes, Doctor. For the time-being, we are safe. But we have work to do, and I'm afraid I cannot do it alone." Bialar glanced briefly at the body, then back to the doctor. He saw the comprehension in her eyes, and the fear and revulsion. It had been a long, tiring day, and was about to get longer. "We must remove the bodies, the sooner the better. The longer we wait, the harder it will be."

"Me? I can't... Wait," Aleria whispered, staring at the dead officer. Bialar could see she was near hysteria. But there was no time for that. Those commandoes had given their lives for the corps. They deserved to be spaced decently - and immediately.

Bialar gripped the doctor's arms and shook her to get her attention. "Come, *Doctor*. We have work to do before we can rest." She was so very small! He hadn't realized it before now; she barely reached his chin. Of course, his first sight of her had been from flat on his back with her standing over him. Since then he'd been too busy to notice. He hoped she was up to this.

"But, I'm not trained for this! I'm a cerebrologist, a head-doctor, you understand? I don't kill! I can't deal with... I *killed those people*!" Aleria was wailing, her eyes boring into his, willing him to make it all go away.

"Come, Doctor, in your line of work, this is the first death you've caused? What's the matter? Is this the first time you've had to actually soil your hands with death? All the other ones had been clinical, clean, from a distance, isn't that right?" He was deliberately cruel. If this woman thought that her escape from the Peacekeepers would eliminate the hurt and brutality from her life she was wrong. Being a renegade PK was just as bad. Worse, because there was no community of comrades to fall back on. She would just have to learn that, and now.

"Listen to me, *Doctor*," Bialar grated. He drew her in close, leaning down until his nose nearly touched hers, their bodies touching all along their length. He bored into her with his eyes so she would see nothing but him. His voice was low, silky - deadly. "You're going to discover very quickly that your past doesn't just evaporate when you leave PeaceKeeper influence. It's yours - forever. You deal with it. You did what you had to do to survive. But there are always payments to be made. This is one of them."

Something flared behind her dark eyes that made him draw back, just as she pushed forcefully away from him - some knowledge, or... recognition?

"Fine," she snapped. "Fine." She tugged her lab coat into shape, almost visibly pulling herself together. She pushed a lock of damp reddish hair back from her face and glanced at him, just briefly. "Let's get this over with."

As the last of the bodies was deposited in the cargo bay, Bialar could see the toll the job was taking on the doctor. She was, in his estimation, a stone-cold killer. And yet she was sweating with far more than exertion, and the look in her eyes said she was barely keeping herself in check. He supposed that killing under orders was significantly different from just, well - killing, at least for Aleria Payne. For him, it was all the same. Some day he would have to pay and pay dearly, he knew.

The burned bodies had been the hardest. Even rolling them into tarpaulins didn't cut down on the smell. They had both gagged and fought their stomachs the entire time. Perhaps that was the difference, Bialar wondered. For Aleria Payne, death had been clean. And she'd never had to face the cleanup. This was far too close and personal for the good doctor. He supposed he was no different. Firing on a ship was not nearly the same as shooting a man, or burning him. Of course Teeg had died directly at his hands... He stopped that line of thought immediately. He was going to have nightmares as it was.

Despite their exhaustion and the dire work they'd just done, Bialar knew they had to eat before resting. He hadn't eaten in - how long? How much time had passed in that frelling lab? He needed to have the doctor fill him in on exactly what had been done to him, and for how long. But food first. She would argue and claim she couldn't eat, he suspected. But this was just one more thing that she had to deal with.

He closed the bay doors and gave the order for Talyn to evacuate the bay. He paused a moment, staring unseeing at the floor, saying a silent farewell to worthy enemies, comrades-in-arms - whatever. They had fought and died for something they believed in, something he had believed in, once. Then he gestured for the doctor follow him and started for the dining hall. His mind had already turned to practical matters, like where the doctor was going to sleep. It was how his mind worked; when a crisis was over, you put it behind you and went on. It was how he clung to sanity in the insane universe that was now his.

There was very little available in the way of fresh foods. He and Talyn had been making their way to a commerce planet to trade when they were captured, after all. But food cubes and various concentrates were plentiful, and he made a habit of keeping an ample supply of potables on hand. He suspected that both he and the good doctor could use a drink just now. So, before rifling through the storage cabinets for food, he poured each of them a large measure of raslak. The stuff was harsh and not nearly as pleasant as frelip nectar, but it would serve the purpose. Aleria sat obediently and drank when he placed the cup in her hands. She just drank it down, without even a wince. She was no stranger to raslak, that was apparent.

They sat in exhausted silence, eating mechanically and drinking generous quantities of raslak. Aleria had indeed balked at the food at first, but then hunger took over. Some time passed before Bialar decided it was time to offer the woman some encouragement. She had saved his life more than once. "I want to thank you, Doctor, for what you did. If Scorpius had his way I'd be dead, and Talyn in captivity. It's a debt I owe you."

Aleria looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and dull. "I didn't do it for you, Captain. You were just a means of escape for me. We're even."

Bialar nodded. He understood completely.

"Yes, you do," Aleria said softly. He was about to ask her what she meant when she stood - a little unsteadily - and asked where she could sleep. He dismissed her comment as the raslak speaking and decided it was time they both slept. He ordered Talyn to maintain as broad a scan as possible. He'd set no course as yet. Tomorrow would be soon enough to decide what to do. He escorted the doctor to a chamber adjacent to the one he used and, before she could enter, offered one last friendly comment.

"You acquitted yourself very well today, Doctor. I know your training didn't prepare you for the kind of action we faced, but...

" "Please don't congratulate me on being a good killer, Captain," Aleria interrupted. "It's not much of a compliment."

Bialar stiffened. Then he nodded curtly and turned toward his own chamber. He and this woman were going to have to spend considerable time together before he could get her off Talyn and - elsewhere. It would have been helpful if she'd made an effort to be more companionable. His hand was on the latch of his door when Aleria called to him from her doorway.

"It's me, Captain. It's in my head. Forget it. You're right, I've always been a killer. I've been a torturer and mind-rapist. I've always known that. These past few weekens have brought it all home for me, and today... Never mind. I'll deal with it, just as I know you have. Give me time."

Bialar watched as Aleria let herself into her chamber and secured the door. Then he went into his own room and dropped to the bed. He was afraid he understood Aleria Payne very well. She was a mirror he wasn't going to enjoy looking into every solar day.

It was midday when Aleria woke. She made the logical assumption that, since all Fleet ships were set to Prime Standard Time, Talyn's systems were as well. Her body rhythms told her the time. Barely one solar day ago she had begun her run for freedom. She twitched off the lab coat she'd used as a makeshift blanket and rose from the bed platform. She had been so exhausted, she'd never noted the lack of a mattress or other bedding. The platform, an outgrowth of the floor, was no harder than a typical PK bunk, and Talyn's ambient temperature was quite comfortable.

She found the lav and gave herself a cursory cleaning-up, smoothing her unruly hair back and braiding it quickly. She'd been too tired and drunk to remember to unbraid it last night, and it had become snarled and tangled in knots. It wasn't the first time a rough night had led to her arising looking fit to frighten small children. She left her chamber wondering where she would find Crais, unfamiliar with Talyn's interior as she was, and her memory of the previous night a bit murky. Should she..? Oh, why not. She had no clear idea of a leviathan's ability to understand or even sense a sebacean passenger, but the worst that could happen was that she was left talking to herself.

"Talyn, where might I find Captain Crais?" She waited a few microts, shrugged and started down a well-lit corridor. What else could she have been expecting? Surely only Crais, with his transponder, could communicate with Talyn. At an intersection the corridor ahead seemed to go dim, while the passage to her right was bright. She turned, following the light. Perhaps only the most-used areas were routinely illuminated. She came eventually to the command area, and found Crais there bent intently over a console, his back to her. He was as impeccable as she felt tattered, and she stifled a surge of loathing for someone who could look so unaffected by all they'd been through.

She was sure she'd made no sound, but Crais turned abruptly, inexplicable anger on his face. The expression disappeared so quickly she wasn't sure she'd really seen it. He stared at her oddly, and shook his head as if to clear it of some intruding thought. "Good day, Doctor. I hope you rested well. I'm afraid I neglected hospitality in the worst way last night. I made no provision for your comfort at all. I apologize. I have a number of things in storage acquired from various trading stops. I'm sure I can rectify the error. You'll sleep more comfortably tonight."

"Uh, thank you," she stammered, non-plussed. His earlier expression seemed so at odds with his current demeanor. Perhaps she'd fallen in with a madman, someone with a split mind? "I slept, at any rate. A pillow would be welcome, though."

"I can do much better than that, I'm sure. Have you eaten?"

"No. My stomach isn't up to food just yet."

"Well, I'll point you toward the galley any time you change your mind. In the meanwhile, there's a great deal to do, and I'd appreciate your help."

"Certainly. Anything I can do to earn my way." And, Aleria thought, to keep my mind off things. Yesterday was already fading into memory. For now she wanted it that way. All her training told her she had to deal with those events for the sake of her sanity, but a lifetime's habit of denial was far stronger.

Crais gestured to a console and she rounded to stand beside him and look at the readouts. Most of it was gibberish to her. She could read them, but she had no experience to make sense of them. "This indicates where the dampening field-generator has attached itself to Talyn's hull," Crais explained helpfully. "The Carrier never had a chance to retrieve it. We must remove it if Talyn is to regain his weapons capability. Apparently even his internal armament is affected." He pointed to where servo-arms extruded from the ceiling to either side of the chamber, a wicked-looking pulse rifle mounted on each. "That is why we still had the detachment officer to deal with yesterday. Talyn was completely unable to comply with my order to use his internal weaponry."

"Yes, I see,"Aleria murmured thinking, ‘oh don't go there. I'm not ready to deal with that yet.' Crais shifted his stance and spoke more briskly, as if changing the subject.

"I could simply go out in one of the Prowlers we now have an abundance of and blow the thing off the hull. I'm good enough to do so without damaging Talyn's outer skin. But I want that dampening net. With it Talyn can nullify the threat of an attacking ship, even a Command Carrier. I'll have to go EV and remove the generator manually."

"EV. You mean, go outside?"

"Yes. And it would be helpful if you would monitor and guide me. It's virtually lightless out there. I'll need help finding the generator on Talyn's hull. The generator is positioned here," he pointed to a red blip on the screen. "You'll also have a reference point for me. Simply instruct me from the readouts which way to go, how far, and so on."

"I understand. Isn't Talyn able to do that for you?"

"Not as precisely as you'll be able to. His spatial sense is rather broad. Minute distances mean little to him."

That made sense. A leviathan was a creature born to the vest distances of space. Metras would be his standard. Micras would be meaningless.

In the docking bay, Crais initiated startup on one of the Prowlers, then disengaged a pressure suit from its niche in the back of the craft. The suits were designed to fit snugly, and Crais had unusually broad shoulders. Aleria had to assist him in getting the upper part of the suit over his arms and shoulders. He gave her a few last instructions, then donned and sealed the helmet. She headed back to Command while he piloted the Prowler out of the docking bay.

She and Talyn fed Crais data which enabled him to grapple the Prowler to Talyn's hull in the approximate area of the generator. The, fastened by a tether to the small craft, Crais went EV. Aleria watched the console intently, speaking instructions to Crais as he made his slow way over Talyn's hull toward his goal. Progress was slow, but he eventually made it to the spot and located the device - a cylindrical object about the size of a man's torso. Aleria jumped when Talyn suddenly chirped and flashed various lights within the Command area. He sounded somehow - relieved? Happy? If she could characterize the electronic chatter of a bio-mechanoid, she'd have said he was both. She supposed Crais had disarmed the device, returning Talyn's control of his weaponry. A microt later Crais' voice confirmed it for her, but she felt he sounded upset, rather than pleased.

After disengaging the generator from the hull, Crais started back to where he thought the Prowler should be. It took Aleria several microts to realize he was headed the wrong way. There was no up or down or sideways in space and, standing in the gravity field of Talyn's interior, Aleria forgot that Crais had no reference points out there in the dark. She began issuing instructions, correcting his path and guiding him safely back to the Prowler.

Later, in the docking bay, she helped Crais offload the device and store it. Only then did it occur to her to ask, "Captain, why did you get turned about out there? You should only have needed to follow your tether back to the Prowler."

Crais sounded weary. "The magna cutter I used to slice the retaining bolts cut the tether. I think I owe you my life, again."

"Why didn't you say something? I felt something was wrong, but..."

"To be honest, I didn't want to admit to something so completely stupid." Aleria just looked at him for a moment, then felt a chuckle escape her. She couldn't help it. The man was so thick-headedly proud he'd have drifted into space to die rather than admit a mistake! It was ridiculous. He might have died and left her here alone on a ship she couldn't fly -absolutely hilarious!

Crais looked angry at her laughter at first, then a slight smile crooked the corner of his mouth. Soon they were both laughing hard, tears squeezing from the corners of their eyes. It was a considerable time before either could speak again. The laughter may not have been exactly healthy, but it relieved a tension that both had been feeling. Aleria, at least, felt somehow cleaner after she finally got control of herself.

Later, at mealtime, the pair ate in companionable silence. Whether her own insuppressible spirit was recovering from the stresses of the last few days and weekens, or she was simply finding Crais' company agreeable - or some combination of the two - Aleria was feeling much more relaxed than she could remember being in cycles. A healthy dose of raslak added to her pleasant mood, right up until Crais broached a question.

He was polite, tentative. But Crais wanted to know the details of his captivity on the carrier. Naturally, she told him everything, including the minutiae of her mind-probe of him. There was no point in lying or holding back - he deserved to know. She would have preferred putting off this particular conversation, but it had been inevitable.

By the time she finished, Crais had been standing in the doorway with his back to her for some time, left hand braced against the bulkhead, looking down a dim corridor at nothing. Several more microts passed, the two of them seeming frozen in their places. Then Crais left, simply walked out the door and down the passage and out of sight. Aleria could feel his anger and, more, knew he was completely justified.

She had raped his mind, penetrated his thoughts while he lay vulnerable. The first time, to be sure, she had been acting under Scorpius' orders, probing for information on Moya and, more importantly, John Crichton. The contact had been surprisingly intimate. Far more so than she'd ever achieved before in her work. She couldn't explain it, except that Crais' overwhelming need to escape had prompted a response in him at her touch. His mind had spoken to hers in some way, convincing her of the possibility of escape. To do so, he had inadvertently opened his mind to her. He wasn't even aware of the fact himself. She wouldn't try to set him straight. There was no point, because what she had done after was worse.

After that first contact, after finding information that would satisfy Scorpius and keep him at bay, she continued to probe Crais' mind. Not for duty. Not to avoid Scorpius' anger. But for herself. She took advantage of her mental connection to Crais to enter his mind again and again. Certainly she had been gentle, acting more like a lover than an intruder. But she had still done so without Crais' volition or control, and to satisfy her own selfish desire to know more about him. That first contact had been intoxicating, and she wanted more - and took it, telling herself that it was necessary to get more details to aid their escape.

She should tell him, she thought, how very fortunate he was that her psi ability was so weak. She hadn't gleaned nearly as much from the contact as she'd hungered for. She should tell him that his inner-most secrets, his being, were still safe from her. But there was no point. Her ultimate impotence couldn't mitigate the act itself, or the many secrets she *had* learned. Aleria Payne laid her head in her arms on the table and wept for the death of a personal integrity she'd thought murdered long cycles ago.

Bialar had been brooding for over a weeken on what he'd learned. He couldn't help it; the woman had been in his *mind*. There were aspects of his life and personality he was uncomfortable with. The idea that another person knew of them was unbearable. The solar days dragged on, and he and Dr. Payne tip-toed around one another cautiously. Neither spoke except when necessary. Even Talyn was subdued by the dark mood that prevailed.

The worst part, Bialar thought, was that he almost could sense Aleria's guilt, pain and contrition. But it didn't matter. He'd briefly thought Aleria Payne might make a good companion, might be amenable to remaining with him and Talyn for a time; he even found her attractive. But he could not forget what she'd done.

Bialar was sweating like the proverbial Hynerian swamp pig. In order to properly integrate the dampening net with Talyn's weapons systems, Bialar had to tap into the main firing relay. The generator itself had been installed in a forward firing tube and was ready for deployment. Firing, execution, cancellation and retrieval programs had been laid in preliminarily. But the system was makeshift until control of the net was included with central weapons control.

Unfortunately, the main relay was located in a tiny access panel above the bulkhead ceiling of the maintenance bay. It was well thought-out: in battle an attacker would target the bridge and the engines, hoping to destroy weapons capability, propulsion, or both. Locating the main firing hub amidships in maintenance would help keep weapons control intact as long as possible. But the location was frellingly difficult to access. There reasons other leviathans had DRDs, Bialar thought sourly.

He was precariously perched atop an a-frame stepper, trying to complete the work. But he couldn't balance on the stepper, hold up the access panel, hold a light on the relay hub, *and* splice in the new relay. And the access was too small for him to hoist himself up into. He was tired and frustrated, and just about to give up. Talyn intruded on his black thoughts with the seemingly inane announcement that Aleria had entered the Command center. Then it dawned on him that she might prove useful. He wasn't having any luck on his own.

He called her on the com and asked her to join him in maintenance. Belatedly, he remembered that Aleria was still not terribly familiar with Talyn's interior configuration and might have trouble locating him. Whatever, he thought. It would give him time to rest a bit ‘til she found her way. Aleria hadn't been idle this past weeken. She'd been quietly studying Talyn's systems, and unobtrusively helping him whenever she could with his various chores. But she was rarely far from either her quarters or Command. Apology was written in every line of her body as she made herself quietly useful.

For his part, he couldn't being himself to be near her often, nor to speak to her beyond instructions or necessary questions. But he had raided his stores, leaving bedding, clothing, even a few decorative items where she would find them. She wept nightly, he knew. These small things were the most he could bring himself to do for her.

Bialar watched Aleria approach down the long corridor, absently musing as light rose in front of her and dimmed behind. He stood at the top of the stepper, hands braced on the rim of the access panel above him. He'd stripped to a tank and trousers. It was warm in maintenance, even more so near the ceiling.

When Aleria arrived he explained to her tersely what he was doing and what he needed her to do. She climbed the other side of the a-stepper and, from a position a step below him, took his tools in one hand and the handlight in the other, then used the tool-laden hand to steady the hatch. Bialar went to work switching the relays and splicing the new shunt. He swapped tools in and out of Aleria's hand as needed. The work went fairly quickly. He was tightening the final contact when a spark jarred him. It was a minor thing, but his startled reaction threw his balance off.

Both hands full, Bialar missed his grab at the edge of the access opening. Aleria dropped the items in her hands and circled his waist with one arm while grabbing for the opening with the other. More tools hit the floor as Bialar snatched at the hatchway. Reflexively, his other arm slid around Aleria's shoulders, holding on to her for support while he sought his balance.

They wobbled back and forth for a few more microts before steadying. Then Bialar was abruptly aware of their positions. He held Aleria close, her face against his chest and her breasts rubbing his stomach through cloth. Her arm had slipped and now clasped his hips. His reaction was immediate and forceful. He could feel himself pressing urgently against the softness of her belly. He shot a startled look downward and saw Aleria's face looking back. Her eyes were wide, and the irises had gone dark and smoky.

Bialar bent, nearly upsetting their balance again. His hand slid up to cup the back of Aleria's head and he kissed her hard, lips and tongue probing insistently. Her arm tightened around him, pressing him closer. Impetuously, Bialar drew back, disengaged from her grip and started down the stepper. He rounded the a-frame and pulled her back into his arms. If she had resisted he might have forced the issue - he was still that angry with her, and his need was that urgent. But instead Aleria twisted in his grasp, wriggling about until she could wrap her legs around his waist. Eyes closed, she was kissing his face and throat, tugging at the wrapper of his queue and tangling her fingers in his hair, while he moved the few steps to a nearby bail of packing material.

He laid her down roughly in the fibrous material and was atop her, grinding his hips into hers. He tore the fastening from her braid and pulled his fingers through her hair, creating a wild, untidy red-gold frame around her flushed face. She tugged at his shirt, and soon they were a tangle of limbs, hampering each other's efforts as they struggled to remove their clothing to the sound of strained breathing and tearing fabric.

It was over quickly. Bialar's need for release was too urgent; it had been too long since he'd felt gratification. His climax had been wrenching and so, it seemed, had Aleria's. He imagined he'd felt her excitement, twin to his own, and that only enhanced the effect.

He rose and dressed hurriedly, his mind uneasy. Somehow this one act - something he'd done countless times with unremembered partners - had touched something deep within him. He didn't like the feeling. He left her there looking confused, reaching blindly for her clothing. He left to wash her scent away, to scrub away the feeling of her skin on his. He left.

To be Continued...