Archive of Our Own

"Okay, short version," Crichton said, while Katralla was gasping for breath, still struggling to remember that she needed to breathe again now that she was no longer a statue. "It's five cycles later, there's this whole thing going on with bioloids, don't ask, the Scarrans and the Peacekeepers are running a not-so-sneaky proxy war in the Breakaway Colonies, and we need to be out of here like a barken out of hezmana."

"A what out of a what?" Katralla managed to ask before throwing up again.

Everything went fuzzy for a bit. They seemed to be moving at a fair clip, which was interesting, because she was pretty sure her feet weren't touching the ground. She briefly wondered where Elkar was, or her mother, but couldn't keep the thoughts in her head. The world kept changing around her, too fast. She realized suddenly that she was being carried, which explained some things and was equal parts nice and annoying. She was not an invalid, probably, she expected, if given a moment to get her bearings.

"You don't have to," Katralla started, twisting around in the arms holding her, and registered the long dark hair. Not Crichton, then. "Oh. Hello. You must work out."

"Yes," Aeryn said, smiling a little.

*

The next time Katralla opened her eyes, there was a baby sitting on her.

"Da buh bah," it said helpfully, waving its pudgy little arms.

"If you're mine, I am going to freak the frell out," Katralla informed it.

"Ba-goo," it laughed.

She attempted to sit up and discovered she was strapped to a chair by a flight harness, which in inspection of her surroundings proved unsurprising, given she was apparently in some kind of spacecraft with the universe happily blurring past the windows.

"Is this a Prowler?" she asked the baby.

"Yes," Aeryn said from the pilot's seat. Katralla pretended, badly, to not be startled. The baby blinked at her, wide eyed. "My Prowler."

"It's very clean," Katralla said, for something to say. "Aeryn, wasn't it? Sorry, I seem to be—Coming out of the statue form was rather more disorientating than I was expecting. You'd think the courtiers would know better."

There was a suspicious silence.

Katralla's gaze narrowed suspiciously. "You reversed the process yourself, didn't you?"

"Time was of the essence," Aeryn defended, not looking away from flying the ship. "We were out of the palace barely a microt before it exploded."

"They blew up—" Katralla started, and then quickly lowered her voice when the baby startled and whined. "They blew up the palace?!" Her brow furrowed. "Which 'they'? What was that about bioloids?"

"The Kalish rebellion. We think the Nebari Establishment have been funding them, but we haven't managed to prove anything."

"Do you know what happened to Elkar?"

"No," Aeryn said bluntly. "When we retrieved your statue, it was the only one there. We have no information on your mother either."

"Well," said Katralla, and then thought better about it, and carefully covered the baby's ears before saying something really quite rude.

"None of various factions have claimed anything," Aeryn offered. "No information doesn't necessarily mean death."

"I suppose not." Katralla absently bounced the baby, trying not to cry. She realized he had his own mini flight harness to keep him secure. It was quite cute. "Did I have a baby?" Aeryn actually looked away from her controls at this, her face an amazing mix of confusion and disdain. "Okay, that's a no. Your baby? You brought your baby on a mission?"

"It wasn't a mission when we started," Aeryn said, turning back to flying. "Things got a bit out of hand. That's my son, D'Argo Sun-Crichton. We call him Deke."

"Deke," repeated Katralla, and Deke looked up at his name and then stuck his whole hand in his mouth. Katralla tugged it free. "Where is Crichton?"

"He took the pod to try and draw the fighters away from the Royal Planet. We'll rendezvous back on Moya within the arn, and see where we go from there."

"But not back home, then." The baby stopped being in focus. Katralla blinked a few times to try and clear her eyes, which just made them water more. That was not very regal of her. She was probably ruining her makeup. Did she even still have her makeup on? Did being turned into a statue preserve your makeup? That had probably been in one of her lessons, she was sure, but she somehow couldn't remember. And there was no mirror in the Prowler, because why would there be? Just a former Peacekeeper, a crying Princess, and an increasingly grumpy baby.

"Deke," Aeryn suddenly said urgently. "Hey, Deke, baby. It's okay. Everything's okay. Don't—"

The wail was ear-piercing. Katralla, wiping her eyes on her sleeve—like a peasant!—tried bouncing Deke again. The whole ship seemed to bounce with it, and she stopped, alarmed, but the ship continued to shake around her. Something weird was happening to the space in front of them, the stars bending, swirling into circles, into spirals, into some impossible hole.

"Frelling hazmana," Aeryn said. "Not again!"

"Again?" Katralla asked frantically, pulling Deke closer and patting him in what she hoped was a comforting manner. "What do you mean again?!"

There was an indescribable noise. For an impossibly long moment between one breath and the next, it felt as if she was being stretched out to a thousand motras and crushed into a single henta all at once. A cacophony of color broke against the windows and streamed away as the ship spun wildly until a flailing Aeryn managed to regain the wheel and bring them to a halt. There was a giant teal planet outside the window that was not her home and had definitely not been there before.

Deke burped loudly.

"Maybe more than an arn," Aeryn said eventually.

"This is probably a bad time to mention that I haven't peed in five cycles," Katralla mused.

*

Katralla had many questions but was polite enough to wait until they found a small space port to land at and desperate enough to use the refresher that didn't seem to have been cleaned even once the entire time she was a statue. Her makeup had come out of the process intact, and had mostly survived her crying fit, but she lacked anything to fix even that. Aeryn didn't seem the type to carry makeup, and Katralla didn't ask. The baby wipes were a workable substitute for her own cleansers, though staring at her freshly naked face and thinking how much her mother would disapprove had her clutching at the sink to stop from sinking to her knees. Aeryn didn't say anything, but she did put her hand on Katralla's back, which Katralla appreciated.

"Right then," she said eventually, forcing herself to stand properly upright and tucking a curl back into proper place. "You have a magic baby."

"He's not magic," Aeryn said. "We think there's something inherited from his father's DNA that, for long, very complicated reasons, sometimes, on occasion, lets Deke…" She gestured vaguely.

"Open portals in space?" Katralla offered.

"Wormholes, yes." Aeryn nodded. "So we have two problems."

"Only two?"

Aeryn ignored this. "We're not going anywhere until the Prowler's navigation systems have resynced to the local stars. And before that, we'll need to top up the cesium fuel."

"Can't you just—" It was Katralla's turn to gesture vaguely. "Magic baby us home?"

"He's not a magic baby!" Aeryn snapped. They both froze, looking at Deke, who was sitting on the countertop. He gawped up at them and then clapped his hands, chortling. "And, no. Fuel. Navigation. And then hetch eleven until we reach Moya."

"...all right. Where do we buy the fuel?" At Aeryn's shifty look, Katralla sighed. "Bargain for fuel? Steal fuel?"

"We'll do reconnaissance first. We can decide on our acquisition strategy afterwards."

"That sounded like Peacekeeper for 'steal'. I don't think—" Katralla pulled a face at herself. "Well, I was about to say that I don't think they let you be Empress if you have committed crimes, but not only is that not true on its own merits, it sounds like I have nothing left to be Empress of anyway. Reconnaissance it is. Let's go."

Katralla glanced in the mirror to check her hair again and then turned back to find Aeryn holding a pulse pistol out to her. When Katralla didn't immediately reach out, Aeryn waggled it at her impatiently.

"This is a rough sector," she said. "You'll want to be armed."

"I'm really not used to guns," Katralla said, taking it gingerly. "I had paladins for that."

Aeryn sighed. "It's simple. You point. You shoot."

Katralla examined the weapon, finding the fairly obvious controls. Carefully aiming away from Aeryn and Deke, she attempted to sight down the barrel, finger against but not touching the trigger. She manfully resisted the urge to go 'pew pew'.

"Not like that," Aeryn said. "If you pull the trigger now, the recoil will snap your wrist. Here." She moved in close behind Katralla, using her hands and her body to reposition Katralla's arms. "Keep the weapon upright. Don't overextend your arms. Support your wrist."

"Right," said Katralla vaguely. Aeryn's hands were pleasantly cool on her skin. "Extend, support."

Aeryn tutted. "Are you paying attention?"

"Yes," Katralla lied cheerfully. "Your hair smells very pretty."

"Maybe I should keep both weapons," Aeryn mused.

Katralla quickly stepped away from her, hooking the gun to her belt. "You can't take back a gift!"

"It was a loan, princess," Aeryn said, picking Deke up and putting him in his carrier sling. Katralla nodded brightly and headed towards the door. "A loan!"

*

"Maybe we should get an actual loan," Katralla mused, a few arns of failed shopping later. "There must be a Banking Guild Storehouse somewhere in this sector. Or a Shadow Depository." Aeryn arched an eyebrow at that, and Katralla scoffed. "I was raised from birth with the expectation of ruling an empire of multiple worlds and cultures. It would be remiss of that education to not contain details on criminal enterprises."

"Even if there was a bank, we have no collateral. They would most likely kill me and Deke and take you as a hostage to be sold for control of your territory."

"Who shoots a baby?" Katralla complained, petting Deke on his cute little head and then snatching her hand back when he spit-bubbled at her.

"I'll be sure to tell the criminals that you don't approve of their methods," Aeryn said.

"Thank you," Katralla said brightly, ignoring Aeryn's tone. "Where are we trying next?"

"The last trader had tannot root."

"You can run your ship on chakran oil? …it's very clever how you can use your face to insult me without actually saying anything."

"Tannot root this far outside Peacekeeper space means Sykaran traders," Aeryn said patiently, ignoring this, "which means long haul cargo ships, which require—"

"—refueling," Katralla finished. "So they must have their own stocks of cesium fuel here, to beat the taxes and administration fees. What makes you think they're all the way down here?"

The sounds of pulse rifles warming up made her spin to find two large beefy Sykaran women behind them, guns at the ready. When she looked back the other way, a somewhat leaner but still rather vicious looking man was stepping out of what until that moment had seemed like a perfectly normal section of wall with a pistol in either hand.

"I had a hunch," Aeryn said, her own gun somehow already out. Katralla fumbled for her own weapon, but it got caught on her belt, and she gave it up for a lost cause almost immediately. Aeryn raised her voice. "Let's not do anything stupid here."

"Well, now. I don't know about your pretty little friend there," the male Sykaran said, a nasty grin on his face, "but you look prime Peacekeeper to me. Makes coming all the way down here from the Sebacean sector real stupid, don'cha think?"

Aeryn's dangerous smile did funny things to Katralla's stomach but also made her worried about getting shot, and she'd blurted "Excuse me?" before she'd actually thought it through. All the guns swung towards her, and Aeryn cursed under her breath.

"What?" said the man.

Katralla put on her best officious addressing the court voice. "I am the daughter and heir of the Empress Novia, here on a diplomatic mission from the Breakaway Colonies. You will stand down, sir, or my paladin here will shoot you down where you stand."

"Diplomatic mission?" the man laughed heartily. "Do you know who we are, lady?"

"You are traders. Your goods can be processed into weapons. Weapons my people have a need for. A small trade now will open up an entire, far safer, far more profitable market for you." She saw Aeryn shake her head slightly, and quickly adjusted to, "And your friends, and most importantly, your boss. So I suggest you go and tell her I am here. And it's 'your highness'."

She watched annoyance war with greed on his face, and did not shuffle closer to Aeryn despite the steadily increasing desire to do so. The man finally turned away to talk into his comms for a moment.

"I can see why you and Crichton were compatible," Aeryn said out of the corner of her mouth.

Katralla had no idea how to respond to that and so didn't.

"Boss says he's willing to hear you out," the man announced, stressing the pronoun. He slid the wall door thing open again and waved a hand at the corridor so revealed. "After you, your highness."

The two Sykaran women laughed. Katralla ignored them, stepping inside, Aeryn behind her, Deke in his sling between them. She wasn't really what she had been expecting inside, but it certainly hadn't been crates of tannot roots just shoved all over the place with no obvious rhyme or reason to it with root-chewing Sykarans lounging between them. Save for the three they had already met, the only sober looking man in the room sat in a pompously high-backed chair behind a large desk. Katralla was far too well trained to laugh at the way his white hair burst from his headband like a filgrin in full bloom.

"Come in, ladies, come in," he said avuncularly. "I am Tyban. You may call me Boss Tyban." His chuckle made Aeryn's hand twitch for her gun and Katralla quickly stepped in front of her. "You wish to trade, yes? For the roots!"

"Eventually, yes," Katralla agreed. "The Breakaway Colonies have a great need to defend themselves and, as you well know, the Peacekeepers do their best to corner the market on all weaponry. An alternative source could be very profitable all around."

"Very profitable, yes," Tyban agreed. Sykarans around the room all laughed at this, though Katralla had no idea why. "Would you care to try some, your highness? A drink, perhaps? Seats! Marla, bring our guests some seats. And Toranz, please seal the doors so we are not interrupted."

"We need to leave," Aeryn said immediately to Katralla, who shook her head. This was going to work, she was sure of it. She'd studied many trade negotiations.

"If I may? You have tanks of cesium fuel here. As a token of our future agreement, I would like one delivered to the docks. In return, I will guarantee you—in written contract, no less—that the Colonies will pay a reasonable price in the currency of your choice for a delivery of, let's say, five thousand lenarts of roots per quarter cycle. Net weight," she added quickly. Tyban chuckled again. "We can more than match the market price, I assure you."

"And I am very assured," Tyban said grandly. "But I'm afraid I have you at an advantage, my dear Princess Katralla. You do not quite seem to be up on the latest news from your territories, or should I say, what little remains of them. So many factions, so few pieces of pie, all desperate for a single guiding hand. So I am afraid you are no longer mere royalty, my dear. You are valuable leverage and I—"

Whatever he had been about to say was obliterated by the same fireball that reduced both his desk and a large section of the back wall to smithereens. Katralla stared, aghast, and then swung towards Aeryn who also looked rather surprised at the destruction her single shot into the tannot root crates had caused.

"Run," Aeryn snapped and charged for the new exit.

Katralla did. The flames from the first explosion had started to reach the other crates. Katralla glanced in one as she sped by, realized that the Sykarans had been storing the unprocessed roots on top of barrels of processed chakran oil, and ran even harder, catching up to Aeryn and yelling "Go, go, go!"

Thunder roared. Behind them, the roof of the secret warehouse flapped like giant metal wings. Whether it was the adrenaline or the burning root smoke, Katralla began to laugh giddily, while Deke happily announced "Ba-boom-bi!" and clapped his hands and even Aeryn chanced a smile.

*

Katralla was not clear how the news had travelled so fast, but they had acquired something of a reputation in the time it took them to stop running. Not one of the traders they approached would give them the time of day. That left only one option that Katralla could see.

"Why aren't we going to the Sebacean sector?"

"Because that means purity scanners," Aeryn said, holding a napping Deke close, her jaw tight. At Katralla's confused look, she explained, "The Kalish resistance are known for creating bioloid duplicates for infiltration work. There will be automated DNA testing units at every entrance."

"Automated?"

"Gate scanners for people, and stronger wand scanners for goods. And automated doesn't mean there won't be Peacekeepers, or at least security personnel watching from nearby with deadly weapons," Aeryn warned her.

Katralla ignored this, still looking at Deke. Slowly she said, "How long do you think he will nap?"

"This is a terrible idea," Aeryn said.

Katralla pouted. "You could at least hear me out first."

"You think we should get a crate of some kind, put my sleeping child at the bottom, stack something on top that the wand scanner will read, and hope that will disguise him, that he won't wake up at any point during that, that no Sebacean security will decide to do a manual check, and that no Sykaran criminals will catch up to us while we're doing all of this."

"That's not—All right, yes, that is my plan," Katralla admitted. "But do you have a better idea?"

Aeryn stared at her for a very long time, before saying a number of rude words.

*

It had been surprisingly easy to find a baby sized carry case, and Katralla was very pointedly not thinking about the implications of that. It had even been rather simpler to turn that case into one that would hopefully fool a goods scanner, although Katralla had to admit this part was down entirely to Aeryn's engineering skills.

"Don't Peacekeepers usually leave that to the Techs?"

"A good soldier should be able to field strip and repair their weapons and ship. Waiting on techs in the field is a waste of time and resources."

"It's very clever. I didn't really get many vocational skills," Katralla lamented. "We had people do all that part for us. My training was generally theory. Political, social, business, economics… I'm not sure I'm prepared for the real world at all. It's terrible that I slightly miss my brother trying to kill me, isn't it?"

"It sounds pretty fahrbot to me," Aeryn agreed. "There we go. One rations carrier—"

"I can't believe you guys eat those things," Katralla put in, having nibbled the corner of one out of curiosity and promptly deeply regretted it. "No wonder they were so easy to steal. Sorry, 'acquire'."

"—with a secret breathable baby base." Aeryn placed the still sleeping Deke in the bottom, and secured the rations on top.

Katralla had watched Aeryn cut the breathing holes in the base herself, and still worried. "We'll do this as quickly as we can."

"We'll do it at normal speeds, because we are not going to act suspiciously," Aeryn corrected.

The nearest gate to the Sebacean sector was a brief walk from the corner they'd hidden in while working. They put their weapons in the designated trays, and watched them pass through the scanner with no complaint. Aeryn followed through the gate, a metallic archway just wide enough for one person, which buzzed and then flashed green, and picked both of their guns up.

"So far so good," Katralla said nervously.

"The gate's the easy one," Aeryn reminded her. "Walk though. It will flag the case."

Katralla did. The gate buzzed rather more angrily than before, flashing red.

"Items noticed in the entrance bay," a pleasant but clearly artificial voice announced, and a tray folded down while a scanning wand popped out of the side wall. "Please scan carefully. If you need assistance, security personnel will be with you in—"

"I've got it! I'm doing it," Katralla said, putting the case on the tray and grabbing the wand. She ran it all over. The wand beeped angrily. "What the dren?"

"Do it slower," Aeryn said, her voice perfectly controlled. "Cover every side."

Katralla took a calming breath and did as Aeryn instructed. The wand buzzed faintly. A microt passed. A micron. The gate turned green. Katralla let out a breath. Dropping the wand, she quickly passed the case to Aeryn. The computer curtly reminded her to put the wand away, so she turned back, reaching for where it was now dangling by its cable.

"Wait," said Aeryn in alarm, also reaching desperately for the wand as it swung across Katralla.

"Non-sebacean DNA registered," the computer cheerfully announced.

"What? I'm perfectly seb…" Katralla's hand went to her abdomen in realization. "Oh. Oh no. Oh, that was stupid."

"I told you the wand scanned deeper," Aeryn snapped, yanking the case open, scattering ration bars as she pulled a somehow still sleeping Deke out.

"I may have, very briefly, forgotten that I was, technically, a little, how shall we say, pregnant," Katralla admitted.

"You forgot," Aeryn said incredulously.

"I was supposed to be a statue for eighty cycles," Katralla complained. "It wasn't something I needed to worry about yet!"

Security personnel burst out of the doors on the walkways above, guns at the ready. Aeryn grabbed her wrist and they ran.

*

"This is going well, I think," Katralla said. "I quite like running. Very good exercise, you know."

Aeryn, busy trying to stop Deke putting pieces of kronite in his mouth, didn't even have the decency to glare. Katralla wasn't entirely sure if they were in an actual maintenance duct or if they—well, Aeryn—hadn't only found an accidental gap in the port's infrastructure, but they were at least well hidden. The security teams' scanners didn't seem to penetrate the walls. Admittedly, it was rather warmer and more cramped and egregiously filthy than she was used to, but it was important not to judge the rest of the universe by the privilege of nobility.

She shuffled closer to the vents, absently brushing her dress down for all the good it did her. "You're still mad, aren't you?"

"I'm not mad," Aeryn said mildly.

"I'm sure they'll stop patrolling for us eventually," Katralla offered. This at least made Aeryn look up, although only to silently call her stupid. "Or at least move on to another sector. Is this about the baby? It's really all quite political, you know. I have no designs on your Crichton. I don't need him to be a father. So long as I am restored to statue form, the pregnancy will not begin for another seventy five cycles."

Assuming my mother is alive, she thought, but didn't add.

Aeryn had already removed her jacket and put it down for Deke to sit on. Now she pulled off her top too, leaving herself in a slinky black camisole. She really did have the most impressive arms.

"You're hot," she heard herself say, and resolutely did not blush, instead patting the floor next to her. "Just come here, closer to the cooling vents, it's much more pleasant."

Aeryn didn't move.

"Well, I suppose I must look horrendous," Katralla said. "I wouldn't want to sit next to me either."

"You look fine," Aeryn said.

"I really am sorry about the scanner," Katralla tried. It helped that she meant it. "I'm sure your normal missions go much more smoothly than this."

Aeryn stared at her, looked down at Deke, and then sighed and came and sat next to Katralla.

"Rarely to never," she admitted, leaning into the vents with an unconscious happy noise that had Katralla leaning in closer too. "Crichton would, you know."

"Would what?"

"Be a father to your child. Help look after the baby any way he could. Help raise her."

"I don't need that," Katralla said. "Even if… Even if my mother and Elkar are dead, and the Colonies are beyond saving, even then. If there is nothing else our history has taught me, it is how to raise my daughter."

"In the Peacekeepers, your ship's crew are your family. My parents were…" Aeryn turned towards her. "It's a long and frelling complicated story. They weren't around, is the point. I'm not sure I know how to raise a child. I'm not sure Crichton knows."

"You have each other," Katralla said. The breeze from the vent ruffled Aeryn's hair, and Katralla reached up absently to brush a stray strand from Aeryn's face. There was almost no space between them now. "You're not alone."

"You don't have to be either," Aeryn said. "You can—"

Deke sniffled, and then began to wail. They both looked around sharply, almost banging their foreheads together in the process, and then the smell and the reason for the cries reached them at the same time.

"Please tell me you still have nappies on you. And a garbage incinerator," Katralla added fervently. Who knew the pudgy baby had so much stink in him.

"I've changed him in worse places," Aeryn admitted.

*

The smell lingered, so they did not. They found paths that kept them inside the walls and under the floors and generally in places where people were not. Aeryn had said, and Katralla had reluctantly agreed, that the best thing they could do now was get back to the Prowler. The port was too hot for them now. They'd have to risk taking off and using the remaining fuel to get as far in Moya's direction as they could and hope that Moya could turn back to meet them. They passed Deke between them as they climbed up, and down, and around. Katralla had long since lost all sense of where they were or where they were going, but Aeryn kept moving with apparent certainty, and Katralla appreciated that whether it was real or not.

"Poo-poo," said Deke solemnly.

"Is that babytalk or a warning?" Katralla asked out loud.

"No reason it can't be both," Aeryn said.

"He doesn't feel damp." Katralla sniffed. "He smells… No. No, that's not the baby. Can you smell that too?"

"Tannot root," they said at the same time.

"Did the Sykarans find us?"

Aeryn shook her head. "And we haven't gone the right way to have run back into the original warehouse. It's strongest in that direction."

Katralla immediately tried to go the opposite way, but Aeryn caught her wrist before she got more than a step and tugged her along. "Can I at least have my gun back?"

"I'll think about it, princess," Aeryn said.

Katralla was pretty sure that was a no, but refrained from pouting. The root smell got stronger as they followed the path up and around until they found themselves suddenly above the source. There was a cylindrical shaft that went down forever, so far as Katralla could see. They'd reached it at the top, a metal roof and crossbeams above them. On the opposite side, perhaps three or four motras across and the same again down, she could see into some kind of makeshift storage space. There were crates of tannot root, of course, but there were also transparisteel canisters of a bright green glowing liquid.

"Is that—?" Katralla whispered.

"The Sykarans cesium fuel store," agreed Aeryn. "The first bit of luck all day."

"There's no way to reach it," Katralla pointed out, peering over the edge of the shaft. There were no ladders that she could see, or reachable ledges, though there did seem to be openings in the sides all the way down in a way that suggested the shaft was a giant air vent. She imagined wind rushing up it, and then tannot root flames, and shuddered.

"I'm rated for Class 5 climbing," Aeryn said conversationally. "Funny enough, it's why I missed your wedding."

Katralla turned to find her pulling long lengths of flexible steel cabling out of the wall. "Is that funny?"

Aeryn considered this. "I suppose not, no. Come and hold Deke for me, please."

Katralla did, taking him in his sling and holding him tight when he squirmed in the direction of the drop. "I can see where this is going and I do not care for it. One of us is going to have to carry the baby!"

"You carry Deke, I carry you, we both swing across."

"And down. Across and down."

"It'll be easy," Aeryn assured her, threading a loop over the crossbeam. "Just don't let go. Until I tell you to." She yanked hard on the cable and nodded, pleased. "Unless you have a better idea?"

"You absolutely know that I don't," Katralla complained.

Aeryn secured the cable around her waist with quick, practiced motions, then reached for Katralla. "Arm around my neck. Legs around my waist. Don’t look down."

"I am absolutely going to look down,” Katralla muttered, but she did as instructed, Deke secured in his sling to her chest between them with one arm and Aeryn with the other. Up close, Aeryn smelled faintly of ozone and metal and something sharp and clean underneath.

"Ready, princess?" Aeryn asked.

"No," Katralla said immediately. The impulse took her and since they were about to die there seemed no reason not to, so she pressed a kiss to Aeryn's cheek, quickly adding, "For luck."

Aeryn blinked, clearly thrown for exactly one heartbeat. Then her mouth twitched. "Hold on."

She stepped off the edge, the world dropped away, and Deke's shrieks of delight likely echoed to the far edges of the port.

*

Cesium fuel was, it turned out, rather heavy. On the upside, this meant that the Sykarans had helpfully let them a trolley to push the canisters with. They'd given up on any pretense at sneaking by this point, and were just running pell mell for their landing bay, pushing as fast as the trolley would go.

"We just plug the canisters in, right?" Katralla asked breathlessly. "What about that navigation thing?"

"If it's not calibrated by now, we'll take off and fly manually until we're far enough away from this system to stop and try again," Aeryn said, not breathlessly at all, which was a little annoying.

Katralla half expected to reach the landing bay and discover it filled with Sebacean security forces but the place was deserted. She made the mistake of briefly thinking this was a bit of luck and wasn't particularly surprised, therefore, that they only made it halfway to the Prowler before the first pulse bolt scorched the deck in front of the trolley.

"Down!" Aeryn shouted, shoving Katralla and the trolley behind a stack of cargo crates. Weapons fire chewed sparks out of the metal.

"Who shoots at fuel canisters?" Katralla complained. "Are they high?" Catching glimpses of orange as the shooters tried to flank them answered that question. Not luck that there was no security, then, just grift.

More Sykarans poured in from the far end of the bay, too many of them. Aeryn guided them from one scrap of cover to the next while Katralla hauled the trolley and ducked sizzling yellow bolts. They were almost at the Prowler when they ran out of cover and had to duck back.

"Got you girlies," shrieked one of the Sykarans, and others laughed, bolts dinging off their shelter and taking pieces of the crates with it.

Aeryn popped up long enough to return fire, precise and economical, then ducked back with a sharp hiss, one hand clapping to her upper arm.

"You’re hit," Katralla cried.

"Winged," Aeryn snapped. "Just keep Deke down." She leaned out again, firing, and a returning bolt caught the edge of the crate inches from Katralla’s head, spraying her with debris. Deke squealed.

Who shoots a baby, Katralla thought, and something in her chest went very cold and very clear.

Aeryn pulled a spent oil cartridge free from her pulse pistol and tossed it aside, pulling out a new one. While she checked it and reloaded, Katralla slid a hand to Aeryn’s belt, unclipped the pulse pistol Aeryn had loaned her earlier, and stood up.

"Princess—!"

Katralla did not think. She did not aim carefully. In the same movement that cleared the crate, she fired wildly, once, twice, three times, bolts tearing across the bay in bright, screaming lines. She kept her weapon upright. She didn't overextend her arms. She supported her wrist. And she fired: four, five, six, faster and faster. A Sykaran was spun around. Another dropped his weapon. Someone shouted. The line broke. Katralla realized she was screaming in rage and couldn't stop, neither screaming nor firing, until a hand closed gently but firmly over hers and pulled the gun down.

"It’s over," Aeryn said, low and steady, eyes never leaving the retreating figures. "You did it."

She returned her own pistol to its holster. When Katralla tried to hand hers back, Aeryn clipped it to Katralla's belt instead.

"Well," Katralla said faintly, absently smoothing her hair back into place. "You were right. It was quite simple after all."

"Bam-bam-bam!" Deke chortled, pointing his hands like guns.

*

The Prowler did in theory comfortably accommodate one pilot and one passenger, and technically Deke didn't take up all that much room, but even at hetch eleven, the flight back to Moya felt far too long. Katralla thought it was quite impressive from the outside and was looking forward to exploring the insides at some point, although her more immediate desire involved a great deal of stretching. Aeryn clearly agreed, given the speed with which she landed the Prowler, popped the canopy and hopped out. Katralla's exit was rather more ungainly.

"What kept you guys?" Crichton called, bounding into the bay to meet them. "We're needed in Hynerian space. Rygel's got his royal panties in a twist." In a more serious voice, glancing at Katralla—and rather specifically at the gun at Katralla's belt, which Katralla felt was just a mite insulting—he asked Aeryn, "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Here," Aeryn said, shoving Deke into Crichton's flailing arms. "Katralla and I are going to recreate."

"We are?" Katralla asked. Aeryn grabbed her arm and began to drag her towards presumably quarters. "Oh, we are!"

And she waved at a bemused Crichton and a cheerful Deke as she went.

*

Katralla stretched, sighing happily. "I do feel much more relaxed now."

"Mm," said Aeryn intelligently.

"You're really very impressive." Katralla touched the nearest bit of Aeryn she could reach, fingers resting lightly on cool skin that rhythmically raised and lowered with every breath. Perhaps after Clavor and that damn Scarran had tried to ruin her, she shouldn't have restricted herself to testing male Sebaceans. Her people had impressive genetic manipulation capabilities. Surely they could have done something to make her a daughter. Merged their DNA like…

Katralla frowned, feeling like she'd missed something. Something important, from before all the running and shooting, but after the thing that had led to the running and the shooting. Something Aeryn had said.

"Hold on," she said. "Hold on. Aeryn. If baby Deke has wormhole abilities because of Crichton's DNA, and my daughter has Crichton's DNA, then—"

"Quite probably," Aeryn agreed sleepily.

Katralla stared at the ceiling for a bit, and then rolled over, picked up her pulse pistol, and clambered out of bed. "I'm gonna kill him. I am going to kill him."

"Put some clothes on first," Aeryn mumbled, waving one hand vaguely.

Katralla paused at the door, pulse pistol dangling loosely from her fingers, and then looked back at Aeryn, already asleep. With a soft laugh, she came back to raid Aeryn’s closet.

She did not bother with her makeup.