SCIFI.COM | Farscape: Journey Logs

Hey, Pilot, this is your buddy John Crichton again.

Last time I talked to you I was doing my Han Solo impression, right? Frozen in carbonite — or some sort of nasty metallic stuff, anyhow — in possibly the most uncomfortable pose I've ever struck. I guess the process stung a bit more than I expected it to. Pity, too; I had this great pose planned, and a frelling huge grin on my face thanks to D'Argo. Oh, you'll have to ask him about that part.

So anyway, I'm chilling out, stupidly under the assumption that at the very least I'll finally be left alone for the next 80 years, when Clavor and his Scarran compadre decide it might be fun to break my head off. Their logic is this: if I don't have a head, I can't be Regent, and if I can't be Regent, Katralla can't be Empress, so brother Clavor gets the throne.

Now let me tell you, Pilot, being frozen was a weird-enough feeling, but if you've ever had your head snapped off and dumped in a pit of bubbling acid — which is what Lizard Face and the Boy Wonder did to me — you'll start to expand your definition of "weird feeling."

So, while my body's doing an Ichabod Crane impression back in the Royal Court, my head is bobbing along in bubbly green acid, until someone comes and retrieves it. Nope, not Aeryn or D'Argo or Chiana or Princess Leia dressed as a bounty hunter. No, I'm not that lucky. This time, I'm bailed out by Scorpius.

Apparently Scorpy had been able to trace my DNA from the sample he took when he had me in that frelling Aurora Chair, and that enabled him to find my head. Don't ask me how that makes sense. I just work here.

So Scorpy takes me back to his little laboratory in the volcano, or wherever, with all sorts of ideas about extracting wormhole data when — what do you know — I'm rescued again. Only this time it's my new friend and repeat-offender savior, Jena.

Jena gets my head reattached and defrosts me, but instead of leaving me in the Royal Court, she smuggles me out to her campsite by the river like we're on some sort of army field trip. And I gotta tell you, Pilot, for a Peacekeeper, she's not bad. Her mission, undercover as Clavor's fiancée, was to keep the Royal Planet out of the hands of the Scarrans at all costs, which is why I fit so nicely into her plans. And her heart was definitely in the right place — the Sebaceans who sent her knew that if the Scarrans took control of the planet, a lot of innocent people would be killed; all she wanted was to make sure that didn't happen.

It was a motive I could understand. And after the last several days, that was a refreshing thing to come across. And she took care of me; what can I say? I'm a guy. She's a chick. All her ... parts were in the right places. And after the way Aeryn has been treating me lately, it was just nice to spend time with someone who wasn't afraid to express herself, you know ... physically. As I said: I'm a guy.

So, after that, we went back to the palace to figure out what to do with Clavor, but we were lucky enough that the Scarran had done it for us. Of course, Jena had to play the weepy fiancée, but you could feel the relief in the court that His Royal Jerkness was dead.

I had no intention of becoming a statue again — when I said I felt like "getting plastered," I had something different in mind — but I went to the hall to visit Katralla and Tyno, the guy Katralla was in love with for real, so I could say good-bye.

I hate long good-byes, Pilot. People always say something that makes you change your mind.

This time, it was Empress Novia. She tried to convince me to rejoin Katralla in statuedom. When I told her no soap, she pulled out her big guns.

Seems they do things differently down here, Pilot. I'd given a DNA sample when we'd decided to get married, and they'd somehow been able to splice it with Katralla's DNA —

— and now she was pregnant. With my child. A child who would grow up without a father unless I allowed myself to be frozen for the next 80 cycles....

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