Categories > TV > Farscape2 Reviews
A glimpse into the life of Officer Aeryn Sun, Icarion Company, Pleisar Regiment, before a strange alien ruined her life.
Ten Prowlers in tight formation skimmed under the giant central ring of the command carrier and entered the hammond side hangar bay. Moving as one, they swept through the shadowed, cavernous chamber and touched down on the deck with nearly perfect precision. Gray-clad techs scattered out of their path as they rolled to the far end of the bay and their designated docking cradles.
Officer Aeryn Sun slid down the ladder from the cockpit and stripped off her helmet, nearly dropping it in her fatigue before she could set it down. She wiped her forehead with the back of her glove and shook the sweat from her hair. This had been a difficult, challenging exercise for her unit, but they had acquitted themselves well. Stripping off the gloves, she turned and took a scanner from the attending tech to start her post-flight inspection. She'd put her ship through some high-stress maneuvers; she needed to ensure that no hidden damage had occurred.
"Sun!" a voice called out sharply.
She turned. Officer Kranda, another member of her unit, ducked under the nose of his own fighter with his helmet still in hand, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"What the frell did you think you were doing with that last maneuver?" he demanded petulantly.
Aeryn leaned back against her ship. "It worked, didn't it?" she replied breezily, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She and Kranda had been vying with each other for top ratings within their unit for nearly a cycle now, always hovering just a point or two apart. It was possible, Aeryn thought, that she might have pulled a little ahead after today's exercise.
Apparently Kranda thought so, too, and he wasn't pleased. "That is not--" he started to protest.
Another voice interrupted him. "Officer Sun."
Both Sun and Kranda turned and snapped to attention. "Senior Officer Bromart, sir."
"Good work today, Sun," the squad leader noted offhandedly.
"Thank you, sir."
"Also, I forwarded your transfer request to the captain, with my recommendation. Much fortune, Officer." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and marched away.
Kranda looked stunned. "Transfer? Transfer to where?"
By the time Aeryn finally made her way through the doors of the officers' lounge, she was about ready to kick Kranda across the room by his mivonks. The curious pilot had pestered her all through their post-mission checks on their Prowlers. He'd subsided during the subsequent debriefing and analysis of their exercise, but had then resumed his pursuit all the way up seven decks to the lounge.
Still trying in vain to ignore the man, Aeryn spotted Henta waiting at their usual table by the viewports. She grabbed a cup of raslak and went to join her.
Kranda, undeterred, now sought reinforcement. "Henta, you ask her."
The other woman blinked, her gaze shifting from one to the other as they sat down. "Ask her what?"
"For the love of Chilnak, will you just shut the frell up about it?" Aeryn asked tiredly, having little hope of a positive reply.
"Sun's gone and put in for a transfer, but she won't tell me where."
Henta sat back in her chair. "A transfer? What the frell?" She looked at Aeryn like she'd just sprouted tentacles and a Luxan nose.
Aeryn sighed and gave in. She'd get no peace unless she told them, and she was too tired to argue anymore. "I put in my application for Special Ops. Senior Officer Bromart has approved it and sent it on to the captain."
Her two companions were silent for several microts, stunned by the revelation.
Finally, Kranda broke the silence with a loud whoop. "Frelling hezmana, I don't believe it!"
Henta was quieter. "Why would you want to give up flying Prowlers, Sun? You're a pilot!"
Aeryn shook her head. "I would still be a pilot, flying Marauders. But it would be more..." She trailed off, staring into her cup.
More. It was a word that still resonated within Aeryn's mind, almost two cycles later. The man who had once whispered it into her ear was long since dead, publicly executed for his crimes. She ought to care nothing for the words of a convicted traitor, but sometimes, in the quiet arns of an uneventful patrol, circling the carrier for the hundredth time, it was as if she could still hear him.
Kranda smiled broadly. "Well, I think it's great, Sun. I admire your ambition." He saluted her with his own cup.
Henta, however, still looked dubious. "You're just glad she won't be competing with your for points anymore," she grumbled at Kranda. She turned back to Aeryn, looking like she wanted to argue, but apparently unable to find a good excuse. "You're sure this is what you want?"
Aeryn nodded firmly, putting more assurance into the gesture than she really felt. She wanted...something. Something different. Becoming a commando in Special Ops would certainly qualify on that score.
Henta seemed to accept her answer at face value, and shrugged in resignation. "Special Ops is the elite; competition for slots is incredibly high."
"She's got the points, and the brains," Kranda argued in Aeryn's defense.
"Still..." Henta paused. "The odds are against you, you realize that."
Aeryn nodded. She knew. In order to get that assignment, she was going to have to make the captain notice her. Again. It had worked two cycles ago, when she turned in Velorek. She'd gotten Crais' attention long enough to get the assignment she wanted.
She'd have to find something. Something daring. Something special, as Velorek had put it, to set her apart from the thousand others just like her, and make herself stand out.
She'd keep her eyes open for an opportunity. It was just a matter of time.