RITE OF PASSAGE

[nymeria_dw]

RITE OF PASSAGE
(A Farscape fanfiction)

Author: Nymeria


Disclaimer: the Farscape universe and its characters do not belong to me,  I'm just having fun playing with them

Rating: PG

Settings and Spoilers: Some 22 cycles after PKW

Many thanks go to officersun524 for beta reading and, most important, support, encouragement and precious friendship


********************************************************




"People, we are now on the final approach vector to Hyneria Prime," Pilot announced from the Central Chamber's clamshell. "And will achieve orbit in… five hundred microts."

"Thank you, Pilot," John and Aeryn replied at the same time, voices blending into one, while the four people seated around the table rose to their feet. "We're on our way to Command," added Aeryn.

"Still fused at the hip, those two, huh?" Chiana whispered to D'Argo, elbow digging in his ribs playfully. He grinned.

"That should be no news to you, Auntie Chi. You've known them longer than I have!" He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial tone, "They do get awfully mushy now and then, though…"

"And we can still hear ya, kids," John said without turning. "Not old enough to have gone deaf. Yet."

"Hey, old man, what's with the hurry from Ryg?"

"Have no idea, Pip. His message just said to collect you and get our asses to Hyneria, pronto." John frowned. "Hope he's not in some kind of trouble…"

"Oh come on, Dad! You keep seeing the… what's the phrase?  The bug in the oil?"

"Fly in the ointment."

"Whatever.  Uncle Rygel will probably have some party all planned and wants to spring a surprise on us."

"Well, his heir is due to hatch soon," mused Aeryn as they filed into Command, "But not for another two monens, I think. So I doubt that's the reason for wanting us there now."

"Maybe, maybe he's just… you know, sort of lonely," said Chiana turning about to face the others, "Since the, the narl went into the hatching pod, Ryg did nothing but… well, drool on it!  Maybe he needs some, some company before the big event…"

"Might be, Pip. Can't blame him for focusing on the kid all this time, though. It must have looked like a miracle after the healers told him there was little or no chance of becoming a father again."

"It's not just a matter of fatherhood." said Aeryn, "Without a legitimate heir, the succession to the throne might have turned into an ugly mess, when the time came. Remember what happened with that aborted uprising from Bishaan's sympathizers, a few cycles back! The balance is delicate enough as it is."

"My wife, the strategist," said John circling her waist with an arm, "She's turned into quite the politician, hasn't she?"

Aeryn snorted, but leaned into him with a smile.

"We are receiving a comm signal from the surface," Pilot informed them.

"Is it Rygel?" asked Aeryn.

"No, one of his… advisors, I think. Relaying now…"  The big viewer came to life with the image of a Hynerian in the full regalia of Palace high officials.

"Greetings, I am First Chamberlain Khelik. I bid you welcome from His Serene Highness Dominar Rygel XVI," a courteous bow, "and present you with His invitation to join Him in the Royal Apartments.  I will await you at the landing pad and escort you there." With another bow, the Chamberlain closed the connection.

"That's curious…" D'Argo's voice trailed off, his eyes still on the screen, now filled with the image of the blue-green globe of Hyneria Prime.

"What?"

"I'd have expected Rygel to greet us in person, Dad. But maybe he's just busy." He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Well, let's get down to the surface and see what His Frogness is up to!" John patted his son's shoulder affectionately, as the small group moved out toward the hangar bay.


***


Bright sunlight sparkled on the lagoon's waters, not even a hint of fog marring the beautiful landscape. A soft breeze blew, pleasantly warm, and felt like a welcoming caress on his skin.

D'Argo Sun Crichton was a creature of space much like his mother, having lived aboard Moya for most of his twenty-two cycles. Yet, anytime he felt the need to call someplace home, his thoughts went to Hyneria. 

His childhood memories were filled with days spent playing on beaches and in warm waters with his parents and extended family. But mostly with Rygel, who often forsook the demands and dignity of his position to prance around with his godson, even encouraging him to mischief - to his parents' chagrin - and enjoying every single microt of it with wild abandon.

Walking away from the pod, a few paces behind the others, D'Argo tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled on him since his mother had mentioned the matter of Rygel's hatchling. Wondering if it came from the worry that the birth of the longed-for heir would forever change  his privileged relationship with the Dominar. 

Don't be a drannit!  He scolded himself, then grinned because at that precise moment his mother had turned to look at him, as if she'd been reading his mind.  And maybe she could…

D'Argo quickened his steps and joined the rest of the group as they reached the far end of the landing pad, where Khelik stood waiting for them.

"Welcome to Hyneria, honored guests," the Chamberlain greeted them, "please follow me, His Serene Highness is most eager to meet with you."

Trailing behind their diminutive guide, the group passed through the archway of a connecting tunnel between the landing pad and the Royal Palace: crystal-clear, polished glass enhanced the turquoise tint of the sky and rich plant life decorated the walkway.  At the end of the tunnel a hover vehicle waited for them, its driver snapping to attention when they came into view.

"And how is the Dominar these days?" asked John as the vehicle moved toward the inner circles of the Palace.

"Quite busy," replied Khelik, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. D'Argo could not decide if the guy was being secretive or just standoffish. It was hard to tell with Hynerians and their love of protocol, anyway.

The vehicle let them down in front of an ornate gate, the guard detail opening it at a gesture from the Chamberlain.  "His Serene Highness is ready to receive you," said Khelik, bowing them inside.

"Thank you," said Aeryn, throwing John one of her 'looks' as he whispered to D'Argo, "Chatty fellow, isn't he?" he said with a theatrical wink.   D'Argo and Chiana suppressed a laugh.

To define the Royal Apartments 'lavish' would have been a gross understatement.

The high-ceilinged rooms, whose walls were richly decorated with hand-crafted panels, depicting local flora and fauna or scenes from Hyneria's past (glorious past, as Rygel was fond of saying), opened onto equally ornate balconies facing the Royal Gardens. Plush tapestries hung between the panels, and the floor sported a soft carpet made to resemble a sea-bed. In typical Hynerian fashion, the furniture was kept to a minimum, but what little there was spoke of kingly comfort.

Dominar Rygel XVI  sat on a throne-like chair at the center of the main room, under a huge tinted skylight that filtered the sun's rays to a sea-green color. Beside him stood a glass casket whose utilitarian purpose and life-support apparatus were masked by elaborate gilding and precious stones insets.

Inside it D'Argo saw an ovoid shape as wide as his handspan, greenish-white in color and softly pulsing: the hatching pod of Rygel's child and heir. The future Rygel XVII.

"Ah, you're here!" said the Dominar raising his eyes from the casket.

"Yeah, and it's good to see you too, Sparky!" John's retort was devoid of any mockery though, and D'Argo saw pleasure light his father's eyes as the Moyans approached the throne greeting their friend with warmth.

"Hello Uncle Rygel, long time no see!" he could not keep a trace of reproach from coloring his voice, feeling instantly guilty as his mother's gaze crossed his with a frown. Rygel seemed not to notice.

"A long time indeed, my boy!" the Hynerian smiled up in pleasure at his godson, "have you grown again?"

"Well, maybe I widened a bit…" D'Argo grinned to mask embarrassment at his childish behavior.

"He's been working out with me," said Aeryn, "building some muscle tone.  You should try it sometime."

"Who, the toad?" Chiana bent down to kiss the top of Rygel's head, "nah, he'd only build a bigger appetite!"

The Dominar laughed out loud, "You shameless nixa!" then looked round at each of them, "I'm glad to see you. I missed you lot. Though I wonder why!" he hastened to add with a gruff mutter.

"How's Junior going?" asked John, chin pointing at the incubator.

"Very well! My personal physician assures me he'll hatch by the beginning of next monen," a shadow seemed to fly across Rygel's features, but only for a moment, "and he's in perfect health. Yes, perfect…"

"I'm sure you and the Lady Ysay can hardly wait," said Aeryn, "by the way, where is she?"

"She is… unwell," again, Rygel's face darkened, this time the scowl lasting longer.

"Is everything all right, Uncle Rygel?" Previous unease turning into worry, D'Argo knelt in front of his godfather, noticing for the first time the deepening age lines, the patches of uneven skin. Chiana crouched beside him, and his parents crowded closer.

"Of course it is! And stop staring at me as if I'd grown a second nose!"

"Rygel…" Aeryn assumed a stance D'Argo knew too well, one that signaled she would take no dren from anyone. He'd broken down in front of it too many times, confessing his wrongdoings, and Rygel proved no exception.

"All right, all right!  There is… trouble," He lowered his eyes to the carpet, not meeting his friends', "But nothing I want to discuss right away. There will be time enough later. For now, I want to enjoy your company." Straightening on his throne, he added in his best commanding voice, "Don't force me to make it a Royal Order!"

"As if that would scare us!" said John, concern plain on his face. "Ok, Sparky, for the moment we'll… 'eat, drink and be merry' as you wish, but you frelling owe us an explanation.  And we're gonna get it."

"You will. Later."  And to show that the argument was closed, Rygel called on servants to bring refreshments. For the next few arns they chatted and reminisced about old times, making a valiant effort to ignore the strained undercurrent that hummed under their words like a badly tuned engine.

D'Argo barely touched food or drink, his insides in turmoil: for the first time in his life he understood what his father meant by 'rattlers in your stomach'.


***


The sky outside had turned a deep purple when Khelik entered from a side door and bent over Rygel's ear, whispering.  The Dominar nodded, "Very well," he said in a low voice. "You stay here."  Khelik bowed deeply, and stood beside the incubator.

Rygel stared a few moments into space, his friends having fallen silent, then he got up from the chair and sat on a throne-sled.  "Follow me," he commanded, speeding toward another door. 

Nonplussed, they trailed him to what appeared to be a bedchamber: the drapes on the windows were drawn closed, only a few scattered globes providing some light.  A taller form turned at the sound of their approaching steps, the right side of the face a ravaged mass of scar tissue, the eye on the unmarred left side glinting with unshed tears.

"Stark!" John, Aeryn and Chiana called out in unison. D'Argo just stared: was this the almost mythical Stykera he'd heard so much about?

"Hello, my friends," The man's voice was soft, melodious. "We finally meet again."

"Thank you for coming, Stark."

"I'm sorry Rygel, I'm so, so sorry…"

"Rygel, what the hell's the matter?" John's eyes darted from Stark to the bed in the darkened room, "Is that–"

"Yes," the Hynerian's voice broke, his grief now plain, "That's the Lady Ysay. She's dying."


***


Half an arn later they were back in the throne room, the Chamberlain leaving it at their arrival. Stark had remained with the Royal Mate, to ease her passing. The physicians said it was going to happen at any moment, now.

"What's happened, Rygel?" Aeryn broke the heavy silence. "An illness…?"

"No. It was poison. We have both been poisoned."

As his parents and Chiana broke into a flurry of anguished questions, D'Argo's mind and soul felt encased in ice. He could not, would not believe it.  Rygel, dying?  His godfather, friend, playmate?

The creature who had nurtured him in the first stages of his development, forever claiming this had bestowed on D'Argo his nose, and his cleverness; the person who had been as close to him as another parent; the one who had taught him to swim, and fish marjoules out of rock crevices, and…  "NO!"

The surprised faces of the others told him he must have spoken out loud.

"You can't be dying!" D'Argo knew his voice was trembling, felt hot tears course down his cheeks and thought his mother might scold him for such weakness, but he saw the same agony on her face and this hurt him more than he could bear.

"There is nothing to be done, my boy." The Dominar floated close to D'Argo and patted his knee, his voice soft. "All that could be tried has been tried, to no avail."

Slumped on his seat, in shock, D'Argo listened to Rygel's tale.  A few monens before, both he and Ysay had started suffering from alarming symptoms: fatigue, lack of appetite, dizzy spells.  The Court physicians had found nothing wrong despite the many tests they conducted on the couple. 

The answer had come from Noranti, and her vast knowledge of remedies - and poisons: they had been dosed with a rare substance that left almost no traces and worked subtly, draining the victim's life force in such a way that death would look like a natural occurrence.  The perpetrators had however committed a fatal mistake: what could have appeared natural for an older individual like Rygel, was not for his lady consort, given her extreme youth. Two mistakes, when they did not factor Noranti's experience into the equation.

"The old woman tried everything," Rygel went on, "but could find no way to counteract the poison. What's worse is that the damned dren seems to work faster on Ysay, as if it's burning her resources more quickly because she has more to burn." A small fist pummeled the throne-sled's armrest in impotent rage.

"Ryg, what about–  what about the narl?"

"He's safe. For now. We were poisoned after he entered the hatching pod, so he's untouched." There was a distinct feeling of things left unsaid, and D'Argo was going to ask about them, when John broke his train of thought.

"Who Rygel?  Who did this?"

"Bishaan's… loyalists, who else? My mistake. I should never have listened to your advice about mercy, Crichton, I should have had him executed. Put an end then and there to any seeds of conspiracy."

"Sparky, I–"

"I'm not blaming you John," Rygel's smile was sad. "The mistake was mine. But now it's corrected!"

"Bishaan's dead?"

"Yes, Aeryn, he and his… loyal followers, all of them." A bitter snort. "Not publicly, mind you, but quietly, almost in secret, as befits what they did to us."

"You, you don't look bad, Ryg. Are you sure…" Chiana trailed off, her grief-stricken face speaking for her.

"Yes girl, I'm sure. If I'm lucky, I might survive to see my child hatch, but Noranti tells me I might not last that long." A heavy silence fell on the group, then Rygel straightened his back and looked at them with determination. "That's why I called you here. Besides wanting to say good-bye, that is."

D'Argo barely heard the conversation, blood pounding in his ears, pain twisting his insides. When his mother spoke up, her voice offered him a life-line to sanity, to purpose. She always had that effect on him.

"You want us to protect your heir."

"Yes. Not just insure that he inherits his birthright, but that he grows into the role. I want him to be a worthy Dominar, even a better one than I was. And," he added after a pause, "I want him to have a... family to rely on."

"Then we accept this duty, Rygel." Aeryn's gaze crossed briefly with John, who just nodded, "But I have one question."

"Yeah," said John. "Are your people gonna accept us as trustees? With something as big as a frelling empire hanging in the balance?"  Distracted for a moment from his grief, D'Argo marveled once more at the way his parents' minds seemed to work in unison, almost beyond the need for words. Even Chiana broke out from her dejected slouch to watch the couple with intense concentration.

"They will," said Rygel with his old assertiveness, "because I'm going to appoint one of you as Regent, and Dynasty Protector. It's a title that carries as much weight as that of a Dominar, and will grant the bearer the power he needs. Unquestioned power."

"The power he needs?" John looked bewildered. "Rygel, Aeryn's far better equipped to fill those shoes than I am–"

"I didn't consider either of you, Crichton," Rygel said with a smirk. "My choice has fallen on D'Argo."

"WHAT?" the others shouted in unison, D'Argo looking at the Dominar in shock, "Uncle, you don't really mean–"

"Rygel…" Stark's voice came from the doorway, and they turned toward him, their stunned surprise momentarily forgotten.  "She's gone, my friend. The Lady Ysay is at peace now."


***


The first light of dawn sent its tendrils over the horizon, the morning breeze starting to dissolve the night's mists hanging over the lagoon. D'Argo inhaled deeply the scent of wet grass and blooming flowers wafting up from the gardens, and leaned his elbows on the balcony's shelf.

"Have you come to a decision, my boy?" Rygel looked older, worn, as if the sleepless night spent in planning - both for Ysay's funeral and his heir's future - had depleted him of all residual energies. "I've managed to convince your parents, but you're proving much more difficult!"

"I don't know, Uncle Rygel, I–"

"Think some more. But don't take too long. It's a luxury I cannot afford." The Dominar took the sting out of his words with a tired smile.

"I don't–" He shook his head as if to clear it. "I keep thinking that in accepting I'm–  I'm sort of sealing your fate!" There, it was out of his chest. The vise around his heart did not relent its grip, though.

"My… fate has already been sealed, D'Argo." The affectionate sadness in Rygel's words cut like a knife. "Knowing you will be taking care of the future will make me accept that fate with a lighter heart." The Dominar turned around on his throne-sled to go back inside.

"I'll do it!" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he consciously realized it. "I'll do it, Uncle Rygel. I don't know if I'll live up to your expectations, but I mean to give it my frelling best!"

"You already exceeded any expectations, my boy." Rygel looked at him with unveiled love in his eyes. "Not that I ever doubted it. You've got good genes from both your parents. And some of mine, too, which makes you amazing!"  They both laughed out loud at that, the weight on D'Argo's chest lifting.

Suddenly, Rygel's eyes rolled up in their sockets and he collapsed on the throne-sled, breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"Rygel! Hold on, Uncle, don't–" The Dominar's skin had taken on a grayish pallor. "Dad! Mom! Chiana!" Holding the small body in his arms, D'Argo ran back inside the palace calling desperately for help.


***


"It could happen any microt, now." Noranti's face was a study in sorrow, "It's a miracle he held up for so long, but his willpower was stronger than the poison."  A deep sigh. "He's comfortable, feeling no pain. It's all I could do for him."

Chiana sobbed quietly, holding one of Rygel's small hands in her own. John stood beside her with Aeryn, an arm around his wife's waist, the other on his son's shoulder. D'Argo felt numb, disconnected, the past few days looking like a never-ending nightmare.

"Not… gone… yet…" the hoarse whisper took them all by surprise, "stop crying you… silly girl!"

Despite herself, Chiana chuckled. "Gonna miss your bad temper, Toad!"

"Gonna miss your… bad manners…" a wheezing breath, "D'Argo…"

"Yes, Uncle Rygel."

"I know you'll… do me proud. Take care… of my child."

"You have my word." His throat constricted, he could not say any more, but it was enough: the Dominar smiled at him.

"Stark…"

"I'm here Rygel," the Banik bent over him from the other side of the bed, "when you're ready, I'll help you cross over."

"Find some good… company there, right?  I look forward to… meeting the blue-assed bitch and… and that obnoxious Luxan again," Rygel looked at his friends, "I'll… say hello for… you."

Stark started chanting something under his breath, a hand hovering over the Dominar's head.  Rygel's eyes closed again, and his breath caught once, twice, then his whole body relaxed.  "He's gone," whispered Stark. "He's with them now…"

D'Argo leaned his head on John's shoulder and cried, as he hadn't cried in a long, long time.


***


Hairline cracks marred the surface of the hatching pod, its color now turned to a darker shade of green. D'Argo stood in front of the incubator, hands resting on the top, and watched the faint, ever so faint, trembling of the shell: soon its occupant would emerge from the monens-long transformation from tadpole to mature Hynerian.  He turned at the sound of footsteps to see his parents approaching.

"You're as obsessed with it as Rygel was, son."

"It's the Palace guards' duty to watch it, not yours," added Aeryn with a smile.

"I'm not obsessed, and I'm not watching it. Not exactly. I'm just… curious, you know." D'Argo sighed. "Also a bit… afraid of the responsibility."

"That's understandable. Certain obligations must not be taken lightly," his mother said. "But we are confident you will not fail.  As Rygel was."

"It's just that–" He struggled to find the words. "When I accepted it did not seem such a… such a big thing! But now…"

The weekens after Rygel's death had passed in a blur of consultations with the deceased Dominar's inner staff, and today an official ceremony would appoint D'Argo Regent and Dynasty Protector. 

To his surprise, not one voice had risen in objection: on the contrary, his lifelong affiliation with Rygel had eased the transition.  That, and his position outside of the Hynerian political loop, which assured everyone he would not lay any claim to the throne.  Rygel had indeed chosen shrewdly.

"It's a helluva job, son, no doubt about it. But all you have to do is tackle it one day at a time. And we'll be here to back you all the way."

"We promised you long ago that you would never walk alone, D'Argo."

"I know that, Mom.  But I can't get it out of my mind that I'm not you. Either of you. You did incredible things... Yes," he added with a grin, "Uncle Rygel told me all the details you... well, edited from your stories."

"If he weren't already dead, I'd kill him!" muttered John. Aeryn chuckled, then nodded to indicate that D'Argo should go on.

"Being your son... don't get me wrong but... that's already a... helluva job! And now this..." 

John's face took on a strange expression, part amusement, part wistfulness. He looked at D'Argo for a long moment, then took hold of his shoulders.

"I'll tell you something that my father once said to me. You can't be like me – us. Because you are you, and this is your chance of... being your own kind of hero." There was a suspicious shine in his father's eyes, and Aeryn's too. "It usually happens in the way you least expect."

"And you shouldn't look at us as a model, or a goal, because, you know, you can be more."  D'Argo saw understanding pass between his parents, like an invisible current, and for some unfathomable reason felt comforted by it.

"All right, enough tarrying for today," Aeryn said firmly. "The Eidelon delegation is due in an arn and we don't want to keep Muoma waiting."

"What she means is that she doesn't want to keep Muoma waiting." John winked at his son, then circled Aeryn's waist with an arm. "Let's go then."

"I'll join you in a few microts," said D'Argo, "go on and I'll catch up."

As his parents left, he turned toward the incubator: the cracks seemed to have widened a bit more, the shell's vibrations a bit more marked.

"So, what do you say... cousin?" he whispered, "let's see where this takes us..."