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Close Encounters My Ass
by Chaym, E-mail: hbarnes30@yahoo.com

About Close Encounters My Ass

Summary: Moya’s crew must find once again find work in order to buy supplies. Actually, the whole story is a ruse to embarrass John Crichton in as many unique ways possible. Takes place mid Season One. "Warning, the story is best read while either very tired or after a few pints of ale. Please leave all sensibilities at the door. Thank You" - the Management.

Rated PG-16 for content.

Spoilers: Season One

Copyright Notice/Disclaimers: Farscape and all its wonderful characters are the property of Jim Henson Productions, Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Network Australia and the Sci-Fi Channel. The Galactic Hussies and its band members (Chaym, Mitzi, Aeeyyii, Ladee, and Sasha) are the property of Rosemary "Mitzi" Culver and myself. The songs, titles and lyrics that the Galactic Hussies sing are also property of Ms. Culver and myself. If you wish to use them and/or the Galactic Hussies, please ask first. Want more Galactic Hussies? Read my Farscape fanfic "Basic Necessities." Crichton’s Angels belong to themselves and of course, John Crichton. It’s my fourth fanfic, so be kind and send words of praise and boxes of chocolate cookies to: hbarnes30@yahoo.com. Written in March 2002.

John Crichton stormed down Moya’s corridors, entered the cleaning chamber and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Rygel!" He grabbed the Hynerian by the throat. "My underwear - it’s pink!"

The squat, disposed ruler jerked out of the grasp, pulling himself to his full height. "You forced me to do the laundry. You never said I had to do it right."

"Why you little…"

Aeryn’s voice on the coms interrupted his diatribe, "Crichton, you’re needed in Command."

John gave one last glare to his haughty shipmate and left, taking his Calvins with him.

Upon entering the large control room, the Human was shocked to see a richly hued bird-like being on the view screen. He gave Aeryn a questioning glance.

Instead of answering, the Sebacean looked directly at the screen. "Captain Leuuee, this is the other male I was telling you about. He is considered quite pleasant to look at among my species and is in good physical shape."

The Captain turned her head from side to side, studying the new figure with each of her eyes. "Turn around slowly and remove your upper garment." John started to protest, but quickly obeyed lest Aeryn’s glare incinerate him on the spot. "Your two males satisfy me. They may begin work this evening. Their uniforms will be sent over shortly." The avian stretched out a golden wing, cutting off transmission.

Pulling on his shirt and a bit of his dignity, the Human stared incredulously at a bare-chested D’Argo and smirking Aeryn. "What was that about?"

"Congratulations - I just got you a job."


Commander John Crichton, Super-Hero Astronaut of Earth and the Uncharted Territories, shook his head in denial. "No no no no no! I am not wearing this D’Argo!"

The Luxan shoved the garment back at Crichton. "It’s merely a kilt."

The well muscled, brown-haired man pushed the fluffy pink item away. "It’s a tutu!"

The ex-Peacekeeper entered the chamber, her raven presence ending the fight. "It’s your uniform and you will wear it. We are in need of supplies. So if you expect to eat, I suggest you both shut up and get to work."

D’Argo however, couldn’t resist one last jab, "At least it matches your underwear."


Hiding his embarrassment beneath a long red and black leather Peacekeeper coat, John, along with D’Argo, Aeryn and Chiana strode into the large space station. The Southern Boy was happier than a starving man at a pie-eating contest. "Holy Heinlein Batman!" This was what the great science fiction authors had written about. Two enormous disks on opposite ends of a central tube all spinning together - creating artificial gravity in the vastness of space. Impressive up close, yet insignificant to the gas giant it orbited. Crichton stared, slack-jawed at the various shops with their shiny trinkets, black metal station walls and beings of wondrous ancestry that he’d never seen before. "This is better than Star Trek! Way better!"

Somehow, D’Argo managed to drag him to their place of employment, forcing him to leave his coat with Aeryn. The entrance to the bar was dimly lit. Blinking his eyes, the Human turned to matters at hand, facing the purple and gold-feathered being before him. "Ah, you must be the ones Leuuee spoke of."

"Uh…yeah…I’m Benee and this is C’Aross. So, you wanna us to wait tables or what?"

The manager cocked his head to one side and ruffled his tail. "You are not here to serve drinks. You are the entertainment." He gestured with a wing to the long narrow stage equipped with various poles and perches. A lone rust-furred felinoid was performing to a flurry of flashing strobe lights and drumbeats. "Was your female owner mistaken? Are you not employable?"

D’Argo shut Crichton up with a glare, bowing. "We are here to humbly serve, in whatever manner you require."

"Excellent! Now hurry backstage and get your instructions from Lani. The evening crowd will be in shortly."


When he got dressed this morning, the idea of traipsing around Moya in pink clothing had to John, been the most embarrassing thing he could think of. He was wrong. Standing on stage in front of fifty-odd screaming females, wearing nothing but a g-string and matching pink tutu, pretending to "dance like you’re making love" definitely blew the earlier thoughts out of the water. To make matters worse, D’Argo had already made more money than him.

Swallowing his pride, for he had no dignity left, John put on his best boyish grin and sauntered bravely to a table where a trio of angelic ladies beckoned him.

"Would you like a cookie little boy?"

Distracted by the offer, he didn’t notice as a hand reached out and grabbed his behind. "Whoa! Hey! That’ll cost ya’...extra."

Eleven angelic faces giggled in unison. "It’s O.K. We have plenty of money…and biscuits."

Not more than an arn later, Chiana strolled into the establishment, sitting down close to the stage, sipping a raslak. After a few hundred microts, she held up a gold chit, calling John over.

"Hey Pip."

"Don’t stop moving. The manager is watching." The Nebari placed the coin into the small money pouch hanging around his waist. "Having fun?"

"Sure, I like getting prodded and groped by strange females."

"Don’t let it get to you. Just have a couple of drinks and zone out to the music."

"I take it you’ve done this before?"

"Sure, few times. Whatever it takes to get you fed, not dead. D’Argo looks like he’s having a good time."

"I wouldn’t know. I’m trying not to…look."

The lithe gray-colored female slipped another chit into his pouch, leaning in close to his ear. "Thanks for the dance. Aeryn’ll be by later to pick you two up."

She left with a wink and a leer, leaving Crichton to somehow feel even more exposed than he already was.

Safely back onboard Moya, clean and in his own clothes - dyed as they were, the Human confronted his Sebacean shipmate. "That’s it Aeryn. I quit!"

She looked at him with exasperation. "How many times do I have to explain it to you John? It is a matriarchal society that controls this station. If you want to work and get fed, you play by their rules."

"Even if that means dancing half-naked in front of…"

"Even if that means cleaning the latrines with your tongue! Look, it was the only job I could get for you. If you’d rather we starve?"


Aeryn stepped closer to him, features softening, "John, I’m sorry. It’s not like we had a choice."

"I know."

"Depending on how much you and D’Argo make in tips, it shouldn’t take more than eight solar days."

Crichton rubbed his brow in resignation. "Fine. Whatever it takes." He left her, heading back to his quarters and a chance to sleep.

Yet, to the poor, sole Human in all the Uncharted Territories, only nightmares came – hands, tentacles, groping and prodding, ripping off his clothes…


"Yo! Hey! One at a time ladies."

"I’m not a lady," came the deep, grumbling reply.

"Er...sorry." The astronaut turned stripper, took the offered chip, deftly dodged the seeking appendage and leapt back on stage. He danced. Danced like they’d never seen before in the Uncharteds, doing things with a chair he’d never thought possible only two days ago. Hoots of delight rewarded his efforts, as did the coins thrown at his feet. John noticed Aeryn in the audience, staring at him. He gave her a wink and started to unclasp his tutu. A cheer went up. Sadly, it wasn’t for him. The felinoid was doing back flips.


The Human and Luxan acted like any properly owned males. Dressed appropriately in yellow-feathered skirts, tight fitting T-shirts and face paint, they trailed behind Aeryn, carrying her few small parcels. Keeping with the ruse that she was from a modestly well off family, the Sebacean led them to a media store, though purchasing anything but food was out of the question.

Crichton browsed through a rack of music, picking up one with a picture of a "lungfish" on the cover. A sultry feminine voice startled him.

"So, you like the Galactic Hussies?"

"A bit heavy metal for my taste, but they’re not bad." The Human turned around to discover a rust and beige furred lupo-felinoid, grinning with a muzzle of very sharp teeth. "Chaym. What are you doing here?"

The woman pricked her ears forward and she sniffed his neck. "What are you doing smelling like a flower garden John?"

Lowering his voice, he whispered, "It’s ‘Benee’ for now and what’s the matter? Steal another Peacekeeper ship?"

Chaym roared with laughter, thumping her prehensile tail upon the floor. "No. Aeeyyii’s visiting her sister - the station’s Commander. Paul’s doing a book signing and one of our crew is dancing at the club. He likes to keep his skills up."

"Naack? He’s quite…limber."

The band member laughed again, drawing her male friend further into the shop. "So, you’re a dancer there too…Oh the girls are going to love this one!"

Looking for help from his shipmates and finding none, John stopped at a table where a boyishly handsome, sandie-haired Sebacean was seated, autographing copies of his latest novel and exchanging pleasantries with his fans.

The well-known author and stage manager for the Galactic Hussies, begged forgiveness and stood up, greeting his newest friend. Just in time, Paul caught the near-invisible cue from Chaym, "Benee, how good to see you again. Staying out of trouble I see…"

Desperate to hide his latest embarrassment, John turned his head from the crowd. "Perhaps we could talk about this later…somewhere less…public?"

"Of course. I’ll ask permission from your master and we’ll have a few drinks." The man’s eyes gleamed with unvented mirth. "I’m sure the rest of the ladies would love to see you."

Stunned, the astronaut finally managed to choke out, "Sounds like fun." Thankfully, his "master" called him over.

"Males! I am ready to leave now."

As he dropped back to an appropriate distance, John managed to whisper in Aeyrn’s ear. "You all are loving this way too much." Quickly, she hid her grin and started walking, her long black coat billowing out behind her.


Once again changed into more normal clothes, John Crichton checked his hair in a shiny part of the prowler. "Hey Chi, you ready to go?"

"Absolutely!" She held up a bottle of liquor. "This is going to be a blast!"

Aeryn Sun stormed into the Docking Bay. "Change of plans. We’re taking the transport pod."

Crichton looked at her, "I thought you weren’t coming."

"Someone has to keep you out of trouble."

"Since when do I get…o.k. nix that…What makes you think it’ll happen now?"

"Because it hasn’t yet."

Unable to find fault in the woman’s reasoning, John merely followed her and Chiana into the pod.

Half an arn later they docked with a dully-painted ovoid-shaped ship and were greeted by a very large and scary-looking bodyguard. After receiving a way too thorough body search for recording devices, the trio were escorted into the lounge with a warning. "The ladies are rehearsing. Do not interfere."

John, Chiana, and Aeryn found seats on a plush red couch. The music was stirring.

Fly away…fly away…
Fly away, my lungfish baby…
You are for Sea – and I for Air
Our crying hearts in despair
Do not die – not for me.
I am Air and you are Sea.
So fly away…fly away…
Fly away, my lungfish baby.

I saw her one day, soaring above rippling waters pink,
Satin soft feathers gliding down to have a drink.
Her face pierced my world and I did see
Eyes most beautiful staring at me.
I held her gaze as she did mine
And at that instant our hearts entwined…

He so handsome in his red-speckled skin
With a kind hearted mouth and broad bold fins.
I held his gaze as he did mine
And at that instant our hearts entwined.
Gently, I touched him with my wing
With wonder rejoicing our hearts did sing…

Quietly, I began to cry
For I was Sea and she was Sky.
Two hearts, two souls who beat as One -
But I was Water and she of Sun.
Quickly I swam till I reached the shore
Wiggling and pushing till my fins were sore…

I begged him to stop, "Don’t die for me!"
"I am Sky and you are Sea!"
Gasping for breath with now useless gills –
Though slowly it seemed his lungs did fill…
Then he looked at me with tear-filled eyes
And I knew at once he was about to die.

She pushed me back into water so dear
Trying to swim, holding back fear.
I begged her to stop, "Don’t die for me!"
"You are Sky and I am Sea!"
Then I looked in her eyes and beheld our fate –
For both of us, it was simply too late…

Fly away…fly away…
Fly away, my lungfish baby…
We are Air and we are Sea
Together in both worlds shall we Be…
Our bodies entwined – lulled to sleep,
Our hearts as one – our souls at peace.
So fly away…fly away…
Fly away, my lungfish baby.

"That was for all you lonely travelers out there. No matter what your background, what your home-world, true love can always be found." Mitzi, a petite, purple and white furred felinoid adjusted her near invisible headset. "And now for something a little more upbeat, ‘Turtle Man Do Me Slow.’" This was followed by a raucous song called "Hatch Me Avian Goddess!" The band’s leader took off her mic. "That does it for tonight ladies. Time to party!"

The other members of the band - Aeeyyii, an impressively feathered avian, Sasha, a gray striped lioness-like felinoid, Ladee, a large, four-armed lizard, and Chaym - put down their instruments and warmly greeted the crew from Moya.

The Nebari turned to her similarly colored friend, "That last one was great!"

"Thanks. You should see the stage show. Aeeyyii’s got these huge 5 metra gold wings and there’s pyrotechnics going off everywhere. It’s the dradest!"

"Totally." Ladee looked around, a bit disappointed. "Where’s D’Argo? I thought we could… relive old times."

Covered for the missing Luxan, Chiana answered, "He’s working an extra shift tonight. Said he was real sorry to have missed you."

"You all hungry? We’ve got plenty to eat – insects, seed, larva…"

John looked ill, "Uh, no thanks."

"Stop teasing him bird-brain!" Chaym tail-poked her feathered friend in the ribs. "We’ve got a real nice spread, ‘caught the beast myself."

"Don’t know how. You were so wasted!"

"Was not! And someone was supposed to be flying overhead, helping me cull him from the heard. Not mating with some half-cracked cock."

"He was cute! Oh, the tail feathers on that one!"

Aeryn, being her usual blunt self, interrupted. "You said something about food?"

"Sorry." The lupo-felinoid took Crichton by the arm. "You have got to see what Sasha’s uncle gave us – a case of the best yishwick this side of the Uncharted Territories."

Sun followed along, knowing full well just how potent the liquor was and it’s effects on Sebaceans. With Humans, it could only be worse. This truly was going to be a long night.

Heavy metal band members and escaped prisoners partied on till the wee hours of the morning. Even Aeryn started to relax, chatting with the stage manager/author in a semi-secluded corner of the room.

Sipping her second felip nectar, she smiled at the not-unhandsome man, "Tell me. Why would you of all people hang around a bunch of misfits such as these?"

"Why do you?" He smiled at her, forest green eyes crinkling with mirth. "Because they keep me centered...and employed. Why if it weren’t for these lovelies, the Paul Johnston Hennings you know today would not be nearly as famous." He studied her for a long moment. "I’ve known women like you Officer Sun. Hard, life-weary, exhausted from building all those walls to keep others out. I loved one of those women once and it nearly killed me. Then one day, she changed." Paul pointed towards the center of the room where the lupo-felinoid was dancing on top of the table and trying to out drink Crichton, Mitzie, Chiana and Sasha - matching shot for shot.

"Who? Chaym? What - did she snap?"

Hennings laughed, "No, she just decided to start living…We’ve all got dysfunctional lives Aeryn. Pasts we want to forget, things we wish we had or hadn’t done. But it’s what we do with them that counts."

The ex-Peacekeeper grabbed her drink and stood up from the table. "I don’t need a psychology lesson."

"No, but you certainly could use this…" The man pulled her face to his. And oddly enough, Aeryn didn’t find herself resisting.


Crichton stumbled with Aeryn through Moya’s corridors, trying to find his quarters. He paused, leaning heavily one of her walls. "I thought you said you were going to keep me out of trouble."

"I did. What abuse you do to yourself is none of my concern."

He doubled over in pain, holding his stomach. "Why the frell did you let me drink so much?"

"Me? I warned you about that stuff. Do all Humans get so drunk they try mating with the nearest female?"

John blinked through the haze in his brain. "I was only dancing with her Aeryn!"

"You were practically in her pants."

"She wasn’t wearing any pants! And might I point out that I wasn’t the one in the corner playing tongue-hockey. Tell me, what the hell has he got that I haven’t?"


"Charm? I’ve got tons of ch...oh God!" Forcibly, the contents of his stomach emptied onto the floor. John wiped his mouth, watching the woman of his desires storm off. "Why is it that you hate me so much?"

Aeryn paused mid-step, "That’s the problem. I don’t." She continued forward for another few metres, stopped again, and then turned back. Pulling his arm around her shoulder, she helped him back to his quarters. "This is just another one of your ploys to get me into your bed, isn’t it?"

John laughed through the pain, "Yeah. Back on Earth, works every time."


It was late evening at the nightclub and the place was hopping. The dancers on the other hand were fluttering. Dressed in fuzzy black briefs with a yellow "maturity" stripe running down the front, tight-fitting yellow-speckled muscle shirts and feathery black antennae, John, D’Argo and Naack strutted about the stage, their butterflyesque, translucent wings shimmering in the light.

Through sheer willpower and threat of death, the Human and Luxan began "battling" each other for the privilege of mating with a non-existent female butterfly. John tried to remember the hastily learned steps. Flitter, flitter, turn around, wiggle your butt, side step. Whoa! bumped into D’Argo… Shake your wings, prance around, thrust out your maturity stripe…Prance and thrust. Prance and thrust. It could not have been more embarrassing, except for the fact that D’Argo won the female. His stripe was bigger.

The "fight" over, the dancers were allowed to collect tips and fulfill any special requests. A plethora of angelic women, the same ones who’d seen every show of his, beckoned Crichton over with a jam filled pastry. "What’ll be tonight, ladies?"

The one holding a small transparent globe asked, "Can we take off your shirt?"

"Yes - for 24 drakats."

"Can we touch your…" The one with a halo giggled shyly, "chest?"

"It comes with the fee. Anywhere else will cost extra. Privates are off limits."

"Not even for a loaf of fresh bread?"

John tried to be patient. Every night, these women asked the same questions. It was only the bribes that were different. He smiled politely, "No."

"Too bad." Becka, the one with the basket of baguettes, batted her eyes. "The usual then please."

The girls were sweet, but a guy could only take so much. As they began to unclasp his shirt, the astronaut tried to think of everything but their tender fingers running through his…DK. DK and all those long hours spent going over figures for the Farscape project and…and…o.k., he was going to charge them extra for that one! When they were done, John collected the currency and moved onto the next group.

He didn’t know who were worse - the Angels or the Hussies. And why did everyone single one of them want a personal dance, let alone from him? And Chaym was truly incorrigible.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Can you watch it with the tail please?"

"Oh come on ‘Benee’. It’s not like I won’t pay. ‘Merchant Trader’ just hit latinum in the Tarsis sector. And you my droolable Sebacean, will have enough money to buy a cycle’s worth of food cubes."

"I hate food cubes."

His "personal requests" done for now, John got back up on stage. Aeryn was grinning at him from the room’s midsection and tossed him a coin. Returning the smirk, he picked it up and ripped off his fuzzy breaches with the same movement. His crewmate silently applauded and tossed him another coin. Fortunately, it was only another arn before John could once again wear more than a grin, antennae and a piece of cloth no bigger than a tissue.


"No! Absolutely not!"

"Come on D’Argo. They’re supposed to be for luck."

"I am not wearing antlers! That is the lowest of the low and I will not stoop there."

"You mean after a week of strutting around in practically nothing, getting mauled by strange women, you suddenly have a problem?"

"I like women John. But to wear antlers? That is just degrading."

The Human shook his head. He would never understand these people. "It’s just for the day D’Argo. We play like nice little servants, buy some food, and then it’s back to being chased by the Peacekeepers."

"It is this thing that bothers me. A warrior cannot fight with so elaborate a headdress."

"I know. It’s been bugging me too. Eight whole days and nothin’s happened yet? I don’t buy it. So we’ll be extra careful, get our supplies, and starburst the frell out of here."

The Luxan seemed to calm down. "Agreed."

"Good. Now hurry up and get changed. Aeryn’s waiting for us in the transport pod."


Dressed in brown shorts compete with a fuzzy white tail, brown and white vest, and of course, the antlers, Crichton felt like a stag. Only stags didn’t follow behind their master carrying packages. The requisite food cubes had been bought and now they were gathering supplemental items.

"How about those?" John inquired, pointing to a pile of leafy purple globes.

"They won’t travel well. Here." Aeryn handed him six white and gray furred animals. "These p’lot bunnies will do nicely."

He took the cage, starring at the small creatures. "I think they’re laughing at me."

The Sebacean ignored him and piled some fruits into D’Argo’s basket.

John had no idea what the other items were that they’d purchased. As he’d learned early on, sometimes it was best not to know what you were eating.

Supplies locked in the transport pod, the trio went over to a small café where they’d agreed to meet the Galactic Hussies and say their good-byes. Aeeyyii was already hitting on the green-feathered barkeeper while Chaym, Mitzi and Sasha were knocking back a few shots with Chiana.

"Hey ladies, how’s it goin’?"

The lupo-felinoid nearly leapt into his arms. "Johnny! Hey, nice tail."

"Get away from there."

"It’s them! It’s them! It’s them!"

The shrieking voice seemed to come from nowhere but was definitely heading towards them. Aeryn, John, D’Argo and Chiana immediately tensed, placing hands on concealed weapons, each looking for the best escape route. Someone had obviously recognized them and security would be here any moment.

"Oh my gods it’s them!" The owner of the voice came closer. It was a female Sebacean, not more than fourteen cycles old. Her three friends also began to scream.

Before Moya’s crew could make their escape, the hormonally charged gang was upon them.

"Oh my gods! Oh my gods! I can’t believe they’re here! The Galactic Hussies!" Her scream reverberated through the room.

The band members smiled politely. They were used to this sort of thing.

"Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure, sweetie. What’s your name?"


"Hi Meg. I’m Chaym."

"I know. Can I hug you?"

"Sure honey." Chaym gestured to Paul, who from seemingly nowhere, produced a camera and took their picture.

The girl was practically in tears now, as were her companions. "Oh my gods, thank you so much! You all are so wonderful and I just love your music."

"Thank you Meg. You’re too kind."

Pictures, hugs and autographs given, the stage manager handed them the photo data chip. "It should work in any common console."

The teenagers departed and the Galactic Hussies were allowed to finish their good-byes.

"You get that a lot?"

"Sure. Don’t you?"

John looked at Mitzi wryly, "Only when their weapons are drawn."

"Been there." The felinoid rubbed her neck against his. "Good music, good food, and good sex John. Maybe we’ll see you at one of our concerts."

"Uh…thanks. You too."

Chaym gripped him in a rib-crushing hug and handed him a small parcel. "Take care my sexy Sebacean. And keep an ear out for our next album. I think you’ll find it very personal…" She gave him one last grope and let the others have their turn.


Later that day, John Crichton sat on his bunk, truly relaxed for the first in far too many days. No more strange costumes, no more pawing, no more pink clothing, and more importantly, no one chasing them. It was just him and a nice glass of yishwick – smooth and mellow. The Human let out a long sigh of pleasure.

Moya lurched, throwing him off the bed, shattering his glass on a bulkhead. Pilot’s voice came over the coms. "Commander, your needed in Command immediately!"

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