Stark

( In which the universe is almost destroyed but there's a mostly happy ending. )
Stark had had enough of all this and wanting nothing more than some peace, felt he could not stay. He made his goodbyes, murmured as many blessings as he knew over tiny D'Argo Sun Crichton, and took a transport pod, hoping to go back to another home. He would have stayed for Chiana's sake, but she didn't want his assistance or interference in her grief and he knew he wouldn't be of much assistance in any rebuilding efforts that might occur. Instead he would try to get back to the island. He had missed Fandom ever since he left, and now seemed a perfect time to return. He felt like he needed to be back there, for some reason, moreso than he had in quite a long time.

[So, that's PK Wars except for Stark's final scene because, I'm sorry, being forced to take someone's soul and knowledge into your head against your will and then watching the universe nearly destroyed does NOT EQUAL finding your own inner peace. Plus, think of all the glowy icons no longer usable if Stark stops glowing as he seems to at the end. Makes no sense to me, so I skip it.]

Time passed on Moya. A few solar days at most while they traveled back to the water planet. Stark was still distraught, not paying attention to the passage of time or to anything else. He didn't notice the comings and goings of anyone else on Moya. He wandered the corridors occasionally, ignoring his comms and the DRDs and most attempts at interaction and the reports of developments in the war between the Scarrans and the Peacekeepers. The war that might have been averted already if only he had better prepared Yondalao or if only he were able to do what it was everyone wanted him to do and deliver Yondalao's spiritual remains to the other Eidelons. "I'm not worthy. I'm not worthy. I'm not worthy. Can't do that, can't do that. I can't do it." Repetitions along those lines were all he said when he bothered to speak at all. Sometimes, even when he did speak, he was barely understandable. The others weren't sure if he was talking to himself or a voice in his head. It amounted to much the same thing as far as they were concerned, and Stark babbling was at least somewhat normal, even if the rest of his behavior wasn't.

He would have spoken to the others if he could have. He wanted to. If he were able to, he would have told them everything. He would have tried to explain what was going inside his head. He would have tried to tell them all that what was left of Yondalao was nearly unbearable to be carrying around inside of himself but that he was trying. And yes, he was occasionally carrying on conversations with the voices in his head but if they had half as many pieces of others inside of them as he did his shipmates would do the same thing. Some of the voices were helpful. Others, particularly those acquired when he had lived among Scarrans and Peacekeepers, were not. And some of them were just loud and distracting. And one, the one voice he wanted most of all, was nearly silent and that only made matters worse. If Zhaan were here, even just in his head, it would be easier. He knew that. If Zhaan were here the others would never have forced him into this situation in the first place. She wouldn't have allowed it. He knew that, too. Of course, the others knew nothing of all of this. All they knew was that something was wrong. Even if he had tried to explain, they wouldn't have understood. None of them were Stykera. None of them had had the the remains of a spiritual leader, and with them one of the last hopes for peace in this end of the galaxy, forced into their heads.

"I don't know how," was his last quietly desperate statement before he stopped speaking entirely.

[Poor wee Banik. We're almost at the end though. Hopefully.]

Once aboard the Scarran ship, Stark and the others were led into a detention area and scanned for weapons. There were rather a lot of those amongst this group.

( And then more unpleasantness )

[In just under the wire. Whee.]