zomg! fic!
Apr. 5th, 2006 01:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eve11Score one move from the "WIP" folder to the "completed" folder! Possibly this one's a bit dated, but I'm happy to get it out there. Without further ado:
A Sci-Fi Original
By Eve11
~9300 words
Summary: We could always see what's on Leno.
Notes: Started as a response for the 2004 Farscape ficathon for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
simplystars. She said "AU is fabulous; comedy is wonderful; angst is lovely." And so I decided to write . . . this. And to take my dear old time with it too. I apologize profusely on both accounts. Thanks to auntiemeesh and wishkey who gave me lovely constructive comments.
Takes place in season 4 after John Quixote but before Unrealized Reality.
==================================
I. Prologue
**
In three and a half cycles Aeryn Sun had learned to be much more than a Peacekeeper soldier. Love, loss, self, respect and family; she had learned all of these things. To other Peacekeepers it would seem as though she had been completely transformed and none of her former self remained, but she still kept a part of her soldier past. Like a worn pair of boots tucked in the corner of a lock box, it was not comfortable anymore but serviceable, and in a way that she would never be able to explain to Crichton, treasured. Her ability to remain calm, rational and in control during tactical situations owed more to her regimented upbringing than Crichton would admit.
Not that she could explain it to Crichton now if she wanted, because he and D'Argo were currently missing.
"That's the fourth bar on this street," Chiana said, eyeing the door as the host ushered them out. "Six altogether."
"I know."
The host turned away and Chiana neatly snurched a small decorative plate, not much bigger than the bottom of a raslak tumbler, from the wall. "Frellwits can find the time to visit six bars but they can't be bothered to turn on their comms? They," she said, slipping the item discreetly up a sleeve, "they'd better be in trouble."
"They are," Aeryn said, frowning. "One way or another."
They left the bar behind. Aeryn fell back on Peacekeeper arrogance and efficiency for navigating the crowded streets in Kel City square, pushing past native Netseks and narrowing her eyes at those who stood in her way. She did not like Kel City. It was too hot and too bright. The buildings were a disorganized array of haphazard curves, artificial hills which nevertheless stood out painfully from the gently rolling natural landscape -- partly because they were fabricated from a glistening, high-grade polymer, and partly because they were all colored the same garish purple hue.
Behind her, Chiana struggled through a wake of smartly dressed Netseks, some with yellow-tinged skin, some red, some blue. All had slick black hair, and all aimed heavy-browed stares in their direction.
Chiana caught stride with Aeryn. "They don't like us much, do they?"
"I don't think they like off-worlders, typical for planets in Tormented Space," Aeryn said, scowling at a passer-by who seemed to slow and stare too long. They didn't need attention. She already felt watched. She pulled Chiana forward and tapped the hidden item in her sleeve. "What did you take that for?"
Chi gave her a mischievous smile. "Souvenir."
"Well you don't need it."
She grinned and stepped back, empty palms out. "I don't need the other five either."
Aeryn eyed the Nebari critically. "Where--?" she started, but caught herself. Chi obviously treasured parts of her own past as well, including a thief's spare and well-hidden pockets. She changed tack, more than a little annoyed. "Half our crew is missing and you're wasting energy on stealing!"
"It's not half, it's Crichton and D'Argo! They bartered for hetch drive upgrades, then they went off for a little fun a-and are probably sleeping it off in a ditch somewhere. I wish I could get in that kind of trouble!"
Aeryn shook her head. "John hasn't let Scorpius out of his sight for over a monen. It's not like him; he's been sullen, moody. . . " Distant, she added silently. Infuriating. Hurtful.
"Sounds like a guy who needs a break," Chiana said. "They're fine."
At that microt Aeryn's comms came to life.
"Aeryn, Pilot, anybody there?" came a weary, slightly slurred Human voice.
Chi gave a staccato laugh as Aeryn tapped her comm.
"Crichton, where the frell have you been?"
"Aeryn, hey, hello to you too. We're at, um . . . well, we need a little help here. We kind of need you to . . ." A pause, then a muffled query directed away from the comms, ". . . Hey D, do they have bail on this planet?"
========================
II. Abscondence
Moya was silent and nearly empty. Noranti slept peacefully on the kitchen floor, Sikozu was studying neural pathways, and even Pilot was in deep concentration, running diagnostic tests on Moya's filters at a bio-molecular level to help shield her from the perils of Tormented space. The rest were planetside, save one.
Deep within the ship a black-clad figure walked through the labyrinthine hallways, followed at the heels by a conveniently re-wired DRD. In the tier two sub-level maintenance-way there was a small room that no-one else knew about. He had labeled the doorway in a coded script he had devised as a child to keep his mind active and intellectually stimulated during the arns of Scarran heat-torture.
The door read, "CONFESSIONAL", though no one would know that except for himself.
Scorpius opened the door to reveal a closet-sized nook with a single bedframe in the corner, covered with an unfair amount of Moya's fiercely rationed pillows. He slipped inside, set the DRD on a shelf in the corner and instructed it to record, then settled down in front of the eyes and started to speak.
SCORPIUS: (sighs) This Leviathan is a mad-house . . .
**
The police station was a large, lumpy purple building bursting out from amidst the surrounding small, lumpy purple buildings. Aeryn bullied the guards into letting them by, but not without having to leave her pulse pistol behind. As they walked inside she tried again to contact Rygel, but he had disabled his comms after her first intrusion into whatever business he had on Kel. Pilot reported regular check-ins from the Dominar, however, and all indications were of smooth transactions. In matters of business and procurement, Aeryn had learned to trust the Hynerian for at least as far as she could throw him, and in this instance he was, amazingly, not the one causing trouble.
The station interior was a mass of purple cave formations. Work nooks flowed unbroken from the walls, smooth purple lumps formed desks, seats and dividers throughout, some empty, some holding disinterested Netsek officers poking at touch-screens. The air was stale for such a large space and tinged with an antiseptic smell Aeryn recognized as a remnant of large-scale polymer fabrication. Crichton and D'Argo were in one of a line of curving closet-sized holding cells hidden at the back of the building. As they came around the corner, John caught sight of them and gave a half-hearted wave and a dren-eating grin. D'Argo stood up and started pacing. Both looked exhausted and confused.
"What's going on?" Aeryn asked. "Why were you arrested?"
"We--" D'Argo started. He and John exchanged glances. The human leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
"We're not entirely sure," D'Argo continued. "We had the hetch components . . . we were heading back to Lo'La . . . It's kind of a blur."
Aeryn crossed her arms.
"Uhm. . . ah. . ." D'Argo stammered. "We--"
Crichton sat back with an explosive sigh.
"Just spit it out, D'Argo!"
"John--" D'Argo warned.
"We were abducted by aliens," Crichton said.
Aeryn took a few microts to process this.
"Aliens," she said, rubbing at an itch at her side.
John nodded.
". . . abducted? . . . you," she finished.
"Got it in one."
"Well," Aeryn let out a breath. "That narrows it down."
"Aeryn--"
"Let's see," she started counting on her fingers, "I'm an alien."
"Aeryn, hear me out--"
"You're an alien. D'Argo, Chiana. . ."
John started pacing. "Not just any aliens. Aliens! Little gray men! Little gray truth-is-out-there Communion-style anal-probing aliens!"
"What-probing?" Chi interrupted.
John stopped mid-stride. "Never mind about that part. But it was definitely them. I don't know what they're doing out here, hell, ask me five years ago and I'd say they were nothing except a modern fairy-tale of new age America. But I didn't believe any aliens existed back then and last time I checked, Sparky don't expel swamp gas."
There was a beat of silence.
"That," Chiana broke the spell, "makes no sense."
John was undaunted. "I saw the ship come down, a big round ship with flashing lights. D., they nabbed us when we were walking back to Lo'La."
"D'Argo?" Aeryn let her query for confirmation remain unvoiced.
"I don't know," D'Argo muttered. "I don't remember anything past negotiating for the hetch drive components. I don't remember little gray men and I don't know how we ended up here."
"You don't remember going to six bars and getting fek-faced?" Chiana asked.
This gained two blank stares.
"Well, then." Aeryn flicked her eyes around the space, half of her attention with her crewmates, half sizing up the forcefield circuitry on the holding cells. Sub-standard work. Two well-placed blasts would have the whole thing down in less than a microt.
"You don't believe me," John said.
Of course she didn't believe him. Something had changed, and she didn't trust it. He was not the sullen and moody Human who had left with D'Argo--to get away from her, she had to admit. All they could do together anymore was argue and hurt each other. Now, though, he was frenetic, animated, talking very little sense. It had been cycles since he had seemed so out of place. A thought struck her, settling uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. It reminded her of those brittle, tense days on Moya in the asteroid field, after they had saved him from the Aurora chair.
Aeryn pushed the thought aside, but the hollow in her stomach remained. It was annoyance, that was all.
"Look, it doesn't matter if what you say happened or not," she said. She didn't believe him, but this was no place for an argument. She felt the eyes on them from all around the station. It made her itch for her sidearm. She paused for a microt and realized she had been furiously scratching at her thigh. The smooth leather of her pants was now roughened and ragged. Something was making her itch. Something on this frelling waste hole of a planet was giving her a rash.
When she looked up at her companions again, Crichton was staring at her like she was a one-headed Tralkez. "It doesn't matter?"
"It doesn't change anything about the current situation," Aeryn said, "and none of it explains why you've been arrested."
"Oh that's a good dodge," Crichton grumbled. "That's Johnny-Cochran-worthy, that's--"
"Trespassing," came a disinterested voice. All eyes turned to meet a bluish-pale Netsek dressed in what passed on Kel City for a municipal employee uniform. Beside him a small yellow underling took notes on a touch-pad.
"Beg your pardon?" Aeryn asked, in that microt making the decision not to break either man's neck until she was sure she had to.
"Apologies, apologies. Introductions," he said. "I am Rinn Mova, lead detective specializing in off-worlder offenses."
"Good." D'Argo stuck a finger to the forcefield, receiving a rather generous zat of current. "Because I'm pretty offended. Let us the frell out."
Rinn Mova gave a withering smile. "Sadly, the offense is yours. Trespassing. Your craft was parked on a sacred lot. You did not see the signs?"
The underling hunched intently over his touch pad, typing furiously. D'Argo shot John a look.
"Do you remember where we parked?" D'Argo asked under his breath.
"The vehicle has been air-towed to the Tamfour impounding facility," Rinn said, bored.
Aeryn scratched at her shoulder. The itch was spreading. "Can we just settle this?"
Rinn gestured toward Aeryn and Chiana. "You may re-acquire the vehicle after the sentencing and penalty."
"Okay, no problem," Crichton said. "We pay our fine, pick up the car and get the hell out of Dodge." He caught Aeryn's attention and gestured toward the ceiling, mouthing a silent 'before 'They' come back' in her direction.
"Ah, apologies," Rinn said, "But the penalty for trespassing on sacred ground is death."
In the space of a silent microt Aeryn assessed their current situation. She remained perfectly still, flicking her gaze ever so quickly at Chiana. The Nebari narrowed her eyes and gave the slightest hint of a smile.
Aeryn had learned much from her past. There were times to resort to Peacekeeper brutality, but her short stint as an assassin had taught her again how quickly Peacekeepers resorted to the gun and blade, rather than embracing solutions which embodied the spirit of their name. Violence was not a good solution when diplomacy would suffice. And diplomacy might just suffice here, Aeryn decided.
But it was better to be sure.
Aeryn raised a finger to her lips, and the two women sprang silently into action. In one whip-tight move Aeryn had an arm around Rinn Mova's throat and had used his own pulse weapon to disarm the forcefield holding Crichton and D'Argo. At the same time, Chiana executed a beautiful, exotic spin, and three other Netseks went down without ever having the benefit of knowing what had hit them.
"Get down!" Aeryn hissed at her shipmates, diving Rinn-first against a purple divider. The Netsek let out a painful breath beneath her and she pressed a hand over his mouth. A glance to her left showed Crichton and D'Argo crouching behind what looked like a solid purple version of an officer's sofa seat. D'Argo caught her eye and mimed a blade. Aeryn felt a 'thump' through the polymer and caught sight of a shock of white hair as Chiana took position on the other side of Rinn Mova.
The whole operation was over in six microts. Their silent execution would buy them some time. Aeryn carefully let up some pressure on Rinn's throat.
"Now," she said. "Where are our weapons? And remember--" she added, tightening her grip as Rinn started to open his mouth. "The penalty for lying to me is death."
======================
III. Revelation
" . . . My motives are perfectly clear. I don't know what the rest of them want out of this but I just want wormholes, and I could care less about all of this inner politics and turmoil. I don't cheat. I don't backstab. And maybe that means I will never 'fit in' here on Moya, but I am quite tired of Crichton assuming the worst and dredging up the past."
**
"That was too easy," Crichton said for the third time, leaning against a slowly sloping wall. Next to him, Chiana slipped through the back exit, gently securing the door behind her.
D'Argo signaled all clear. At the point position, Aeryn nodded. "Let's move."
The four of them hurried through what passed for alleyways in Kel City, miniature meandering valleys between steep fabricated hills. The alleys were darker and dirtier than Kel City's public face, with refuse containers scattered around service entrances and stained walls. Still, Aeryn found it maddeningly purple, too hot and too bright. She did not like Kel City. And the rash, whatever it was, was getting worse. Her whole body itched beneath her clothes.
"Tooooo easy . . ." John continued behind her.
Peacekeeper soldiers were trained to ignore discomforts. The body was a weapon for the good of the team.
"Frell, Crichton," Chiana complained. "What is wrong with you?"
"I don't trust them. Are we being watched?"
Focus mental energy on the mission. Infighting sacrificed efficiency.
"Who? Little gray men? Old man, that is the worst dren of an excuse."
"D'Argo, did that seem too easy to you?"
"Hey, you can't just start ignoring me b-because you don't like what I say!"
Peacekeepers had been known to shoot members of a unit for bickering. It was not a tactic Officer Sun had embraced, even back in the day.
"Come on! You'd believe D'Argo if he said he was abducted by aliens."
"You're completely tinked!"
Now, Pantak jabs, on the other hand, worked like a Tellurian charm. Aeryn dropped a step, pivoted and delivered a solid punch--to a large, empty refuse bin. The noise echoed down the alley, disturbing a few scrabbling creatures in its wake and eliciting screeches of protest. Meanwhile, the square bin rocked back, teetered on two corners for half a microt, then clattered to the ground.
When Aeryn turned around to face her companions, they were summarily silent and attentive.
"Chiana, enough," she said. "And Crichton, don't shoot the hearse we were given. Now move."
Leaving him no time to negotiate, Aeryn strode onward, scanning the curving purple rooftops. Had she seen something? A flash of glass on one of the lower structures? A low-tech set of oculars? When she looked again it was gone.
"Horse, Aeryn," John called out, catching her stride. "Gift horse. And you don't shoot it, you look it in the--"
She turned and fixed him with a glare.
He cleared his throat. "Actually, you don't do that either."
"Aeryn," D'Argo said.
"Not you too!" Aeryn hissed, scratching furiously at her side. "Eyes front, all of you. Pay attention so we won't be ambushed."
"But--"
"I don't want to hear it!" Still scratching, Aeryn gave her vest a frustrated tug.
And came away with a crumbling clump of leather in her fist. She looked down. The entire vest appeared pocked, scratched and--she moved and more pieces flaked away--suddenly brittle. She looked up; now even John and Chiana had quieted and were staring. She stepped back, and felt her pants start crumbling at the back of her knees.
"What the . . . ?" Aeryn trailed off, holding perfectly still.
"Aeryn," D'Argo finally managed. "I think there's something wrong with your clothes."
The left front corner of her vest broke loose and hit the ground with a 'thud'.
"Frell me," Chiana exclaimed. "They're disintigrating!"
For only the third time in her life, Aeryn Sun was taken completely off her guard.
Since this situation was unlikely to leave her either irreversibly contaminated or dead at the hands of her possessed lover, it was by far the easiest to deal with. But. These were her favorite pants. And this was her favorite vest. She took extra-special care of this clothing, that was currently falling to small bits around her frame. She dry-cleaned it specially using Moya's duct systems. She even--
And there it was again. A small twinkle at the corner of her vision. Same glare, different spot. Someone was up on the rooftop, moving.
Thank Chulak. Something to shoot.
"That's not natural," John was saying. "You should check yourself for implants--"
The ragged vest and pants exploded into dust as Aeryn sprang to action, taking cover behind a dumpster and bringing her sidearm to bear. She fired four quick shots at the glare while Crichton and the others scattered, throwing themselves against the alley walls. D'Argo hefted his blade, open and ready to fire, but Chiana was already tugging at his sleeve, pointing him to a hastily opened door.
"In here!"
The four shipmates ducked inside. Aeryn checked the alley and then secured the door behind them, saving a microt to take stock of herself. The heat was less, now that most of her clothes were swirling around air currents in the alley. She had: boots, holster, pistol, hair band, underwear (thankfully not the old pair of Calvins that was still in her wash rotation). At least the itching was subsiding. She turned to her companions, brushing flakes of leather off of her bare chest.
"Frell. That was my favorite vest."
"What was that?" D'Argo asked, pointedly staring off to Aeryn's left.
"I told you," she said, stepping forward into his view. "It was my--"
"--Uh, on the, uh, rooftop. You, uhm--" Looking panicked, the Luxan did his best to shrink into the fabricated wall. Next to him, Chiana kicked his shin.
"D'Argo! It's just a pair of loomas!" She paused for a good look at Aeryn's chest. "Nice ones. You know they really look smaller when you're wearing--"
"--Okay," Crichton had a hand to the side of his face, shielding Aeryn from his view. "I have no idea what just happened or how, but we need to find you some clothes."
Aeryn rolled her eyes and holstered her weapon, then crossed her arms over her chest.
Chiana surveyed the room they were in. "What, here?"
They were in the back of a shop. Lack of light and customers told Aeryn it was closed. It was still purple, but under the dim lights it was almost bearable. Small, brightly colored boxes lined the meandering shelves. Most had pictures of Kel scenery or Netseks, and all had indecipherable writing.
"What's wrong with here?" Crichton asked, trying to find a way to get behind a smooth purple counter at the back of the room. Chiana vaulted easily over the counter and produced a small multicolored glob from underneath.
"Holo-vids. Porn, mostly. Some sci-fi. Hard to tell the difference."
Crichton backpedaled, bumping into a shelf. "Chiana, don't even think about testing that out, and keep it away from me."
"What, old man? You know I wouldn't, not after last time. Hey! We're in luck!" Chiana ducked behind the counter again, and a small bundle of bright pink fabric sailed out.
D'Argo and John tracked the pink bundle until Aeryn snatched it out of the air, at which point both men found the tops of their boots extremely engrossing. Aeryn studied the bundle for a few silent microts.
"What is it?" she finally asked, shaking it out. To her left Crichton let out a strangled expletive.
"Whoa, not safe, not looking!"
Chiana emerged from behind the counter, beaming. "Promotional material! Try it on."
Aeryn tried it on.
Technically, it was a shirt. In reality it was a bright pink, sleeveless scrap of material that covered Aeryn's chest and little else. Emblazoned on the front was a picture of a reclining Netsek female with a head of long, flowing dark hair and no clothes, in the middle of what must have been a seductive laugh. The Netsek's chest was obscured by a block of text.
Aeryn frowned. Chiana cocked her head.
"You, you look good."
"I look like an idiot."
"You look like an off-worlder."
Four heads, two pulse pistols and a Qualta blade turned toward the new voice. A short orange Netsek dressed in a casual suit lounged against a shelf by the front entrance of the shop. Another one--tall, blue--loomed behind it.
"But--" the blue alien continued.
The orange alien finished the sentence seamlessly. "--a very good-looking one."
======================
IV. Exposition
"'He tortured me in the Aurora Chair', 'He put a neural chip in my head', 'He's a lying manipulative bastard', day in, day out. It's enough to make me burst a coolant rod. (leans forward) Three words, John. Get. Over. It."
**
"Who the frell are you?" Aeryn asked.
"Hmpf," the glowering blue alien said to his companion. "I don't like them."
The orange alien smiled, apparently unconcerned or oblivious to the fact that he was microts away from receiving an unhealthy dose of pulse energy, delivered at high speed. He gestured to his frowning companion. "Don't mind him. He's a bit anti-social."
"And," Crichton said, waggling his pulse pistol, "Did I somehow imagine the part where we asked, 'who the frell are you?'"
The orange Netsek stepped forward and bowed, while the blue one simply maintained his scowl.
"I am Tevrin Tau, owner of this fine establishment," Orange said. At an annoyed 'ahem' from his companion, he added, "This is my manifest alter ego, Tevrin Tau."
"Oh, that's a laugh," Blue Tevrin said.
Orange Tevrin turned around, insulted. "I beg my pardon?"
Blue Tevrin sighed a long-suffering sigh. "I'm my manifest alter ego. Of course I think so."
"Naturally," Orange Tevrin said. "If I thought I had any more influence than a regnot, I'd have already shut me in the closet."
"Listen here," Blue turned on his companion. "I will not stand for that kind of vitriol coming from me!"
Aeryn and her companions stared, dumbfounded, as the argument between the two Netseks degenerated even further into nonsense. Finally, Orange stomped to the corner with an outraged, "I can't talk to me!," and sat down on a purple bench, sulking.
Blue threw up his hands. "If I knew what was best for me, I'd--"
"Hey, hey!" Crichton said. The two aliens froze, then addressed the source of the disruption with a synchronous turning of heads. Crichton rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Can we just . . . focus on the people with the guns here for a minute?"
"Right, of course," the Tevrins said in unison. It was a strange stereo effect, and Aeryn studied the duo closer. These two beings displayed a remarkable familiarity with each other. She noticed it in posture, subtle body cues and expression. When the two weren't fighting, they held themselves exactly the same, studied their surroundings in the same way, and, at the subconscious level, reacted in the same way to external stimuli. It was an intimacy of shared experience; she might have mistaken them for battalion companions were it not for the incessant bickering.
Chiana must have noticed it too, as she spoke up. "What are you, brothers?"
"Pairbond," they answered. "Alter ego."
In the ensuing silence, Blue Tevrin sighed laboriously.
"Each Netsek in the pairbond is one half of the consciousness. Reason–" he raised his hand.
"--and Impulse." Orange Tevrin said from his position in the corner.
"You're two halves of the same person?" D'Argo asked.
The Tevrins nodded.
"More than that," Crichton said. "Reason and Impulse, that's like, Felix and Oscar. Or Hannibal and Murdock."
Aeryn had learned long ago to read the body language and inflection cues behind Crichton's unintelligible references, and she gleaned his meaning quite clearly. As Crichton rattled off a few more odd pairs, Aeryn's inner Peacekeeper quietly drew up a list of twelve reasons why this natural progression of speciation was inferior and ludicrous. And for once, the new part of herself--the part she had learned to trust and nurture after three cycles on Moya--could find very little disagreement. It was a wonder this culture had survived for as long as it had.
But all of that was beside the point. There was a very good reason not to trust these two. Aeryn raised her weapon again. "We didn't see any others like you," she said. "No pairs. No bickering."
Blue frowned, and Aeryn realized it had nothing to do with the gun pointed at him. "Those you've met on the streets are by the vast majority Impulse. Kel City has long stifled Reason, relegated us to corners and locked doors."
"That seals it." Aeryn holstered her weapon and turned to D'Argo. "I knew there was a reason I hated this place."
Meanwhile, Chiana looked at Orange, horrified. "You lock them up?"
"Well, can you blame us?" Orange said petulantly. "They're just no fun!"
"That's terrible!" Chiana swiped a section of cartridges off of the wall. "It's worse than mind-cleansing!"
Orange stood, indignant. "Don't presume to start judging our cultural mores--", he said, to which Blue rolled his eyes and started listing injustices for both his alter-ego and the Nebari to hear, while D'Argo and Crichton just stared in morbid fascination. Chiana raised herself to full height--still only tall enough to come up to Orange's chin--and started matching the Netsek's vitriol with her own. In mere microts the whole thing was a shouting match threatening to come to blows.
Aeryn shared a look with D'Argo, then unholstered her weapon and fired two precise shots into the ceiling above the counter.
"Shut up!" She leveled the pulse pistol at the Netseks-- at the two halves of the Netsek, as Chiana ducked and skittered out of the way. Blue raised a hand and started to say something, but Aeryn cut him off. "You, both-- all of you. Shut up."
The Tevrins looked at her. In fact, they both took several microts for a long look at boots, bare legs, holster, underwear, hot pink porn t-shirt, battle whiptail and scowl.
They shut up.
Aeryn took a breath in the blessed silence. "Chiana, check the windows. And you two," she gestured to the Tevrins, "have a seat."
Chiana slunk to the front of the store, looking for anything suspicious on the streets beyond. The Tevrins sat on the corner bench, as far from each other as the seat allowed. Meanwhile, D'Argo leaned casually on his blade.
"You know, this Reason-Impulse thing explains a lot," he said.
Crichton cocked his head, thinking for a microt. "You know, it does."
Aeryn eyed the Tevrins. "Like what?"
"Like how they kept trying to sell us all that stuff we didn't need when we were bargaining for the hetch components," Crichton said. "They just assumed we would buy whatever they set in front of us."
"Exactly," D'Argo said.
"Leviathan restorant, two-grip hatchway sealant caps--"
"Neural node lubricant . . ."
"Steak knives . . ."
"You almost bought those, John."
"I did, didn't I?" Crichton said absently. "Strange."
Throughout the conversation, Aeryn noticed Blue Tevrin twitching, staring out of the corner of his eye at the two men.
"What?" she asked, indicating Blue with a wave of her pistol. "What is it?"
Blue stuttered. "I--that is--" He turned to Crichton and D'Argo. "You were shopping?"
D'Argo narrowed his eyes. "Yeees . . . "
"Oh my," the Tevrins said.
A draft swirled through the room as the compression cooling system kicked on. The skin on her bare legs prickled from the touch of cold air, and Aeryn had the sinking suspicion that her day was about to get worse.
The Tevrins cleared their throats. "And have either of you been acting--" a perfectly synchronous pause "--strange?"
Aeryn kept focused on the Netseks, but she couldn't help a flick of her gaze at Crichton. D'Argo, too, turned his attention to the human. The Netseks frowned. Aeryn heard the creak of polymer flooring as Crichton shifted position.
"They're in on it," Crichton finally said.
Aeryn dropped her guard, turning on John. "For the love of Chulak--"
"I'm telling you, Mulder and Scully here know something!" He advanced on the Netseks. "You want to tell me what the little gray men are doing on this planet?"
The two Netseks didn't back down. As Chiana called out from the front of the shop--"Just what have you got against gray aliens, old man!?"--Crichton hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. D'Argo let out a frustrated Luxan curse, and Aeryn rubbed at her forehead, trying to forestall a pounding headache. Meanwhile, Blue Tevrin studied the human's eyes intently, his brow furrowed. Noting Aeryn's pistol and Crichton's glare, Blue slowly reached for a display on the counter, pointing to a small device.
"Brainwave detector," he said. "Theft deterrent, that's all, not a weapon." He swiveled the screen toward Crichton. "Have you been experiencing any paranoia lately? Heightened suggestibility, perhaps?"
"No," Crichton said, at the same time D'Argo and Aeryn both said, "Yes."
Both Orange and Blue stared at the screen for several microts. Then, Orange clapped his hands loudly. "He's been tagged, alright. Bang-up job of it, fantastic work. Possibly the Luxan too, but usually it only results in memory problems for that species."
Aeryn eyed the incomprehensible screen. "Tagged by what?"
"Off-worlder Negotiation Susceptibility Emitters," Orange Tevrin answered.
"Off-what?" D'Argo asked.
Blue Tevrin switched off the display. "Impulses in Kel City, well, they usually only trade with other Impulses. They don't need to negotiate, and they're terrible at lying. So when dealing with off-worlders, they sometimes need to level the playing field--" he started to stutter as he saw Aeryn's frown deepening. "--with a small device, like a pistol, that, ah, implants a certain, ah, a certain suggestibility, into the minds of--"
"Wait," Crichton interrupted, saving the Netsek from Aeryn's stare. "Are you saying I got hit with a--a gullibility gun?"
"Yes, exactly!" came the stereo answer.
"Hm." He paused in thought. "Okay, I can buy that."
"John," D'Argo said, rolling his eyes.
Crichton turned to the Luxan. "What? It makes sense."
"Oh for frell's sake!" Aeryn said. "So do little gray men, to you."
"You don't believe me?" the Tevrins asked.
"Yes, we believe you," Aeryn and D'Argo answered.
"Good," Blue said. "Because I should warn you--"
"That when the effects wear off--" Orange started.
"Hey." Crichton held up a hand, as though figuring something out for the first time. "Wait just a minute. . ."
Then his knees gave out and he fell forward, unconscious.
"Frell." Aeryn crouched down next to Crichton and tried slapping his cheeks in a vain attempt to wake him. The human's head lolled, as he punctuated a few moans by weakly swatting at Aeryn's hands. "He's out cold."
"Frell," D'Argo said.
"Can you carry him?"
"I can try."
"And, oh frell," Aeryn said, suddenly remembering Rygel's business negotiations in Kel City. She turned to Blue Tevrin. "Does this emitter thing work on Hynerians?"
"Depends on the Hynerian," Blue said.
"Then trust me, Rygel's immune," D'Argo said, hefting Crichton up off the floor.
"Are you sure?"
"Check with Pilot if you want, but I wouldn't worry about him."
Aeryn went to tap her comms before remembering that the clothing to which the comms had been attached was now swirling around the alley behind the store. "My comms badge is out in the back somewhere."
"Yeah, I think I remember stepping on it."
"Frell. Can you--"
D'Argo shook his head. "I must've lost mine last night. They took John's after he used it to contact you, and we didn't think to get it back."
"Chiana, we need your comms," Aeryn called to the front of the store.
"What?" Chiana called back. "Comms? No, I didn't bring one."
"You didn't bring one?" Aeryn hissed.
"I couldn't find it."
"Frell," D'Argo shifted a slumped Crichton against his shoulder.
Aeryn rubbed at her eyes. "I'm never letting her off of Moya again."
"Frell!" Chiana said.
"You brought it on yourself." Aeryn took a step toward the alcove at the front of the store, but Chiana was already retreating back to the counter.
"Not that. We've got company!"
Aeryn chanced a glance out the window. Five uniformed Netseks crowded the polymer sidewalk, heading purposefully in their direction. She turned quickly on her heel.
"The Tamfour impounding facility," she said, setting her sights on the Tevrins. "That's where they said our ship was. Where is it? We have to go."
"So soon?" Orange said. For the briefest microt, his gaze swept down from Aeryn's face. "Not that I enjoy being your hostage, but I had hoped you might be interested in a small film-making project--"
"Don't," D'Argo said. "She will shoot you."
"We really need to hurry!" Chiana said, shifting her weight from left to right as she hovered by the back door.
"Tamfour," Orange muttered. "Tamfour, tamfour. . . why do I know that name. . . "
"Impounding facility?" Blue said. "It's an impounding facility?"
"That's what the detective said--what was his name? Rim something?"
Orange's eyes went wide as saucers. "Rinn? Rinn Mova? That's it, isn't it? Tamfour, of course!"
"Oh dear God, you're in with Rinn?" Blue said. "Listen, I don't want anything to do with that--"
Blue's statement was cut off with a yelp as Orange stomped on his foot and pushed him aside. After no small amount of shoving and shouting, Orange corralled his other half into the store's back room and slammed the door, then affected a cheerful smile. A series of sharp raps rattled the front entrance to the store.
"Tamfour's on the Southern edge of Kel City, by the lot constructors. Good luck!"
There was no time to wonder what kind of corruption or racket Rinn Mova was running that Tevrin Tau's Reason wanted no part of, or to decide what kind of trap was laid his Impulse's information. The authorities crashed through the front, Orange waved and smiled, and Aeryn and her companions were out the back door into the alley again.
======================
V. Execution
"One must admit it's a cunning plan. I arrange to board Moya, with leverage over John, and I obtain the secrets of wormhole weapons. It's a brilliant plan, the details of which . . . (pauses) . . . the details of which . . . (picks at the bedcover) . . . the details of which are so secret, I cannot even begin to discuss them here. . ."
**
"There she is," D'Argo said, pointing toward the horizon.
"Finally." Aeryn shielded her eyes. It had taken over an arn of sneaking through alley ways and meandering streets to get here, and the Netsek authorities were still hot on their trail, but their goal was in sight. At the edge of the manufactured city the purple landscape died away, swallowed by a sea of white sand. Lo'La's silhouette stood out against the sunset, easily distinguished from a half-dozen other ships, maybe half a metra from their location.
"No fences." Chiana started off across the sand. "They must not care about keeping people out."
There was a slow rumble beneath them, and Chiana froze. In the expanse, half-way between the four shipmates and Lo'La, a wave of white rippled outward, as something crested up from beneath the ground.
"Or," Aeryn said, fingering her weapon, "they could have a guard worm."
The creature that rose out of the sand was all mouth and sharp teeth. Even from a distance Aeryn could tell it was massive, its visible segments at least four times D'Argo's height and as wide around as a transport pod. Emitting a shriek that sounded like a Prowler making tight maneuvers in heavy atmosphere, it gathered itself, coils clenching into a crouch, and took off with speed on a vector headed straight for their position. Chiana scrambled back to the relative safety of the polymer ground. Crichton awoke long enough to take in the sight with a new Earth curse--"Holy Frank Herbert!"--before slumping against D'Argo's shoulder again.
"Not a problem." D'Argo said, shifting Crichton's deadweight over to Aeryn. He sauntered forward, took a deep breath, and shouted six words in Ancient Luxan into the wind.
The worm barreled toward them, outpacing the cloud of sand it stirred on the plain. But D'Argo just glanced over his shoulder at his companions, grinning like a cadet out on field exercises. Aeryn indicated the Luxan with a nod of her head.
"Been experimenting with the remote directives, have you?"
"Yup." D'Argo turned and shouted another command.
"No chance you'll miss?"
"Nope."
Three hundred motras away, Lo'La crested above the worm's maw, keeping pace with it. Aeryn tapped her foot. She had sand in her boots and up her shirt, and Crichton wasn't getting any lighter.
Hands clasped casually behind his back, D'Argo rocked back on his heels. The worm drew closer.
"Oh, just shoot it already!" Aeryn finally cried.
One more command, and a haze of blue enveloped the approaching worm, dissolving it back into the sand. D'Argo turned around as Lo'La alighted behind him.
"How's that for pick-up service?"
**
"Ah, there you are, and mostly intact," Rygel said as Lo'La's hatchway opened. The Hynerian had set up shop with his transport pod in the northeastern Kel City square, and from the looks of it had managed to attract a crowd. As Aeryn and her companions neared, he lowered his voice. "Do you know these idiots tried to use Onses on me? Hmpf. The presumption of some people."
"Onses?" Aeryn murmured.
"Off-worlder Negotiation--"
"Oh, those," D'Argo said. "Yes, imagine the nerve."
Chiana scanned the crowd. "So what's going on here?"
"I've arbitrated a very simple business arrangement," Rygel said, clearly satisfied with himself.
Aeryn felt her temples start to throb. "What kind of arrangement?"
Rygel maneuvered his chair forward. "These people," he gestured toward the large crowd in the square, "will pay these people,"--the small group of businessmen with whom he had been negotiating--"a lot of money to systematically over the next nineteen days choose someone from these people,"--fifteen stupidly grinning males and four aloof females--"to have sex with Chiana."
D'Argo, who had been painstakingly following until this point, let out an incredulous, "What?"
"We get twenty-five percent." The Hynerian grinned broadly.
"That's ridiculous," Aeryn said.
"You should have been here at the beginning, they only offered five. Now my dear," Rygel surveyed Aeryn's scant attire, "If you wish to participate as well, I might be able to notch it up to thirty."
She would hate to admit it to anyone else, but Aeryn actually gawked at the Hynerian. For a few microts, there was nothing she could do except stare. Stare, and try valiantly not to kill him. When the urge to shoot something finally leached out of her fingers, Aeryn trusted her voice again.
"Rygel, we're leaving."
"Good plan," D'Argo said. "Get him in the pod."
Hand still hovering over her pistol, Aeryn brushed past the chattering businessmen, her gaze threatening murder to any who might decide to let their eyes wander over her frame.
"Are you two out of your minds?" Rygel backed up out of reach, while Chiana eyed the prospects.
"It might be fun--"
"No," D'Argo and Aeryn said in unison.
Rygel harrumphed at them, his throne sled backing up and rising higher in the air in affront. "I single-handedly negotiate the best business deal this side of a Keptrian coin toss, and you want to leave?!"
"Yes," Aeryn and D'Argo answered.
"That one's kind of cute--" Chiana started, and Aeryn fixed her with a glare.
"Chiana. In the pod. Now."
Chiana grumbled but followed orders. Rygel, on the other hand, had no intention of going quietly. He turned fierce, growling as only Rygel could when money was involved. D'Argo feinted to Rygel's left and the Hynerian dodged--right into Aeryn's grasp. She wrested the Dominar from his seat and killed the thronesled's power, trying her best to avoid being bitten. She needn't have worried about the Hynerian's sharp teeth; as her strength steadily won out over Rygel's temper, he merely resorted to loud complaints and flailing.
"They don't even want to watch the actual sex!" he argued as she hauled him up the stairway. "It doesn't even really have to happen! It--"
Rygel's protests were cut short as Aeryn tossed him through the portal and clanged the pod door closed. She sagged against the outside of the door, taking quick stock of the situation. Her day was shot, her clothes were ruined, her erstwhile lover was unconscious after having yet another alien frell with his mind, and they were still short the hetch components they had come for. She looked around at the vast purple landscape. There was no guarantee they would find another planet in Tormented space that had the resources they needed.
"Right," Aeryn said. "Let's go."
She did not like Kel City. She would not miss it.
D'Argo signaled Lo'la. Rygel's partners, who had by now realized there was a threat to their lucrative business opportunity, tried to stop the Luxan. With increasing alarm, they tried to surround him and stall. But before any one of them could get too close, D'Argo brandished his blade with a snarl.
"Remind me!" he bellowed, scanning the crowd. "Who wants to sleep with an alien!?"
The square emptied quickly. They were back on Moya within the arn.
======================
VI. Triptych
". . . naturally in these situations people will pair up. The Luxan and Nebari will be at it again soon. Sikozu and I, now that is complicated, I will admit. John and Officer Sun . . . I know they think I don't notice the signs but contrary to popular belief, (slows down, enunciating) I am not an idiot. Tsk, (shakes head) I shudder to think of the complications that would arise if any of them knew about the hot tubs on tier seven. . ."
**
Chiana surveyed the walls of her quarters with a critical eye. The perfect place. . . was it above the door? Or near her closet? The shelf over the bed?
"What do you think, Moya?" she asked the empty room. "Over the bed?"
She paused, convincing herself that she felt a low thrum of approval shudder through the room.
Over the bed, she decided, running a hand along the spot.
"Thanks," she said, smiling at the air. "I missed you, you know."
She turned out her pockets and carefully arranged the contents--three small decorative plates--on the shelf.
"Sorry you couldn't join in on our adventure." She centered her design with a few light touches. "But that's what souvenirs are for."
She sat back and admired her skill. The heat vents turned on with a whistle and an appreciative sigh. Chiana grinned.
"They are pretty, aren't they? You should've seen the ones that got away."
**
"Now D'Argo, I need you to focus on the talisman."
Noranti puttered around the large Luxan, which was not as easy of an act as one might suppose. There was hardly enough room in the kitchen for a Traskan, let alone a warrior of D'Argo's size. She'd carved a place for him at the common area table, throwing pots and dishes out of the way, and through this whole endeavor she was still trying to keep an eye on the concoction bubbling on the stove.
Suddenly remembering that she had given D'Argo a directive, she stopped, whipping a clatta disk from around her neck and dangling it by its leather strap in front of the Luxan's face.
"The talisman," she said again.
D'Argo looked at her dubiously. "What are we doing, exactly?"
"Helping you remember. Now, relax." She kicked a fork under the table, which clanged much more loudly than she thought it would. But after a short series of aborted protests, Noranti finally got the stubborn Luxan to comply. She held his gaze in her talisman, moving the disc back and forth rhythmically. D'Argo's eyelids fluttered, and soon he was in a deep state of hypno-suggestion.
"We are going to send you back three days, to your arrival on Kel," she said.
"Three days," D'Argo murmured.
"Yes. We will start now," Noranti said, careful to keep her tone quiet and neutral. "Now, you are moving through time, each microt to the tone of my voice. Calmly, evenly the microts erase to arns, days. Back," she intoned, "back . . ."
She was so focused on her drowsing charge, she noticed neither the cooking nor the Nebari until it was too late.
"Hey Wrinkles, what's going on with--whoa! Soup!"
Noranti whipped her head around. Chiana was struggling against one of three giant green tendrils that had snaked their way out from the now lidless pot. The viny arms were covered in a thick mixture of winter vegetable sauce and were flinging it to the far corners of the kitchen.
Noranti shouted in surprise, dropping the talisman and swiping an oversized spoon from the counter.
"Back!" she cried, attacking the tendrils with fervor. "Back, back, back, back!"
The arms retreated back into the pot, and Chiana clanged the lid on securely. Noranti dove forward and killed the flame under the heating coil. The flurry of movement was over, and they both stood stock still for a microt. Then Noranti dabbed a finger on the sauce-covered bowl of her spoon, and touched it delicately to her tongue.
"Hm. Too much heat," she said, rubbing her thumb against her fingers.
Chiana stared, sauce dripping from above her eye. "What--?"
But before she could finish the thought, a low groan echoed behind them, resolving into a word.
"Baaaack . . ."
"Oh my!" Noranti exclaimed, ignoring the girl and heading straight for the Luxan. Behind her, Chiana leaped over the counter without disturbing a single dish. Both women stared at D'Argo, whose eyes were fluttering and confused. He focused vaguely in their direction.
"Where am I?" he asked lightly.
"Oh my," Noranti said again. Chiana grabbed her shoulders.
"Wrinkles, what did you do!?"
"I sent him back into his memories," she proclaimed. But under Chiana's scrutiny, she faltered, looking away toward the corner. "Possibly a little too far back."
"How far?" Still gripping Noranti's shoulders, Chiana turned wide eyes to her friend.
Noranti shooed the girl out of her way and settled next to D'Argo. "What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.
D'Argo blinked. "We were heading to Cathan city, to the new Luxan colony on Sirius six."
"Sirius six?" Chiana echoed.
Noranti looked up. "That colony was established over fifty cycles ago. But none from the Cathan city transports survived the journey."
Chiana cocked her head. "Are you saying--?"
"Luxans believe in reincarnation, don't they?" Noranti interrupted. "It is possible he's remembering a past life experience!"
Before Chiana could say anything, D'Argo gave what could only be described as a dainty laugh.
"Oh that's ridiculous!" he said. "Did my husband put you up to this?"
**
They ran into each other at the amnexus chamber. Aeryn focused steadfastly on scrubbing her linen shirts, letting the humidity soak into the stiff leather of the new vest she was wearing. Crichton hovered, which meant he wanted to say something. Which never meant anything good, these days.
"New threads?" he finally asked.
She nodded, "Mm-hmm," and bent further over her linens.
"Pilot says your old clothes must have been exposed to Moya's ion backwash," Crichton said. "When mixed with the remnants of their polymer shaping agents, it caused the leather to crumble. He can't figure out why it took so long for the reaction, though. Nothing seemed to happen until you got to the police station."
"Hm," Aeryn said, still scrubbing.
"Kind of fishy, don't you think? That whole planet--"
Aeryn sighed. "What do you want me to do about it, Crichton?"
"You didn't believe me. About the aliens."
"No," Aeryn said, not looking up. "And I was right. You were out of your senses."
"Yeah, but I wasn't lying."
She chewed her lip, frowning at the suds in front of her. "I didn't say you were lying. I said it didn't matter."
"Yes, it matters. It's more than what you say, Aeryn, it matters what you think--"
"And what was I supposed to think!?" She stood, hurling a wet shirt into the amnexus tub with a loud slap.
Neither of them said a word. She didn't tell him that underlying their whole surreal misadventure she had been truly worried for him. And she didn't tell him that she had dry-cleaned her clothes on the ion backwash vents because he'd told her once that the scent coming from them reminded him of an earth plant. Lie-Lack, he had called it. Such a terrible name for a flower.
She didn't tell him anything. Instead she went back to scrubbing her linens and let him walk away.
==================
VII. Denouement
". . . And so, yes, I am feeling vulnerable right now. I had hoped Crichton would have some more self-respect, see beyond our past and into a better future, but this is reality. (sits up, arranging pillows) No matter. I remain staunchly resolute. Wormholes are the end game, and afterward we are all merely winners, or losers. (steps toward the camera) I don't lose."
(recording cuts out)
**
In Kel City center two Netseks walked into a bar. They were shown to a back table to join a third companion and given a generous allotment of spirits. Actually, Rinn Mova had been there waiting for the better part of an arn and had a good head start on both of them at congratulating himself. But the taller of the two, a pale yellow man with a calculating gaze, started in to business immediately.
"You did a good job at the police station, Rinn, but it's going to take some measures to bring it up to caliber."
In the dim light, Rinn frowned. "What do you mean, Varos? It was great. Tamfour always comes through for us with polymers, everyone knows that."
The one called Varos sipped his drink and shrugged. "Construction was good, but security was abysmal, completely unbelievable, and you didn't have enough staff."
"Details, details. Did you see the looks on their faces when I told them?" Rinn affected a low, booming voice. "'The penalty for trespassing on sacred ground is DEATH!' Now that, that was funny."
"Brilliance," Varos said. "And you made a wonderful hostage."
"Thank you," Rinn said, though his back took that inopportune moment to twinge in protest.
The third Netsek--short, light green--remained silent and a little bit twitchy, contemplating his drink. Varos turned toward him.
"Nothing to add, Kylash?" he asked.
The little man exploded. "It was terrible! It was a disaster! It was a glorious failure!"
Varos stayed calm. "How so?"
"Two arns of stalling the females in order to accommodate your lagging schedule! That's an organizational nightmare."
Rinn pointed a finger at Kylash. "If you hadn't lost track of the males in the first place--"
"Don't try to pin that on me. And anyway, I had to line up three more bars on short notice, do you know how difficult that is?"
Varos gave a gentle smile. "Everyone appreciated your efforts."
But the other man would have none of it. "They disintegrated the Battle Wurm. It took Production five weeks and two thirds of our budget to make that thing and they disintegrated it."
Rinn Mova slapped the table. "That was fantastic."
"Not to mention, the gray one killed two actors, and a member of the production staff"--he rapped a small silver disk on the table for emphasis, embedding it smartly into the polymer grain--"with coasters!"
Rinn pointed a wavering finger at his companions. "Mark my words, that nixar is going to have her own fan club."
"Kylash, Kylash, Kylash," Varos intoned. "Don't worry about the deaths. You sound like an alter-ego."
"Besides," Rinn slurred. "Nemar had it coming. Had his head buried in that touch-pad because he was sniggering the whole time. Almost ruined it for everyone."
"They nearly shot me!" Kylash slammed his fist on the table.
"I know!" Rinn said, excitement fueling his words. "And how did you manage that clothing trick? Brilliant."
Kylash settled glumly back in the booth. "I didn't. It was some reaction with the police department construction chemicals."
"So I did it?" said Rinn. "Well, cheers for me, then! If we can't use it for broadcast, it's definitely a start for the 'uncut and uncensored' release."
"What footage we could salvage from the cameras she destroyed," Kylash muttered.
"You worry too much, Kylash," said Varos. "You sell yourself short."
"But--"
"But nothing. You got it all, didn't you?" Varos asked.
"Of course I did."
"At good angles?" snapped Rinn.
"I'm a pessimist, not an idiot."
Varos grabbed a fresh cocktail off of a passing service cart. "Then shut up and drink. These costs will sort themselves out. So, here's to another successful installment of 'In with Rinn'."
Rinn Mova flashed his world famous smile. "Indeed. I'd wager it's our best yet."
Varos raised his glass. "To the best episode of the best reality entertainment this planet has ever seen put to vid!"
Rinn followed suit, his glass swaying cockeyed in the air. "And to fortune!"
Kylash hesitated, and then a broad smile cracked his features. He lifted his own glass.
"Fortune!"
==========================
VIII. Epilogue
**
What do you think? XX3 asked, staring at the screen.
Prurient. XJ7 tinkered with a probe on its workbench. Base.
I must concur, XX3 communed after some thought.
Well, XJ7 offered, We could always see what's on Leno.
With that thought the little gray men broke orbit over Kel City, leaving seventeen UFO sightings across the southern continent in their wake, and the Netseks none the wiser.
A Sci-Fi Original
By Eve11
~9300 words
Summary: We could always see what's on Leno.
Notes: Started as a response for the 2004 Farscape ficathon for
simplystars. She said "AU is fabulous; comedy is wonderful; angst is lovely." And so I decided to write . . . this. And to take my dear old time with it too. I apologize profusely on both accounts. Thanks to auntiemeesh and wishkey who gave me lovely constructive comments.Takes place in season 4 after John Quixote but before Unrealized Reality.
==================================
I. Prologue
**
In three and a half cycles Aeryn Sun had learned to be much more than a Peacekeeper soldier. Love, loss, self, respect and family; she had learned all of these things. To other Peacekeepers it would seem as though she had been completely transformed and none of her former self remained, but she still kept a part of her soldier past. Like a worn pair of boots tucked in the corner of a lock box, it was not comfortable anymore but serviceable, and in a way that she would never be able to explain to Crichton, treasured. Her ability to remain calm, rational and in control during tactical situations owed more to her regimented upbringing than Crichton would admit.
Not that she could explain it to Crichton now if she wanted, because he and D'Argo were currently missing.
"That's the fourth bar on this street," Chiana said, eyeing the door as the host ushered them out. "Six altogether."
"I know."
The host turned away and Chiana neatly snurched a small decorative plate, not much bigger than the bottom of a raslak tumbler, from the wall. "Frellwits can find the time to visit six bars but they can't be bothered to turn on their comms? They," she said, slipping the item discreetly up a sleeve, "they'd better be in trouble."
"They are," Aeryn said, frowning. "One way or another."
They left the bar behind. Aeryn fell back on Peacekeeper arrogance and efficiency for navigating the crowded streets in Kel City square, pushing past native Netseks and narrowing her eyes at those who stood in her way. She did not like Kel City. It was too hot and too bright. The buildings were a disorganized array of haphazard curves, artificial hills which nevertheless stood out painfully from the gently rolling natural landscape -- partly because they were fabricated from a glistening, high-grade polymer, and partly because they were all colored the same garish purple hue.
Behind her, Chiana struggled through a wake of smartly dressed Netseks, some with yellow-tinged skin, some red, some blue. All had slick black hair, and all aimed heavy-browed stares in their direction.
Chiana caught stride with Aeryn. "They don't like us much, do they?"
"I don't think they like off-worlders, typical for planets in Tormented Space," Aeryn said, scowling at a passer-by who seemed to slow and stare too long. They didn't need attention. She already felt watched. She pulled Chiana forward and tapped the hidden item in her sleeve. "What did you take that for?"
Chi gave her a mischievous smile. "Souvenir."
"Well you don't need it."
She grinned and stepped back, empty palms out. "I don't need the other five either."
Aeryn eyed the Nebari critically. "Where--?" she started, but caught herself. Chi obviously treasured parts of her own past as well, including a thief's spare and well-hidden pockets. She changed tack, more than a little annoyed. "Half our crew is missing and you're wasting energy on stealing!"
"It's not half, it's Crichton and D'Argo! They bartered for hetch drive upgrades, then they went off for a little fun a-and are probably sleeping it off in a ditch somewhere. I wish I could get in that kind of trouble!"
Aeryn shook her head. "John hasn't let Scorpius out of his sight for over a monen. It's not like him; he's been sullen, moody. . . " Distant, she added silently. Infuriating. Hurtful.
"Sounds like a guy who needs a break," Chiana said. "They're fine."
At that microt Aeryn's comms came to life.
"Aeryn, Pilot, anybody there?" came a weary, slightly slurred Human voice.
Chi gave a staccato laugh as Aeryn tapped her comm.
"Crichton, where the frell have you been?"
"Aeryn, hey, hello to you too. We're at, um . . . well, we need a little help here. We kind of need you to . . ." A pause, then a muffled query directed away from the comms, ". . . Hey D, do they have bail on this planet?"
========================
II. Abscondence
Moya was silent and nearly empty. Noranti slept peacefully on the kitchen floor, Sikozu was studying neural pathways, and even Pilot was in deep concentration, running diagnostic tests on Moya's filters at a bio-molecular level to help shield her from the perils of Tormented space. The rest were planetside, save one.
Deep within the ship a black-clad figure walked through the labyrinthine hallways, followed at the heels by a conveniently re-wired DRD. In the tier two sub-level maintenance-way there was a small room that no-one else knew about. He had labeled the doorway in a coded script he had devised as a child to keep his mind active and intellectually stimulated during the arns of Scarran heat-torture.
The door read, "CONFESSIONAL", though no one would know that except for himself.
Scorpius opened the door to reveal a closet-sized nook with a single bedframe in the corner, covered with an unfair amount of Moya's fiercely rationed pillows. He slipped inside, set the DRD on a shelf in the corner and instructed it to record, then settled down in front of the eyes and started to speak.
SCORPIUS: (sighs) This Leviathan is a mad-house . . .
**
The police station was a large, lumpy purple building bursting out from amidst the surrounding small, lumpy purple buildings. Aeryn bullied the guards into letting them by, but not without having to leave her pulse pistol behind. As they walked inside she tried again to contact Rygel, but he had disabled his comms after her first intrusion into whatever business he had on Kel. Pilot reported regular check-ins from the Dominar, however, and all indications were of smooth transactions. In matters of business and procurement, Aeryn had learned to trust the Hynerian for at least as far as she could throw him, and in this instance he was, amazingly, not the one causing trouble.
The station interior was a mass of purple cave formations. Work nooks flowed unbroken from the walls, smooth purple lumps formed desks, seats and dividers throughout, some empty, some holding disinterested Netsek officers poking at touch-screens. The air was stale for such a large space and tinged with an antiseptic smell Aeryn recognized as a remnant of large-scale polymer fabrication. Crichton and D'Argo were in one of a line of curving closet-sized holding cells hidden at the back of the building. As they came around the corner, John caught sight of them and gave a half-hearted wave and a dren-eating grin. D'Argo stood up and started pacing. Both looked exhausted and confused.
"What's going on?" Aeryn asked. "Why were you arrested?"
"We--" D'Argo started. He and John exchanged glances. The human leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
"We're not entirely sure," D'Argo continued. "We had the hetch components . . . we were heading back to Lo'La . . . It's kind of a blur."
Aeryn crossed her arms.
"Uhm. . . ah. . ." D'Argo stammered. "We--"
Crichton sat back with an explosive sigh.
"Just spit it out, D'Argo!"
"John--" D'Argo warned.
"We were abducted by aliens," Crichton said.
Aeryn took a few microts to process this.
"Aliens," she said, rubbing at an itch at her side.
John nodded.
". . . abducted? . . . you," she finished.
"Got it in one."
"Well," Aeryn let out a breath. "That narrows it down."
"Aeryn--"
"Let's see," she started counting on her fingers, "I'm an alien."
"Aeryn, hear me out--"
"You're an alien. D'Argo, Chiana. . ."
John started pacing. "Not just any aliens. Aliens! Little gray men! Little gray truth-is-out-there Communion-style anal-probing aliens!"
"What-probing?" Chi interrupted.
John stopped mid-stride. "Never mind about that part. But it was definitely them. I don't know what they're doing out here, hell, ask me five years ago and I'd say they were nothing except a modern fairy-tale of new age America. But I didn't believe any aliens existed back then and last time I checked, Sparky don't expel swamp gas."
There was a beat of silence.
"That," Chiana broke the spell, "makes no sense."
John was undaunted. "I saw the ship come down, a big round ship with flashing lights. D., they nabbed us when we were walking back to Lo'La."
"D'Argo?" Aeryn let her query for confirmation remain unvoiced.
"I don't know," D'Argo muttered. "I don't remember anything past negotiating for the hetch drive components. I don't remember little gray men and I don't know how we ended up here."
"You don't remember going to six bars and getting fek-faced?" Chiana asked.
This gained two blank stares.
"Well, then." Aeryn flicked her eyes around the space, half of her attention with her crewmates, half sizing up the forcefield circuitry on the holding cells. Sub-standard work. Two well-placed blasts would have the whole thing down in less than a microt.
"You don't believe me," John said.
Of course she didn't believe him. Something had changed, and she didn't trust it. He was not the sullen and moody Human who had left with D'Argo--to get away from her, she had to admit. All they could do together anymore was argue and hurt each other. Now, though, he was frenetic, animated, talking very little sense. It had been cycles since he had seemed so out of place. A thought struck her, settling uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. It reminded her of those brittle, tense days on Moya in the asteroid field, after they had saved him from the Aurora chair.
Aeryn pushed the thought aside, but the hollow in her stomach remained. It was annoyance, that was all.
"Look, it doesn't matter if what you say happened or not," she said. She didn't believe him, but this was no place for an argument. She felt the eyes on them from all around the station. It made her itch for her sidearm. She paused for a microt and realized she had been furiously scratching at her thigh. The smooth leather of her pants was now roughened and ragged. Something was making her itch. Something on this frelling waste hole of a planet was giving her a rash.
When she looked up at her companions again, Crichton was staring at her like she was a one-headed Tralkez. "It doesn't matter?"
"It doesn't change anything about the current situation," Aeryn said, "and none of it explains why you've been arrested."
"Oh that's a good dodge," Crichton grumbled. "That's Johnny-Cochran-worthy, that's--"
"Trespassing," came a disinterested voice. All eyes turned to meet a bluish-pale Netsek dressed in what passed on Kel City for a municipal employee uniform. Beside him a small yellow underling took notes on a touch-pad.
"Beg your pardon?" Aeryn asked, in that microt making the decision not to break either man's neck until she was sure she had to.
"Apologies, apologies. Introductions," he said. "I am Rinn Mova, lead detective specializing in off-worlder offenses."
"Good." D'Argo stuck a finger to the forcefield, receiving a rather generous zat of current. "Because I'm pretty offended. Let us the frell out."
Rinn Mova gave a withering smile. "Sadly, the offense is yours. Trespassing. Your craft was parked on a sacred lot. You did not see the signs?"
The underling hunched intently over his touch pad, typing furiously. D'Argo shot John a look.
"Do you remember where we parked?" D'Argo asked under his breath.
"The vehicle has been air-towed to the Tamfour impounding facility," Rinn said, bored.
Aeryn scratched at her shoulder. The itch was spreading. "Can we just settle this?"
Rinn gestured toward Aeryn and Chiana. "You may re-acquire the vehicle after the sentencing and penalty."
"Okay, no problem," Crichton said. "We pay our fine, pick up the car and get the hell out of Dodge." He caught Aeryn's attention and gestured toward the ceiling, mouthing a silent 'before 'They' come back' in her direction.
"Ah, apologies," Rinn said, "But the penalty for trespassing on sacred ground is death."
In the space of a silent microt Aeryn assessed their current situation. She remained perfectly still, flicking her gaze ever so quickly at Chiana. The Nebari narrowed her eyes and gave the slightest hint of a smile.
Aeryn had learned much from her past. There were times to resort to Peacekeeper brutality, but her short stint as an assassin had taught her again how quickly Peacekeepers resorted to the gun and blade, rather than embracing solutions which embodied the spirit of their name. Violence was not a good solution when diplomacy would suffice. And diplomacy might just suffice here, Aeryn decided.
But it was better to be sure.
Aeryn raised a finger to her lips, and the two women sprang silently into action. In one whip-tight move Aeryn had an arm around Rinn Mova's throat and had used his own pulse weapon to disarm the forcefield holding Crichton and D'Argo. At the same time, Chiana executed a beautiful, exotic spin, and three other Netseks went down without ever having the benefit of knowing what had hit them.
"Get down!" Aeryn hissed at her shipmates, diving Rinn-first against a purple divider. The Netsek let out a painful breath beneath her and she pressed a hand over his mouth. A glance to her left showed Crichton and D'Argo crouching behind what looked like a solid purple version of an officer's sofa seat. D'Argo caught her eye and mimed a blade. Aeryn felt a 'thump' through the polymer and caught sight of a shock of white hair as Chiana took position on the other side of Rinn Mova.
The whole operation was over in six microts. Their silent execution would buy them some time. Aeryn carefully let up some pressure on Rinn's throat.
"Now," she said. "Where are our weapons? And remember--" she added, tightening her grip as Rinn started to open his mouth. "The penalty for lying to me is death."
======================
III. Revelation
" . . . My motives are perfectly clear. I don't know what the rest of them want out of this but I just want wormholes, and I could care less about all of this inner politics and turmoil. I don't cheat. I don't backstab. And maybe that means I will never 'fit in' here on Moya, but I am quite tired of Crichton assuming the worst and dredging up the past."
**
"That was too easy," Crichton said for the third time, leaning against a slowly sloping wall. Next to him, Chiana slipped through the back exit, gently securing the door behind her.
D'Argo signaled all clear. At the point position, Aeryn nodded. "Let's move."
The four of them hurried through what passed for alleyways in Kel City, miniature meandering valleys between steep fabricated hills. The alleys were darker and dirtier than Kel City's public face, with refuse containers scattered around service entrances and stained walls. Still, Aeryn found it maddeningly purple, too hot and too bright. She did not like Kel City. And the rash, whatever it was, was getting worse. Her whole body itched beneath her clothes.
"Tooooo easy . . ." John continued behind her.
Peacekeeper soldiers were trained to ignore discomforts. The body was a weapon for the good of the team.
"Frell, Crichton," Chiana complained. "What is wrong with you?"
"I don't trust them. Are we being watched?"
Focus mental energy on the mission. Infighting sacrificed efficiency.
"Who? Little gray men? Old man, that is the worst dren of an excuse."
"D'Argo, did that seem too easy to you?"
"Hey, you can't just start ignoring me b-because you don't like what I say!"
Peacekeepers had been known to shoot members of a unit for bickering. It was not a tactic Officer Sun had embraced, even back in the day.
"Come on! You'd believe D'Argo if he said he was abducted by aliens."
"You're completely tinked!"
Now, Pantak jabs, on the other hand, worked like a Tellurian charm. Aeryn dropped a step, pivoted and delivered a solid punch--to a large, empty refuse bin. The noise echoed down the alley, disturbing a few scrabbling creatures in its wake and eliciting screeches of protest. Meanwhile, the square bin rocked back, teetered on two corners for half a microt, then clattered to the ground.
When Aeryn turned around to face her companions, they were summarily silent and attentive.
"Chiana, enough," she said. "And Crichton, don't shoot the hearse we were given. Now move."
Leaving him no time to negotiate, Aeryn strode onward, scanning the curving purple rooftops. Had she seen something? A flash of glass on one of the lower structures? A low-tech set of oculars? When she looked again it was gone.
"Horse, Aeryn," John called out, catching her stride. "Gift horse. And you don't shoot it, you look it in the--"
She turned and fixed him with a glare.
He cleared his throat. "Actually, you don't do that either."
"Aeryn," D'Argo said.
"Not you too!" Aeryn hissed, scratching furiously at her side. "Eyes front, all of you. Pay attention so we won't be ambushed."
"But--"
"I don't want to hear it!" Still scratching, Aeryn gave her vest a frustrated tug.
And came away with a crumbling clump of leather in her fist. She looked down. The entire vest appeared pocked, scratched and--she moved and more pieces flaked away--suddenly brittle. She looked up; now even John and Chiana had quieted and were staring. She stepped back, and felt her pants start crumbling at the back of her knees.
"What the . . . ?" Aeryn trailed off, holding perfectly still.
"Aeryn," D'Argo finally managed. "I think there's something wrong with your clothes."
The left front corner of her vest broke loose and hit the ground with a 'thud'.
"Frell me," Chiana exclaimed. "They're disintigrating!"
For only the third time in her life, Aeryn Sun was taken completely off her guard.
Since this situation was unlikely to leave her either irreversibly contaminated or dead at the hands of her possessed lover, it was by far the easiest to deal with. But. These were her favorite pants. And this was her favorite vest. She took extra-special care of this clothing, that was currently falling to small bits around her frame. She dry-cleaned it specially using Moya's duct systems. She even--
And there it was again. A small twinkle at the corner of her vision. Same glare, different spot. Someone was up on the rooftop, moving.
Thank Chulak. Something to shoot.
"That's not natural," John was saying. "You should check yourself for implants--"
The ragged vest and pants exploded into dust as Aeryn sprang to action, taking cover behind a dumpster and bringing her sidearm to bear. She fired four quick shots at the glare while Crichton and the others scattered, throwing themselves against the alley walls. D'Argo hefted his blade, open and ready to fire, but Chiana was already tugging at his sleeve, pointing him to a hastily opened door.
"In here!"
The four shipmates ducked inside. Aeryn checked the alley and then secured the door behind them, saving a microt to take stock of herself. The heat was less, now that most of her clothes were swirling around air currents in the alley. She had: boots, holster, pistol, hair band, underwear (thankfully not the old pair of Calvins that was still in her wash rotation). At least the itching was subsiding. She turned to her companions, brushing flakes of leather off of her bare chest.
"Frell. That was my favorite vest."
"What was that?" D'Argo asked, pointedly staring off to Aeryn's left.
"I told you," she said, stepping forward into his view. "It was my--"
"--Uh, on the, uh, rooftop. You, uhm--" Looking panicked, the Luxan did his best to shrink into the fabricated wall. Next to him, Chiana kicked his shin.
"D'Argo! It's just a pair of loomas!" She paused for a good look at Aeryn's chest. "Nice ones. You know they really look smaller when you're wearing--"
"--Okay," Crichton had a hand to the side of his face, shielding Aeryn from his view. "I have no idea what just happened or how, but we need to find you some clothes."
Aeryn rolled her eyes and holstered her weapon, then crossed her arms over her chest.
Chiana surveyed the room they were in. "What, here?"
They were in the back of a shop. Lack of light and customers told Aeryn it was closed. It was still purple, but under the dim lights it was almost bearable. Small, brightly colored boxes lined the meandering shelves. Most had pictures of Kel scenery or Netseks, and all had indecipherable writing.
"What's wrong with here?" Crichton asked, trying to find a way to get behind a smooth purple counter at the back of the room. Chiana vaulted easily over the counter and produced a small multicolored glob from underneath.
"Holo-vids. Porn, mostly. Some sci-fi. Hard to tell the difference."
Crichton backpedaled, bumping into a shelf. "Chiana, don't even think about testing that out, and keep it away from me."
"What, old man? You know I wouldn't, not after last time. Hey! We're in luck!" Chiana ducked behind the counter again, and a small bundle of bright pink fabric sailed out.
D'Argo and John tracked the pink bundle until Aeryn snatched it out of the air, at which point both men found the tops of their boots extremely engrossing. Aeryn studied the bundle for a few silent microts.
"What is it?" she finally asked, shaking it out. To her left Crichton let out a strangled expletive.
"Whoa, not safe, not looking!"
Chiana emerged from behind the counter, beaming. "Promotional material! Try it on."
Aeryn tried it on.
Technically, it was a shirt. In reality it was a bright pink, sleeveless scrap of material that covered Aeryn's chest and little else. Emblazoned on the front was a picture of a reclining Netsek female with a head of long, flowing dark hair and no clothes, in the middle of what must have been a seductive laugh. The Netsek's chest was obscured by a block of text.
Aeryn frowned. Chiana cocked her head.
"You, you look good."
"I look like an idiot."
"You look like an off-worlder."
Four heads, two pulse pistols and a Qualta blade turned toward the new voice. A short orange Netsek dressed in a casual suit lounged against a shelf by the front entrance of the shop. Another one--tall, blue--loomed behind it.
"But--" the blue alien continued.
The orange alien finished the sentence seamlessly. "--a very good-looking one."
======================
IV. Exposition
"'He tortured me in the Aurora Chair', 'He put a neural chip in my head', 'He's a lying manipulative bastard', day in, day out. It's enough to make me burst a coolant rod. (leans forward) Three words, John. Get. Over. It."
**
"Who the frell are you?" Aeryn asked.
"Hmpf," the glowering blue alien said to his companion. "I don't like them."
The orange alien smiled, apparently unconcerned or oblivious to the fact that he was microts away from receiving an unhealthy dose of pulse energy, delivered at high speed. He gestured to his frowning companion. "Don't mind him. He's a bit anti-social."
"And," Crichton said, waggling his pulse pistol, "Did I somehow imagine the part where we asked, 'who the frell are you?'"
The orange Netsek stepped forward and bowed, while the blue one simply maintained his scowl.
"I am Tevrin Tau, owner of this fine establishment," Orange said. At an annoyed 'ahem' from his companion, he added, "This is my manifest alter ego, Tevrin Tau."
"Oh, that's a laugh," Blue Tevrin said.
Orange Tevrin turned around, insulted. "I beg my pardon?"
Blue Tevrin sighed a long-suffering sigh. "I'm my manifest alter ego. Of course I think so."
"Naturally," Orange Tevrin said. "If I thought I had any more influence than a regnot, I'd have already shut me in the closet."
"Listen here," Blue turned on his companion. "I will not stand for that kind of vitriol coming from me!"
Aeryn and her companions stared, dumbfounded, as the argument between the two Netseks degenerated even further into nonsense. Finally, Orange stomped to the corner with an outraged, "I can't talk to me!," and sat down on a purple bench, sulking.
Blue threw up his hands. "If I knew what was best for me, I'd--"
"Hey, hey!" Crichton said. The two aliens froze, then addressed the source of the disruption with a synchronous turning of heads. Crichton rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Can we just . . . focus on the people with the guns here for a minute?"
"Right, of course," the Tevrins said in unison. It was a strange stereo effect, and Aeryn studied the duo closer. These two beings displayed a remarkable familiarity with each other. She noticed it in posture, subtle body cues and expression. When the two weren't fighting, they held themselves exactly the same, studied their surroundings in the same way, and, at the subconscious level, reacted in the same way to external stimuli. It was an intimacy of shared experience; she might have mistaken them for battalion companions were it not for the incessant bickering.
Chiana must have noticed it too, as she spoke up. "What are you, brothers?"
"Pairbond," they answered. "Alter ego."
In the ensuing silence, Blue Tevrin sighed laboriously.
"Each Netsek in the pairbond is one half of the consciousness. Reason–" he raised his hand.
"--and Impulse." Orange Tevrin said from his position in the corner.
"You're two halves of the same person?" D'Argo asked.
The Tevrins nodded.
"More than that," Crichton said. "Reason and Impulse, that's like, Felix and Oscar. Or Hannibal and Murdock."
Aeryn had learned long ago to read the body language and inflection cues behind Crichton's unintelligible references, and she gleaned his meaning quite clearly. As Crichton rattled off a few more odd pairs, Aeryn's inner Peacekeeper quietly drew up a list of twelve reasons why this natural progression of speciation was inferior and ludicrous. And for once, the new part of herself--the part she had learned to trust and nurture after three cycles on Moya--could find very little disagreement. It was a wonder this culture had survived for as long as it had.
But all of that was beside the point. There was a very good reason not to trust these two. Aeryn raised her weapon again. "We didn't see any others like you," she said. "No pairs. No bickering."
Blue frowned, and Aeryn realized it had nothing to do with the gun pointed at him. "Those you've met on the streets are by the vast majority Impulse. Kel City has long stifled Reason, relegated us to corners and locked doors."
"That seals it." Aeryn holstered her weapon and turned to D'Argo. "I knew there was a reason I hated this place."
Meanwhile, Chiana looked at Orange, horrified. "You lock them up?"
"Well, can you blame us?" Orange said petulantly. "They're just no fun!"
"That's terrible!" Chiana swiped a section of cartridges off of the wall. "It's worse than mind-cleansing!"
Orange stood, indignant. "Don't presume to start judging our cultural mores--", he said, to which Blue rolled his eyes and started listing injustices for both his alter-ego and the Nebari to hear, while D'Argo and Crichton just stared in morbid fascination. Chiana raised herself to full height--still only tall enough to come up to Orange's chin--and started matching the Netsek's vitriol with her own. In mere microts the whole thing was a shouting match threatening to come to blows.
Aeryn shared a look with D'Argo, then unholstered her weapon and fired two precise shots into the ceiling above the counter.
"Shut up!" She leveled the pulse pistol at the Netseks-- at the two halves of the Netsek, as Chiana ducked and skittered out of the way. Blue raised a hand and started to say something, but Aeryn cut him off. "You, both-- all of you. Shut up."
The Tevrins looked at her. In fact, they both took several microts for a long look at boots, bare legs, holster, underwear, hot pink porn t-shirt, battle whiptail and scowl.
They shut up.
Aeryn took a breath in the blessed silence. "Chiana, check the windows. And you two," she gestured to the Tevrins, "have a seat."
Chiana slunk to the front of the store, looking for anything suspicious on the streets beyond. The Tevrins sat on the corner bench, as far from each other as the seat allowed. Meanwhile, D'Argo leaned casually on his blade.
"You know, this Reason-Impulse thing explains a lot," he said.
Crichton cocked his head, thinking for a microt. "You know, it does."
Aeryn eyed the Tevrins. "Like what?"
"Like how they kept trying to sell us all that stuff we didn't need when we were bargaining for the hetch components," Crichton said. "They just assumed we would buy whatever they set in front of us."
"Exactly," D'Argo said.
"Leviathan restorant, two-grip hatchway sealant caps--"
"Neural node lubricant . . ."
"Steak knives . . ."
"You almost bought those, John."
"I did, didn't I?" Crichton said absently. "Strange."
Throughout the conversation, Aeryn noticed Blue Tevrin twitching, staring out of the corner of his eye at the two men.
"What?" she asked, indicating Blue with a wave of her pistol. "What is it?"
Blue stuttered. "I--that is--" He turned to Crichton and D'Argo. "You were shopping?"
D'Argo narrowed his eyes. "Yeees . . . "
"Oh my," the Tevrins said.
A draft swirled through the room as the compression cooling system kicked on. The skin on her bare legs prickled from the touch of cold air, and Aeryn had the sinking suspicion that her day was about to get worse.
The Tevrins cleared their throats. "And have either of you been acting--" a perfectly synchronous pause "--strange?"
Aeryn kept focused on the Netseks, but she couldn't help a flick of her gaze at Crichton. D'Argo, too, turned his attention to the human. The Netseks frowned. Aeryn heard the creak of polymer flooring as Crichton shifted position.
"They're in on it," Crichton finally said.
Aeryn dropped her guard, turning on John. "For the love of Chulak--"
"I'm telling you, Mulder and Scully here know something!" He advanced on the Netseks. "You want to tell me what the little gray men are doing on this planet?"
The two Netseks didn't back down. As Chiana called out from the front of the shop--"Just what have you got against gray aliens, old man!?"--Crichton hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. D'Argo let out a frustrated Luxan curse, and Aeryn rubbed at her forehead, trying to forestall a pounding headache. Meanwhile, Blue Tevrin studied the human's eyes intently, his brow furrowed. Noting Aeryn's pistol and Crichton's glare, Blue slowly reached for a display on the counter, pointing to a small device.
"Brainwave detector," he said. "Theft deterrent, that's all, not a weapon." He swiveled the screen toward Crichton. "Have you been experiencing any paranoia lately? Heightened suggestibility, perhaps?"
"No," Crichton said, at the same time D'Argo and Aeryn both said, "Yes."
Both Orange and Blue stared at the screen for several microts. Then, Orange clapped his hands loudly. "He's been tagged, alright. Bang-up job of it, fantastic work. Possibly the Luxan too, but usually it only results in memory problems for that species."
Aeryn eyed the incomprehensible screen. "Tagged by what?"
"Off-worlder Negotiation Susceptibility Emitters," Orange Tevrin answered.
"Off-what?" D'Argo asked.
Blue Tevrin switched off the display. "Impulses in Kel City, well, they usually only trade with other Impulses. They don't need to negotiate, and they're terrible at lying. So when dealing with off-worlders, they sometimes need to level the playing field--" he started to stutter as he saw Aeryn's frown deepening. "--with a small device, like a pistol, that, ah, implants a certain, ah, a certain suggestibility, into the minds of--"
"Wait," Crichton interrupted, saving the Netsek from Aeryn's stare. "Are you saying I got hit with a--a gullibility gun?"
"Yes, exactly!" came the stereo answer.
"Hm." He paused in thought. "Okay, I can buy that."
"John," D'Argo said, rolling his eyes.
Crichton turned to the Luxan. "What? It makes sense."
"Oh for frell's sake!" Aeryn said. "So do little gray men, to you."
"You don't believe me?" the Tevrins asked.
"Yes, we believe you," Aeryn and D'Argo answered.
"Good," Blue said. "Because I should warn you--"
"That when the effects wear off--" Orange started.
"Hey." Crichton held up a hand, as though figuring something out for the first time. "Wait just a minute. . ."
Then his knees gave out and he fell forward, unconscious.
"Frell." Aeryn crouched down next to Crichton and tried slapping his cheeks in a vain attempt to wake him. The human's head lolled, as he punctuated a few moans by weakly swatting at Aeryn's hands. "He's out cold."
"Frell," D'Argo said.
"Can you carry him?"
"I can try."
"And, oh frell," Aeryn said, suddenly remembering Rygel's business negotiations in Kel City. She turned to Blue Tevrin. "Does this emitter thing work on Hynerians?"
"Depends on the Hynerian," Blue said.
"Then trust me, Rygel's immune," D'Argo said, hefting Crichton up off the floor.
"Are you sure?"
"Check with Pilot if you want, but I wouldn't worry about him."
Aeryn went to tap her comms before remembering that the clothing to which the comms had been attached was now swirling around the alley behind the store. "My comms badge is out in the back somewhere."
"Yeah, I think I remember stepping on it."
"Frell. Can you--"
D'Argo shook his head. "I must've lost mine last night. They took John's after he used it to contact you, and we didn't think to get it back."
"Chiana, we need your comms," Aeryn called to the front of the store.
"What?" Chiana called back. "Comms? No, I didn't bring one."
"You didn't bring one?" Aeryn hissed.
"I couldn't find it."
"Frell," D'Argo shifted a slumped Crichton against his shoulder.
Aeryn rubbed at her eyes. "I'm never letting her off of Moya again."
"Frell!" Chiana said.
"You brought it on yourself." Aeryn took a step toward the alcove at the front of the store, but Chiana was already retreating back to the counter.
"Not that. We've got company!"
Aeryn chanced a glance out the window. Five uniformed Netseks crowded the polymer sidewalk, heading purposefully in their direction. She turned quickly on her heel.
"The Tamfour impounding facility," she said, setting her sights on the Tevrins. "That's where they said our ship was. Where is it? We have to go."
"So soon?" Orange said. For the briefest microt, his gaze swept down from Aeryn's face. "Not that I enjoy being your hostage, but I had hoped you might be interested in a small film-making project--"
"Don't," D'Argo said. "She will shoot you."
"We really need to hurry!" Chiana said, shifting her weight from left to right as she hovered by the back door.
"Tamfour," Orange muttered. "Tamfour, tamfour. . . why do I know that name. . . "
"Impounding facility?" Blue said. "It's an impounding facility?"
"That's what the detective said--what was his name? Rim something?"
Orange's eyes went wide as saucers. "Rinn? Rinn Mova? That's it, isn't it? Tamfour, of course!"
"Oh dear God, you're in with Rinn?" Blue said. "Listen, I don't want anything to do with that--"
Blue's statement was cut off with a yelp as Orange stomped on his foot and pushed him aside. After no small amount of shoving and shouting, Orange corralled his other half into the store's back room and slammed the door, then affected a cheerful smile. A series of sharp raps rattled the front entrance to the store.
"Tamfour's on the Southern edge of Kel City, by the lot constructors. Good luck!"
There was no time to wonder what kind of corruption or racket Rinn Mova was running that Tevrin Tau's Reason wanted no part of, or to decide what kind of trap was laid his Impulse's information. The authorities crashed through the front, Orange waved and smiled, and Aeryn and her companions were out the back door into the alley again.
======================
V. Execution
"One must admit it's a cunning plan. I arrange to board Moya, with leverage over John, and I obtain the secrets of wormhole weapons. It's a brilliant plan, the details of which . . . (pauses) . . . the details of which . . . (picks at the bedcover) . . . the details of which are so secret, I cannot even begin to discuss them here. . ."
**
"There she is," D'Argo said, pointing toward the horizon.
"Finally." Aeryn shielded her eyes. It had taken over an arn of sneaking through alley ways and meandering streets to get here, and the Netsek authorities were still hot on their trail, but their goal was in sight. At the edge of the manufactured city the purple landscape died away, swallowed by a sea of white sand. Lo'La's silhouette stood out against the sunset, easily distinguished from a half-dozen other ships, maybe half a metra from their location.
"No fences." Chiana started off across the sand. "They must not care about keeping people out."
There was a slow rumble beneath them, and Chiana froze. In the expanse, half-way between the four shipmates and Lo'La, a wave of white rippled outward, as something crested up from beneath the ground.
"Or," Aeryn said, fingering her weapon, "they could have a guard worm."
The creature that rose out of the sand was all mouth and sharp teeth. Even from a distance Aeryn could tell it was massive, its visible segments at least four times D'Argo's height and as wide around as a transport pod. Emitting a shriek that sounded like a Prowler making tight maneuvers in heavy atmosphere, it gathered itself, coils clenching into a crouch, and took off with speed on a vector headed straight for their position. Chiana scrambled back to the relative safety of the polymer ground. Crichton awoke long enough to take in the sight with a new Earth curse--"Holy Frank Herbert!"--before slumping against D'Argo's shoulder again.
"Not a problem." D'Argo said, shifting Crichton's deadweight over to Aeryn. He sauntered forward, took a deep breath, and shouted six words in Ancient Luxan into the wind.
The worm barreled toward them, outpacing the cloud of sand it stirred on the plain. But D'Argo just glanced over his shoulder at his companions, grinning like a cadet out on field exercises. Aeryn indicated the Luxan with a nod of her head.
"Been experimenting with the remote directives, have you?"
"Yup." D'Argo turned and shouted another command.
"No chance you'll miss?"
"Nope."
Three hundred motras away, Lo'La crested above the worm's maw, keeping pace with it. Aeryn tapped her foot. She had sand in her boots and up her shirt, and Crichton wasn't getting any lighter.
Hands clasped casually behind his back, D'Argo rocked back on his heels. The worm drew closer.
"Oh, just shoot it already!" Aeryn finally cried.
One more command, and a haze of blue enveloped the approaching worm, dissolving it back into the sand. D'Argo turned around as Lo'La alighted behind him.
"How's that for pick-up service?"
**
"Ah, there you are, and mostly intact," Rygel said as Lo'La's hatchway opened. The Hynerian had set up shop with his transport pod in the northeastern Kel City square, and from the looks of it had managed to attract a crowd. As Aeryn and her companions neared, he lowered his voice. "Do you know these idiots tried to use Onses on me? Hmpf. The presumption of some people."
"Onses?" Aeryn murmured.
"Off-worlder Negotiation--"
"Oh, those," D'Argo said. "Yes, imagine the nerve."
Chiana scanned the crowd. "So what's going on here?"
"I've arbitrated a very simple business arrangement," Rygel said, clearly satisfied with himself.
Aeryn felt her temples start to throb. "What kind of arrangement?"
Rygel maneuvered his chair forward. "These people," he gestured toward the large crowd in the square, "will pay these people,"--the small group of businessmen with whom he had been negotiating--"a lot of money to systematically over the next nineteen days choose someone from these people,"--fifteen stupidly grinning males and four aloof females--"to have sex with Chiana."
D'Argo, who had been painstakingly following until this point, let out an incredulous, "What?"
"We get twenty-five percent." The Hynerian grinned broadly.
"That's ridiculous," Aeryn said.
"You should have been here at the beginning, they only offered five. Now my dear," Rygel surveyed Aeryn's scant attire, "If you wish to participate as well, I might be able to notch it up to thirty."
She would hate to admit it to anyone else, but Aeryn actually gawked at the Hynerian. For a few microts, there was nothing she could do except stare. Stare, and try valiantly not to kill him. When the urge to shoot something finally leached out of her fingers, Aeryn trusted her voice again.
"Rygel, we're leaving."
"Good plan," D'Argo said. "Get him in the pod."
Hand still hovering over her pistol, Aeryn brushed past the chattering businessmen, her gaze threatening murder to any who might decide to let their eyes wander over her frame.
"Are you two out of your minds?" Rygel backed up out of reach, while Chiana eyed the prospects.
"It might be fun--"
"No," D'Argo and Aeryn said in unison.
Rygel harrumphed at them, his throne sled backing up and rising higher in the air in affront. "I single-handedly negotiate the best business deal this side of a Keptrian coin toss, and you want to leave?!"
"Yes," Aeryn and D'Argo answered.
"That one's kind of cute--" Chiana started, and Aeryn fixed her with a glare.
"Chiana. In the pod. Now."
Chiana grumbled but followed orders. Rygel, on the other hand, had no intention of going quietly. He turned fierce, growling as only Rygel could when money was involved. D'Argo feinted to Rygel's left and the Hynerian dodged--right into Aeryn's grasp. She wrested the Dominar from his seat and killed the thronesled's power, trying her best to avoid being bitten. She needn't have worried about the Hynerian's sharp teeth; as her strength steadily won out over Rygel's temper, he merely resorted to loud complaints and flailing.
"They don't even want to watch the actual sex!" he argued as she hauled him up the stairway. "It doesn't even really have to happen! It--"
Rygel's protests were cut short as Aeryn tossed him through the portal and clanged the pod door closed. She sagged against the outside of the door, taking quick stock of the situation. Her day was shot, her clothes were ruined, her erstwhile lover was unconscious after having yet another alien frell with his mind, and they were still short the hetch components they had come for. She looked around at the vast purple landscape. There was no guarantee they would find another planet in Tormented space that had the resources they needed.
"Right," Aeryn said. "Let's go."
She did not like Kel City. She would not miss it.
D'Argo signaled Lo'la. Rygel's partners, who had by now realized there was a threat to their lucrative business opportunity, tried to stop the Luxan. With increasing alarm, they tried to surround him and stall. But before any one of them could get too close, D'Argo brandished his blade with a snarl.
"Remind me!" he bellowed, scanning the crowd. "Who wants to sleep with an alien!?"
The square emptied quickly. They were back on Moya within the arn.
======================
VI. Triptych
". . . naturally in these situations people will pair up. The Luxan and Nebari will be at it again soon. Sikozu and I, now that is complicated, I will admit. John and Officer Sun . . . I know they think I don't notice the signs but contrary to popular belief, (slows down, enunciating) I am not an idiot. Tsk, (shakes head) I shudder to think of the complications that would arise if any of them knew about the hot tubs on tier seven. . ."
**
Chiana surveyed the walls of her quarters with a critical eye. The perfect place. . . was it above the door? Or near her closet? The shelf over the bed?
"What do you think, Moya?" she asked the empty room. "Over the bed?"
She paused, convincing herself that she felt a low thrum of approval shudder through the room.
Over the bed, she decided, running a hand along the spot.
"Thanks," she said, smiling at the air. "I missed you, you know."
She turned out her pockets and carefully arranged the contents--three small decorative plates--on the shelf.
"Sorry you couldn't join in on our adventure." She centered her design with a few light touches. "But that's what souvenirs are for."
She sat back and admired her skill. The heat vents turned on with a whistle and an appreciative sigh. Chiana grinned.
"They are pretty, aren't they? You should've seen the ones that got away."
**
"Now D'Argo, I need you to focus on the talisman."
Noranti puttered around the large Luxan, which was not as easy of an act as one might suppose. There was hardly enough room in the kitchen for a Traskan, let alone a warrior of D'Argo's size. She'd carved a place for him at the common area table, throwing pots and dishes out of the way, and through this whole endeavor she was still trying to keep an eye on the concoction bubbling on the stove.
Suddenly remembering that she had given D'Argo a directive, she stopped, whipping a clatta disk from around her neck and dangling it by its leather strap in front of the Luxan's face.
"The talisman," she said again.
D'Argo looked at her dubiously. "What are we doing, exactly?"
"Helping you remember. Now, relax." She kicked a fork under the table, which clanged much more loudly than she thought it would. But after a short series of aborted protests, Noranti finally got the stubborn Luxan to comply. She held his gaze in her talisman, moving the disc back and forth rhythmically. D'Argo's eyelids fluttered, and soon he was in a deep state of hypno-suggestion.
"We are going to send you back three days, to your arrival on Kel," she said.
"Three days," D'Argo murmured.
"Yes. We will start now," Noranti said, careful to keep her tone quiet and neutral. "Now, you are moving through time, each microt to the tone of my voice. Calmly, evenly the microts erase to arns, days. Back," she intoned, "back . . ."
She was so focused on her drowsing charge, she noticed neither the cooking nor the Nebari until it was too late.
"Hey Wrinkles, what's going on with--whoa! Soup!"
Noranti whipped her head around. Chiana was struggling against one of three giant green tendrils that had snaked their way out from the now lidless pot. The viny arms were covered in a thick mixture of winter vegetable sauce and were flinging it to the far corners of the kitchen.
Noranti shouted in surprise, dropping the talisman and swiping an oversized spoon from the counter.
"Back!" she cried, attacking the tendrils with fervor. "Back, back, back, back!"
The arms retreated back into the pot, and Chiana clanged the lid on securely. Noranti dove forward and killed the flame under the heating coil. The flurry of movement was over, and they both stood stock still for a microt. Then Noranti dabbed a finger on the sauce-covered bowl of her spoon, and touched it delicately to her tongue.
"Hm. Too much heat," she said, rubbing her thumb against her fingers.
Chiana stared, sauce dripping from above her eye. "What--?"
But before she could finish the thought, a low groan echoed behind them, resolving into a word.
"Baaaack . . ."
"Oh my!" Noranti exclaimed, ignoring the girl and heading straight for the Luxan. Behind her, Chiana leaped over the counter without disturbing a single dish. Both women stared at D'Argo, whose eyes were fluttering and confused. He focused vaguely in their direction.
"Where am I?" he asked lightly.
"Oh my," Noranti said again. Chiana grabbed her shoulders.
"Wrinkles, what did you do!?"
"I sent him back into his memories," she proclaimed. But under Chiana's scrutiny, she faltered, looking away toward the corner. "Possibly a little too far back."
"How far?" Still gripping Noranti's shoulders, Chiana turned wide eyes to her friend.
Noranti shooed the girl out of her way and settled next to D'Argo. "What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.
D'Argo blinked. "We were heading to Cathan city, to the new Luxan colony on Sirius six."
"Sirius six?" Chiana echoed.
Noranti looked up. "That colony was established over fifty cycles ago. But none from the Cathan city transports survived the journey."
Chiana cocked her head. "Are you saying--?"
"Luxans believe in reincarnation, don't they?" Noranti interrupted. "It is possible he's remembering a past life experience!"
Before Chiana could say anything, D'Argo gave what could only be described as a dainty laugh.
"Oh that's ridiculous!" he said. "Did my husband put you up to this?"
**
They ran into each other at the amnexus chamber. Aeryn focused steadfastly on scrubbing her linen shirts, letting the humidity soak into the stiff leather of the new vest she was wearing. Crichton hovered, which meant he wanted to say something. Which never meant anything good, these days.
"New threads?" he finally asked.
She nodded, "Mm-hmm," and bent further over her linens.
"Pilot says your old clothes must have been exposed to Moya's ion backwash," Crichton said. "When mixed with the remnants of their polymer shaping agents, it caused the leather to crumble. He can't figure out why it took so long for the reaction, though. Nothing seemed to happen until you got to the police station."
"Hm," Aeryn said, still scrubbing.
"Kind of fishy, don't you think? That whole planet--"
Aeryn sighed. "What do you want me to do about it, Crichton?"
"You didn't believe me. About the aliens."
"No," Aeryn said, not looking up. "And I was right. You were out of your senses."
"Yeah, but I wasn't lying."
She chewed her lip, frowning at the suds in front of her. "I didn't say you were lying. I said it didn't matter."
"Yes, it matters. It's more than what you say, Aeryn, it matters what you think--"
"And what was I supposed to think!?" She stood, hurling a wet shirt into the amnexus tub with a loud slap.
Neither of them said a word. She didn't tell him that underlying their whole surreal misadventure she had been truly worried for him. And she didn't tell him that she had dry-cleaned her clothes on the ion backwash vents because he'd told her once that the scent coming from them reminded him of an earth plant. Lie-Lack, he had called it. Such a terrible name for a flower.
She didn't tell him anything. Instead she went back to scrubbing her linens and let him walk away.
==================
VII. Denouement
". . . And so, yes, I am feeling vulnerable right now. I had hoped Crichton would have some more self-respect, see beyond our past and into a better future, but this is reality. (sits up, arranging pillows) No matter. I remain staunchly resolute. Wormholes are the end game, and afterward we are all merely winners, or losers. (steps toward the camera) I don't lose."
(recording cuts out)
**
In Kel City center two Netseks walked into a bar. They were shown to a back table to join a third companion and given a generous allotment of spirits. Actually, Rinn Mova had been there waiting for the better part of an arn and had a good head start on both of them at congratulating himself. But the taller of the two, a pale yellow man with a calculating gaze, started in to business immediately.
"You did a good job at the police station, Rinn, but it's going to take some measures to bring it up to caliber."
In the dim light, Rinn frowned. "What do you mean, Varos? It was great. Tamfour always comes through for us with polymers, everyone knows that."
The one called Varos sipped his drink and shrugged. "Construction was good, but security was abysmal, completely unbelievable, and you didn't have enough staff."
"Details, details. Did you see the looks on their faces when I told them?" Rinn affected a low, booming voice. "'The penalty for trespassing on sacred ground is DEATH!' Now that, that was funny."
"Brilliance," Varos said. "And you made a wonderful hostage."
"Thank you," Rinn said, though his back took that inopportune moment to twinge in protest.
The third Netsek--short, light green--remained silent and a little bit twitchy, contemplating his drink. Varos turned toward him.
"Nothing to add, Kylash?" he asked.
The little man exploded. "It was terrible! It was a disaster! It was a glorious failure!"
Varos stayed calm. "How so?"
"Two arns of stalling the females in order to accommodate your lagging schedule! That's an organizational nightmare."
Rinn pointed a finger at Kylash. "If you hadn't lost track of the males in the first place--"
"Don't try to pin that on me. And anyway, I had to line up three more bars on short notice, do you know how difficult that is?"
Varos gave a gentle smile. "Everyone appreciated your efforts."
But the other man would have none of it. "They disintegrated the Battle Wurm. It took Production five weeks and two thirds of our budget to make that thing and they disintegrated it."
Rinn Mova slapped the table. "That was fantastic."
"Not to mention, the gray one killed two actors, and a member of the production staff"--he rapped a small silver disk on the table for emphasis, embedding it smartly into the polymer grain--"with coasters!"
Rinn pointed a wavering finger at his companions. "Mark my words, that nixar is going to have her own fan club."
"Kylash, Kylash, Kylash," Varos intoned. "Don't worry about the deaths. You sound like an alter-ego."
"Besides," Rinn slurred. "Nemar had it coming. Had his head buried in that touch-pad because he was sniggering the whole time. Almost ruined it for everyone."
"They nearly shot me!" Kylash slammed his fist on the table.
"I know!" Rinn said, excitement fueling his words. "And how did you manage that clothing trick? Brilliant."
Kylash settled glumly back in the booth. "I didn't. It was some reaction with the police department construction chemicals."
"So I did it?" said Rinn. "Well, cheers for me, then! If we can't use it for broadcast, it's definitely a start for the 'uncut and uncensored' release."
"What footage we could salvage from the cameras she destroyed," Kylash muttered.
"You worry too much, Kylash," said Varos. "You sell yourself short."
"But--"
"But nothing. You got it all, didn't you?" Varos asked.
"Of course I did."
"At good angles?" snapped Rinn.
"I'm a pessimist, not an idiot."
Varos grabbed a fresh cocktail off of a passing service cart. "Then shut up and drink. These costs will sort themselves out. So, here's to another successful installment of 'In with Rinn'."
Rinn Mova flashed his world famous smile. "Indeed. I'd wager it's our best yet."
Varos raised his glass. "To the best episode of the best reality entertainment this planet has ever seen put to vid!"
Rinn followed suit, his glass swaying cockeyed in the air. "And to fortune!"
Kylash hesitated, and then a broad smile cracked his features. He lifted his own glass.
"Fortune!"
==========================
VIII. Epilogue
**
What do you think? XX3 asked, staring at the screen.
Prurient. XJ7 tinkered with a probe on its workbench. Base.
I must concur, XX3 communed after some thought.
Well, XJ7 offered, We could always see what's on Leno.
With that thought the little gray men broke orbit over Kel City, leaving seventeen UFO sightings across the southern continent in their wake, and the Netseks none the wiser.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 05:36 am (UTC)::eyes the clock::
Heck with it.
::settles in to read::
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Date: 2006-04-05 06:01 am (UTC)ejaculationsexclamations!- Netseks! *snicker*
- Get. Over. It. Bwah!!!!
- pink porn t-shirt, woot!
- Whatdya have against gray aliens?! HA!
- gullibility guns! [and OF COURSE John would be the target!]
- Holy Frank Herbert! *dies*
- I am not an idiot. [but I play one on TV! Hee!]
- hot tubs on tier 7!!!!!!!!!!
- tentacle soup!!!!
- D's past life! *dies again*
OMG this was FABYOOLUS. I am soooooo pimping it EVERYWHERE. :D :D :D
no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 06:53 am (UTC)Yeah, they can't let that pesky Reason get in the way of what they want to do, you know. ;)
Very glad you enjoyed it. Shamefaced at the 20-month delay, but squee-ing at your squee-ing :)
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Date: 2006-04-05 06:02 am (UTC)*dies for the third time*
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Date: 2006-04-05 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 10:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 02:14 pm (UTC)And see, if Kemper and co. had written this script, Skiffy never would've cancelled it. That's my story and I'm sticking with it....
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:03 pm (UTC)Funny, funny, funny!
I love Scorpius' annoyance in his pillow hideaway. And of course, John gets shot witih a gullibility gun!
Aeryn...has had a really bad day. *g*
no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 02:19 pm (UTC)Aeryn...has had a really bad day. *g*
Yeah, poor Aeryn has to play the straight man in this one. When I was first thinking about this story I had tried to figure out how the heck I was going to write it, and nothing worked until I got the idea of Aeryn's POV.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 02:52 pm (UTC)gah!
this is FANtastic! The office mate is starting to stare at me!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 02:52 pm (UTC)Two aliens walked into a bar... BWAH! This was frakkin' BRILLIANT! And in TechniColor! :P
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Date: 2006-04-05 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 03:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 07:53 pm (UTC)And the beauty of Farscape's particular brand of crack is that this totally could have been an episode
Hee. When Skiffy went through its "image change" back after they canceled Farscape, I figured hell, I could write them a Farscape episide that was more in line with what they wanted ;) Alien abductions, John Edwards and giant Tremors-style worms, sure, no problem...
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Date: 2006-04-05 03:47 pm (UTC)"Wait," Crichton interrupted, saving the Netsek from Aeryn's stare. "Are you saying I got hit with a-- a gullibility gun?"
"Yes, exactly!" came the stereo answer.
"Hm." He paused in thought. "Okay, I can buy that."
God, I love this, the incredulity and then acceptance, perfect for someone under the influence of gullibility.
You've created a wonderful (and kinda scary) society with the Netseks and their division of personality into two bodies. It's great that it's Reason that gets locked up and Impulse that rules the day, and Chiana's reaction to that is perfect. Even though it's almost the reverse of the Nebari, it's the same thing and she's mature enough to see that now (I think early on she wouldn't have been so opposed to reason being put behind bars).
And the section at the end, with the little grey aliens made me laugh and laugh. Poor Crichton, even when he really does get abducted by aliens, no one will believe him.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 08:10 pm (UTC)You've created a wonderful (and kinda scary) society with the Netseks and their division of personality into two bodies. It's great that it's Reason that gets locked up and Impulse that rules the day
lol, you know, whisky brought up the fact that the name sounds rather lascivious and I was like, wow! I hadn't even noticed. It was just a fortunate side effect of contracting "network executive," because really, who else just locks their Reason away in a closet somewhere and goes strictly on Impulse?
Poor Crichton, even when he really does get abducted by aliens, no one will believe him.
Yeah, poor guy. And all the aliens want to do is find some good TV. And, you know, abduct people.
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Date: 2006-04-05 05:00 pm (UTC)I'm not sure why Scorpy has to go to the 'confessional' but I loved that part, loved the hottubs on tier seven no one knew about, and the "Get. Over. It." I'd list other favorite lines, but I'd end up quoting the entire story.
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Date: 2006-04-05 07:24 pm (UTC)'m not sure why Scorpy has to go to the 'confessional' but I loved that part
lol, that's why I was saying this fic might be a bit dated. Think, "Real World: Tormented Space". Skiffy also had their version back when I started this fic, called "Mad Mad House." ;)
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Date: 2006-04-05 06:16 pm (UTC)rofl. There is so much to love about this, but Scorpy in his confessional room just kills me. I would've loved to have seen this as an episode. This is fantastic. :)
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Date: 2006-04-05 08:22 pm (UTC)Yeah, I had too much fun with poor Real-world Scorpy. If it was the Real World, though, Scorp would totally win.
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Date: 2006-04-06 12:24 am (UTC)*waves at the others comments*
Everyone said all my favorite bits, but I think the whole thing should be quoted!
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Date: 2006-04-06 01:24 am (UTC)Ah, then my work here is done. Thrilled you enjoyed it, thanks for sharing your comments :)
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Date: 2006-04-06 12:30 am (UTC)Oh god. *flails* *can't breathe* It's everything I love about Farscape does everythiong I hate about the rest of TV, and does it better. I'm almost ashamed by the number of references I got. Scorpy's confessional! Netseks! Holy Frank Herbert! BWAH!!!!
You=GENIUS
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Date: 2006-04-06 01:26 am (UTC)Ha! Thank you very much! That's pretty much exactly what I was going for. :)
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Date: 2006-04-07 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 04:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 03:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-23 09:34 pm (UTC)But yes! It had everything! Humor, angst, adventure!
*squishy-hugs it*
I dunno why it too so long for me to read this :(
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Date: 2006-04-23 11:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 07:05 am (UTC)::is quite dead from laughing::
I love the buildup. The ending was what finally did me in. Oh gods.
::goes back to being quite dead::
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Date: 2006-08-04 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-04 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-18 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-18 05:59 pm (UTC)