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"Commander." Said Pilot. "We still need your hand print to decrypt the transmission codes in order to reestablish Moya's link with Talyn."
"You told me you did that three arns ago." D'Argo growled.
"And I did, bro! What more do you want, a urine sample? Wanna pick me out of a lineup? "
"Commander. Crichton, the . . . OTHER Crichton, performed the encryption." Said Pilot. "Moya and I have had some difficulty in reproducing the code to release the information and we ask for your assistance. If would save a great deal of time."
"What else can I do? I left my decoder ring in my locker." With that, Crichton printed up a transparency from the communications console and held it to the light. D'Argo stood beside him to inspect the print.
"Frell. It isn't a match." said D'Argo.
"I'll be damned." Crichton looked at his hand and smiled, " Dad took me to Sawyer's Mill when I was seven. I insisted on cleaning my own fish. Dad said no, but I did it anyway. Took eleven stitches to close the wound. See?" D'Argo observed three inch scar across the palm of Crichton's hand.
Aeryn stood frozen in disbelief. Crichton glared at her and headed for the door, "Guess Karvok wasn't the stickler for details he thought he was."
“You don’t look quite ready, ma’am.”
“For my mother.” she growled. “She fell from a hotel window. Her body is lying in the court yard between there and the monastery.”
“That’s hallowed ground. Sacred. Haunted, you know. People won’t go in there. Gonna’ cost you thirty . . .”
Aeryn reached for her pulse pistol.
“Now, don’t get hasty, Peacekeeeper.” said the clerk. “ I think we can work something out. Come back in ten arns.”
“She’s wearing a green, hooded shawl and she has a pulse wound to her chest. Is that enough of a description?”
“I don’t even need that. There won’t be anybody else in the courtyard.” The clerk closed his ledger and disappeared into the back room.
Ten arns passed. Aeryn returned to the counter and rang the bell, “Service!”
Out came the clerk from the back room. He stepped up to Aeryn and slammed a small pouch on the counter.
“Is this my change?” Aeryn inquired.
“This is your money.” answered the clerk. “Minus a small retrieval fee for the shawl. Here you go.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We don’t have the mother. She wasn’t there.”
Aeryn took the shawl and turned to leave, “where did you get this?”
“From the courtyard,” said the clerk. “Took it off a dead Taclydon.”
“Taclydon?” said Aeyrn.
“You know, long teeth. Horrible breath. . . . Shapeshifter.”