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Note: Stranger_Still suggested I have a shot at a Jool Fic, set after DWTB. The trouble with this was that I had no idea what to do with ole' three eyes. So this is a collaborative effort - but the tag scene is all Stranger's own!
Moya rolled and tumbled in a nauseatingly familiar flux of light and sound.
"What's going on?" Jool yelled at Pilot.
"Wormhole - " he gasped as he fought unconsciousness. . .
"We really must learn to listen to Chiana - " Jool muttered as she slowly slumped to the floor. "Not that she's here to confuse us any more . . ."
The old woman was instantly forgotten as she slipped away.
Pilot said, "Moya is very afraid."
"Pilot -" Jool said, impatient; "Name me the scrape you have been in since she lost the control collar when she has not been very afraid."
"Joolushko! - that is hardly fair . . ."
"But true, Pilot. I know I haven't been here very long; but it seems to me that Leviathans are pretty resilient. Tell her to get a grip!"
The hammering of light and sound ended suddenly leaving Moya in total darkness. The falling sensation was gone.
DRDs sprang to life tending to Pilot. Jool danced out of their way. She found she was mumbling a half-forgotten song that fitted the dance; an old mnemonic aid that had got her through many a tough exam.
She shook herself back to the present. "Where are we?" she asked.
Pilot, distracted by supervising the DRDs reconnecting his outside sensors, toyed with using the old 'someplace else' standby, but he merely replied "I have no idea."
"I am receiving a communication," he said, as the clamshell lit up.
A familiar pair of intelligent eyes, foil suit, smooth skin, and lethal gills appeared.
"Where is Pathfinder Neeyala?" the face demanded.
"Erm - " Jool hesitated; groping for a safe lie. "We need to talk about this."
"I cannot comprehend her," the fish woman said to someone off screen.
"Oh frell!" Jool breathed. "Can we run, Pilot?" she asked.
"No. That would not be wise," as he showed her the vast space station above Moya. "I detect powerful weaponry, Joolushko."
"Then you'd better let them aboard. Open the outer doors. Let's hope they recognise it as a peaceful invitation."
Jool hurried down to the docking bay to spy on the aliens coming aboard. There were six of them, and she decided they were carrying scientific instruments rather than weapons.
The aliens spread out, scanning the inner hull.
She stepped out. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
They glanced at her incuriously, and carried on.
"Why did the wormhole scoop this - this vessel?" one said to another, with a touch of scorn.
"It makes no sense."
"We detected a homing signal did we not?"
"So it was reported."
"We must find the source."
"They really can't understand, can they Pilot?" she whispered into her comms.
"I believe not."
"Alright -" she said. "Pilot - have the DRDs target as many of these good people as they can, then inject translator microbes on my word. Oh! - before that, do you think they know about Starburst?"
"They seem to have no experience of Leviathans - so I believe it is safe to say that they do not."
"Well, let's not tell them, eh?"
DRDs scurried round the aliens' feet.
"Ready? Fire, Pilot."
They all jumped simultaneously. Gills quivered menacingly.
"That's better," Jool smiled. Shock registered on six reptilian faces as their ears understood her.
"I can explain happened to your ship," she began.
Stoically, they ignored her.
"Hey! I am here you know. You could try talking to me . . ." Jool jumped around angrily in front of the techs, who continued to blank her.
"Stop that" a voice rang out. "They're sniffer techs and not permitted to acknowledge or speak to you."
Jool's frustration was rising to the boil. "You need to understand what happened to your ship. It was not our fault - freak accident. . . "
The newcomer raised a hand to shush her. "One moment."
She spoke to the team of techs - who dispersed about the ship.
"Now . . . I am Investigator Adarro. You will enlighten me. Why would our Retrieval scoop your ship? Where is our Pathfinder? A freak accident you assert?"
It was a long and wearisome session.
It ended when a tech hurried in. "Investigator - we have found the -" he began.
"Wait, Kantabo! Outside. You will excuse me, my dear?" And she hurried from the room.
"What have they found, Pilot?" Jool whispered urgently.
"I have no idea, Joolushko. But I am monitoring."
"Get some DRDs there quickly."
"Done."
Jool went in search of the Pathfinder techs and found them with Investigator Adarro in a chamber just off Command.
"What can you possibly need here?" she demanded.
"You would not comprehend - "
"Try me!"
"Pathfinder Neeyala was supremely dedicated to the quest. She would not wish us to fail. We must learn all we can from your ship."
"That's not an answer."
Adarro was silent.
Jool was floundering. What would the others do if they were here? "OK." she tried. "Here's what will happen. You may examine Moya for anything you can learn about your Pathfinder ship. I will even help you. But you will not harm her. And then you will let her, and me, go."
Adarro looked ready to dispute.
"Translator microbes are not the only thing those DRDs can deliver - "
Pilot remembered little of the encounter with Neeyala's ship but Moya's deep synapse log had recorded automatically. It mattered not that the data was in no useful form - Adarro was determined to retrieve it all. Jool stayed close.
"Additionally, we need structural samples," Adarro told her.
"You want to cut Moya?!" Pilot exploded.
"No way!" Jool told her.
"The ship's structure will retain invaluable impressions of the encounter. We must recover all that we can. Our comrades' sacrifice will be vindicated."
"Moya is a living ship. Sentient . . ."
"But . . ."
"She eats and craps - just like you and me! You will not cut chunks out of her."
"Very well -" Adarro said wearily - as though to a small child.
Jool could tell this was not the end of the matter.
She went to the maintenance bay to pick up a pulse rifle; it was time, she decided.
"Jool," Pilot commed quietly, "Strictly speaking, Moya does not -"
"I know, Pilot;" Jool smiled. "Figure of speech."
There was another being already down there - manifestly not one of the Pathfinder race. For a microt Jool fancied she was looking at the back of herself - a torrent of red hair.
The girl turned at the sound of her footfall.
Fiery redhead faced fiery redhead.
"Who the frell are you!?"
"Who the kreg are you!?" they said, simultaneously.
"Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis," Jool rattled off, as the other girl said,
"Sikozo Svala Shanti Sugaysi Shanu."
For the first time ever, Jool wished she had an extra few syllables.
Only exasperation was keeping Jool from losing it! "Just where have you come from?" she asked, in a what-rock-did-you-crawl-from-under? voice.
"I could ask you the same."
"What - are you doing on my ship?"
"Your ship?"
"My ship."
"Keep your voice down. I'm just exploring. No harm." She spread her hands wide.
"Sikozo?"
"Right -"
"You're obviously not a Pathfinder -"
"Obviously."
"Not Interion. Sebacean?"
She gave a snort of disgust.
"You working with these people?"
Sikozo shook her head, 'No'. "They captured your ship, right?" she said.
Jool nodded.
"That makes us allies - as in 'my enemy's enemy is my friend'. They pulled my ship apart. I was just checking my chances of stowing away aboard yours."
"Joolushko!" Pilot's harassed voice came urgently. "They are cutting into Moya!"
Jool was already running; "Where, Pilot?"
Two technicians were slicing at Moya's ribbing with a laser saw.
"Drop that you kraznak!" Jool yelled, waving the gun in their direction.
The Pathfinder techs ignored her as before.
"You could try looking like you know how to use that," Sikozo said, bringing her own sleek weapon to bear.
"You said you were unarmed -"
"I lied."
The techs worked on.
Sikozo lost patience, sending a blast over their heads.
The techs powered down, and Sikozo fired again, directing a blast directly at the laser saw. That got their attention. They dropped it and hurried out.
"Now get off my ship!" Jool shouted after them.
Back in Pilot's den Sikozo told them, "They trashed my ship. They'll pull anything apart that's been in a wormhole. They won't let you go - whatever they've promised."
Pilot agreed. "From what you tell me of our last encounter, when they almost killed Moya by sabotage, I think we must believe her."
"Alright. How do we get away then? You've been aboard the station - what can we do?"
"I have seen very little of it."
"Pilot?"
"I, I am sorry Jool -"
"Why has our pet PeaceKeeper chosen now to disappear? There's never an efficient killer around when you need one," Jool muttered.
"What?" said Sikozo.
"I have a friend - " she paused, surprised at the word she'd chosen, " - a friend who went to join an assassination squad. We could use them now."
"Indeed," Pilot agreed quietly.
"These people don't know about Starburst, but we don't want to risk them getting a shot in before we get away. We need a diversion." Jool said.
"And you need to get them all off the ship too. They can shoot lethal barbs from those gill things."
"Oh, I know all about them," Jool said thoughtfully. "Pilot - all the bat dren in the lower levels. Do you ever evacuate that?"
"Sometimes it becomes necessary. . ."
"Could you dump some now? Right on their surveillance complex?"
"I could try."
"And what do we have that could clear them off Moya? Fire would be good."
"NO!"
"I know . . . But can we convince them, maybe?"
Half an arn later Pilot overpressured the amnexus system that ran all through Moya until the ducts ruptured and a fine mist hung in the air in every chamber and corridor. Then he triggered the PK alarm klaxons still installed all over the Leviathan. John Crichton had insisted they were left in place. If they turned his brain to jelly then frell knows what they might do to intruders. The effect on the remaining techs scattered throughout Moya was nerve shattering. They rushed to abandon ship, convinced the strange organic vessel was about to fall apart and blow them into space. Jool added some convincing panic to speed then on their way.
The sudden spray of bat dren around Moya caused the fastidious space station techs to close all the viewing ports and frelled their sensor readings. Seizing his chance Pilot commanded Moya to Starburst away.
"Hey – we have a plan that works!" Jool grinned at him.
On Command Adarro was cornered.
"Why the frell are you still here?" Jool demanded.
"It is my duty - " Adarro began.
"Cut the crap. You sabotaged Moya - you cut into her!"
Adarro appeared to deflate.
"Neeyala was a comrade. We studied together. It is imperative I retrieve her legacy."
"I sympathise. Really I do."
"You do?" Sikozo put in.
Jool was a scientist - on that level she could relate to the Investigator. On another she could not agree to the ruthless Investigator's methods. Where she came from co-operation between equals was the rule.
"But you cannot stay aboard." she insisted.
She had a sudden idea. She led Adarro to Crichton's quarters, and rummaged amongst the surprising mess he had left there.
"It has to be here; it has to be here," she muttered. "Yes!" She held up in triumph the gizmo (John's description) on which he said he'd seen the 'Three Stooges' - whatever they were.
"It's broken. It got dropped. But I'm sure you can retrieve the data in there. Crichton took it out to survey the wormhole we were trapped in. Get in your transport, leave us alone, and it's yours."
"You will hand that instrument over." Adarro's gills opened, and she hissed angrily.
"I will hand it over when you get in your pod."
"Joolushko - those barbs are lethal." Sikozo warned.
"Well, Adarro?"
Adarro fired.
Sharp, poisonous darts flew at Jool. She screamed! A scatter of barbs hit her and clattered to the floor, their tips melted to harmless blobs. She smiled smugly. "How many of those things do you have?" she asked. "Because I can scream all day if need be."
"Oh no . . ." Sikozo muttered from the doorway.
"You would maroon me, with no navigational data?" Adarro said.
"Happily".
Adarro left, with John's gizmo. Jool hoped that, wherever he was, he would forgive her.
The tiny craft boosted away from the Leviathan in the direction of the Pathfinder space station. Adarro had lied it seemed.
There remained only the small matter of determining where the frell they now were.
As the two redheads turned to leave the docking bay Sikozo asked, "What's that smell?"
"Long time without a decent filet o'fish" the Old Woman of Trask muttered to herself as she gently eased the deadly spines from the head on the table.
Separating a few of the techs from the rest as they fled panic-stricken from Moya had been so easy. The others had already been filleted, frozen and stashed away in one of Moya's freezer units.
The rest of this one was gently cooking in his own foil suit in the broiler. It was so convenient having food that delivered itself ready packed. Just the right size for kitchen equipment made to prepare food for hundreds of troopers.
The gentle odour of succulent fish wafted through Moya's corridors enticing Jool and the latest recruit to the dining area.
