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It was a dark and stormy night.
Suddenly a shot rang out!
Considering John Crichton, astronaut and human, was still on Moya, this was all a bit much. He groaned, and rolled more tightly into his bedsheet.
Another shot rang out, and John was fully awake, tugging on a black T and groping for Winona.
It was a dark and stormy night – and he was on Moya. "Pilot!" he yelled in the general direction of his comms. Then he was running towards Aeryn's quarters. Still struggling with the T-shirt he skidded to her doorway. She was sitting bolt upright on her bed, gun held steadily before her in both hands, sweeping carefully from side to side.
"What?" John said. "What is it?"
"I – I don't know. Something woke me." she said.
"Did you hit it?"
"There's – there's nothing here," she said.
Crichton shone a flashlight into the shady corners. "Nope! No bodies. Bad dream?"
Aeryn frowned a microt. "No. I don't remember dreaming at all." She shook her head as if to clear it.
"You always sleep with a gun under your pillow?"
"Of course."
"I'll try to remember that." He watched her a moment, part puzzled, part amused. "You erm, you'd better get some clothes on. It's kinda cold in here right now."
With a quiet and quite unruffled smile she picked up a T-shirt and pulled it over her head. "You too," she smirked, eyes twinkling.
"Right – " he said, scurrying back to find his leathers.
Aeryn picked up the gun again. "Scorpius?" she said doubtfully into the darkness.
Nothing.
They met in the corridor. A bitter wind was whistling through the ship, and all the lights were dimmed. A DRD skittered past, struggling with the gale.
"Where is this wind coming from? This is insane," John hollered.
"Hull breach?" Aeryn yelled back.
Nah – too simple."
"Pilot?" Aeryn shouted into her comms. "Pilot!"
John wiped a hand over his face. "Rain? Aeryn, how can it be raining in here?"
Her only reply was a shake of her head.
"This strike you as improbable at all?" John said with a frown.
"Maldis, you think? Or . . ." Aeryn said, puzzling for an explanation.
"Nah –" John said – "not really his style. What do you know about this Tormented Space?"
"It's tormented."
"How?"
Aeryn shrugged eloquently and strode off.
"Hold up a minute. You're not telling me everything. You've been here before."
She spun angrily on her heel and faced him. "I do not HAVE to tell you everything, Commander," she said coldly. "Yes, I have been here before. But there is nothing I can tell you. This area is far outside PeaceKeeper territory and the dangers are not understood. Now – are we going to find out what is wrong with Moya?"
"Command," John said.
"Pilot," Aeryn decided, and they split up.
~ ~ ~ ~
D'Argo was there ahead of John, striding from console to console. "What's up?" John shouted.
"I have NO frelling idea . . ." he growled. "I can't find a reading that makes any sense and I can get nothing at all from Pilot."
"Me neither. Are we holed?"
"The others are checking all the bulkheads are sealed now. They haven't found anything yet. We need to take a look outside."
"Aeryn?" John commed. There was no reply. "A hull breach wouldn't take out comms, would it?" he said to D'Argo.
"I'll take Lo Laa out and check the hull," D'Argo decided.
~ ~ ~ ~
Aeryn paused in the doorway of Pilot's den, assessing the scene. It was a maelstrom – howling wind and flying debris. 'What a frelling mess we live in,' she thought.
"Pilot?" She fought across the walkway, crouching against the wind.
Pilot sat there bemusedly waving his hands. If Aeryn thought it possible she would have sworn he was smiling. Silent beside the console stood Scorpius.
"You?" she breathed. "Have you done this, Scorpius?"
He spread his hands. "Consider, my dear. Moya is my refuge too now – why would I disable her?"
"This is truly wild!" Pilot exclaimed. "This is real weather!"
"Pilot is not quite himself," Scorpius said.
"Pilot. What is wrong with you?" Aeryn demanded.
He looked at her, eyes struggling for focus. "This dren is amazing. Magic. You should try it, Officer Sun."
Puzzled she looked from Scorpius to Pilot and back again. Scorpius shrugged. "I have no idea. That is what I was just trying to ascertain. What do you make of the readings?"
Clambering behind the console Aeryn was met with an array of baffling readings. "I can't make anything of them. Environmentals are frelled - - - Pilot's nutrition is all over the place - - - Pilot, what happened here?"
By way of reply Pilot merely said, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee . . ." as more debris sailed past.
~ ~ ~ ~
"This – this tralk! – has a confession to make." Chiana said, dragging Sikozu onto command by her hair.
"I did NOT cause this – this - -" Sikozu began, indignation rather deflated by loss of words.
"But you DID make it worse," Chiana said, "didn't you?"
"OK. OK," John interrupted, seeing a long session starting. "Let's have the short version."
Sikozu shook herself free. "I noticed that Moya was behaving oddly . . ."
"The short version . . ."
"I deduced that Moya had been intoxicated by some exterior contamination, and that Pilot had also been affected through his symbiotic link."
"Cut to the dren," Chiana urged. "You gave Pilot a shot, and now he's high as a fresnik – right?"
"I was trying to correct the balance." Sikozu protested.
"And you frelled it up, right?" Chi challenged.
"I frelled it up," she agreed, defiantly. "It should not have happened . . "
"Too right," Rygel agreed, from the corner where he had anchored himself to escape the gale.
"So this whole mess is because Pilot is on acid?" John asked, incredulous. "And no-one's trying to mess with us at all?" He crowed with relief. "We gotta tell the others."
~ ~ ~ ~
"I wonder if Crichton's found anything," Aeryn said. She started back across the rain-slicked walkway.
Crichton and Chiana arrived just in time to watch as a DRD, hurled past on a gust, struck the back of her knee. She crumpled and skidded and she was gone; in a slow, somersaulting dive into Moya's depths.
John was on his knees, craning over the walkway. "She hit her head! Did she hit her head?"
Chiana shrugged helplessly. Her view had been blocked.
There was a long, long microt when nothing happened. John lunged for the ladder and started throwing himself down it.
But Rygel was there before him. The crew watched incredulous as he fought the throne sled down to the lowest walkway through the howling wind, jumped off, and dived into the murky effluent.
At the back of Aeryn's skull, just behind the blinding pain, a tiny voice was saying, 'Wake up! Wake up! Swim, Officer Sun. You must swim!' She came spluttering to the surface to find her head supported in Rygel's stubby arms.
"Sparky!" John gasped, breathless. "My hero!"
"Help me," he said. "Frelling PeaceKeeper weighs a drakkich! "
Aeryn retched and struggled, and John grabbed an arm and helped her haul herself up to safety. Then he took Rygel under the armpits and lifted him like a toy – a very smelly, much-abused toy – and plonked him back on his throne. Despite the bat dren he planted a kiss between the Dominar's brows.
Rygel drew himself up to his full dignity and flew away without a word, off to his quarters to start the gruesome task of getting clean. Aeryn sent a quiet, "Thank you, Rygel," after him.
"You OK?" John said.
"Just let me . . ." she began, stopping short to retch over the edge.
"D'you crack your skull?"
"For a change," she admitted ruefully, feeling for the bump on her head. It was hard to tell if there was blood or not.
John gave Aeryn a quick update while she added her stomach contents to the mess sloshing round below them.
"Now, Let's get you cleaned up." he said finally.
"What about Pilot?"
"He didn't take a dip in the dren."
"He needs . . ."
"Grandma's on it."
"Noranti? No – I . . ."
"You're fit for nothing. Noranti's fixing something to neutralise the dope Sikozu gave him. Then it's just a matter of waiting for the sun to come out."
She frowned, puzzled, and shrugged. Her head hurt too much to worry about the details – she had the gist.
"I will inject it – Sikozu has done enough damage."
John knew when it was time to give up protesting.
He hauled her to her feet, and looked for somewhere to wipe off his hand.
"Steady now," he said. He climbed close behind her, ready to support her if she faltered. It would have been a fun place to be, but for the goo still oozing from her clothing.
In the confines of the crawl space below Pilot's nether regions John said. "Officer Sun – it has to be said. You stink."
"Thank you, Commander," she smiled sweetly.
"A while back," he began almost diffidently, "you told me your secret is what's keeping you alive."
She looked blankly at him – genuinely puzzled.
"You said to me, and I quote; 'Your secret is all that is keeping you alive (meaning me) *as is mine*'."
Aeryn shook her head, still puzzled and a lightbulb pinged on in John's skull. He remembered the scene vividly, and he remembered that, "It was in the game! You were in the game when you said it – "
"So I can't tell you what it meant," she finished for him. "Let me know if you work it out."
"You don't think we're still in the game?" he wondered briefly.
"How can I tell?" she said. For a moment the imp shone out of her eyes and disarmed him. He let the question go; to Aeryn's great relief.
With the shot administered, there was nothing left to do but wait for Pilot to recover, and for Moya to shake off the effect of the contaminant. Aeryn leaned wearily back against a bulkhead.
"Oh no," John said, "Don't get comfortable there. Let's get you cleaned up, and check that head wound."
Aeryn felt bad enough that she allowed him to support her all the way back to her quarters. Rain still pattered down on them, but the gale was abating at last.
As they went they passed Chiana, arguing loudly that she should be permitted to dump Sikozu in the bat dren too. "Poetic justice . . ." she was saying. "C'mon D'Argo – it would be beautiful."
"Unh huh. . ." Aeryn grunted in heartfelt agreement.
