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Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and - sans End.'
Omar Khayyam
'Prepare to neutralise invaders for analysis.'
Farscape 4:22
All I had was the grey mist, and the echo of D'Argo's wailing in my brain. I barked my shins on the boat where they'd dragged it aboard and propped it in the bay.
D'Argo just knelt there sobbing. Everyone else was silent.
I was desperate. "What? Tell me what you see! Someone . . ."
"Nothing, Chiana, nothing but a handful of dust. . . " Ryg said.
"Dust?"
"Dust and ashes."
"Wh, what, you mean they're gone? Just gone?"
"Or " - Rygel said, in his best doomladen voice. "They are still here. And we are looking at the last mortal remains of Commander John Crichton and Officer Aeryn Sun."
"They make a remarkably small heap of remains," Noranti said.
"A heap?"
"Just the one."
"What, you mean, you're telling me they're mixed up!? So, even when we do find out how to, to turn them back into people . . "
"And just how do we do that?"
"How do we separate them?" I couldn't resist a giggle. Stark shushed me - offended.
"Remarkably little remains," Noranti repeated. "Even allowing for bodies being three-quarters water . . ."
"Water." D'Argo said. "Fragments fell into the water as we watched."
"Even so . . ." Noranti went on.
I couldn't stand it. I felt in the boat. She was right. There was very little, just a dry, dusty heap. I felt something hard, and fished out a ring. It must have been the ring that John had given Aeryn so short a time ago. Wherever had he got it from? How long had he had it ready for her? I brushed it clean and slipped it in my pouch.
"Chiana!" Rygel said.
"What!? You think I'd steal it?" (the welnitz.) "I'm keeping it safe for her."
"And you brushed off the dust! That's a little more we've lost."
"Oh," I said. I sniffed at the dust on my fingertips. Nothing. And before I thought, I had licked it off. It tasted salty.
"Chiana!" - came a chorus of protest, except from Noranti, who was saying, " Mmmmm . . . I think you might have an idea here, young Nebari."
"Can you test this stuff? I mean, really test it - other than by taste?"
"No, no!" Stark was blathering. "You must not destroy any more. No more. No more, my love . . ."
"Shut up, Stark!" D'Argo growled.
"Can you sense them here, Stark? Aeryn? John? Can you?" I had to know - and Cholak help us, Tin Face and Wrinkles were all we had!
"Oh ~ ~ ~ " he shut up his crooning briefly. "No. No, I can't. They're not . . . they're not here . . . They are gone . . . Fled . . .! Where, where are they . . . ?"
Good question.
"People," Pilot's voice came over the comms, breaking up our happy party - "Moya thinks, that the attack ship is returning. What are your orders, Captain?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I had not expected to wake up without a stitch of clothing. Point of fact, I hadn't expected to wake up at all. I thought I'd left my body behind with that nauseating wrench from the boat.
Maybe we should have dived overboard, but at that moment, in that boat, time stood still, frozen in perfection. Journey's end. Nothing left to fight.
I was numb, afloat in a gel, just a little too cool to be comfortable. I ran a body check - everything seemed to be there, but the pod I was in kept me from moving. I could just turn my head, if I ignored the painful wrenching of a tube deep in my ear.
And John was there - safe in another pod. Naked. Not a thread. Also, not a hair on his head - or anywhere. I tried to look at my own scalp. I hadn't had hair less than shoulder-length since - since that time on that hideous swampy world when we'd all shorn our hair in desperation against the ravenous lice. It hadn't worked.
Vanity, they'd told me. They should see me now.
John's skin had the look of someone who's been submerged too long, and tubes and wires extruded from every orifice. Not a pretty sight. I guessed I wasn't either.
"Howdy, Sleeping Beauty", he said. "I hope you're not going to hold this against me?"
"I, I don't think I have the ring any longer - " I told him. "Can you forgive me that?"
"Seems all we brought is our dignity," he grinned, looking me straight in the eye. "Interesting gadget -" he said. "Picks us up, and only us. Not a scrap that isn't us."
"I think we've even lost our outer skin cells."
"Hence the jello . . . Why haven't we got a gizmo like that? Sure could liven up parties."
"If you like your guests bald . . .!" I muttered.
All the while I was scanning the bay, wondering why we were being allowed to talk to each other.
And John was blathering, but his eyes flicked round as he talked - uneasy as I that there must be surveillance. It was so easy to read his thoughts, a connection like the best-tuned Unit. Butch and Sundance. I wondered when we'd have to jump off the cliff.
I clamped my teeth shut, hoping I wouldn't decorate the gel with my churning stomach contents. I was praying that meant the third member of our Unit was still securely aboard.
In The Wilderness
(Post 4:22 ~ a sequel of sorts to 'Dust')
' . . . and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
And Wilderness is Paradise enow .'
Omar Khayyam
*Astronaut*
I watched her breathing. How could I not watch her? There was nothing else to do. It was still incredible to me - she was mine - and we were having a baby. True, we had a slight predicament - but hey! What's new?
She stirred, breathed deeper. Muscle moved under skin; sweet mama - help me!
Shame she was bald . . .
"I foresee a slight problem," she said mildly.
"What's new?" What was it with this new attitude? She had me off balance. She'd changed while I hadn't been paying attention . . . Everything had me off balance. When did the universe ever cut us a break? How could I possibly be happy now?
She smiled now, behind the mask, afloat in the gel, "There is no marriage in my culture, and we've just closed the way back to yours . . ."
"Is that all?" Not the fact that we were prisoners here - lab rats, but with less dignity . . . "Give me some time . . . I'll give it some thought."
It was hard to stay awake - suspended, all but weightless. Impossible not to breathe the doped air, and sleep.
*Rebel*
The frelnik who'd crystallised Aeryn and Crichton didn't leave us alone for long. Pilot sensed the ship's return and panicked for orders. Should we run? Was there time?
"D'Argo!" I yelled.
"Captain D'Argo!" Pilot insisted.
But our great warrior had been felled by grief.
So Moya dredged up her strength and powered into deeper water. And we all prayed.
They circled a few times, and left. No death ray - no crystallising blast. Maybe Moya was too big. Maybe they didn't care about us. Who knows? Anyway - they knew where we were. They could come back and get us whenever they were ready.
*Soldier*
It was unnerving that they never spoke. We'd see them through the screen, taking readings, tuning dials, varying the doses of whatever they were pumping through us, peering at us – John and me - with anything up to seven eyes, but they never spoke. Not even to each other.
Even when I woke to find they were draining my capsule and removing the probes and tubes they were silent.
We showered – gingerly, because our skins were still raw - and we waited.
And we waited some more.
I think we had the same idea at the same time. As we were no longer in the capsules we were no longer being fed by tube. Someone, sometime, would come in to bring us food.
It was a little being of a different species. It seemed almost unfair to jump him - but we didn't let that hold us back. We felled him and fled, but not before John had grabbed a good handful of the food he'd brought.
Evade and escape had been drilled into me from early cadethood. We found some overalls, and even boots, then picked up a couple of knives as we passed through a vast food prep area. And we crept out through the service ducts. No fuss. No commotion. Too easy.
It was late evening. We hurried through alleyways until buildings gave way to desert, and we headed out in pursuit of the sinking sun.
*Ruler*
You could not have picked a more mismatched crew if you had tried for cycles. A blinded thief, a lunatic old witch, a tin faced mystic and a distraught, useless warrior. And not one of them would pay the least attention to my commands.
And our faithful ship hated being submerged. So we sat in our sub-marine Leviathan, waiting for her hull to heal or her seams to burst, while Noranti and Chiana mulled over the sad remains of the best of us, as they lay mingled in Crichton's crazy boat.
*Astronaut*
When it was too dark to stumble on any further without falling into some canyon she said - "I have to rest."
"Oh – thank heavens. I'm weak as a kitten. . ."
"Kitten?"
"Young cat." I said.
"And they're weak?" she asked.
She was derailing me again - -"They're – It's a saying – Look! - It doesn't matter."
"Right."
"Are we always going to do this?"
"What?"
"Compete."
"Probably. . ."
"It's OK to admit you're all in – what you've been through lately . . ."
"And you don't have to try to keep up," she said.
Me!? Try!? I let that one go. "Agreed?" I asked.
"Agreed."
But we both knew we'd go on being just the same.
We made ourselves a fox hole for the night, and shivered.
She was tough, my commando; she wouldn’t bitch about the cold, but that didn’t mean it wouldn't kill her. There was nothing of her - hence a greater ratio of surface area to mass than - than was healthy in this gnawing, frelling cold.
It made a change, to be concentrating on the small things. Not the extermination of races, or the political systems of galaxies. Just our own survival, me and my radiant Sun. And right then I didn’t give a lot for either. I wrapped myself around her. "They won't track us by body heat tonight," she whispered.
We made it through the night, and the sun soon warmed us. In barely half an arn we'd stopped stumbling along like geriatrics and were scurrying along in the sparse cover, making for the horizon.
Later in the day we practically fell over a heavy, bumbling creature. It was tanking along for all it was worth – heading for cover – but it was too slow. "Protein!" I said, but Aeryn was way ahead of me. She already had a rock in her hand. She brought it down on the creature's skull. We butchered it – but I couldn't stomach raw meat. We risked a small fire – why not? Starvation or recapture – those were the choices – and you wouldn't get an opera ticket between them.
We made a decision, without either of us saying anything, that we would go no further that day. Holiday. So we sat and we rested and we talked and we dreamed.
We sat there nibbling on green stuff and chomping on ribs, swigging from the flask I'd snurched. We might have been on the patio at home - if you ignored the detail.
We talked of all the things that might have been, and of how life could be if I could just stop screwing up everything I touched. I swear, it was beginning to feel like I was in some disaster movie - just when you think you've got it solved they throw another bucket of dren your way.
We sat with our backs to the rock and our faces to the distant sea. Was that the sea where Moya lay? Had lain. We didn't even know what had happened to the others. Heck, we didn't even have a plan.
But Aeryn was unfazed. There was a certainty, a calm, about this woman who I thought I knew, which had replaced the quiet arrogance of the PeaceKeeper - as if she knew all would be well - like she'd read the script. While she was off foraging for fuel, I even heard her singing softly. It has a mellifluous sound, Sebacean, when it's not being used for orders like, 'Kill, Maim, Exterminate . . .' At least, it has in Aeryn's voice. Kinda like Welsh maybe, or a 45 played backwards.
We sat against the cliff face where it soaked up the sun, and I soaked up Aeryn's gentle calm. And we curled up there at night while it gently gave back all that stored heat.
*Healer*
"I am almost certain that this is not the remains of our comrades. To be sure, there are traces of their DNA – but," I supped a little more, to be certain. "No I am almost sure that this is mostly clothing. Out friends are elsewhere. Do you hear me, D'Argo?"
The poor lunk was still blaming himself. Distraught. (So tiresome, this habit in people to think that their puny efforts could deflect fate).
I left the young Nebari consoling him and went to consult with Rygel.
*Soldier*
We marched on with not a sign of civilisation, just the glittering sea far below, hammond side. The heat grew. We were soon threatened with dehydration again. At first I thought the sound was in my head – a result of heat and glare and thirst – but it grew steadily louder. The craft circled, high overhead – flashing back the light of the sun – before it started to come in low on an attack run.
"Not friends, at a guess," John said.
My stomach lurched at the thought of the wrench of that transporter pulse again. I didn't know if I could stand it, or, more importantly if my child could survive it – if indeed she had survived the first.
This time we didn't even have a rowboat. We ran. Over the cliff. Into the healing sea. We plunged deep. Deep. Then kicked for the surface. I came up to find John looking frantic.
"Didn't know if you could swim."
"Course I can!" (and this time I hadn't even broken a leg!)
We beached ourselves and knelt there gasping for a few microts, but there was no time to linger. There was also no cover.
We gave it our best. In less than half an arn we found ourselves surrounded. Two small attack craft put down and another circled high overhead.
We could have run, but we would have been shot. We were wet now – another freezing night would see us off. Honestly, at this point captivity looked the best option. I fought the powerful give-away urge to cross my arms around myself. I met John's eyes. He nodded briefly – and we surrendered.
*Warrior*
My friend was dead. Both friends, good friends, who had stood by me in many a battle. And my honour was destroyed by my failure to protect them. Duty demanded revenge.
Noranti was back, bothering me again. "Have you heard a word we have said?"
"Yes – I hear you. It's not them . . . But I saw them die." I told her.
"You saw them abducted, D'Argo."
Chiana joined her, nattering at me. "So we have to find them. Right? They'd do it for us – you know they would. C'mon big fellah! Those frelnicks have kidnapped Crichton and Aeryn. We gonna to leave them there?"
Noranti sighed theatrically and offered Chiana her arm. "No, it's OK, Wrinkles. I'll follow this little guy. Let's go and talk to Pilot about organising a search. . ." She picked up the leash on the irritating DRD that was acting as eyes for her, and followed it out.
Very well then; we would take out Lo'La and search. And if our comrades turned out to be dead then this would be a mission of revenge.
*Soldier*
No labs and capsules this time. Instead we stood in some sort of command room before three of the seven-eyed guys. They were using just two each at the moment. We'd barely got into it, the 'why have you invaded our peaceful planet?' line, before we were interrupted by a commotion on the surveillance screens.
Lo'La was flying in fast, and her shields were deflecting everything the attack craft could throw at her. She landed and D'Argo emerged. He wore the qualta blade, and something else. A patrol quickly had him encircled. One trooper fired but he walked on steadily, and I realised that the harness was one of the Tarkan body shields.
"Big guy's got mivonks. . ." John said.
He'd unsheathed the qualta blade and shot back. One of the patrol fell. The rest moved back, keeping him covered, but letting him through. "You have my shipmates!" we heard him roar.
"Bring him up," the ranking officer ordered.
We waited.
D'Argo came in, all smiles. "I hardly dared believe . . ." he began, ending in a confused stammer as he took in the state we were in.
But we had an impasse. They could not kill D'Argo in his shield belt – but they could kill us. He, however, could shoot them all, given time . . .
They had no intention of letting us go. We were spies as far as they were concerned, and allies, at the very least, of the PeaceKeepers. And we had no intention of staying.
"Comms on?" John asked D'Argo. He nodded.
I could see a plan brewing.
"Ryg, your Eminence!" John commed. "Would you be so kind as to bring those documents Commandant Grayza was good enough to give us?"
In short order Rygel arrived, clutching the amnesties, and wearing the other shield belt. As he hovered in front of us I could also see that he'd had the foresight to bring a couple of PK stealth pistols, tucked beneath his royal posterior. 'Little yellow bolts of light'. I palmed one and instantly felt less naked.
John grabbed one of the passes, waving it in the bad guys' faces.
"Think we'd invade in a Leviathan?" he began. "Look, bud! We don't want to hurt your barren little planet, we just came for a little R&R. But we can arrange it if you want! See these? We got 'get out of jail free' cards here. Recognise this?"
He pointed out the PeaceKeeper seal – as I prayed that they couldn't read Sebacean and wouldn't realise he had the amnesties upside down!
"We have PeaceKeeper protection and we can call in a fleet any time you want. Now – do you let us go? Or do you face the wrath of Grayza?"
"The PeaceKeepers have no jurisdiction out here – - "
"You wanna test that?"
Crichton in this mode was a weapon. He did illogic better than anyone. Prime him, point him in the right direction, and he'd confuse the Hezmana out of the enemy.
I'd seen it on Katratzi - I saw it now.
It worked, and we hightailed it out of there before they could think about it too deeply.
It was beautiful to see Moya almost healed and ready to fly. "Hi," Chiana said, not quite looking at me. "I've been keeping this safe for you." She fished about in her pouch, and brought out the ring. "Welcome back."
"Thank you, " I told her. It was good to be home.
*Ruler*
My compact dimensions mean that I can often observe while unobserved. This has been a great asset, but on this occasion it was unintentional. However, it seemed unnecessary to disturb the happy couple as Moya made her slow way to - wherever we were headed.
They were perched uncomfortably on one seat. She had to lean back, and he had to clasp his arms around her. You'd think we were short of seats! They were picking over one platter of grosznich.
He ruffled the stubble on her head, telling her, "You look like a real commando now!" and kissed the bare patch behind her ear. I thought they looked like a pair of convicts.
"I've been thinking about this wedding." he said.
Her face fell. "We could wait. . . ." she said, rubbing her own hand over the dark fuzz.
"No way! I'm making sure of you as fast as I can!" His hand patted her still iron-flat middle. "Who'd have thought, Granny Crichton's blue-eyed boy would have a shotgun wedding?"
Shotgun? What was he blathering now, but she seemed to understand.
"There are priests on Arnessk . . ." he said.
"We must get help for Chiana first," she reminded him. "But you do want to go back there?"
"Sure. Unfinished business. I guess we can now - no bad guys hunting us down."
"Never be too sure of that" - she warned. Hmm. . . . My thoughts too.
"Yes - I don't see why not," he went on. "I'd like to see what those priests made of Jool." He chuckled.
"I've been talking to Chiana," she said. "About the ceremony on the Royal Planet." He looked surprised. "It's all about exchanging vows, right?" She looked so young and vulnerable - so out of her depth. But that wasn't going to stop her.
Oh, what I could have told them about marriage ceremonies. Oh, the days of my glory!
Crichton said, "I may have the answer - - We have - - You are sure about this?" He was squirming like a schoolboy now - unless he was having second thoughts.
She just turned slightly in his arms and smiled. All the encouragement the big yotz needed.
"We have -" he went on, "you know on Earth we have different nations - and at sea -"
"Just tell me!!" He was stretching her patience - dangerous tactics.
"On international waters, a ship's Captain has the authority . . . ."
Her face lit up. "Pilot!" she said. "That would be ideal!" and she hugged him.
It was time to break cover. "It should be me!" I announced, "I am your Dominar!" and suddenly the centre chamber was full of people with opinions, pouring in through the doorway.
"It should be D'Argo," Chiana said quietly, and Crichton looked uncomfortable. I realised that was what he had meant too, but he hid it with a laugh. "Can we get NO privacy around here?"
"Pilot would be most fitting," Noranti said unexpectedly. "Moya has been a refuge for all of us - and Pilot has been our protector. Most fitting."
Aeryn said, "D'Argo, I know you are our Captain, but . . ."
"That's fine, Aeryn," he told her. "John will need a boyfriend . . ."
"That's best man, D," he corrected.
"Like last time." I said.
*Soldier*
I found John rummaging in his boxes of movies. He was whistling between his teeth, but there was an edge of irritation. The place was a tip. For a scientist he was messy. I remembered the techs I'd known (had I actually known any techs?) as tidy, meticulous people. If we were to resolve our living arrangements, John Crichton was going to have to tidy up his act.
"What are you looking for?"
"It's here someplace - need to teach 1812 a piece of music." He paused and grinned over his shoulder at me.
"Can I help?"
"No, babe - it's gonna be a surprise. What is THIS doing here?" he laughed suddenly, and tossed a pack my way.
I had to grin when I saw it - 'Runaway Bride' - Chiana had loved watching that for some reason. "Chiana chose that one."
"Chiana bought a DVD?"
"Well, erm, " I wasn’t sure of the exact truth. "She liked it - she chose it - we were shopping together and , ummm . . "
"OK; no need for detail. It might do the trick, toss it back will ya, hon? Then scoot." He shot me the pleading look.
I tossed it back and left him to it, and a song popped into my head - 'You can't hurry love, no you just have to wait . . .' Could be our anthem.
I found Chiana in her quarters, toying with the leash on Lassie, her 'seeing eye' DRD. It was sad to see how the sparkle had gone out of her.
"Hey?" I said brightly. (Oh, I'd learned a thing or two from the human.) "You don't mind too much about D'Argo? It's just that Pilot and I . . ."
"I know, Aeryn. It's fine. Really."
"How are you? Any better?" I asked.
"I have some light . . ."
"And shapes?"
"Nah . . . But light's good . . ."
"Sure it is."
I perched on the end of her bed.
"You know, they dress up for this stuff, too -" she said thoughtfully, "and that doesn't mean full regimentals, Aeryn."
I looked at her filmy, anxious eyes. "I know that."
"At least leave your pulse pistol at the door," she smiled. "I've had Ryg check all Crichton's movie DRDs,"
"I think it's DVDs, isn't it?"
"Whatever . . . and I've got the words for you - sort of. They change them about."
"He says they can write their own vows - to suit the people and their beliefs."
John's head popped round the corner - "I guess 'obey' is out of the question?"
"Get out Crichton," Chi laughed, and he scurried off - forgetting that she stood no chance of scoring a hit, however big a boot she tossed in his general direction.
"I think I have it already," I said. "How does 'love and protect, to the ends of my strength' sound?"
"From you - " she said - "Perfect."
I had not a clue how to dress. I couldn't visualise myself in a white frothy confection. So we started with Chiana's idea of sexy, and toned it down from there.
Just a couple of days later, as Moya crept towards the Diagnosian's last known location, our crew, our family, assembled in Pilot's den. According to tradition, I had to enter last, escorted by Chiana. She'd dispensed with Lassie, so I had to clutch her arm to keep her from the edge. Bat dren was all we needed at this point.
John, beautiful John, stood grinning 'like a loon' by Pilot's redoubt. As I started down the walkway he signalled to 1812, who started up a tinny tune. I had just time to recognise it as 'The Wedding March' when the little DRD faltered, and switched tunes. So I arrived at John's side to the jubilant sound of bells and cannon!!
"I'm just an ignorant warrior who believes that love means you're willing to fight and die for your fellow living beings!" Aeryn Sun, Farscape 2:01 'Mind the Baby' by Richard Manning
The Dance
Aeryn was sitting, perfectly still, perched on the edge of Pilot's console. It was good to feel the tingle of recognition watching what he was doing. Not that she could perform all his complex role - no way – but the familiarity was still there.
John's voice drifted up from the depths. "How's that, Pilot?"
"It will take time, Commander, but I feel an easing already."
"Great!" He appeared at the head of the ladder, wiping his hands on a rag. He turned a bright smile on Aeryn. "Ready?"
"Sure. Comm us, Pilot, if that fix becomes uncomfortable."
"Certainly I will, Officer Sun. Thank you."
"Officer Sun?"
Pilot and PeaceKeeper exchanged a puzzled, who-understands-the-human?, glance, before Aeryn took John's arm and steered him firmly back across the walkway.
"Pilot needs bringing up to date," John went on.
"Huh?"
"I feel sure he was there when you became Mrs Crichton," he said, squeezing her arm.
"Sure, but I'm still Aeryn Sun," she agreed, puzzled.
There was an awkward moment. John stopped and caught her by the arms, gently turning her to face him. "I kinda assumed you'd take my name, babe."
"Yes – I know – but, lose my own? Lose who I am?"
A violent lurch threw them against a rib. John steadied Aeryn just a microt longer than necessary. "You OK?"
"I'm fine," she said – then, "Pilot, is there a problem?"
"My apologies, people – I don't know what - -"
Moya lurched again as Rygel's angry voice came over the comms. "What the frell, Pilot! Hold Moya steady – or are you trying to kill us?"
Aeryn's and John's eyes met for a beat - "The transport!" they said in unison - already running.
The transport pod, looking like a brick trying to stay aloft, clipped the edge of the entry port, swung wildly, then scored its way along the floorway to a halt.
The crew staggered out, looking green.
"Frell me, Pilot!" Chiana yelled, stumbling down the gangway.
Quickly, Aeryn slipped a supporting arm around her. "You hurt?" A huge bruise was blooming above Chi's eye.
"I – I don't know. It's nothin' . ."
"We have to go back and adjust that gizmo," John was saying.
"No, Commander. That is not the problem. There is a large Leviathan approaching. Moya is – Moya is nervous of him. I cannot steady her."
They reached Noranti's healing lair, and Aeryn helped Chiana up onto the couch.
"You sure? You don't need help?" Aeryn commed to Pilot.
"I think there is little you could do, thank you Officer Sun."
Again, John looked a question at her.
"Don't start that again. It's who I am. Come on Chiana, let's take a look at the damage."
"I fell against something. Couldn't see it. Frelling eyesight . . .!" Chiana summoned up anger to mask the tears of frustration that threatened.
D'Argo was hovering awkwardly at her side, with Noranti officiously shooing him away. "Give me space . . . give me space . . ."
"For Jenka's sake, Pilot – what is Moya doing!?" Rygel demanded over the comms.
"The Leviathan, it is moving alongside."
"Want us to see him off?"
"Not another rogue?"
"Pirates? Bounty hunters?
"In a Leviathan!?"
"I know that – get the crew on the horn, Pilot," John said.
"There is no crew," Pilot said.
"So what, Pilot, is the problem?" D'Argo demanded.
Pilot chose his words carefully; "The male is – amorous, Captain D'Argo – and Moya is nervous."
"We're getting thrown all over the place because Moya is feeling skittish?" Rygel's voice joined in.
John caught sight of Aeryn's smirk. "Tell Moya we're very happy for her." he grinned. "C'mon 'D' – let's take a look at the hangar damage."
* * * * * *
Moya lurched, yet again, and they found themselves in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets on the floor. John groaned and started gathering himself up. "Think we should strap in?" he suggested with a chuckle.
"Mmmmmm," Aeryn mumbled. "Staying here. Can't fall off the floor. . ."
John sighed resignedly. "Good plan." He burrowed back under the covers, wrapping himself around her.
"How long do you think this goes on?" she said sleepily.
"It took us four years."
"Took us half a cycle," she corrected.
"Why did we never follow up on that?"
"Lots of reasons – " remembering –
"Fear?" John hazarded.
"Hmm – Pride – Duty - -"
"You're OK with us now though?" he nuzzled into her neck.
"Of course. John, what IS wrong?"
"I kinda assumed you'd take my name, hon. It's usual - 's all."
"There is no 'usual' for us."
* * * * * *
Breakfast was a grumpy affair. No-one had slept well with Moya playing tag amongst the asteroids.
"Pilot – do you have any experience of what happens when he catches up?"
"No, Commander. As you know, Talyn was not the result of a natural mating."
"I thought you said she wasn't interested."
"Moya is – undecided. While she is flattered by the attention, Moya has no wish to produce another offspring."
"It wouldn't be the same again, Pilot," Chiana said.
"A second offspring would not be a hybrid," Aeryn said gently. "And we all know more about it now . . ."
"Nonetheless, Officer Sun, erm – Offi. . . – Aeryn."
"Pilot - 'Officer Sun' is fine!"
"Well, for all our sakes," Rygel cut in, "tell her to Starburst now. Lose the randy yotz. Solve her problems and ours."
"No," D'Argo said. "No-one seems to have heard of us here, and the local commerce planet is peaceful. It would be idiocy to relocate."
"I agree, Captain D'Argo," Pilot said, "and besides, Moya is not ready to leave at this time."
Rygel groaned theatrically.
"I'm wondering if we should take shore leave, erm, when the time comes," D'Argo suggested.
"Ewww!" said Rygel. "Abandon ship now, I say!"
"Nonsense," Noranti said. "To be part of the beautiful creation of life . . ."
"But – well – consenting adults in private is one thing," John said.
"Might be fun," Chiana chirped up.
"Glad you're feeling better," Ryg told her with a Humph!
"People –" Pilot broke in – "Moya has never commented on the mating rituals of her crew . . ." he left it hanging.
"Time for work," John suggested briskly, and the party dispersed.
* * * * * *
For a time Moya flew quietly alongside the big male, Etam, and life on board quietened down again. Her work done, Aeryn settled down with a book up on the terrace, where she hoped it would be quiet. She was less than happy when John joined her.
"You reading?"
"Obviously."
"Liv give you that? "
"No. Bobby."
"Hey, it's a picture book . ." John grinned, seeing the fuzzy, weird creatures inhabiting the pages.
Aeryn took her eyes from the book, which she'd barely been reading anyway, and fixed them on Crichton. "And what, she asked is wrong with that?"
"Nothi'. Nothing's wrong with that – I haven't seen one of those in – in SO long. It's kinda . . . " He stopped himself, just in time, from saying 'cute'.
Instead he took a while to study his wife. Wife – that would take some getting used to. And maybe a little more adjustment than he'd realised.
"So why are you so cranky?"
"Why am I!?"
"Hormones, that's what it is."
"Idiot!"
"You're mad at me."
"Why would I be?"
"Search me? What is it? Is it the whole name thing?"
Aeryn had been surprised to find how much it meant to her and had been trying to work out for her own satisfaction why it mattered. John had interrupted her reverie before she was ready. Now she had to try to work it out aloud.
"My name - my name is ME. You want me to change it."
"It's tradition, custom, is all . . ."
"It seems an odd custom - you love me so much you want to own me?"
"No - !"
"Change something as, as fundamental as who I am?"
"Well, if you put it that way. . ."
"My name is all I have left. I take my name from my mother, and she from hers, and so back through generations of service; and so my daughter will from me."
"And your son?" John studied her, gnawing his thumb in that way he had.
"Oh - -" she said, with a small frown.
"What of my line? And my father's?"
"Well - we can negotiate on that."
With a grin he said, "Negotiating might be fun . . ."
Part of her mind stood outside all this and thought how silly it was – but she couldn't let it go. "I pledged myself to you, but I thought it was a union of equals," she struggled on.
"Sure –" (which, he realised, was quite a leap for this PeaceKeeper of four years back - but still he was hurt).
"I pledged you my life and my love - you want my identity too?"
"No - You want I should take your name?" John said, knowing he was being irrational.
"Of course not! Why should either of us change? Does it really matter? "
The steam began to go out of it, and both wondered why they were getting it so out of proportion.
"What we are doing here is new, unique," Aeryn told John gently. "You, me, this child. We make our own rules."
They paused, as the huge male swung into view. Their eyes followed his majestic flight.
"No crew –" John mused.
"He's never been captive," Aeryn said.
"Ahem," Pilot broke in tentatively. "I am in communication with Etam's pilot. He asks if you would like to go aboard?"
It didn't need discussion. A quick glance and they were on their feet. John watched appreciatively as Aeryn strode out.
"Air 'n Sun. Essential to life. Who'd want to change that?" he smiled to himself.