Disclaimer: Farscape and all its characters belongs to its creators.
This fic belongs to me.
Archiving: Share and Enjoy. Just email cath@bab5.cx with the URL so I
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Hell is Other People (Especially if They're Rygel)
InterNutter
"Don't worry about it Pilot. We'll just keep them occupied or
distracted until they give up on Sparky, here." Crichton dumped the
Hynerian on Pilot's console and shot Pilot an apologetic smile.
"Couldn't take more than an arn or two. In the meantime, lock your doors
and sit tight."
Pilot and Rygel exchanged looks as Crichton left Pilot's nest. The
simbiote dutifully closed and sealed all entrances to his chamber. From
now, until his crew contacted him, only a DRD could get in or out.
"Don't expect me to talk to you while I'm here," grumbled Rygel. "I'm
the beloved Dominar of well over six hundred billion subjects. I
shouldn't have to lower myself to speak to a mere servicer."
Pilot nodded and continued to monitor Moya's systems. Part of his mind
began counting in his head.
"I'm hungry."
Five. "John Crichton forsaw such an eventuality some time ago. He gave
me a supply of food cubes and --" Pilot trailed off, looking at the
objects.
"And *what*?"
"And - crackers."
Rygel shuddered, and made no move towards the emergency food supply.
Pilot went back to looking after Moya, yet some part of him started
counting. Three, four, five...
"I'm *bored*."
"Six," said Pilot, rather absently.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just thinking aloud."
"*Where* is the unholy one?" The Yugdab General had a very loud, very
piercing voice, not to mention the sort of build that would put any
amazonian warrior to shame.
"I'm sorry, General," Zhaan's quiet voice did a lot to settle all the
raised hackles currently in the room. "But Dominar Rygel perished in the
last attack. I'm afraid he didn't reveal to us where your sacred
object--"
"The Holy Ma'xi of Niffu'gam," interrupted the General.
"Rygel neglected to mention where he'd hidden it after he so cruelly
stole it from your Queen's keeping."
The General was less than pleased. "Justice is only partially served,
Delvian. Our Relic must be returned and purified at once!"
Zhaan bowed out of their way. "Of course. You're more than welcome to
aid us in our search. I only request that you avoid our Pilot's chamber.
Ever since the Dominar's demise, he's been - inconsolable."
"Poor guy thinks it's his fault," added Crichton.
"This is all your fault!"
"*My* fault?" Queried Pilot. "How is this *my* fault?"
"You're the one living in the single, best defensable place in this
entire yotzing ship. If this vessel had weapons, we wouldn't be in this
dren."
"If Moya had weapons, I'm sure the Peacekeepers would never have
bothered her. As a direct consequence, you wouldn't have my help now."
"*Help*? You call this *help*?"
Pilot sighed. "I could easily open a door and tell the Yugdab exactly
where you are. Instead, I'm participating in the ruse Crichton
fabricated in order to save your life."
Rygel lapsed into silence. Given his personality type, this was not a
state that would last long.
"I'm *bored*," he said after three microts. "Don't you have anything
to do in here?"
"*I* have plenty to do," Pilot replied, and felt the need to remind
the Hynerian of everything that needed doing. "This includes keeping the
Yugdab from flaying you alive." After a moment's thought, he added,
"Though I sometimes fail to see *why*..."
Rygel had no verbal response to that. Instead, a small squeaking noise
reverberrated through Pilot's chamber.
Pilot glared at Rygel as he detected helium. A small amount would do
him no lasting harm; but continued exposure to the chemical was
something he'd rather avoid. "Please refrain from doing that," Pilot
requested, if squeakily.
"I'm not sorry. It's your fault," squeaked Rygel. "*You* mentioned the
Yugdab flaying me alive."
Pilot growled. The effect was not lost on Rygel, who saw Pilot's
sharp-looking teeth *very* clearly.
There was another noise. "If you don't like it, don't make me
nervous."
"If you're nervous, you're welcome to leave." There was entirely too
much helium in the air. Pilot could feel it beginning to irritate his
eyes.
"You *want* me to die a slow and painful death, you enormous yotz!"
Rygel squeaked again, both verbally and - non-verbally. "This is all
your fault!"
"*My* fault? Do you have a suggestion to make, then, Your Eminence?"
"Yes," Rygel chirped. "You could have starburst somewhere else.
*Anywhere* else!"
"May I remind you, this trouble followed *you*?" Pilot blinked and
coughed. Too much helium. *Way* too much helium... clogging up his
sinuses. Stinging his eyes. "If *you* hadn't offended the Yugdab *Queen*
with your mysoginistic tendancies..."
"*ME*?! *She* was the one who called me a runt! It's not *my* fault
she's ugly as well as stupid..." He punctuated his remarks with another
expulsion of the horrible gas.
"If you'd just give her back the Sacred Ma'xi of Niffu'gam, maybe
she'd decide to leave us be!"
"Never! A relic like that is worth a fortune to the right dealers.
Though why anyone would want that hideous, moist, red thing is beyond
me... Fertility symbol, my eye!"
"(hi-HRAKK)!" Pilot was jolted forward by an involuntary spasm, his
teeth clashing in a particularly violent way. His vision was going
steadily downstream as helium flooded the atmosphere.
"Don't think you can threaten me, either," Added Rygel. "You'll just
have to put up with me."
"I'm - not..." Pilot gasped. "Threadenig (hi-HRAKK) you. I'b allergig
to (hi-HRAKK) heliub. (hi-HRAKK)"
Rummaging through Rygel's quarters was disturbing enough, without
having a gigantic amazon warrior breathing down his neck. It wasn't just
the muscles, Crichton had to admit, but the height. Or the fact that she
was eyeing him off like a piece of meat in the store.
Crichton did his best to diffuse the situation - or at least cool it
down; by sharing his distaste at Rygel's various practices. Real or
imagined. Of course, it helped that the Hynerian was a complete slob.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwww..." Crichton made a face. "I think I've
found all his dirty underpants. Whew! Man, what a stink. These must have
been here for *months* - I mean; monens." He excavated a peculiarly
shaped object from the middle of the pile. It wasn't the Ma'xi of
Niffu'gam. "And I don't even wanna *know* what he does with *this*."
The Lieutenant still had that come-on smile plastered on her face.
"You don't have to amuse me, male," she cooed. "I already find you quite
attractive."
"I - wasn't trying to amuse," he said, heart racing with fear. "I was
- trying to deter you." He thought on his feet. "The noble and battle-
proud Aeryn Sun has already laid a claim to me." _Don't kill me for
this, Aeryn..._ He mentally thought at the Sebacean. _I need you to back
me up on this._
Aeryn, meanwhile, was deep in one of Moya's many maintenance tubes,
checking every atom for a Hynerian hiding place. If Rygel wasn't already
'dead', she would personally kill the little tralk.
"That male of yours," asked the General. "Are you two - bonded?"
"Not yet," said Aeryn as casually as she could manage. "I'm still
deciding whether or not I want to keep him."
"Do you share?"
She glared at the General with enough venom to silence her.
"Pity," whispered the General. "I rather liked him."
"(hi-HRAKK)...ooohhhhhhh..."
"I stopped half an arn ago," griped Rygel. "What more do you want?"
Pilot gave that due thought. "I wa'd to breadh clead air agaid. (hi-
HRAKK)...oooooohhhhh... I wa'd by claws to sdob shakig so I cad care for
Boya. (hi-HRAKK)...mmmmmnnnnhhhh... A'd I wa'd by carapace to sdob achig
for five bicrods..."
"Complain, complain, complain," said Rygel. "I'm starving myself so
*you* can get some cleaner air, and all you do is go on about how badly
done by you are! I'm frelling well wasting away!"
Without another word, Pilot offered Rygel one box each of food cubes
and crackers.
"No, you stupid yotz! Don't you understand that I'm nobly sacrificing
myself for you?"
"Ead," managed Pilot. "Afder all the drouble we've gode to; you should
dod die by sdarvatiod. (hi-HRAKK)... uurrrghhhh..."
Rygel was more than annoyed. "I'm making you *sick*, you frelling
fopooter yotz! Can't you get that through your thick *skull*?"
"(hi-HRAKK)...ohhhh... You are a be'ber ob by crew. (hi-HRAKK)
...urgh... Id's by duty to bake sure your deeds are -- (hi-HRAKK) --
seed to. Ady discobfort I feel is -- (hi-HRAKK) -- idcodseque'dtial."
"Inconsequential?" Rygel drew himself up to his full height.
"*Inconsequential*? What about *Moya*, hmm? What about your *duty* to
*her*? You can't very well take care of Moya in your state, can you?"
"...no," managed Pilot. His voice was going, now, as a direct result
of his spasms. "A'd thad's the odly thig I regred."
Rygel stared at him. "You're completely frelled in the head if you
think I'm going to help you, you know."
Pilot swayed violently back and forth as a paroxysm of spasms overtook
him. After he'd finally recovered, he managed, "I wouldn't thig of
asging you." He blinked away tears and tried to focus on the controls.
"And why is *that*, Pilot?" Rygel demanded. "Do you think I'm
incapable?"
Pilot rolled his eyes. "No. I do dod thig you're incabable... ugh... I
jusd -- (hi-HRAKK) (hi-HRAKK) (hi-HRAKK) -- I jusd wouldn'd asg." His
tremula was making his body heat up. Pilot tried to adjust the
environmentals inside his nest accordingly.
"Well, I'm *less* incapable than you are," announced Rygel, crossing
the distance to the control and adjusting it himself. "*You're* so
incapable you can't even *find* the controls."
"...mmnnnnnggghhh..." said Pilot, angling himself so he caught the
first cool draft from the air vents. "Aaahhhhhh..."
"Now listen to me," Rygel was saying. "Your best hope of getting
better is getting rid of me. It's the only way you can properly care for
Moya."
"No."
"*No*? I am Rygel the Sixteenth; Dominar of over six hundred billion
subjects! You can't say 'no' to me!"
"I cad," Pilot gasped, "A'd I did. A'd I will agaid if I have to. Our
crew deeds your bargaidig skills. As does Boya." Facing the air vent
helped. He was no longer spasming as badly, nor as often. "Id ady eve'd;
eved if you did leave here, it would tage be half a solar day to
cobpledely recover."
"So, in other words, I'm stuck here with *you*."
"Yes," said Pilot. "(hi-HRAKK)... For however lo'g id tages."
Rygel grabbed a box of food cubes. "Then I may as well make myself
comfortable while I deign to help you in your diminished capacity. It's
an *honour* to be assisted by a Dominar. Remember that."
"I -- (hi-HRAKK) -- will."
Zhaan couldn't contain the Yugdab much longer. They insisted on talking
to Pilot. She delayed them long enough to get them to a clamshell
viewer, and hoped that the DRDs had given him enough warning.
"Pilot? Are you willing to speak to us, yet?"
The image that came forth on the viewer was not one that filled Zhaan
with pride or joy. Pilot was undergoing a severe allergic reaction to
something, and was looking like a picture of misery.
"Bage id quig, Zhaad," Pilot croaked. "I'b dod feelig well."
The Yugdab behind her gasped at the sight, and more than a few faces
were frozen in expressions of sympathy.
"Have the DRD's found any sign of the relic?"
Meanwhile...
"They're goi'g to codtagd us," Pilot managed, wheezing slightly.
"Hide."
"*Where*?"
Caught in an overwhelming paroxysm of involuntary spasms, Pilot could
only gesture at a DRD hatch at the rear of his console. "A (hi-HRAKK)
DRD will tage you (hi-HRAKK) sobewhere safe (hi-HRAKK)."
Pilot watched through the DRD escort's eyes to make sure Rygel was
safe. The things he did for his crew. No-one at home would believe that
serving a Leviathan would be anything but pleasurable.
"Pilot?" Zhaan's face appeared on one of his screens. "Are you willing
to talk to us yet?" This was a code to indicate that the Yugdab were
still aboard and searching.
He activated the comm, knowing full well how he looked and sounded.
"Bage id quig, Zhaad. I'b dod feelig well."
"Have the DRD's found any sign of the relic?"
Pilot flipped through thousands of DRD points of view. "They're sdill
searchig... ode bobend..." One DRD was looking at *Rygel* - holding that
selfsame relic. "I thi'g - ode has fou'd id. (hi-HRAKK)...ooohhhhhh..."
A voice just outside of visual pickup range said, "He must feel
terribly over the loss of his crewmember."
Another concurred with, "That poor male. We've broken his hearts."
The DRD had latched onto the relic with a claw and was fighting Rygel
for posession of it. The maintenance robot won, of course, owing to
superior armaments.
Pilot ignored the Yugdab's misplaced sympathies and sent the DRD
beetling off to command with its prize. No doubt, when Rygel woke up and
discovered his ill-gotten gains were missing, he would want retribution.
"I'b se'dig id to you dow. (hi-HRAKK) (hi-HRAKK)...unnnnggghhh..."
"Thank you, Pilot," said Zhaan.
One of the Yugdab entered the visual pickup. "We will see to it that
your loss is compensated, noble Pilot. We have wronged you in the
accidental killing of a crewmember you obviously felt much for;
therefore we will atone. The Yugdab will supply your ship with all that
your remaining crew requires."
Pilot could think of nothing more to say than, "Tha'g you."
Rygel the Sixteenth, Dominar of over six hundred billion subjects, and
temporary thief until he got back on his figurative feet; hunkered down
in the hiding place and drew out his booty. He would never, as long as
he lived, understand religions and their fascination with things left
behind by saints.
The Yugdab *were* stupid as well as ugly. They'd never even searched
his person before he left. So the stupid Holy Ma'xi of Niffu'gam had
leaked a foul-smelling red fluid on his clothes and body. He could
bathe. He could even buy new clothes with the profits from the sale of
the wretched oblong *thing*.
The DRD assigned to guarding him latched onto the relic with a
manipulating claw.
"Let *go*," he hissed. "It's *mine*! I stole it fair and square!"
The DRD, of course, had more weapons available than he did, and
stunned him.
"You frelling, great, idiotic, farhbotz *lump*!"
"Welcome back, your eminence," said Zhaan.
"You mean he *didn't* die?" asked Chiana.
Rygel growled at the Nebari as he made his way back around to Pilot's
front. It didn't matter to him that the simbiote still looked like
hezmana warmed over. What mattered was that *he*, a Dominar, had been
personally affronted.
The rest of the crew were there, clustered around Pilot for some
reason.
"After all the trouble I went to to acquire that thing," Rygel ranted.
"*You* had to go and give it back to them - at a cost to *my* health.
I'll have you know that the stunners on the DRDs give me *headaches*."
"(hi-HRAKK)!" said Pilot. He was secreting mucous from his skin.
"My clothing is irrepairably *damaged*, thanks to you! Look at it!
That yotzing relic leaked all over my robes of state!"
Crichton sniggered.
Rygel turned and glared them down. It didn't work. All of them were
battling to keep a straight face. "I had that thing concealed on my
person for *arns*," he declared. "And *that* was not an amusing
experience."
Crichton collapsed in gales of laughter. One by one, the rest of them
followed suit, save Zhaan - who merely had the giggles.
"What's so frelling *funny*?"
Zhaan stifled her laughter and drew the Dominar aside. "The Yugdab
explained the signifigance of the relic to us...(Pft)" She cleared her
throat. "Apparently, the Sacred Ma'xi holds the - er; 'seasonal blood'
of their Saint Niffu'gam. The fact that it's still moist after thousands
of cycles is what makes it holy."
"I'm... wearing... blood," Rygel said slowly.
"Menstrual blood," corrected Zhaan. She, too, finally lost control and
collapsed into an extremely merry blue heap.
Rygel, dignity severely wounded, used Pilot's console as a podium.
"None of you have any idea of the sacrifices I've had to make during
this whole affair! I *starved* myself! I was forced to converse with a
servicer! I wore an ancient *feminine* *hygene* *product* next to my
*skin*!"
"Could sobeode ged hib oud of here?" Pilot requested. "I'b fightig ad
urge to *bite* hib."
Rygel vented one last SBD in Pilot's direction before exiting the
chamber as fast as he was able.
~Epilogue~
The cloth was soft, cool, and comforting against his hot skin. Pilot
sighed at its gentle caress.
"Feeling better?" Zhaan inquired.
"Yes. Thang you. The shiveri'g should sdob sood. I thing I'b over the
spasbs."
Zhaan, along with Aeryn, Crichton, D'Argo and even Chiana, continued
wiping his carapace clean of its defensive ooze.
Pilot knew he shouldn't, but he revelled in the attention. It was just
what he needed after arns worth of exposure to an allergen. It let him
know just how valued he and Moya were amongst their crew.
"I don't mean to rag on you, Pilot, but this stuff *smells*," said
Crichton. "What *is* it?"
"Id's a defedsive mechadisb," Pilot replied, "to try a'd shield by
body agaidst poisods. Ebed I fi'd id udpleasa'd."
Aeryn worked at cleaning Pilot's face and head, using a surprisingly
delicate touch on his sensitive skin. "Just a few more microts, and we
should be able to set up that diffuser for you," she murmured. "The
Yugdab gave us a good measure of herbal remedies. Including some good
for fighting allergies."
Pilot sighed once again as Aeryn dabbed at his head flanges. "You
don'd deed to go to all this trouble, jusd for be."
"Nonsense, Pilot," Zhaan soothed, clearing his chest.
"We owe you," said D'Argo as he buffed Pilot's spine. "Anyone who
spends five arns in a locked room with Rygel *deserves* to be
compensated."
Chiana was busily working on one of Pilot's arms, adding a massage to
the general cleaning. "Hey, Moya was putting up with toad-boy, too.
Maybe we aughta rub *her* down as well."
"Thad would be very dice," said Pilot.
"*Chiana*!"
Pilot smiled a rather wicked grin at his crew. "If we bage *Rygel* do
id."
"Isn't he allergic to the chemicals Moya likes spread on her
bulkheads?" Zhaan asked.
"Why, yes. I do believe thad is the case. (hi--)... (hi--)... hah..."
~Fin~
(HRAKK)!
This fic belongs to me.
Archiving: Share and Enjoy. Just email cath@bab5.cx with the URL so I
can check U spelled my name right :)
Hell is Other People (Especially if They're Rygel)
InterNutter
"Don't worry about it Pilot. We'll just keep them occupied or
distracted until they give up on Sparky, here." Crichton dumped the
Hynerian on Pilot's console and shot Pilot an apologetic smile.
"Couldn't take more than an arn or two. In the meantime, lock your doors
and sit tight."
Pilot and Rygel exchanged looks as Crichton left Pilot's nest. The
simbiote dutifully closed and sealed all entrances to his chamber. From
now, until his crew contacted him, only a DRD could get in or out.
"Don't expect me to talk to you while I'm here," grumbled Rygel. "I'm
the beloved Dominar of well over six hundred billion subjects. I
shouldn't have to lower myself to speak to a mere servicer."
Pilot nodded and continued to monitor Moya's systems. Part of his mind
began counting in his head.
"I'm hungry."
Five. "John Crichton forsaw such an eventuality some time ago. He gave
me a supply of food cubes and --" Pilot trailed off, looking at the
objects.
"And *what*?"
"And - crackers."
Rygel shuddered, and made no move towards the emergency food supply.
Pilot went back to looking after Moya, yet some part of him started
counting. Three, four, five...
"I'm *bored*."
"Six," said Pilot, rather absently.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just thinking aloud."
"*Where* is the unholy one?" The Yugdab General had a very loud, very
piercing voice, not to mention the sort of build that would put any
amazonian warrior to shame.
"I'm sorry, General," Zhaan's quiet voice did a lot to settle all the
raised hackles currently in the room. "But Dominar Rygel perished in the
last attack. I'm afraid he didn't reveal to us where your sacred
object--"
"The Holy Ma'xi of Niffu'gam," interrupted the General.
"Rygel neglected to mention where he'd hidden it after he so cruelly
stole it from your Queen's keeping."
The General was less than pleased. "Justice is only partially served,
Delvian. Our Relic must be returned and purified at once!"
Zhaan bowed out of their way. "Of course. You're more than welcome to
aid us in our search. I only request that you avoid our Pilot's chamber.
Ever since the Dominar's demise, he's been - inconsolable."
"Poor guy thinks it's his fault," added Crichton.
"This is all your fault!"
"*My* fault?" Queried Pilot. "How is this *my* fault?"
"You're the one living in the single, best defensable place in this
entire yotzing ship. If this vessel had weapons, we wouldn't be in this
dren."
"If Moya had weapons, I'm sure the Peacekeepers would never have
bothered her. As a direct consequence, you wouldn't have my help now."
"*Help*? You call this *help*?"
Pilot sighed. "I could easily open a door and tell the Yugdab exactly
where you are. Instead, I'm participating in the ruse Crichton
fabricated in order to save your life."
Rygel lapsed into silence. Given his personality type, this was not a
state that would last long.
"I'm *bored*," he said after three microts. "Don't you have anything
to do in here?"
"*I* have plenty to do," Pilot replied, and felt the need to remind
the Hynerian of everything that needed doing. "This includes keeping the
Yugdab from flaying you alive." After a moment's thought, he added,
"Though I sometimes fail to see *why*..."
Rygel had no verbal response to that. Instead, a small squeaking noise
reverberrated through Pilot's chamber.
Pilot glared at Rygel as he detected helium. A small amount would do
him no lasting harm; but continued exposure to the chemical was
something he'd rather avoid. "Please refrain from doing that," Pilot
requested, if squeakily.
"I'm not sorry. It's your fault," squeaked Rygel. "*You* mentioned the
Yugdab flaying me alive."
Pilot growled. The effect was not lost on Rygel, who saw Pilot's
sharp-looking teeth *very* clearly.
There was another noise. "If you don't like it, don't make me
nervous."
"If you're nervous, you're welcome to leave." There was entirely too
much helium in the air. Pilot could feel it beginning to irritate his
eyes.
"You *want* me to die a slow and painful death, you enormous yotz!"
Rygel squeaked again, both verbally and - non-verbally. "This is all
your fault!"
"*My* fault? Do you have a suggestion to make, then, Your Eminence?"
"Yes," Rygel chirped. "You could have starburst somewhere else.
*Anywhere* else!"
"May I remind you, this trouble followed *you*?" Pilot blinked and
coughed. Too much helium. *Way* too much helium... clogging up his
sinuses. Stinging his eyes. "If *you* hadn't offended the Yugdab *Queen*
with your mysoginistic tendancies..."
"*ME*?! *She* was the one who called me a runt! It's not *my* fault
she's ugly as well as stupid..." He punctuated his remarks with another
expulsion of the horrible gas.
"If you'd just give her back the Sacred Ma'xi of Niffu'gam, maybe
she'd decide to leave us be!"
"Never! A relic like that is worth a fortune to the right dealers.
Though why anyone would want that hideous, moist, red thing is beyond
me... Fertility symbol, my eye!"
"(hi-HRAKK)!" Pilot was jolted forward by an involuntary spasm, his
teeth clashing in a particularly violent way. His vision was going
steadily downstream as helium flooded the atmosphere.
"Don't think you can threaten me, either," Added Rygel. "You'll just
have to put up with me."
"I'm - not..." Pilot gasped. "Threadenig (hi-HRAKK) you. I'b allergig
to (hi-HRAKK) heliub. (hi-HRAKK)"
Rummaging through Rygel's quarters was disturbing enough, without
having a gigantic amazon warrior breathing down his neck. It wasn't just
the muscles, Crichton had to admit, but the height. Or the fact that she
was eyeing him off like a piece of meat in the store.
Crichton did his best to diffuse the situation - or at least cool it
down; by sharing his distaste at Rygel's various practices. Real or
imagined. Of course, it helped that the Hynerian was a complete slob.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwww..." Crichton made a face. "I think I've
found all his dirty underpants. Whew! Man, what a stink. These must have
been here for *months* - I mean; monens." He excavated a peculiarly
shaped object from the middle of the pile. It wasn't the Ma'xi of
Niffu'gam. "And I don't even wanna *know* what he does with *this*."
The Lieutenant still had that come-on smile plastered on her face.
"You don't have to amuse me, male," she cooed. "I already find you quite
attractive."
"I - wasn't trying to amuse," he said, heart racing with fear. "I was
- trying to deter you." He thought on his feet. "The noble and battle-
proud Aeryn Sun has already laid a claim to me." _Don't kill me for
this, Aeryn..._ He mentally thought at the Sebacean. _I need you to back
me up on this._
Aeryn, meanwhile, was deep in one of Moya's many maintenance tubes,
checking every atom for a Hynerian hiding place. If Rygel wasn't already
'dead', she would personally kill the little tralk.
"That male of yours," asked the General. "Are you two - bonded?"
"Not yet," said Aeryn as casually as she could manage. "I'm still
deciding whether or not I want to keep him."
"Do you share?"
She glared at the General with enough venom to silence her.
"Pity," whispered the General. "I rather liked him."
"(hi-HRAKK)...ooohhhhhhh..."
"I stopped half an arn ago," griped Rygel. "What more do you want?"
Pilot gave that due thought. "I wa'd to breadh clead air agaid. (hi-
HRAKK)...oooooohhhhh... I wa'd by claws to sdob shakig so I cad care for
Boya. (hi-HRAKK)...mmmmmnnnnhhhh... A'd I wa'd by carapace to sdob achig
for five bicrods..."
"Complain, complain, complain," said Rygel. "I'm starving myself so
*you* can get some cleaner air, and all you do is go on about how badly
done by you are! I'm frelling well wasting away!"
Without another word, Pilot offered Rygel one box each of food cubes
and crackers.
"No, you stupid yotz! Don't you understand that I'm nobly sacrificing
myself for you?"
"Ead," managed Pilot. "Afder all the drouble we've gode to; you should
dod die by sdarvatiod. (hi-HRAKK)... uurrrghhhh..."
Rygel was more than annoyed. "I'm making you *sick*, you frelling
fopooter yotz! Can't you get that through your thick *skull*?"
"(hi-HRAKK)...ohhhh... You are a be'ber ob by crew. (hi-HRAKK)
...urgh... Id's by duty to bake sure your deeds are -- (hi-HRAKK) --
seed to. Ady discobfort I feel is -- (hi-HRAKK) -- idcodseque'dtial."
"Inconsequential?" Rygel drew himself up to his full height.
"*Inconsequential*? What about *Moya*, hmm? What about your *duty* to
*her*? You can't very well take care of Moya in your state, can you?"
"...no," managed Pilot. His voice was going, now, as a direct result
of his spasms. "A'd thad's the odly thig I regred."
Rygel stared at him. "You're completely frelled in the head if you
think I'm going to help you, you know."
Pilot swayed violently back and forth as a paroxysm of spasms overtook
him. After he'd finally recovered, he managed, "I wouldn't thig of
asging you." He blinked away tears and tried to focus on the controls.
"And why is *that*, Pilot?" Rygel demanded. "Do you think I'm
incapable?"
Pilot rolled his eyes. "No. I do dod thig you're incabable... ugh... I
jusd -- (hi-HRAKK) (hi-HRAKK) (hi-HRAKK) -- I jusd wouldn'd asg." His
tremula was making his body heat up. Pilot tried to adjust the
environmentals inside his nest accordingly.
"Well, I'm *less* incapable than you are," announced Rygel, crossing
the distance to the control and adjusting it himself. "*You're* so
incapable you can't even *find* the controls."
"...mmnnnnnggghhh..." said Pilot, angling himself so he caught the
first cool draft from the air vents. "Aaahhhhhh..."
"Now listen to me," Rygel was saying. "Your best hope of getting
better is getting rid of me. It's the only way you can properly care for
Moya."
"No."
"*No*? I am Rygel the Sixteenth; Dominar of over six hundred billion
subjects! You can't say 'no' to me!"
"I cad," Pilot gasped, "A'd I did. A'd I will agaid if I have to. Our
crew deeds your bargaidig skills. As does Boya." Facing the air vent
helped. He was no longer spasming as badly, nor as often. "Id ady eve'd;
eved if you did leave here, it would tage be half a solar day to
cobpledely recover."
"So, in other words, I'm stuck here with *you*."
"Yes," said Pilot. "(hi-HRAKK)... For however lo'g id tages."
Rygel grabbed a box of food cubes. "Then I may as well make myself
comfortable while I deign to help you in your diminished capacity. It's
an *honour* to be assisted by a Dominar. Remember that."
"I -- (hi-HRAKK) -- will."
Zhaan couldn't contain the Yugdab much longer. They insisted on talking
to Pilot. She delayed them long enough to get them to a clamshell
viewer, and hoped that the DRDs had given him enough warning.
"Pilot? Are you willing to speak to us, yet?"
The image that came forth on the viewer was not one that filled Zhaan
with pride or joy. Pilot was undergoing a severe allergic reaction to
something, and was looking like a picture of misery.
"Bage id quig, Zhaad," Pilot croaked. "I'b dod feelig well."
The Yugdab behind her gasped at the sight, and more than a few faces
were frozen in expressions of sympathy.
"Have the DRD's found any sign of the relic?"
Meanwhile...
"They're goi'g to codtagd us," Pilot managed, wheezing slightly.
"Hide."
"*Where*?"
Caught in an overwhelming paroxysm of involuntary spasms, Pilot could
only gesture at a DRD hatch at the rear of his console. "A (hi-HRAKK)
DRD will tage you (hi-HRAKK) sobewhere safe (hi-HRAKK)."
Pilot watched through the DRD escort's eyes to make sure Rygel was
safe. The things he did for his crew. No-one at home would believe that
serving a Leviathan would be anything but pleasurable.
"Pilot?" Zhaan's face appeared on one of his screens. "Are you willing
to talk to us yet?" This was a code to indicate that the Yugdab were
still aboard and searching.
He activated the comm, knowing full well how he looked and sounded.
"Bage id quig, Zhaad. I'b dod feelig well."
"Have the DRD's found any sign of the relic?"
Pilot flipped through thousands of DRD points of view. "They're sdill
searchig... ode bobend..." One DRD was looking at *Rygel* - holding that
selfsame relic. "I thi'g - ode has fou'd id. (hi-HRAKK)...ooohhhhhh..."
A voice just outside of visual pickup range said, "He must feel
terribly over the loss of his crewmember."
Another concurred with, "That poor male. We've broken his hearts."
The DRD had latched onto the relic with a claw and was fighting Rygel
for posession of it. The maintenance robot won, of course, owing to
superior armaments.
Pilot ignored the Yugdab's misplaced sympathies and sent the DRD
beetling off to command with its prize. No doubt, when Rygel woke up and
discovered his ill-gotten gains were missing, he would want retribution.
"I'b se'dig id to you dow. (hi-HRAKK) (hi-HRAKK)...unnnnggghhh..."
"Thank you, Pilot," said Zhaan.
One of the Yugdab entered the visual pickup. "We will see to it that
your loss is compensated, noble Pilot. We have wronged you in the
accidental killing of a crewmember you obviously felt much for;
therefore we will atone. The Yugdab will supply your ship with all that
your remaining crew requires."
Pilot could think of nothing more to say than, "Tha'g you."
Rygel the Sixteenth, Dominar of over six hundred billion subjects, and
temporary thief until he got back on his figurative feet; hunkered down
in the hiding place and drew out his booty. He would never, as long as
he lived, understand religions and their fascination with things left
behind by saints.
The Yugdab *were* stupid as well as ugly. They'd never even searched
his person before he left. So the stupid Holy Ma'xi of Niffu'gam had
leaked a foul-smelling red fluid on his clothes and body. He could
bathe. He could even buy new clothes with the profits from the sale of
the wretched oblong *thing*.
The DRD assigned to guarding him latched onto the relic with a
manipulating claw.
"Let *go*," he hissed. "It's *mine*! I stole it fair and square!"
The DRD, of course, had more weapons available than he did, and
stunned him.
"You frelling, great, idiotic, farhbotz *lump*!"
"Welcome back, your eminence," said Zhaan.
"You mean he *didn't* die?" asked Chiana.
Rygel growled at the Nebari as he made his way back around to Pilot's
front. It didn't matter to him that the simbiote still looked like
hezmana warmed over. What mattered was that *he*, a Dominar, had been
personally affronted.
The rest of the crew were there, clustered around Pilot for some
reason.
"After all the trouble I went to to acquire that thing," Rygel ranted.
"*You* had to go and give it back to them - at a cost to *my* health.
I'll have you know that the stunners on the DRDs give me *headaches*."
"(hi-HRAKK)!" said Pilot. He was secreting mucous from his skin.
"My clothing is irrepairably *damaged*, thanks to you! Look at it!
That yotzing relic leaked all over my robes of state!"
Crichton sniggered.
Rygel turned and glared them down. It didn't work. All of them were
battling to keep a straight face. "I had that thing concealed on my
person for *arns*," he declared. "And *that* was not an amusing
experience."
Crichton collapsed in gales of laughter. One by one, the rest of them
followed suit, save Zhaan - who merely had the giggles.
"What's so frelling *funny*?"
Zhaan stifled her laughter and drew the Dominar aside. "The Yugdab
explained the signifigance of the relic to us...(Pft)" She cleared her
throat. "Apparently, the Sacred Ma'xi holds the - er; 'seasonal blood'
of their Saint Niffu'gam. The fact that it's still moist after thousands
of cycles is what makes it holy."
"I'm... wearing... blood," Rygel said slowly.
"Menstrual blood," corrected Zhaan. She, too, finally lost control and
collapsed into an extremely merry blue heap.
Rygel, dignity severely wounded, used Pilot's console as a podium.
"None of you have any idea of the sacrifices I've had to make during
this whole affair! I *starved* myself! I was forced to converse with a
servicer! I wore an ancient *feminine* *hygene* *product* next to my
*skin*!"
"Could sobeode ged hib oud of here?" Pilot requested. "I'b fightig ad
urge to *bite* hib."
Rygel vented one last SBD in Pilot's direction before exiting the
chamber as fast as he was able.
~Epilogue~
The cloth was soft, cool, and comforting against his hot skin. Pilot
sighed at its gentle caress.
"Feeling better?" Zhaan inquired.
"Yes. Thang you. The shiveri'g should sdob sood. I thing I'b over the
spasbs."
Zhaan, along with Aeryn, Crichton, D'Argo and even Chiana, continued
wiping his carapace clean of its defensive ooze.
Pilot knew he shouldn't, but he revelled in the attention. It was just
what he needed after arns worth of exposure to an allergen. It let him
know just how valued he and Moya were amongst their crew.
"I don't mean to rag on you, Pilot, but this stuff *smells*," said
Crichton. "What *is* it?"
"Id's a defedsive mechadisb," Pilot replied, "to try a'd shield by
body agaidst poisods. Ebed I fi'd id udpleasa'd."
Aeryn worked at cleaning Pilot's face and head, using a surprisingly
delicate touch on his sensitive skin. "Just a few more microts, and we
should be able to set up that diffuser for you," she murmured. "The
Yugdab gave us a good measure of herbal remedies. Including some good
for fighting allergies."
Pilot sighed once again as Aeryn dabbed at his head flanges. "You
don'd deed to go to all this trouble, jusd for be."
"Nonsense, Pilot," Zhaan soothed, clearing his chest.
"We owe you," said D'Argo as he buffed Pilot's spine. "Anyone who
spends five arns in a locked room with Rygel *deserves* to be
compensated."
Chiana was busily working on one of Pilot's arms, adding a massage to
the general cleaning. "Hey, Moya was putting up with toad-boy, too.
Maybe we aughta rub *her* down as well."
"Thad would be very dice," said Pilot.
"*Chiana*!"
Pilot smiled a rather wicked grin at his crew. "If we bage *Rygel* do
id."
"Isn't he allergic to the chemicals Moya likes spread on her
bulkheads?" Zhaan asked.
"Why, yes. I do believe thad is the case. (hi--)... (hi--)... hah..."
~Fin~
(HRAKK)!