They were told not to go out on the plains that night.
The old patrolman at the edge of town, who always wandered the small stone ruins that surrounded the village, warned them about the Cannerbodies as they passed him by. On a warm summer's day they could've seen far in front of them nothing but rolling green hills and small country paths cutting through the farmer's fields and copses as far as the eye could see. Instead, at dusk, a slight fog descended upon the hills, obscuring their way back, until they could only see the old man's lantern dangling in the wind.
They would've used the Pod if they could have, but instead they packed for a long day's walk to the edge of the land, where the cliffs withstood the assault of the sea. It was the last place Pilot had detected D'Argo's biological print before he disappeared from his sensors, obscured by some mysterious magnetic field that disrupted the systems of any craft that would fly too close by.
Aeryn didn't mind the walk, and in fact preferred the fresh air and physical exercise after being cooped up on Moya for three weekens. John figured she was the more experienced in hiking of the pair and followed in her wake, guided by Pilot, whose voice became more garbled the more they reached their destination.
The endless grassland soon gave way for flat rocks and uneven barren landscape, where often deep crevaces seemed to cut through the plateaus, like someone took a giant crowbar and split the land into several pieces. Most times the jump across these openings was small, but other times the cracks were so large Crichton and Aeryn had to turn back and find another way across. The villagers had warned them not to trust the bridges, for the ropes had whithered and the wood was rotten.
Every day on this planet, the winds seemed to be wet and sweeping, always cold and always willing to give you a slap in the face if you weren't paying attention. They were slapping away that day when Aeryn and Crichton defied the weather gods together. She knew what he was doing when he let her lead the way, and it felt nice to be finally appreciated for her experience, rather than feared. Aeryn had previous (albeit painful) experience with rock climbing, and since there didn't seem to be any other way down, the two reluctantly put their lives in the hands of a torn second-hand knotted rope.
A unique plantlife grew near the foot of the Blaerdig Rock, from the ancient moss trickling up the steep cliffs, its roots entangled within the stone. They used to call it the wall that separated the land from the ocean, but time and water had been chipping away at it for centuries, battering, wearing down and hardening the cliffs into smooth grey rocks. The natural bridge that used to connect Blaerdig Rock to the mainland had crumbled generations ago, some say overnight in one of the worst storms of the age, leaving only this enormous stone pillar behind to withstand the might of the waves alone, while the moss seemed to slowly eat away at its base day by day. It wasn't just Crichton's hunch that lead them to it, for they both thought there had to be a reason why it stood at the centre of the magnetic field.
The patrolman had spoke of the Cannerbodies. Some old legend about creatures that housed themselves within the Rock and called it home, and who granted their mystical protection to the entire planet ever since their arrival, but there didn't seem to be much truth to that story given the planet's violent and rocky history. He'd said it was disrespect that lead to the Cannerbodies withdrawing back into their home, after which they were never seen again, and ever since the plains have been unnaturally and eerily quiet.
In recent history it was known as a suicide spot and there're tales of spirits wandering the edge of the cliffs until their screams were heard being swallowed by the waves. None of the villagers have ever dared to tread near Blaerdig Rock lightly.
Aeryn didn't think the old patrolman could look more peculiar, in his old uniform, even as he tried to light a pipe while standing outside in the sweeping wind (and succeeding), until he removed his woollen cap and revealed long grey hair spouting from the sides of his bald head, which matched his long grey beard. Crichton didn't know what to think of his story, especially given the universe he'd been growing accustomed to here in the Uncharted Territories, but Aeryn was quick to dismiss his rants, impatiently: D'Argo's life could depend on their swift and meticulous action.
It was Crichton's nose that finally lead them to the sea. He could smell the salt miles away, thoroughly enjoying these earth-like conditions. By the light of their flashlights which lit up the fading fog, the remains of a path leading towards the cliffs were becoming clearer to spot. A morning chill had descended on them during the night, as they had spent arns stumbling through pitch black surroundings desperately hoping they were accurately following Pilot's directions now that the comms had been cut off. A soft blanket of water droplets covered their leather coats and one was dripping from Crichton's nose. The freezing cold made the hairs on his arms stand on end. Aeryn looked paler by the microt without sleep, but her unwavering dedication to her friend inspired Crichton to keep going. He couldn't help but feel guilty for just wanting a nap, while D'Argo's life could be in danger.
The waves below were strong, able to launch any able-bodied man off his feet and smash him into the slippery rocks below. While she straddled the cliffs she yelled at Crichton to be careful above, but the winds were so loud he barely heard her. Even whilst wound in a tight knot, her hair was still a plaything of the elements, slowly slipping beyond her control to poke her eyes. When she finally found solid footing Aeryn could barely stand upright. They could've picked a better day to climb these rocks, but there wasn't any time. A slow dawn was upon them, crawling over an orange horizon to light up a clouded world too fazed to wake up. It had been a full day since D'Argo's disappearance.
"DID YOU FIND ANYTHING?" John yelled at the top of his voice, as he joined her at the foot of the Blaerdig Rock. Amidst the rocks and patches of deep water was a small path, slightly flooded by each passing wave, but shallow, which connected the Rock to the land, underneath the water. Aeryn knew not to trust the slippery stones. The currents that flowed through that small opening could still drag them underwater and crush them in the deep. Neither Aeryn or John would risk that, and they didn't think D'Argo would have either, unless he had to.
"D'ARGO WOULDN'T HAVE!" John yelled. "HE KNOWS BETTER!"
Aeryn's stern gaze turned to something sticking out from the water in front of her. As she leaned forward, John grabbed her arm to provide a semblance of balance. She kneeled down and stuck her arm down into the icy cold water. The pain that overwhelmed her skin started as a mere sting, slowly rising to burn her senses, while she felt underneath the splashing waves. Finally her hand gripped something solid. The handle of an ancient Luxan Blade.
"HE WAS HERE ALL RIGHT!" Aeryn concluded, ripping her hand from the water, and after a moment of mournful contemplation she headed back (carefully) to climb the rope. The cold had numbed her hand and made it more sensitive. It was a liability. She deduced that D'Argo would never have gone anywhere without his Qualta Blade, and that, more obviously, there was nowhere else to go from here. The waves had gotten to him. The reason why his comms had been cut short had been his sudden and foolish death.
"IF HE'S DEAD THEN WHERE'S THE BODY?!" John cried out, when she shared her deductions with him. Despite their findings, John still had hope for his friend, and he was probably right. There were stories about this rock which she wasn't going to believe until she'd seen it happen with her own eyes. D'Argo's death was one of them.
By the time they had ascended the cliff the nearby sun had settled behind a layer of grey clouds, and a cold drizzle chilled their brows. They didn't speak much besides reiterating the same questions they had already been faced with, stuck with, but John reminisced about winters with his father back on Earth for a while, rubbing his hands together to keep warm, while Aeryn tried to find their way back across the plains, tracking their footprints by memory.
It was midday when they finally managed to get a message through to Pilot. The magnetic disturbance field stretched about a mile around the Blaerdig Rock in all directions. John found a semblance of rest in the shade of a whithered knotted tree, leaveless except for the little buds that sprouted all over its hardened skin. Aeryn didn't think anything could bloom in a place like this. The tree was the only flora to be seen for miles besides the coat of grass which covered the plateaus. John dug into his backpack for a piece of chewy root to share with Aeryn, but she declined.
Aeryn was used to sleepless nights, often finding the time to train while everyone else on Moya was tied up in their beds, but the journey had been long and surprisingly tough, and now, even though she would never admit it, she found herself appreciating Crichton's stories filling up the strange silence. She realized this was his coping mechanism; his unending complaints his way of processing his pains, and he wasn't the only one. Their long disconnect from the comms had left Pilot worried. His information was less succinct, interspersed with updates on Moya's emotional state, and even Zhaan sounded tired and filled with dread about the weird mood that dominated the villagers. Stark wouldn't shut up about it. Despite Rygel's frequent suggestions otherwise, they were still determined not to leave D'Argo behind unless they could be sure there was nothing else to be done, even with a Peacekeeper patrol that could be inbound at any given moment. She gripped the handle of the Qualta Blade, still cold from the sea, and let John talk, to lighten the mood, until suddenly he fell quiet.
"Whoa..."
A strange figure seemed to be stumbling across the plateau towards them, from the direction of the very cliffs they had just left behind them. His gait suggested a man, a big man, walking around bewildered and bewitched, like a drunkard who forgot how to walk. They knew it was D'Argo the second they saw him, but they couldn't imagine how he ever found himself in such a state. They rushed to him and he cried out to them in relief.
"I don't want to talk about it," D'Argo told them, when they asked him where he'd been for the past solar day. He constantly seemed at the verge of losing his balance. His eyes were rolling in his skull. They lead him back to the knotted tree where he fell down, and they tried to nurse him back to health with plenty of liquids and food, and Aeryn even planted his Qualta Blade in his hands to try and refresh his memories, but he wouldn't tell them anything, except that he was afraid, afraid of whatever it was they had taken him to. He never said so in as many words, but they could see it in his eyes that he wanted to get as far away from this planet as he could. The pair of them agreed and called for the others to bring the Pod as close to them as they could, while they carried him towards the rendezvouz point.
Chiana was the first to clamber out of the Pod, running to meet D'Argo, only to find herself staring down the horizon overwhelmed by the countryside. The wind almost scooped her off her feet.
"IS HE OKAY?" she yelled as the Pod's afterburners boomed in bursts of smoke beneath the great hull. The engine was roaring, but never as loud as the wind. Aeryn yelled at her to help them carry D'Argo inside the Pod. He was burning up, and shaking all over.
Later, D'Argo would tell them he didn't remember much from that day, only that someone must've put something in his drink. They brought him to a doctor in the village who said he recognised the symptoms, that he'd seen it before, but he wouldn't divulge about it and only handed them some drugs to speed in his recovery, adding that they had been very lucky to have had their friend back at all. In the streets of town they were stared at, glared at, as if everyone in town aimed to drive them away just by looking alone. Doors were closed when they got too close, and D'Argo's anger only increased with every person that passed them by.
"I think we've outstayed our welcome," Crichton whispered, clutching at the bag the doctor had given them. Aeryn agreed.
"We should leave," she said, but before the words had even left her mouth D'Argo had already spotted someone across the street. Before they could stop him he had already stormed down this cobblestone street after some scrawny local and grabbed him by the neck. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he backed off whelping with the widest eyes they'd ever seen in a man, filled with terror.
After that, D'Argo wouldn't speak of it, and wouldn't tell anyone what happened when he'd grabbed that man by the neck. He'd grumble and mutter to himself, ashamed, for weekens, always looking in the corner of his eyes as if he expected whatever had frightened him so to have smuggled itself aboard Moya, even now they had travelled so many light years away from that planet.
Cycles later, while reeling from a hangover, he finally divulged his secret to Crichton in the den of his quarters, and even more cycles later John finally told Aeryn.
"He had these hollow eyes, like he'd seen a ghost," he told her. "He said he remembered it like something out of a dream. And he still wasn't sure whether it was, or whether he had just been hallucinating because of some drugs or shrooms, but he said it was weird. They did something to him. He told me that on the moment he grabbed that man's neck he saw a tiny lady appear on his shoulder. Some beautiful creature with the most shiniest little wings. And it was just laughing at him. Like a child. Taunting him, mocking him... He didn't know what they were, only that they scared him. All the way down to his bones..."