THREE

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Aeryn's breath steamed as she lugged the penultimate crate of water into the transport pod. She kept a surreptitious eye on the human across the last crate, noticing how red in the face he had become once bending and lifting had been introduced to his day.

She slid the last crate in and waited for him to back down the ramp. He turned in the cold air, lifting his gloved hands, about to blow on them. He thought better of it as he caught Aeryn watching him.

"So. Shall we go and get you kicked out of the medic's office?" she dared.

He sniffed. "Well… We got the water. We should get that back to Moya first--"

"Don't start," she tutted.

"But it's freezing down here," he protested.

"It's only one or two below frost point," Aeryn shrugged. "Not too bad."

"Says the girl who's allergic to humidity," he grunted.

"Ok then," she said reasonably, folding her arms and forcing calm where there was frustration, "we'll go back to Moya and you can curl up and die painfully slowly. Does that sound like a better plan?"

He let his hands drop. "How about we go back to Moya and you pull it out," he offered.

"I'm not a medic."

"You don't have to be - all you got to do is yank the damn thing out of my head! It'll be easy!"

"You know, for a male you can be surprisingly… weak--"

"I'm just not in the mood to stand around on some ice planet of the Hoth system while some strange little weirdo alien pokes around--"

"Down here you're the alien."

"Whatever! I hate the cold and I hate medics!"

"And I hate it when men whine," she said firmly. "Come on."

She turned and stalked off. John huffed before one eye twitched shut in pain. He let his shoulders sag and simply followed.

The street was awash with people bundled up against the cold, hurrying all over. They were all a great deal shorter than the two aliens dressed as Peacekeepers as they wended their way through the throng.

"Look - there's a sign," Aeryn said, pointing ahead.

A large neon affair was hanging from an awning, swinging precariously as it advertised names and rates of various medical procedures.

"Notice how he needs to advertise," John observed snidely.

"He'll have heat."

"He'd better. I'm freezing my cojones off here."

Aeryn spared his lower half a glance as they approached the door. "We'll be quick. Then you and I will get back to Moya so fast it'll make your head spin. Then you can rub your co-ho's knees warm again," she added, before realising how eager she sounded for him to get in the clinic.

John paused and looked at her, and for a moment she could have sworn he was biting back a laugh. "You going to help me with that?" he grinned.

She eyed him, sensing a deeper meaning. She shook her head to dismiss the moment. "Just go."

He pulled the door open, waiting for her to enter first. She stayed in front of him, heading inside to the small desk and looking at the tiny green alien behind it.

"Hi. We spoke. Appointment?" she said quickly, passing three pieces of currency over the counter as fast as she could.

"The Sebacean?" the alien replied.

"Yes. Him," she nodded, standing to one side and grabbing behind her. She yanked and John was brought up to the countertop.

"Hi," he managed. "Are you full here? You're full, right? That's too bad, we'll come back--"

Aeryn stamped hard on his left boot. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to look at her.

"Then please, the medic is ready for you." The alien stood up off the little stool but dropped sharply, even shorter than the two humanoids had expected. "This way."

John leaned over the counter, trying to see over the top, until his head hit the glass shield. He pulled back as they heard the pitter-patter of small shoes on the floor. A door whooshed open and closed and then the tiny alien was standing next to them.

John jumped slightly and Aeryn pushed at his back, following the alien to another door round the side. The door slid open silently and Aeryn kept a firm hold on John's shoulder, guiding him forwards and through.

John walked in cautiously. He stopped so fast she smacked full into his back before she managed to put her hands up and shove him forwards a step.

"What?" she demanded, stepping sound his shoulder.

"No no no no no," he was saying calmly, waving his hands up in a way that conveyed the entire six week Peacekeeper course on Negation in a matter of seconds.

"What?" she repeated, confused. All she saw was a very professional looking, long limbed alien in a spotless little room very neatly stocked with the requisite dental tools.

"The chair," John pouted. "I am not sitting in that chair."

Aeryn looked at it. "Looks quite comfortable," she shrugged.

"Looks too much like a certain Aurora chair I know," he glowered. He turned quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her too, bustling them out of the tiny room. She sighed and stopped them in the doorway, wrenching herself round.

"Crichton," she tutted.

"No," he said with false cheer, innocence in the blue eyes. "Just no. C'mon, let's go. We tried. We failed."

He pushed at her and she wrapped her hand round his arm, pulling him back into the equally tiny waiting room. She yanked him to a stop, grasping his chin tightly and hauling it round and down to look her in the eye.

"Ow! Toof! Toof!" he cried, folding slightly in pain.

"Exactly!" she hissed. "Now get in that chair and let him fix it," she added, squeezing painfully at his jaw and the inflamed molar currently embedded in it. She paused to look to her left. The small green head watched her from beyond the polished glass defensive bubble. Aeryn smiled back cheerfully before turning to look at the taller human now struggling to speak.

"Aeryn!" he spluttered. "I am not sitting in--"

She tightened her grip. "I'm sorry, what?" she bit out.

"I am not sitting--"

"What?"

His voice turned into the angry growl of a caged tiger in fear for its life; the tone of voice she hated but was starting to appreciate on him.

"I - am - not --"

She sighed, relaxing her hand slightly.

"Oh Crichton," she sighed. "You're making me do something I really don't want to do."

"Don't squeeze," he whimpered, attempting to counter the pain with images of ice cream. She let go of his jaw and instead took hold of the collar on his black and red captain's jacket. She pulled him down toward her.

"Hurry up and get in that chair," she threatened, so close to his ear it tickled, "and I will give you something you've wanted since you stepped on Moya."

"An electric shaver?" he managed, not brave enough to voice what was really on his mind.

"Hardly," she breathed, turning her mouth closer to his ear. Her nose brushed at his hair for barely a nanosecond.

John swallowed. "A bacon double cheeseburger?"

"You can put your hands," she whispered angrily, "all over my… Prowler's attitude stabilisers. I'll even let you take one off and help you fit it to your little module."

John blinked. "You'll help me fit it?"

"If you stop being an infant," she snapped, her nose definitely brushing the hair behind his ear in a way that made his shoulder twitch slightly, "I will help you fit it."

He huffed. "This is blackmail."

"This is bribing you to do something you should be doing anyway," she observed, pushing him back by the collar.

He stood back to catch his balance, and she saw more fear than anger on his face.

"Fine. But you stand there and watch him. I don't want him doing anything he's not supposed to."

"Crichton, I'm not a medic, I don't know anything about--"

"Common sense, Aeryn," he said firmly. "I trust your common sense."

"Fine," she nodded. "Now get in there before I just shoot you and go back to Moya alone."

She pushed him round and hustled him back through the door.

.


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"Captain - we've found the transport ship. It was seen just twenty jootahs ago on the ice planet, Sslaj," the young tech called.

Newly installed Captain Pajjet looked up from his chair. "Really. How long will it take us to reach it?"

"Four arrahs, forty jootahs, sir."

"Make it in three arrahs and you'll get a larger cut of the loot," he smiled.

"Yes sir!"

.


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Aeryn's comms badge beeped and the medic turned on her, tutting audibly behind his expensive looking breathing apparatus. She cast her eyes over the insensate human before backing out of the room quickly, lifting the collar on her heavy coat.

"Aeryn? Are you there?" came Zhaan's voice.

"Yes, Zhaan, it's me. What is it?" she asked quietly.

"We were worried. It's been three arns. Have you had trouble getting the water?" the Delvian asked.

"Not the water, no. It's already on the transport. Crichton's still under some kind of sedation, the medic's just finishing up now," she allowed, retreating to the front of the shop.

"Oh dear. How is he bearing up?"

"He must have a backbone thinner than Rygel's whiskers he went fahrbot so fast. I had to hold him down so they could sedate him," Aeryn sighed. She closed her eyes, knowing that the sight of crazed fear in the human's eyes as she had forced him back into the chair would haunt her for the next solar week.

"That does not sound good. Perhaps his fear went deeper than we could have known. Perhaps sleeping through it is a good thing."

"I don't think he could have done it otherwise. You should see the sawing and digging the medic's been doing. I swear I will never tell him what he had to do to replace the tooth." She opened her eyes. "He doesn't need to know."

"But it is his tooth, and his health."

"Trust me, Zhaan - if I told him he would shout at me not to tell him," she sighed. The door opened slightly and she looked up. "I've got to go, I think they're bringing him round."

"Poor John. Please bring him back quickly so that he may rest in safety."

"I'll certainly try," she nodded. She cut the connection and walked back in through the door. She found the medic standing next to John's head, his hands on his hips.

"You said he was Sebacean," the medic snapped.

"Very close to, yes."

"Well he's not close enough," he tutted.

"What does that mean?" Aeryn asked warily. She walked round the other side of the chair, looking down at the unconscious human. "What have you done to him?"

"I merely sedated him. How was I to know he wouldn't wake up? Anyway, I have finished, look," he offered. He leaned over and pulled John's lip open at the right side, tilting the head for her to see in. "There. All infection cleaned out and new roots and a tooth implanted."

Aeryn bent down, studying it carefully. It did indeed seem back to normal, save some red scarring. "Seems… ok," she managed.

"Ok? Ok?" the medic spluttered. "It's amazing work, I'll have you know. And it'll cost you an extra two credits for this," he added, brandishing a long syringe.

"What's that?"

"That is what I'll have to use to wake him up, seeing as the injection I normally give Sebaceans isn't working. There's no telling what condition he'll be in when he wakes, or how he will feel."

"You said he'd be fine to walk out unaided!" Aeryn accused darkly.

"And you said he was Sebacean," he snapped back. "His blood supply network and internal membranes are nothing like a Sebacean. I was lucky the usual sedative worked at all. But he just won't come round, not with these normal injections. So stand back while I administer this."

Aeryn did as she was told, watching helplessly as the medic jammed the needle straight into John's neck. She winced but couldn't stop watching as the little alien depressed the plunger.

The medic stood back, watching avidly.

John didn't move. His breathing didn't change.

"Oh." The medic turned to the array of utensils, picking up another syringe.

"Wait," Aeryn commanded. "What was that?"

"Industrial strength rusher fluid. It works on every species I've ever operated on," he grunted.

Aeryn stepped closer and looked down at the insensate man. She sighed and lifted her hand. She slapped at the good side of his face.

His head was pushed to one side but otherwise he didn't move. The dentist folded his arms, shaking his head.

"If we won't come out of it through the drugs I've given him, your barbaric solution is hardly going to work, is it?"

Aeryn put her hand to John's head and pulled his eyelid open. Tipped up as if trying to hide from the harsh lights under the awning of his eye socket, the sparkling blueness in the human's eye was slack, vacant. She sighed, thinking, before she realised the pupil was beginning to shrink in the bright lights.

She let go and slapped him again.

His body jerked and his left eye shot open. He dragged in a deep breath and began to raise his arms in bleary disorientation. Aeryn grabbed his wrists and held them down against his chest.

"Crichton - calm down!" she ordered into his face.

His other eye creaked open with the enthusiasm of an elderly snail but he did cease struggling.

"The medic's finished. I've checked it, it looks good," she said clearly. She noticed his eyes were ranging round her face aimlessly. "Can you hear me? Do you understand?"

He appeared to have trouble breathing, or at least breathing out. She let go of his wrists and grabbed his head to steady it.

"John. Can you hear me?" she asked, deliberately clearly.

His eyes were wild, his face reddening, the muscles starting to stand out in his neck. But he coughed out a breath, grabbing onto her arms. Then his head bobbed down twice with uncertainty.

"Good. It's all finished. We can leave. Do you understand?"

Again his head bobbed but it was starting to wobble in her hands. She swallowed and looked at the medic.

"Well? Get out then," he chided, waving hands at her.

"I don't yet know if he can walk!" she protested angrily.

"Make him. I have other patients on the way."

"What if he's permanently damaged?" she demanded, looking back at John's distressed face.

"I did explain the risks before I started," the medic replied primly. "You both agreed they were acceptable. Now just go, get him out of here."

"Frell you," Aeryn snapped at him, feeling John's hands tighten on her arms, "frell you very much." She put her hands to John's heavy leather coat and pulled on it, helping him to sit. She held his head still, worried by the lack of control to his eyes and facial muscles. "Crichton - we are leaving. You have to walk. Can you--"

He put a hand up blearily, knocking one of hers to the side more through luck than planning. He pushed himself to the edge of the chair and she kept hold of his right arm, expecting him to fall. One leg gave under him but he caught himself, managing to stand and look around the room. He went to move and she simply followed, leaving the medic with one last, searing look before they shuffled out of the door.

.

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