DISCLAIMER THINGY:

Still don't own much... This chapter title is another Pink Floyd one, from "Eclipse".

...Silver's dead...gone...why? Cold? ...mmm...yes, cold...too cold...so cold... Cold...hungry...mmm...how long now? ...just waiting...find us soon, mmm? ...Betty's gone too...not cold, though... My fault...my knife...mmm...

"Hey Wha-...uh, hey - couldn't lend us a hand, could you?" Unusually helpful, Keren appeared to have taken it on herself to start shaking all the broken plastic out of the blankets - although it could have been something to do with the uncomfortable night they had just spent, having decided they couldn't be bothered clearing it up the night before. Looking around, it seemed that Whatsit was the only one actually doing something, once again searching among the luggage, but wordlessly, he or she stood up and picked up some of the blankets and torn-off cloth.

...they think I don't know they call me...mmm? ..."Whatsit", they say...nickname, yes...interesting...mmm...never had a nickname... Little bits of clear plastic fell out of the seat-cover, rattling on the floor like hail, and Craig glowered.

...wasn't nickname, no...malicious...doesn't talk, doesn't hear, mmm? ...taking out anger...why? ...don't know why...mmm...didn't think...unhelpful, mmm? Whatsit gave a blue and green inflight blanket a particularly vigorous shake, nearly showering Craig with the sharp fragments.

"Oi! Watch it!" he growled.

"...unhelpful...mmm...antisocial..." There was no tone or emotion in the mumbling, indistinct voice, but it had an effect. Craig's mouth dropped open and he gaped, lost for words.

"So you do have a voice!" Lister grinned, clapping Whatsit on the back so hard that the tiny person nearly lost its balance.

"Oh my god - was that you?" said Bri.

"Aw man - I missed it!" Ham sighed. "Go on - say something again!" All at once, there seemed to be a throng of people surrounding Whatsit, congratulating it as though it had just won a race and trying to persuade it to speak again.

...fuss...

Only a few people seemed unimpressed. One was Craig, who had gotten over gaping gormlessly and had returned to looking miserable. Another was Claire, who was now talking to Cilla.

"It's not that big a deal," she was saying. "I mean, didn't Lister say earlier that Whatsit could speak. And it's such a random voice! It's all, like..." She mimicked Whatsit's voice exaggeratedly, ending with those illegible whispery noises between the words sounding something like "moo-shan-gah". Cilla raised her eyebrows disdainfully, and Claire added "Do you know what 'moo-shan-gah' is?"

"'Ow should I know?" Cilla answered indignantly.

"'Coz. Everyone knows what 'moo-shan-gah' is!" Claire tutted loudly, and then again, louder, and kept doing it until Cilla's face had turned an interesting shade of red and she looked ready to scream. But Claire didn't want Cilla to scream - that would just be random. Claire was bored, and what better way to entertain herself than to exercise her most prided talent - annoying people. Such a pity her sister wasn't there...but there were plenty of other people; plenty of choice. Craig? Nope, too easy. Jack? Too cool. Vedhix? Too dangerous. Whatsit? Too...random. Ion? Yes...perfect. Claire knew from experience that smart people were fun to annoy, and the earthperson shouldn't prove too great a challenge. She strolled across the plane, feet crunching on the broken plastic, and made herself comfortable in front of her unfortunate victim.

"Eh Ian," she began.

"It's Ion," he corrected her.

"What would you do if you heard a helicopter outside?" she asked innocently. Ion rolled his eyes, but reasoned that Claire was, after all, the youngest person present (possibly barring Whatsit).

"We'd signal to it, I guess. With those reflective things we collected."

"But what if you went outside and it wasn't actually a helicopter?"

"Well what was it?"

"It was, like, this dinosaur. Growling. But it was this really random kind of dinosaur that growled when it was happy - 'coz it wanted to be your pet dinosaur. Well? What would you do?" Ion had been keeping quiet, trying to decide whether there was actually any point to the conversation.

"What would you do?" Claire repeated.

"I'd...how big is it?" He had blurted the first thing that came to his mind, and immediately regretted it, as it seemed to encourage her.

"Pretty big - about as big as a bus. Yeah, it's a really random dinosaur. Well, what would you do?"

"I'd kill it and eat it. End of story," he answered shortly. Now please go away, he added in his head.

"Aww! Poor dinosaur! But it was a big dinosaur - wouldn't you get on its back and ride home on it? Hey - where are you going?" Ion, knuckles white from clenching his fists in frustration, had stood up and was heading over to Jack. Claire scrambled to her feet and followed.

"Well? Would you ride the dinosaur home?"

"Jack," Ion muttered to the pirate through gritted teeth. "Claire is bored. I need you to entertain her. Tell her about your ship, show her your sword...just do something!" It seemed an odd request to Jack - pirates didn't generally entertain thirteen year olds. But beneath the desperation in Ion's voice was a hint of authority - and besides, Jack didn't mind recounting his seafaring tales to people who would listen, and he had his painful loss to try and put out of his mind.

Ion breathed a sigh of relief as Claire quickly became enthralled in the recounting of Jack's latest daring escape from prison in a coffin. Freed from the tireless questioning about Claire's really random dinosaur, he returned to that familiar task of counting up the food supply and calculating.

Fourteen of us now - the food'll last a little longer, but not much... But there are the canned drinks, they'll help. There's going to be a difficult decision to be made if... He had been checking things off on his fingers as he counted, but a shuffling noise behind him distracted him and he lost count. He turned angrily to see that irritating little Whatsit, rummaging through a discarded pile of luggage, still relentlessly searching for something.

...where, where? ...gone...ran, not far though...nowhere to run...mmm...where?...

It's Whatsit's fault. The thought had popped unexpectedly into Ion's head, but the more he considered it, the more logical it seemed. First there was Betty - drunk, certainly, but a simple trip and fall didn't have to be fatal. If Whatsit really just had to sleep holding that knife, did it have to hold it sticking up like that? It had been an accident waiting to happen right from the start. And then there was Silver - he hadn't gotten drunk. But Whatsit had definitely been hanging around him more than anyone else. They'd seemed almost friends sometimes - odd, for an "antisocial little freak". So surely Whatsit would have seen fairly early on that Silver wasn't well? If it had told Ion or Lister or someone earlier...but no. They knew now that it could speak, so why didn't it? Two deaths in just six days, and both, in Ion's opinion, almost entirely to blame on one person. How many more would there be?

"Hey," he whispered. "Come here a minute, would you?" Silent as ever, Whatsit left the baggage and headed over to Ion, who stood up but bent down to speak quietly to Whatsit.

"Why do you wear that mask?" He hadn't expected a reply, and didn't get one - just a stare from hidden eyes.

"You don't want us to know you, do you?" Ion's voice was soft and menacing, but it was impossible to tell whether he was making any impression, and Whatsit began to fiddle with a loose thread on one of its gloves.

"But you can't eat or drink wearing that thing, can you? So you hide, and you take it off. You think I haven't noticed? I've seen you..." He had struck a nerve - there was no doubt of it. Whatsit froze, raising its head sharply to look Ion in the face, and its whole body tensed. There was an awkward pause - and then Whatsit shook its head and seemed to relax slightly. Evidently, he or she had been more careful than that; they knew there could be no way Ion had seen them, and saw through his bluff. Ion was undeterred.

"Well what if I haven't? It would be so easy..." he reached out with one hand and placed the tips of his fingers on the top edge of Whatsit's plastic mask, and Whatsit flinched and tensed again "...just to take it, wouldn't it? Look at us - we're all stuck in here with a blizzard outside. If someone wanted to see you, it wouldn't be long. Nowhere to run - you couldn't get away." He noticed with some satisfaction that the usually steady hand holding the knife was shaking, and he could feel through the mask that Whatsit was trembling and breathing hard. The clear fear and discomfort he was causing gave him a sense of triumph and pleasure, and he tightened his fingertips around the hard plastic edge, continuing in a low, threatening whisper.

"Or...well, I'm as curious as anyone else. Hearing and seeing you, in one day! I could...right...now..." Even Ion wasn't sure whether it was an accident - whether he slipped or had actually meant to fulfil his threats. His fingers pushed the mask down just a few centimetres - and instead of pulling back, which probably would have pulled it off, Whatsit darted forwards, shoving Ion hard and hitting out at the hand that had been on the mask. Ion barely had time to be shocked or surprised before he saw red, and in a sudden flash of anger, made a grab for the mask with the intention of ripping it off. A frenzied struggle followed - Ion desperately trying to get hold of the mask, and Whatsit fiercely fighting him off with surprising strength. The knife dropped to the ground and spun across the floor, and Ion and Whatsit both made a dive for it - but by then, the others had seen the fight, and Lister and Vedhix reached them first. With that almost inhuman speed that he had displayed once before, Vedhix had crossed the plane, kicked the knife out of reach and pulled Whatsit off Ion in less than the time it took Lister - who had been much closer - to grab Ion's shoulders and get him off Whatsit. Whatsit's mask had been knocked askew, and it threw its arms up to hide before straightening it and running a finger over one of the lenses of its goggles, which was cracked. Ion - who had been struggling and hitting out at Lister until Lister shook him sharply - had a red mark around one eye and several on his legs where he had been kicked; he would have some nasty bruises and a splendid black eye to show for the fight.

"What's going on?" Lister demanded.

"Take...it...off," Ion hissed at Whatsit. "Take...it-"

"Have you lost it, mate?"

"No! Don't you...it's...I..." Ion stopped, looked around and stared at Lister. Then, he pushed him angrily away, grabbed a bundled up blanket and strode across the plane, eyes to the ground. He kicked a few seat backs aside and stormed out into the swirling blizzard. Glances were exchanged, and for a long time, no-one spoke a word.

"Random," Claire said finally, breaking the silence.

"What d'ya mean, 'random'?" Cilla exclaimed. "'E's lost 'is marbles, 'e 'as!"

"No he hasn't," said Vedhix quietly.

"Bet he has," said Bri. "He's a stupid chicken."

"Don't you think that's touching a dead bird's wing a bit, assuming that?" Vedhix replied. The unfamiliar saying confused anyone who was about to argue, and only Guenittia could be heard to mutter

"Trust a Necromancer to use that morbid expression!"