In The Flesh – Part Three

In The Flesh – Part Three.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at jesspallas@hotmail.com

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM and LATP, TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note: This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Moya has been attacked by pirates in the salvaged Halos 1. As a result, Aeryn and Pilot have now switched bodies, Moya has mysertiously shut down and Chiana is missing. The rest of the crew, in a transport pod at the time of the attack, have been captured and taken prisoner. The pirate leader, Jak, after evesdropping over the comms, has jammed the transmission, leaving Pilot in Aeryn's body, lost in Moya's lower tiers…

"We're frelled."

Rygel's simple statement quite accurately summed up the way John was feeling at that moment. The human stared at the dim lights on the ceiling, wondering who exactly it was up there that hated them enough to dump them in this situation again. The conversation between Pilot and Aeryn had confirmed their worst fears beyond any shadow of a doubt. There was no way that Aeryn would ever let herself get that upset. There was no way that Pilot would have snapped back with quite such force. Even if it hadn't been for the use of Aeryn's name to address Pilot and Pilot commenting on it being Aeryn's ship, he would have known who was who. He knew them too well to even consider it could be anyone else.

John closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. Aeryn would have been their best chance of a rescue, but now she was trapped in Pilot's chamber, isolated and unable to act. And now their last hope lay in the hands of a confused, disorientated and decidedly hysterical Pilot. He had nothing against Pilot. He liked the guy. But coping with stress was not his strong suit. He barely knew how to move in his new body. He certainly had no idea what he was doing. The chance of his mounting a successful rescue was slim at best; in all reality, it was probably none-existent. Pilot was just not action hero material. He'd got lost on his own ship, for God's sake!

True there was Chiana. But where was she? She obviously hadn't made contact with Aeryn or Pilot. Perhaps she was asleep or sulking in her room, but John couldn't see how she could have failed to notice the attack. The whole of Moya must have shook, for frells sake! So why hadn't she done anything? Perhaps she had latched on more quickly to what was going on and was hiding out somewhere, waiting for the right moment to leap to the rescue. But for reasons he couldn't begin to explain, John had a feeling that this wasn't the case. He had a nagging anxiety lurking deep in his chest, a worry that he couldn't place but refused to go away. Why hadn't Chiana been affected by the body-swapping when Aeryn and Pilot so obviously had?

"Areni!"

The summons from the pirate leader drew John's attention. He glanced across the room at the tall, rangy invader - Jak, his men called him – with his close cropped golden hair, streaked with black, his gleaming goldenish skin and his cold black eyes. John had watched as he had listened to the conversation between Aeryn and Pilot, watched as his smug smile stretched to fill his features as he gauged the state of mind of his two remaining threats. It was the smile of a hunter, a predator, but also of a gamesman, a player. He would take them, but he would make sure to have fun with it too.

The second in command was already at his side, smaller, darker and less intense, but groomed like a peacock. There was a man who thought a lot of himself – and expected others to think it too.

"Yes, Jak?" he asked deferentially.

"Take a detachment to the lower tiers and secure the Pilot. Then take a few men and start hunting for this other one, this female." Jak's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "But be careful; there was something not quite right about that whole thing. For a while there, I wasn't sure which one was which."

The second nodded. "I will be. Don't worry."

He turned to leave, beckoning to his men. Jak gazed thoughtfully at the console.

"And Areni?" he called. The smaller man turned. Jak did not even look up.

"I don't care how pretty that female is. I don't want any… relations, until later. Clear?"

Obviously, this was a problem that he'd had before. Areni smiled cockily.

"Well that rather depends on her reaction to me!" he replied suggestively. "You know the ladies can't keep their hands off me!"

"Well, then tie the blind razt up!" Jak drawled sweetly, but there was iron in his voice.

Areni looked disappointed. He pulled a face behind his leaders back.

"I saw that," Jak hadn't turned. His voice was mild but sharpened edges danced along its rim. Areni gulped and bolted out the door. Grinning amongst themselves, his men followed.

Jak smiled coldly to himself and glanced up at the dozen or so who remained.

"Edril!" he called. "Take your brothers and do a sweep of the upper tiers. And while you're at it, see if you can locate the command. I don't want to stay down here forever."

A burly, black haired giant stepped forward with a nod. "What you want us to do if we find someone?" he said, his deep voice rolling slowly across the room.

Jak shrugged. "Bring them here for now." He glanced up and met John's eyes. A slow smile spread across his face. "We'll decide what to do with these Jeebos later."

John did not rise to the bait, although he could feel his fury rising inside. He felt so helpless, with no idea what to do or how to act. Aeryn was already in danger and Pilot would be rounded up soon after. If only he knew what had happened to Chi, maybe they could have co-ordinated something. But he didn't and he could be certain of nothing. All he could do was wait.

He looked up and caught Jak staring at him, his expression gloating. John bit down dark thought and looked away. There was one thing he was certain of; if he got the slightest chance, he was going to wipe the smile off that moron's face for good!

**************************

Aeryn felt like screaming.

It had been a moment before she realised the comms had gone dead. For a microt, she thought she had made a mistake, done something, touched something that had severed the link. Forcing herself to remain composed, she had checked over every readout and panel that still functioned, twiddling and tweaking in an attempt to cajole the internal comms back into life. But it had been in vain. Nothing had worked. All she managed to get was an ugly hiss that seemed to fill the vast acres of Pilot's mind and whisper insidiously that she had failed. Aeryn knew that sound of old. The multiple stands of her newly expanded mind jumped back against her will, fixing upon a memory, the terrible memory of the Rani invasion not so long before. She remembered how helpless she had felt, how cut off and isolated and experienced those same emotions anew but magnified a thousand fold. At least when the Rani had boarded Moya, she'd been able to act. She'd run the corridors, gathering friends to repel the invaders, protecting Pilot through that terrible succession of struggles in the Den. But now she was helpless. She couldn't move, couldn't escape or go to her friends aid, couldn't fight and save the day. She didn't even have a weapon for Pilot had taken her pulse pistol and the DRDs were offline. She remembered her conversation with Pilot the day before the Rani had violated Moya, remembered how he had confided in her about how helpless and trapped he had felt, unable to defend himself if he lost control of Moya. Sitting alone in the vast cavernous darkness, surrounded by dead panels and lifeless DRDs, Aeryn knew exactly how he must have felt.

And it made her feel like screaming.

Aeryn was not equipped for waiting. The silence echoed in the recesses of her head; the darkness seemed to glisten. She could feel dozens of frantic thoughts tumbling over and over in her mind and she struggled desperately to control them, but it was futile. She felt closed in, claustrophobic, a ridiculous sensation in such a vast and spacious room, but she was not a part of that space, but confined, limited in it's centre. She felt as though she was on the verge of going insane. Desperately, she wished for something to break the terrible monotony.

She should have been more careful what she wished for.

The lazy hum of the door snapped her attention to the front. For a brief euphoric instant, she thought that Pilot had somehow found his way back to her. But it took only a microt to realise that this was not Pilot – nor indeed anyone else she knew. She suppressed a shiver of apprehension and braced herself, arms extended, body half-reared. Trapped or not, she had no intention of going down without a fight.

Silhouettes filled the door, tall, male, threatening, guns held loosely with the ease of practice. A single figure, slightly smaller, but dark, with dancing eyes and a cocky smile, stepped to the fore, hefting his rifle casually.

"I don't think you want to do that," he drawled easily.

In microts his gun was cocked, barrel levelled at Aeryn's forehead. His smile was cold; his finger itched on the trigger. Instinctively, despite knowing there was nowhere to go, Aeryn shrunk back.

The invader laughed. He pulled the trigger.

Aeryn ducked, eyes closed as she waited for the pain of the killer shot. It never came. A cascade of warm sparks showered her. She opened her eyes to find her invaders were laughing.

Aeryn felt a flush of anger. How dare he make a fool of her like that? She didn't know why he had veered his aim at the last moment, but she intended to make sure that the moment he came within her reach, it would be the last mistake he'd ever make.

The pirate seemed unaware of her anger, arrogantly confident that he was in control. Heedless of the danger, he sauntered forward, his rifle resting cockily on one shoulder as he moved across the walkway. Aeryn braced carefully as he came closer and closer, grinning smugly. He was almost in her reach. Just a little further…

"I am Areni!" he announced, as if Aeryn cared less. "I am second of the Motchat clan of the Taurax pirates. We have claimed this ship as bounty. That means, my oversized friend, that from now on, you will service us!"

Frell that! Aeryn thought to herself as she watched him intently, lurking just outside of her grasp. One more step…

"As you can see, we have the superior firepower," Areni droned on arrogantly. "And if you disobey us, we will make you pay." He grinned. "Next time, I won't miss."

Wavering his weapon casually, he swaggered forward; into Aeryn's reach. She struck like lightning. Before Areni even knew what was happening, she had snatched his rifle from his grasp and dragged him across the console by his tunic front, pressing his shocked features against hers.

"You want to try that again?" she drawled.

A number of clicks sounded around her; Aeryn looked up to find herself targeted by half-a-dozen weapons. She hesitated, taking a moment to drink in the fear on Areni's features; for an instant she was tempted to do away with him and frell the consequences. But this was Pilot's body; he wouldn't thank her for getting him killed. With distinct reluctance and an angry growl, she hurled Areni away. He flew backwards, arms and legs flailing as his men scattered, to land flat on his back on the walkway.

The pirate scrambled to his feet, glaring at the sniggers that rose from the ranks. He shook his shoulders and straightened his tunic, snatching a rifle from another pirates grasp. Struggling to regain his trampled pride, he levelled the gun between Aeryn's eyes. His expression was dark.

"The only reason I won't kill you now is because we need this ship online!" he said, his voice dripping with menace. His eyes were bleak and cold, a cruel smile twisting the corners of his lips.

"We have your friends," he said suddenly. Aeryn went cold inside. "The Sebacean, the Delvian, the Luxan and the Hynerian. You have five arns to get this ship functioning again. Otherwise, we'll kill one an arn until it's done. Understood?"

He didn't wait for a reply. "Ragit! Nuin! You stay here and make sure our new servicer behaves himself. We're off to find that female!"

He turned and stormed out, the rest of his men trailing behind. The two left behind, both big, burly, featureless creatures, turned and aimed their guns at Aeryn. She noted however, that they stayed carefully out of her reach.

Aeryn breathed hard. Now what the frell was she going to do? She couldn't bring Moya online; she had no idea what was wrong with her. She was helpless from here, her panels down, her knowledge insufficient, motion impossible. But if she didn't do something, the pirates would slaughter the others in five arns time. Frell!

She cursed silently. Helpless again. Her only hope was that by some miracle, Pilot would evade the searchers and manage to figure out just what the frell was going on. She remembered the mood he'd been in and felt her hope drain away. She could only imagine the kind of hysteria he'd experienced when he found the link was cut!

Well, there was nothing she could do. She could feel the boring gaze of her guards; anxious to allay their suspicions, she began touching panels at random, pretending to work. Outside, she maintained the façade of calm. Inside, her heart was racing. She could do nothing; nothing but pray that by some fluke or act of mercy, Pilot would save the day.

Frell, don't let them catch him!

*************************************

It was the ominous sound of footsteps echoing from behind that snapped Pilot out of his miserable reverie. He had remained curled up between two of Moya's bulkheads for an uncertain length of time, too afraid to even move, let alone act. He had been disconcerted to find that his separation from Moya had thrown his emotions into flux; however hard he tried, however much he wanted to, he simply could not get control of himself. But at the sound of approaching feet, his mind leapt into alertness. For a wonderful moment, he thought that it was Chiana or the others returned and sent by Aeryn to find him. But it took less than a microt for that thought to evaporate; the footsteps were heavy and regular and too numerous to belong to friends. Perhaps Crichton or D'Argo could have achieved that heaviness of tread but Zhaan and Chiana could not. So these were not the feet of rescuers. They were someone else's. But whose?

Pilot was not foolish enough to wait around and find out. Ahead, half-hidden in a shadowed alcove, a small grate opened into an air shaft. Rising precariously to his feet, Pilot hurried forward and pulled the grate from the wall. For a moment, he stared into the dark, cramped space beyond, its destination lost to oblivion and felt apprehension fill his soul. But it was that or be caught. Taking a deep breath, Pilot squeezed inside and pulled the grate closed behind him.

He was only just in time. From around the corner strode a cluster of strangers, tall with golden skin and emotionless eyes that fell away like hollow voids. They were dressed in a variety of loose vests and tunics, with tight trousers and gun holsters and ammunition strapped to baldrics across their chest. All were gripping a variety of mean looking rifles.

Pilot felt his breath stop; he recognised their kind at once, feared and renowned throughout the sector.

Taurax pirates!

For a microt, Pilot thought they were going to simply march on passed, but all at once, the shorter, dark haired pirate at the fore, raised his arm and called a halt, just inches from Pilot's hiding place. Warily, the navigator shrunk back. He felt his footing give slightly to the rear and fought to steady himself without making a noise.

"This is taking too long," The dark pirate exclaimed. "If we're going to find that female on a ship this size, we'll have to split up."

Female? Pilot paused, listening carefully. Was Chiana nearby then? Was she on the run? Then a terrible thought occurred to him. What if the pirates had done more than jam the comms? What if they had listened in as well? If they had overhead and blocked his conversation with Aeryn, then this female they searched for could be him!

"Areni, this ship is a maze!" One of his companions protested. "How the frig will we find our way back?"

"Easy," The one called Areni reached into a pouch, and handed the speaker a small, silvery device. "You can stay here with this homing beacon. We'll spread out and meet back here in a couple of arns. I'm sure we can find our way back to that maintenance bay from here or at least back to Ragit and Nuin and the Pilot."

"Why should I have to stay?" the pirate declared. "Just leave the thing here and be done with it!"

His leader smiled. "It has to be guarded, Unrar. What if our elusive female were to steal it?"

"You want me to just stand here for a couple of arns?" The protester was aghast.

Areni shrugged. "You volunteered."

Ignoring the indignant expression of his subordinate, the pirate turned and started towards a passage.

"Esord, Michal, you're with me. The rest of you scatter. Meet back here in two arns." He grinned wolfishly. "Unrar will be waiting."

Pilot felt his heart drop as he watched the other pirates leave. His gaze fixed on the lone figure that remained, the one called Unrar, who, having completed a long glare in the direction of the departing Areni, sighed loudly and slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor as he figured the homing beacon. He was huge and burly, with massive hands, light hair and a grim, almost brutal expression. Pilot had ample opportunity to study him. He was sitting directly opposite the vent.

Pilot took a quiet breath. Now what was he going to do? He allowed himself a moment to mutter a few choice swearwords in his own language. For some reason, he found it infinitely more satisfying than using the simple verbal swearwords of his crew. When they swore, it was just words. But in his native tongue, a swearword could contain dozens of different levels of disgust, anger and frustration all compacted into a single profound sound. When he swore, it had resonance.

But unfortunately, it did not help his situation. It became quickly apparent that despite his dissatisfaction, the pirate was going nowhere. That ruled out any escape back into the passageway. He would not stand even the remotest chance of getting passed Unrar without being seen. So he was left with two choices; wait here for two arns until the pirates returned and departed the area, or abandon his position, and head down into the darkness behind him. His eyesight was much diminished; he could barely see a thing of what lay in that direction. But there was no help for it. Pilot was a patient being but not that patient. He would take the vent.

Carefully, gingerly, he tried to turn. But there was simply no space for manoeuvring. Pilot hesitated a moment, then as quietly as he could, he extended one foot behind him and reached back.

The ground disappeared.

He had no time to catch himself. He felt himself slip, slide, his balance lost as he scrambled as quietly as he could to prevent the fall. His efforts were in vain. He felt the ground open up beneath him as he tumbled into solid blackness, slipping, scraping, turning head over heel in a helter-skelter downward fall. He could see nothing, nothing but swiftly moving blackness all around as he felt himself bounce and bump along the chute, grazing his skin in little bursts of pain, as he hurtled helpless, frantic into the abyss below.

For a few microts he thought he would fall forever, that he would tumble from the ship as D'Argo had once done to drift and die in space. But suddenly, the gradient lessened, a hint of light appeared below and all at once he found himself flying forwards into open air to land unceremoniously in a pool of amnexus fluid. For a moment, he didn't move, stunned and half in shock, motionless, eyes fixed and wide, breath coming in short, terse gasps. He could only lie there, on his back, floating in the amber pond as he gazed with unseeing eyes into the vast cavern above him. A huge tract of empty space filled his eyes, rounded, sculpted, vaulted walls, a slender column rising in pulse like waves, tethered to the wall by flying walkways. The high ceiling of the chamber was lost to the darkness.

He knew this place…

It took a microt to register. A combination of the shock of his fall and the unusual perspective had slowed his thinking but as his eyes adjusted, fixed on the familiar forms and features of his home, he felt a sudden rush of euphoric recognition.

His chamber! He was at the foot of his chamber!

He knew where he was!

Abruptly, he sat up. Ignoring the uncomfortable ooze, he shook himself and glanced around. To his left, the walls rose, steeply impenetrable. To his right, moulding seamlessly into the floor was the lowest neural cluster, the far wall lost in the darkness behind it. But he didn't need to see it. He already knew that there was no door on this level. If he wanted out, he would have to climb the ladder in the neural cluster until he reached a level with a walkway.

It was at that point that he became aware of exactly how uncomfortable he was. Wrinkling Aeryn's nose, he glanced down. Aeryn's pale skin was dripping with moisture, her hair matted and tangled. Her clothing was pasted with amber liquid and he could feel the slow seep as the boots slowly filled up as well.

It was definitely time to get up.

Shaking himself with disgust, Pilot reluctantly hauled Aeryn's body to its feet. He felt battered, bruised; every inch of skin felt raw. He thought of what Aeryn's reaction would be when he returned her body in this state and winced. She was going to kill him!

Awkwardly, he waded to the edge of the pool. Leaning on the curved edge, he tenderly hauled first one leg, then the other over the barrier, to stand, dripping, on the rutted floor. With a sigh, he moved slowly forward across the uneven vaulted floor in the direction of the neural cluster, stripping amnexus fluid from the skin with his hands. This was just typical! This kind of thing always seemed to happen to him! Well at least he knew where he was now. The question was what to do next. He could climb the neural clusters to where Aeryn waited in his body, but he had got the impression from Areni's words that the pirates had beaten him to it. There was no point in struggling all that way up just to get himself captured. No, his best bet would probably be to use the vents to reach the maintenance bay. Areni had mentioned that too and he got the impression that it was the mustering point for the pirates. If he could stay out of sight, do a little reconnaissance, maybe he could come up with some way to…

The thought broke off. Something caught the corner of his eye; a patch of red, out of place in Moya's golden halls. He paused at the entrance to the neural cluster, weakened eyes searching the black to get a better look. But it was impossible from here. He needed to get closer.

But should he? Caution stayed his steps. He should be getting on, trying to find a way to revive Moya and free Aeryn, not indulging his whims and wasting time. But other strands of thought intruded. What if this was some new danger to Moya? What if it were the reason she was unconscious? He owed it to her to investigate.

Curiosity got the better of him. Moving cautiously, he stepped around the edge of the neural cluster to take a better look.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

Pilot stumbled back, eyes tight shut, hand clamped to his mouth. An unfamiliar sensation rose, rolling in Aeryn's stomach; all at once he staggered aside and collapsed to his knees, retching furiously before throwing up on the floor.

He took him several microts to recover. He breathed hard, wincing at the unpleasant taste in his mouth and the unpleasant memory of what he had just seen. He shuddered, leaned against the edge of the neural cluster and tried to slow his racing heart.

He had forgotten about the Rani.

With all that had happened, first the original bout of body swapping, then Moya's shut down, his memories of his earlier brush with death had been pushed to one side. But now, they returned in a flood. The Rani's cynical expression and cold smile as he charged into his chamber, Aeryn hot on his heels, the fight, Aeryn's stumble and his reflex push that had allowed the peacekeeper to throw his would be murderer from the walkway. Once the Rani had disappeared into the black below, he'd assumed he was gone for good. He had forgotten the rather graphic evidence his passing after such a fall would leave behind. He would not make that mistake again. The remains were beyond recognition, and scattered over a fairly wide area. That was the kind of thing that stuck in the mind.

He did not want to stay here. Pilot rose quickly, wiping Aeryn's mouth and turned to enter the neural cluster. Something crunched under his foot; he hesitated, not too keen to look after his first gruesome discovery. But whatever it was did not feel like remains. Once again, curiosity won out. Slowly, he bent and lifted the thing, hefting it in one hand.

Small, black and compact, the device fitted neatly into Aeryn's palm. It looked bent, and one panel was loose, revealing twisted machinery. Pilot raised an eyebrow. It appeared the Rani device had survived the fall somewhat better than it's master.

Cautiously he poked at it. Nothing happened. He paused, thinking back to the last time he had seen this innocent looking piece of technology reap its devastating effect. He remembered the way it had brought dormant parts of Moya to life, and exploded Aeryn's pulse pistol and several DRDs. It was damaged now of course. But if he could fix it…

This thing could be very useful.

Gazing thoughtfully at his potential ship saver, Pilot turned and entered the neural cluster. He needed to know what he was up against.

It was time to head for the maintenance bay.

*********************************

Edril was a simple man. His size and physical strength, an asset in the piracy game, had made him indispensable and the fact that he never questioned the commands of those cleverer than he had made him popular with the likes of Jak and Areni, the men who of course, it was vital to impress. He was loyal, and did as he was told and he had the strength and reputation for quick and brutal violence to make sure that those around him did the same. As a result, when it came to leading mindless tasks, Edril was the first choice every time.

So it had been without question that he had accepted Jak's charge to investigate the upper tiers of the ship. But the big man had to admit, there was something about this place that made him feel uneasy. He knew leviathans were living ships, with minds and consciousnesses of their own and that kind of unguided independence of thinking made a man of his unthinking obedience more than a little perturbed. True, there were few signs of life – the corridors were dark and shadowed, the lights dim and silence filled the air like the hush of a grave – but that didn't help much; indeed it only made him more nervous. He wasn't afraid – he didn't have the imagination for it – but he couldn't shake the uncomfortable impression that he was wandering through the entrails of a corpse.

"Edril! Over here!"

The summons caught his attention. Face fixed and blank, the burly pirate strode over to where one of his companions was staring into a dark cell, his expression a mixture of interest and surprise. Edril moved to his side.

"What?" he said brusquely.

The other pirate shrugged and pointed into the darkness. "Take a look."

Edril followed his finger. The cell looked to be occupied on a regular basis, clothing and jewellery scattered around in an untidy jumble, a bed covered by a golden sheet at rest between the double doors. But it was not the furniture nor even the jewellery that caught Edril's attention.

It was the girl.

She lay curled up in a tight, foetal ball in the far recesses of the cell, her face buried in her knees, her hands gripping her head so tightly it was a miracle she hadn't drawn blood. She was shaking, muffled whimpering sounds, emerging from the crook of her lap as she rocked and shivered as though in some mild seizure. Her hair was bold white, her skin a duller grey, features that Edril recognised at once as Nebari. Her face, pressed down into her lap, was invisible.

She looked sick. Edril glanced at his companion, reluctant to approach in case whatever afflicted her was catching.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked gruffly. "Did you do something?"

"Not me," the other pirate replied, eyes still fixed on the strange little Nebari. "She was like that when I got here." He looked up at Edril. "What do we do with her?"

Edril knew exactly what to do. He'd been given orders.

"Boss said all prisoners to be taken to the maintenance bay," he answered confidently.

His companion looked sceptical. "You sure? If she'll sick, we'll all catch it."

Edril fixed him with a stubborn expression

"The Boss said," he repeated firmly. "You go get her. Take her to the maintenance bay."

"Me?" His subordinate was less than enthusiastic but his protest died on his lips when he met Edril's gaze and read the threats of terrible violence written in its layers.

He gulped, biting back his reluctance. "I'll take her," he said quickly.

With a well-hidden sigh, he started forward, picking his way through the mess of the room to where the Nebari lay crouched on the floor. He stared at her for a moment, not quite sure how to approach this. The last thing he wanted to do was touch her.

"Hey, you! Girl!" he snapped, hefting his rifle in a threatening manner. "Get up!"

There was no response. The Nebari continued to shake and whimper in her self-contained little ball. The pirate glanced back over his shoulder, caught the look on Edril's face and quickly turned back.

"I said get up!" he commanded. "What are you, deaf?"

Roughly he poked her with the muzzle of his rifle. She flinched away but did not move.

The pirate felt his temper rising. "Do as I tell you!" he roared, jamming his rifle into her side. But still she would not rise.

The pirate lost all patience. "Up now!" he bellowed. His anger overrode his fears. Lunging forward, he grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted her head to face him.

Edril did not expect what happened next. His subordinate yanked his hand away with a garbled oath and scrambled back, swearing and cursing as he stumbled over furniture and his own feet in his haste to get away. As he reached the doorway, apparently intending to escape right passed, Edril closed his bruising fingers on his arm and dragged him back.

"Where you going?" he snapped. "I told you to bring the girl!"

He paused, catching his first proper look at his companion's face. His eyes were wide, his expression taut and breathless, his skin beaded with sweat. Shock and fear were scrawled on every feature.

"What's the matter with you?" Edril said.

"The girl! The girl!" The pirate was garbling. "She ain't normal!"

"I can see that." Edril was not impressed by this apparent cowardice. "That's no reason not to do what I just told you."

"No! You don't understand! She's a spirit or a ghost or something! Her eyes, Edril! Her eyes!"

He wasn't making any sense. "What about her eyes?" Edril asked impatiently.

The pirate met his gaze, his expression filled with terror.

"They glowed!" he gasped. "Her eyes were glowing blue!"

END OF PART THREE.