Part 5
Jool entered the lab to find Crichton shivering, his blanket on the floor. She sighed and strode across the lab. Then she picked up the blanket and tucked it around him. He didn't even stir, not that he stirred much nowadays. He spent more time asleep than awake. When the shivering didn't stop, she checked the heating coil, and sure enough, it had come unplugged. That monochromatic bitch, she thought as she plugged the blanket back in. It'd been her turn to watch Crichton.
"Chiana," she said into her comm, not even trying to hide her exasperation, "where the frell are you?"
Chiana walked into the lab, a mug of something steaming in her hand. "I'm right here. What's your problem?"
"My problem is that -" Jool turned away and took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to keep her temper in check. Chiana had been just as dedicated as D'Argo in nursing Crichton. The problem wasn't Chiana. It was Crichton, or rather, his illness. He'd been sick a weeken without any signs of improvement and it was making Jool crazy. She knew more about medical science than anyone aboard Moya. She had seven advanced degrees. She was considered a genius by her people, which was so far beyond what anyone on this ship was capable of that she wondered why she stayed sometimes. Yet she could not determine how to heal Crichton, the only one on board with even a small amount of intelligence.
Jool sat heavily at a table and rested her head on her hand. "I don't have a problem."
Chiana pulled up a stool and sat next to her. "Crichton is strong. He'll get better, you'll see. Tomorrow he'll be sitting up and talking about three stupid men again."
"Stooges. I believe he called them stooges."
"Yeah, that's it."
Jool smiled and rubbed her eyes. "It has been rather quiet, hasn't it?"
"Yeah, especially with Aeryn, well, you know. And with Stark gone."
Jool nodded.
Chiana took a sip out of her mug and offered it to Jool. Jool sniffed the contents: merve root sweetened with hipsor and just a hint of cint. Lovely. With a grateful smile, she drank some and passed it back. And they spent the next half arn that way, sitting on stools in the lab, watching Crichton and passing a mug between them.
"You know, I'm really impressed with this," said Chiana, breaking their silence.
"With what?"
"This lab, the way you've kept it up, how much you know about healing." Chiana tilted her head and considered Jool. "I didn't think you had it in you."
"Thanks ... I think." Jool looked at Chiana and decided to pay her a compliment too. It was not something she did very often, so she had to think for bit to come up with one. "It's blex the way you can tell the future."
Chiana half-smiled and laughed like she didn't mean it. "Yeah, blex."
Jool frowned, wondering what she'd said wrong. She opened her mouth to ask Chiana, but Crichton began muttering and shaking his head back and forth.
Jool and Chiana tensed and leaned forward, ready to run across the room if Crichton woke up or started thrashing as he had once before. That time, they'd needed to hold him down. The object of his attention had been Scorpius, wormholes and what was probably remnants of torture. At least that was what Jool had surmised from the frantic way he'd jerked his body about and screamed "freak" at the top of his lungs.
This time his muttering was mostly unintelligible, and he settled down after a while, but not before "Aeryn," slipped out, soft as a sigh.
Jool glanced at Chiana. "This is wrong. She should know."
"Aeryn?" Chiana shook her head. "No, no, no, no, no, D'Argo said Crichton doesn't want her to know."
"I know what he said. But what if Crichton dies and we never told her he was sick -- do you want to be the one to break the news to her then?"
Chiana stared at Jool as if doing so could make Jool undo her words. "He is not going to die."
"Chiana, I have given him every medication I can think of and nothing is helping. I don't know what else to do. Aeryn must know." Frustration made her voice get higher and louder. "Rygel and Crais should know, too, for that matter."
"They already do." When Jool turned to stare at Chiana, Chiana squirmed on her stool. "We had to tell them. They were asking too many questions."
"And I take it that Aeryn never asks any questions."
"Not of me. How about you?"
Jool shook her head.
"D'Argo said she asked him a couple of times but that was it." Chiana stood up, stretching her back. She started across the room. "So don't say anything, okay? 'Cause Crichton will get better. He will. You'll see, he'll be talking nonstop tomorrow and -- and you'll want to dose him with something to make him shut up."
Chiana's teasing fell flat as she stopped next to the still Crichton. Jool came up alongside her and watched Chiana brush back the short hair at his forehead with one gloved hand.
"He was the one who let me stay on Moya," said Chiana. "The others would've been just as happy throwing me out the nearest airlock."
"Me, too," said Jool, remembering D'Argo's story of how Crichton had insisted they take her and her cousin aboard Moya. For the longest time, she'd resented the fact that Crichton ability to talk had come at the expense of her cousin. Not because she cared about this cousin so much. He was the greedy trelnik who'd convinced her to enter the mine in the first place, the mine with its genetic scanning that he had assured her would not be operating the day she snuck in. Frelling idiot. He deserved Grunchlik's cryochamber.
No, Crichton was just an easy target for everything horrible that had happened to her lately. Losing twenty-two cycles out of her life, being lost in the Uncharted Territories, having to deal with Nebari, Luxans, Hynerians, and ex-peacekeepers, none of whom liked her and all of whom who yelled at her all the time. It was completely Crichton's fault that she was stuck in such an icky place that alternated between completely boring and so horrible that Jool sometimes wished she was still frozen. She shuddered as she remembered the milking machine and the diseased leviathan. No, horrible wasn't strong enough of a word to describe what she'd been through since she'd come aboard.
Jool looked down at Crichton's pale face, so young and relaxed in sleep. When had she stopped resenting him? she wondered. When had this huge ship started feeling like home?
She put an arm around Chiana and gave her a brief squeeze. "It's late. Go get some sleep."
Chiana nodded. She bent down and kissed Crichton on the cheek. As she turned to go, she deposited the mug in Jool's hand, an impish grin on her face. "You can take this back."
Jool smiled. "Fair enough."
When Chiana got to the doorway, she paused, her back to the room. "He is not going to die. He isn't. Got it?"
"Got it."
After Chiana left, Jool touched her comm. "Good evening, Pilot."
"Good evening, Joolushka. How is Commander Crichton doing?"
"He's resting quietly. Have you seen Aeryn around?"
"I believe she is in the center chamber, why?"
"No reason. Thanks, Pilot."
Jool straightened her collar and smoothed the front of her dress. Then she tightened her grip on the mug and headed down the hall to the center chamber. D'Argo and Chiana might think they knew what was best for Crichton's health. And abiding by his wishes was a very loyal and honorable thing to do. But they were not in charge of his healing. She was. And only she knew how precarious that was right now.
Besides, Aeryn Sun had a right to know how ill Crichton was. And if she chose not to care, then no one need ever know. And if she chose to lose her temper, well, Jool was fairly confident that Aeryn would not harm her for the deceipt. Fairly certain.
At the center chamber, Jool glanced inside before entering. Aeryn was sitting at the table sipping a beverage, hair neatly pulled back. She looked calm. But then again, she always looked calm these days.
Jool stalled by washing out the mug and setting it back on its shelf. Then she grabbed a rondir and a pairing knife. She sat across from Aeryn, sliced off a piece and held it out. "Would you like some?"
Aeryn shook her head. Jool took a tiny bite of rondir and forced herself to swallow. She was glad she held a knife in her hand. "Crichton is ill," she said.
Aeryn glanced up in surprise. "Yes, I know. D'Argo told me."
"He has something called cerbel. It's fairly common among my people."
"Mmm." Aeryn took a sip out of her cup.
"It's an infection of the nervous system." Jool set down her fruit, but she held onto the knife. "It causes headaches, fever, vertigo, muscle weakness, and sensitivity to light. There is no cure."
Aeryn stared at Jool.
"In my people, the symptoms are mild, and we usually heal within a few days. But Crichton is human, so he isn't responding to the medication as I thought he would. It's been a weeken already and -"
Aeryn grabbed Jool's collar and pressed Jool's face to the table. Jool yelped. She tried thrusting the knife outward, but Aeryn grabbed her wrist and squeezed until Jool let go. The knife fell to the table with a clang.
"Is Crichton dying?" said Aeryn.
"You're hurting me." Jool felt tears spill down her face and her shoulders shook.
Aeryn pressed her head close to Jool's. Her hot breath moistened Jool's cheek. "Is he dying?"
"I don't know." Jool tried to stop herself from crying, but she wasn't very good at it. In between sobs, she managed to get out, "He isn't getting better and I don't know what else to do."
Aeryn released her. Jool scrambled off the stool and backed away. "No one else wanted to tell you. They're all afraid of you and with good reason. But I thought you should know. Crichton is very sick."
Jool wiped her face. She was breathing hard and her hands were trembling. Aeryn on the other hand, seemed as calm as ever. She picked up the paring knife and ran her fingers along the sharp side as if testing its usefulness.
"Where is he?" she said quietly, glancing up.
Jool took a step back. Aeryn's normally expressionless face had changed. Her gray eyes were wide and her brow was wrinkled as if she were in pain. It was an old pain, one she had grown familiar with, one that haunted her at night. The rest of her looked tense, tired, the lines on her face sharply etched. She looked like she was resigning herself to facing something horrible. And perhaps she was.
"He's in Zahn's lab," said Jool.
Aeryn nodded and went back to studying the knife, turning it slowly in her fingers.
No apology, no thank you. Nothing. Not that Jool had expected anything. In fact, she was just grateful to be done. She escaped down the hall and headed back to the lab, hoping she'd made the right decision. Because if she hadn't, then she would be facing D'Argo the next day.
Jool entered the lab to find Crichton shivering, his blanket on the floor. She sighed and strode across the lab. Then she picked up the blanket and tucked it around him. He didn't even stir, not that he stirred much nowadays. He spent more time asleep than awake. When the shivering didn't stop, she checked the heating coil, and sure enough, it had come unplugged. That monochromatic bitch, she thought as she plugged the blanket back in. It'd been her turn to watch Crichton.
"Chiana," she said into her comm, not even trying to hide her exasperation, "where the frell are you?"
Chiana walked into the lab, a mug of something steaming in her hand. "I'm right here. What's your problem?"
"My problem is that -" Jool turned away and took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to keep her temper in check. Chiana had been just as dedicated as D'Argo in nursing Crichton. The problem wasn't Chiana. It was Crichton, or rather, his illness. He'd been sick a weeken without any signs of improvement and it was making Jool crazy. She knew more about medical science than anyone aboard Moya. She had seven advanced degrees. She was considered a genius by her people, which was so far beyond what anyone on this ship was capable of that she wondered why she stayed sometimes. Yet she could not determine how to heal Crichton, the only one on board with even a small amount of intelligence.
Jool sat heavily at a table and rested her head on her hand. "I don't have a problem."
Chiana pulled up a stool and sat next to her. "Crichton is strong. He'll get better, you'll see. Tomorrow he'll be sitting up and talking about three stupid men again."
"Stooges. I believe he called them stooges."
"Yeah, that's it."
Jool smiled and rubbed her eyes. "It has been rather quiet, hasn't it?"
"Yeah, especially with Aeryn, well, you know. And with Stark gone."
Jool nodded.
Chiana took a sip out of her mug and offered it to Jool. Jool sniffed the contents: merve root sweetened with hipsor and just a hint of cint. Lovely. With a grateful smile, she drank some and passed it back. And they spent the next half arn that way, sitting on stools in the lab, watching Crichton and passing a mug between them.
"You know, I'm really impressed with this," said Chiana, breaking their silence.
"With what?"
"This lab, the way you've kept it up, how much you know about healing." Chiana tilted her head and considered Jool. "I didn't think you had it in you."
"Thanks ... I think." Jool looked at Chiana and decided to pay her a compliment too. It was not something she did very often, so she had to think for bit to come up with one. "It's blex the way you can tell the future."
Chiana half-smiled and laughed like she didn't mean it. "Yeah, blex."
Jool frowned, wondering what she'd said wrong. She opened her mouth to ask Chiana, but Crichton began muttering and shaking his head back and forth.
Jool and Chiana tensed and leaned forward, ready to run across the room if Crichton woke up or started thrashing as he had once before. That time, they'd needed to hold him down. The object of his attention had been Scorpius, wormholes and what was probably remnants of torture. At least that was what Jool had surmised from the frantic way he'd jerked his body about and screamed "freak" at the top of his lungs.
This time his muttering was mostly unintelligible, and he settled down after a while, but not before "Aeryn," slipped out, soft as a sigh.
Jool glanced at Chiana. "This is wrong. She should know."
"Aeryn?" Chiana shook her head. "No, no, no, no, no, D'Argo said Crichton doesn't want her to know."
"I know what he said. But what if Crichton dies and we never told her he was sick -- do you want to be the one to break the news to her then?"
Chiana stared at Jool as if doing so could make Jool undo her words. "He is not going to die."
"Chiana, I have given him every medication I can think of and nothing is helping. I don't know what else to do. Aeryn must know." Frustration made her voice get higher and louder. "Rygel and Crais should know, too, for that matter."
"They already do." When Jool turned to stare at Chiana, Chiana squirmed on her stool. "We had to tell them. They were asking too many questions."
"And I take it that Aeryn never asks any questions."
"Not of me. How about you?"
Jool shook her head.
"D'Argo said she asked him a couple of times but that was it." Chiana stood up, stretching her back. She started across the room. "So don't say anything, okay? 'Cause Crichton will get better. He will. You'll see, he'll be talking nonstop tomorrow and -- and you'll want to dose him with something to make him shut up."
Chiana's teasing fell flat as she stopped next to the still Crichton. Jool came up alongside her and watched Chiana brush back the short hair at his forehead with one gloved hand.
"He was the one who let me stay on Moya," said Chiana. "The others would've been just as happy throwing me out the nearest airlock."
"Me, too," said Jool, remembering D'Argo's story of how Crichton had insisted they take her and her cousin aboard Moya. For the longest time, she'd resented the fact that Crichton ability to talk had come at the expense of her cousin. Not because she cared about this cousin so much. He was the greedy trelnik who'd convinced her to enter the mine in the first place, the mine with its genetic scanning that he had assured her would not be operating the day she snuck in. Frelling idiot. He deserved Grunchlik's cryochamber.
No, Crichton was just an easy target for everything horrible that had happened to her lately. Losing twenty-two cycles out of her life, being lost in the Uncharted Territories, having to deal with Nebari, Luxans, Hynerians, and ex-peacekeepers, none of whom liked her and all of whom who yelled at her all the time. It was completely Crichton's fault that she was stuck in such an icky place that alternated between completely boring and so horrible that Jool sometimes wished she was still frozen. She shuddered as she remembered the milking machine and the diseased leviathan. No, horrible wasn't strong enough of a word to describe what she'd been through since she'd come aboard.
Jool looked down at Crichton's pale face, so young and relaxed in sleep. When had she stopped resenting him? she wondered. When had this huge ship started feeling like home?
She put an arm around Chiana and gave her a brief squeeze. "It's late. Go get some sleep."
Chiana nodded. She bent down and kissed Crichton on the cheek. As she turned to go, she deposited the mug in Jool's hand, an impish grin on her face. "You can take this back."
Jool smiled. "Fair enough."
When Chiana got to the doorway, she paused, her back to the room. "He is not going to die. He isn't. Got it?"
"Got it."
After Chiana left, Jool touched her comm. "Good evening, Pilot."
"Good evening, Joolushka. How is Commander Crichton doing?"
"He's resting quietly. Have you seen Aeryn around?"
"I believe she is in the center chamber, why?"
"No reason. Thanks, Pilot."
Jool straightened her collar and smoothed the front of her dress. Then she tightened her grip on the mug and headed down the hall to the center chamber. D'Argo and Chiana might think they knew what was best for Crichton's health. And abiding by his wishes was a very loyal and honorable thing to do. But they were not in charge of his healing. She was. And only she knew how precarious that was right now.
Besides, Aeryn Sun had a right to know how ill Crichton was. And if she chose not to care, then no one need ever know. And if she chose to lose her temper, well, Jool was fairly confident that Aeryn would not harm her for the deceipt. Fairly certain.
At the center chamber, Jool glanced inside before entering. Aeryn was sitting at the table sipping a beverage, hair neatly pulled back. She looked calm. But then again, she always looked calm these days.
Jool stalled by washing out the mug and setting it back on its shelf. Then she grabbed a rondir and a pairing knife. She sat across from Aeryn, sliced off a piece and held it out. "Would you like some?"
Aeryn shook her head. Jool took a tiny bite of rondir and forced herself to swallow. She was glad she held a knife in her hand. "Crichton is ill," she said.
Aeryn glanced up in surprise. "Yes, I know. D'Argo told me."
"He has something called cerbel. It's fairly common among my people."
"Mmm." Aeryn took a sip out of her cup.
"It's an infection of the nervous system." Jool set down her fruit, but she held onto the knife. "It causes headaches, fever, vertigo, muscle weakness, and sensitivity to light. There is no cure."
Aeryn stared at Jool.
"In my people, the symptoms are mild, and we usually heal within a few days. But Crichton is human, so he isn't responding to the medication as I thought he would. It's been a weeken already and -"
Aeryn grabbed Jool's collar and pressed Jool's face to the table. Jool yelped. She tried thrusting the knife outward, but Aeryn grabbed her wrist and squeezed until Jool let go. The knife fell to the table with a clang.
"Is Crichton dying?" said Aeryn.
"You're hurting me." Jool felt tears spill down her face and her shoulders shook.
Aeryn pressed her head close to Jool's. Her hot breath moistened Jool's cheek. "Is he dying?"
"I don't know." Jool tried to stop herself from crying, but she wasn't very good at it. In between sobs, she managed to get out, "He isn't getting better and I don't know what else to do."
Aeryn released her. Jool scrambled off the stool and backed away. "No one else wanted to tell you. They're all afraid of you and with good reason. But I thought you should know. Crichton is very sick."
Jool wiped her face. She was breathing hard and her hands were trembling. Aeryn on the other hand, seemed as calm as ever. She picked up the paring knife and ran her fingers along the sharp side as if testing its usefulness.
"Where is he?" she said quietly, glancing up.
Jool took a step back. Aeryn's normally expressionless face had changed. Her gray eyes were wide and her brow was wrinkled as if she were in pain. It was an old pain, one she had grown familiar with, one that haunted her at night. The rest of her looked tense, tired, the lines on her face sharply etched. She looked like she was resigning herself to facing something horrible. And perhaps she was.
"He's in Zahn's lab," said Jool.
Aeryn nodded and went back to studying the knife, turning it slowly in her fingers.
No apology, no thank you. Nothing. Not that Jool had expected anything. In fact, she was just grateful to be done. She escaped down the hall and headed back to the lab, hoping she'd made the right decision. Because if she hadn't, then she would be facing D'Argo the next day.
