Part 9
"Who's he?" said Jool, sidling close to the wall and using D'Argo as a shield.
"That is the Bocreel." D'Argo fingered his Qualta Blade.
"Aeryn." John grabbed her sleeve. "You have to talk to him." He was staring at her, looking both intense and helples like her John had looked before he'd gone up to destroy the Scarren ship. He was desperate. She hated seeing him that way.
"Trust me," he whispered.
"Jool," said Aeryn, "will he be all right for half an arn or so?"
Jool pulled out her scanner and ran it over John's body. "His fever is a little higher than it has been, but he's adjusting to the counteragent well enough."
"Okay, then." Aeryn glanced over her shoulder. The Bocreel was going back in the tavern. "I'll talk to the Bocreel. I just hope Harvey knows what he's doing."
"He does." John pulled a bag of currency from his pocket and passed it to her. "It's not like before when I still had the chip. He's weak. I can control him and he's knows it. Plus if I stay alive, so does he."
John said that as if it would reassure her, but Aeryn found it impossible to meet his eyes. Sometimes he was so perceptive it scared her, and she didn't want him to see exactly how much his casual acceptance of Harvey's advice disturbed her. She vividly remembering almost shooting her John because of Harvey, a John with cold, haughty eyes and Scorpius's voice.
So she concentrated on buckling John's coat and fussing with his collar to keep out the breeze. She even took off her own coat to lay over him when his shivering didn't abate. Inwardly though, she vowed to get rid of Harvey. If John survived his illness and if they all survived this mission to destroy Scorpius's wormhole knowledge, Harvey would be her next target.
"Thanks," said John.
"Don't thank me yet."
As she started to rise, John grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go even when she reflexively pulled away. "No," he said, squeezing her fingers. "Thanks." He wouldn't let go until she nodded. Then his hand fell as if he'd used up the last of his strength. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, teeth chattering.
As Aeryn stood up, she had a feeling something was changing between them, and she wasn't sure what it was or whether she liked it. And there wasn't time to figure it out.
She grabbed the bag of currency and settled her pulse rifle into the crook of her arm. "Comm me if he gets worse."
"Of course," said Jool with a toss of her hair.
Aeryn turned and headed back to the tavern. When she got inside, she marched straight to the sebacean hired gun, who immediately turned and led the way to a door in the back. Aeryn palmed it open.
The Bocreel sat at a small table, reading glasses perched on his snout. He was examining data from a hand-held computer that looked like a toy in his massive paw. With a sigh, he pulled off his glasses and motioned Aeryn to take the seat across from him.
She tossed the bag of currency on the table and sat, rifle in her lap. She wanted to demand that the Bocreel tell her if he knew of medicine to help John, but she remembered how volatile he'd been the last time she saw him. So she remained silent, unsure, wishing Rygel was here. She was not suited to negotiation.
The Bocreel pulled out a bottle filled with amber liquid. "I see that John Crichton still not well."
"Yes."
"And why should I talk to peace keeper?"
"I'm no longer a peace keeper."
"You look like peace keeper. You act like peace keeper."
Aeryn just stared at him, one eyebrow cocked.
The Bocreel chuckled, or at least that's what Aeryn assumed he was doing from the gutteral noise he was making. He set two small glasses on the table and filled them with the amber liquid. "All negotiations begin with goolaw. Drink."
Aeryn frowned and fingered her glass. The name "goolaw" sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Vaguely, she remembered D'Argo saying something about John having to drink an alcoholic beverage the last time they'd come down here, but she hadn't been paying attention. D'Argo had mentioned it during a meal when she'd been busy concentrating on eating as fast as she could so she could escape back to her room and her routine as a soldier.
"Frell," she said under her breath. Some soldier she was. Now she was missing vital information that could affect the success of this mission.
Aeryn sniffed the drink. It was strong but seemed harmless enough. As the Bocreel tossed back his drink, she did the same. It made Aeryn's eyes water and her throat burn. She blinked and waited for the sensation to pass.
The Bocreel belched and smacked his lips. Then he cleared the bottle and glasses from the table. He studied her for a microt, tapping a claw on one of his fangs. "Why you leave the peace keepers?" he asked quietly.
His question surprised her, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Instead, she found herself answering him with more candor than she ever had before, even including details she hadn't thought about in a long time. "Crais tried to get me to return," she finished, "but I knew that his idea of a full pardon meant the living death, so I stayed on Moya."
"You wish to be peace keeper again?"
Aeryn tried to think about this, but again she found herself answering before she had a chance. "No, Moya is my home now. I'm not the same person I was then."
This time, all it took was for the Bocreel to look at her with a raised eyebrow. He didn't even have to ask a question.
"I THINK now," Aeryn continued. "I don't blindly follow orders. I no longer believe that all emotions are dangerous. In fact, I've learned that not expressing emotions can be dangerous too, perhaps moreso. Mostly I've learned that the peace keepers are a brutal and corrupt organization that's lost all of its original ideals. I've seen them torture and kill my friends. Scorpius is the worst of them all, and he is allowed to make his own rules. He put a neurochip in Crichton, which drove him mad until he killed me." Aeryn's voice caught as she remembered her plunge into the freezing water. She shivered.
"Tell about Captain Crais," said the Bocreel.
As Aeryn opened her mouth and heard herself explain how Crais had stolen Talyn and how he'd needed her help with the retrieval squad, she listened in horror. This was wrong. She was a soldier and knew how to be interogated. Why did the simplest questions evoke long-winded ramblings from her? When she began to explain the current problems Crais was having with Talyn, she forced herself to cough and pressed her fist against her lips, trying to regain control.
The Bocreel waited patiently for her finish. She nodded when the compulsion to speak lessened.
"Now tell about wormholes," he said.
***
John woke to the sound of Chiana and D'Argo arguing. He forced his eyes open and blinked, trying to remember where he was and why. He lay propped against a building with Aeryn's coat over him. The ground was rough and cold, and the air smelled like garbage and sun-baked asphalt. Seeing Jool jogged his memory. She stood nearby, arms crossed and a disgusted look on her face.
"Well deal with it," said Chiana, hands hanging loose at her sides and head cocked in typical Chiana fashion. "I'm not going back."
D'Argo cursed in Luxan. "Then tell us about your vision," he said. He took a deep breath as if trying to remain calm.
"It's bad." She beckoned D'Argo closer so she could lower her voice. "Aeryn was crying and she was sitting next to Crichton. And Crichton didn't look good."
"What do you mean he didn't look good?"
"I mean, he looked dead."
The three of them turned to stare at John. John squinted back at them, questions zipping around in his mind. He was having trouble thinking and no answers came were coming. Did Chiana's visions always come true? Was this truly a vision or was she just worried? Could she be seeing Aeryn and the other him when the other him was dying?
None of his friends seemed to have the answers either. They just stared at him, eyes narrowed in sympathy as if they believed Chiana.
"Hey, Pip," he said, his voice raspy.
"Hey, old man." She stooped next to him and rested a hand on his chest.
"One question. How often have your visions not come true?"
"Well ... never. Except for the time I said Aeryn had to talk to the Bocreel..." Chiana glanced around. "Hey, where is Aeryn anyway?"
John squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall against the wall. No, no, no, no, he was not going to die. He was too young. He had too much to do. He had to kill Scorpy and save the universe from wormholes. He had to go home again so he could see Dad and Jenny and Pam and DK. He had to have pizza and watch Monday Night Football and go fishing on Swallow Lake. He had to kiss Aeryn one more time and wrap his fingers in her hair and feel her breath on his cheek.
"Have faith," whispered Harvey. "I'm smarter than them."
John wanted to punch him.
***
Aeryn shoved her rifle in the Bocreel's face, pressing it into the side of his furry snout. "Tell me what you did to me."
"I do nothing," said the Bocreel calmly.
"Do not lie. There was something in that drink which is making me talk. What is it?"
"If you not remove pistol, you die." The Bocreel's eyes flickered toward the wall. Aeryn glanced around. Pulse blasters jutted out of the light fixtures, and they were trained on her. She had no doubt that she would be dead the microt she moved her index finger. For a moment, she thought killing this creature might be worth the risk, but she knew that was foolishness. So she brought up her rifle, and the pulse blasters retreated.
"Your turn to talk," said Aeryn, sitting down. "So talk."
The Bocreel spread his hands on the table as if to show her he'd meant no harm. "Goolaw is drink of negotiation. It mean 'without deception.'"
Suddenly Aeryn remembered. D'Argo had called it truth serum and had laughed at how it had made John babble, implying that he'd thought nothing could make John talk more than he already did. Just as it was making Aeryn talk now.
"Well, the time for negotiating is over," she said. "And if you don't like that, too bad. Right now, I care nothing for your frelling chip. Crichton is ill, and we thought you might have medicine that could help him."
"Perhaps, perhaps," said the Bocreel. "I sell many things. What he need?"
"He has something called ..." Aeryn had to think for a microt before the name came to her. "... cerbal. It's an Interon disease of the nervous system."
"It possible I have something," he said. Then he leaned back and flicked a drop of goolaw from his fur. "Tell about wormholes first."
Aeryn resisted the urge to start babbling everything she knew. She pressed her lips together, and the moment passed. "Right. And then you kill me."
"I only kill peace keepers and those who deceive me. Goolaw make good insurance."
Aeryn hesitated. "You kill peace keepers? I thought they were your best customer."
The Bocreel didn't respond. "Wormholes," he repeated. "Or maybe Crichton not need medicine so bad."
Aeryn rubbed her lips. They were already starting to form the words that he wanted to hear. "Before I talk, I need you to make a vow."
As the Bocreel started to shake his head, Aeryn leaned forward. She almost grabbed the fur near his throat, but remembered not to just in time. "You're going to vow not to kill us because of what I'm about to tell you. And you'll let us leave without harm, ALL of us, especially Crichton. If you don't, then I walk out that door now."
The Bocreel stared at her for a moment. Then he touched his heart with his left paw. "By Yano, I so vow."
How do you read the sincerity of a Bocreel? Aeryn wondered. Who the frell was Yano? She sat back and gripped her rifle, glancing at the doorway, wishing once more Rygel was here and wondering if the Bocreel actually had the medicine or not. Finally, she decided that she had little choice but to take this chance. John seemed to trust him, though she wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.
Finally, she sighed and let the goolaw take over. "The first time I saw a wormhole," she began, "Crichton and I were in in module, orbiting Dam Ba Da." She then went on to describe John's first experiments with solar flares and how Furlow had gotten her hands on the data.
From there, she told him about the Ancients and the false Earth, everything she'd ever known about wormholes. She was like an airlock losing pressure in space. Words poured from her about Scorpius, Furlow, Jack and Neeyala's people. She told him how John had been split and how her John had had the wormhole knowledge unlocked in his brain. She told him how he had become fatally contaminated with radiation and how he'd touched the sun and destroyed the Scarren dreadnought. She told him how honorably he'd died. Then she told him about the other John, the one lying outside right now, the one that was not hers, and how he had the same knowledge locked inside his brain only he couldn't access it.
"Scorpius should not have this power. No one should. So we are going to destroy it. Somehow. That is why we need the chip."
Aeryn stopped and hunched over, breathing hard. Her throat hurt and her lips were parched. Tears ran down her face and across her neck, dampening the front of her shirt. She hadn't told it all like this before. She hadn't told anyone about John's death, leaving Crais and Rygel to fill the others in. To speak of it again was the second hardest thing she'd ever done. The first had been to close his eyes after he'd died.
Aeryn fought to bring her emotions under control, but she seemed to have lost the ability. Her chest hurt so much that she pressed a hand to it and just cried. The Bocreel watched silently.
"Who's he?" said Jool, sidling close to the wall and using D'Argo as a shield.
"That is the Bocreel." D'Argo fingered his Qualta Blade.
"Aeryn." John grabbed her sleeve. "You have to talk to him." He was staring at her, looking both intense and helples like her John had looked before he'd gone up to destroy the Scarren ship. He was desperate. She hated seeing him that way.
"Trust me," he whispered.
"Jool," said Aeryn, "will he be all right for half an arn or so?"
Jool pulled out her scanner and ran it over John's body. "His fever is a little higher than it has been, but he's adjusting to the counteragent well enough."
"Okay, then." Aeryn glanced over her shoulder. The Bocreel was going back in the tavern. "I'll talk to the Bocreel. I just hope Harvey knows what he's doing."
"He does." John pulled a bag of currency from his pocket and passed it to her. "It's not like before when I still had the chip. He's weak. I can control him and he's knows it. Plus if I stay alive, so does he."
John said that as if it would reassure her, but Aeryn found it impossible to meet his eyes. Sometimes he was so perceptive it scared her, and she didn't want him to see exactly how much his casual acceptance of Harvey's advice disturbed her. She vividly remembering almost shooting her John because of Harvey, a John with cold, haughty eyes and Scorpius's voice.
So she concentrated on buckling John's coat and fussing with his collar to keep out the breeze. She even took off her own coat to lay over him when his shivering didn't abate. Inwardly though, she vowed to get rid of Harvey. If John survived his illness and if they all survived this mission to destroy Scorpius's wormhole knowledge, Harvey would be her next target.
"Thanks," said John.
"Don't thank me yet."
As she started to rise, John grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go even when she reflexively pulled away. "No," he said, squeezing her fingers. "Thanks." He wouldn't let go until she nodded. Then his hand fell as if he'd used up the last of his strength. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, teeth chattering.
As Aeryn stood up, she had a feeling something was changing between them, and she wasn't sure what it was or whether she liked it. And there wasn't time to figure it out.
She grabbed the bag of currency and settled her pulse rifle into the crook of her arm. "Comm me if he gets worse."
"Of course," said Jool with a toss of her hair.
Aeryn turned and headed back to the tavern. When she got inside, she marched straight to the sebacean hired gun, who immediately turned and led the way to a door in the back. Aeryn palmed it open.
The Bocreel sat at a small table, reading glasses perched on his snout. He was examining data from a hand-held computer that looked like a toy in his massive paw. With a sigh, he pulled off his glasses and motioned Aeryn to take the seat across from him.
She tossed the bag of currency on the table and sat, rifle in her lap. She wanted to demand that the Bocreel tell her if he knew of medicine to help John, but she remembered how volatile he'd been the last time she saw him. So she remained silent, unsure, wishing Rygel was here. She was not suited to negotiation.
The Bocreel pulled out a bottle filled with amber liquid. "I see that John Crichton still not well."
"Yes."
"And why should I talk to peace keeper?"
"I'm no longer a peace keeper."
"You look like peace keeper. You act like peace keeper."
Aeryn just stared at him, one eyebrow cocked.
The Bocreel chuckled, or at least that's what Aeryn assumed he was doing from the gutteral noise he was making. He set two small glasses on the table and filled them with the amber liquid. "All negotiations begin with goolaw. Drink."
Aeryn frowned and fingered her glass. The name "goolaw" sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Vaguely, she remembered D'Argo saying something about John having to drink an alcoholic beverage the last time they'd come down here, but she hadn't been paying attention. D'Argo had mentioned it during a meal when she'd been busy concentrating on eating as fast as she could so she could escape back to her room and her routine as a soldier.
"Frell," she said under her breath. Some soldier she was. Now she was missing vital information that could affect the success of this mission.
Aeryn sniffed the drink. It was strong but seemed harmless enough. As the Bocreel tossed back his drink, she did the same. It made Aeryn's eyes water and her throat burn. She blinked and waited for the sensation to pass.
The Bocreel belched and smacked his lips. Then he cleared the bottle and glasses from the table. He studied her for a microt, tapping a claw on one of his fangs. "Why you leave the peace keepers?" he asked quietly.
His question surprised her, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Instead, she found herself answering him with more candor than she ever had before, even including details she hadn't thought about in a long time. "Crais tried to get me to return," she finished, "but I knew that his idea of a full pardon meant the living death, so I stayed on Moya."
"You wish to be peace keeper again?"
Aeryn tried to think about this, but again she found herself answering before she had a chance. "No, Moya is my home now. I'm not the same person I was then."
This time, all it took was for the Bocreel to look at her with a raised eyebrow. He didn't even have to ask a question.
"I THINK now," Aeryn continued. "I don't blindly follow orders. I no longer believe that all emotions are dangerous. In fact, I've learned that not expressing emotions can be dangerous too, perhaps moreso. Mostly I've learned that the peace keepers are a brutal and corrupt organization that's lost all of its original ideals. I've seen them torture and kill my friends. Scorpius is the worst of them all, and he is allowed to make his own rules. He put a neurochip in Crichton, which drove him mad until he killed me." Aeryn's voice caught as she remembered her plunge into the freezing water. She shivered.
"Tell about Captain Crais," said the Bocreel.
As Aeryn opened her mouth and heard herself explain how Crais had stolen Talyn and how he'd needed her help with the retrieval squad, she listened in horror. This was wrong. She was a soldier and knew how to be interogated. Why did the simplest questions evoke long-winded ramblings from her? When she began to explain the current problems Crais was having with Talyn, she forced herself to cough and pressed her fist against her lips, trying to regain control.
The Bocreel waited patiently for her finish. She nodded when the compulsion to speak lessened.
"Now tell about wormholes," he said.
***
John woke to the sound of Chiana and D'Argo arguing. He forced his eyes open and blinked, trying to remember where he was and why. He lay propped against a building with Aeryn's coat over him. The ground was rough and cold, and the air smelled like garbage and sun-baked asphalt. Seeing Jool jogged his memory. She stood nearby, arms crossed and a disgusted look on her face.
"Well deal with it," said Chiana, hands hanging loose at her sides and head cocked in typical Chiana fashion. "I'm not going back."
D'Argo cursed in Luxan. "Then tell us about your vision," he said. He took a deep breath as if trying to remain calm.
"It's bad." She beckoned D'Argo closer so she could lower her voice. "Aeryn was crying and she was sitting next to Crichton. And Crichton didn't look good."
"What do you mean he didn't look good?"
"I mean, he looked dead."
The three of them turned to stare at John. John squinted back at them, questions zipping around in his mind. He was having trouble thinking and no answers came were coming. Did Chiana's visions always come true? Was this truly a vision or was she just worried? Could she be seeing Aeryn and the other him when the other him was dying?
None of his friends seemed to have the answers either. They just stared at him, eyes narrowed in sympathy as if they believed Chiana.
"Hey, Pip," he said, his voice raspy.
"Hey, old man." She stooped next to him and rested a hand on his chest.
"One question. How often have your visions not come true?"
"Well ... never. Except for the time I said Aeryn had to talk to the Bocreel..." Chiana glanced around. "Hey, where is Aeryn anyway?"
John squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall against the wall. No, no, no, no, he was not going to die. He was too young. He had too much to do. He had to kill Scorpy and save the universe from wormholes. He had to go home again so he could see Dad and Jenny and Pam and DK. He had to have pizza and watch Monday Night Football and go fishing on Swallow Lake. He had to kiss Aeryn one more time and wrap his fingers in her hair and feel her breath on his cheek.
"Have faith," whispered Harvey. "I'm smarter than them."
John wanted to punch him.
***
Aeryn shoved her rifle in the Bocreel's face, pressing it into the side of his furry snout. "Tell me what you did to me."
"I do nothing," said the Bocreel calmly.
"Do not lie. There was something in that drink which is making me talk. What is it?"
"If you not remove pistol, you die." The Bocreel's eyes flickered toward the wall. Aeryn glanced around. Pulse blasters jutted out of the light fixtures, and they were trained on her. She had no doubt that she would be dead the microt she moved her index finger. For a moment, she thought killing this creature might be worth the risk, but she knew that was foolishness. So she brought up her rifle, and the pulse blasters retreated.
"Your turn to talk," said Aeryn, sitting down. "So talk."
The Bocreel spread his hands on the table as if to show her he'd meant no harm. "Goolaw is drink of negotiation. It mean 'without deception.'"
Suddenly Aeryn remembered. D'Argo had called it truth serum and had laughed at how it had made John babble, implying that he'd thought nothing could make John talk more than he already did. Just as it was making Aeryn talk now.
"Well, the time for negotiating is over," she said. "And if you don't like that, too bad. Right now, I care nothing for your frelling chip. Crichton is ill, and we thought you might have medicine that could help him."
"Perhaps, perhaps," said the Bocreel. "I sell many things. What he need?"
"He has something called ..." Aeryn had to think for a microt before the name came to her. "... cerbal. It's an Interon disease of the nervous system."
"It possible I have something," he said. Then he leaned back and flicked a drop of goolaw from his fur. "Tell about wormholes first."
Aeryn resisted the urge to start babbling everything she knew. She pressed her lips together, and the moment passed. "Right. And then you kill me."
"I only kill peace keepers and those who deceive me. Goolaw make good insurance."
Aeryn hesitated. "You kill peace keepers? I thought they were your best customer."
The Bocreel didn't respond. "Wormholes," he repeated. "Or maybe Crichton not need medicine so bad."
Aeryn rubbed her lips. They were already starting to form the words that he wanted to hear. "Before I talk, I need you to make a vow."
As the Bocreel started to shake his head, Aeryn leaned forward. She almost grabbed the fur near his throat, but remembered not to just in time. "You're going to vow not to kill us because of what I'm about to tell you. And you'll let us leave without harm, ALL of us, especially Crichton. If you don't, then I walk out that door now."
The Bocreel stared at her for a moment. Then he touched his heart with his left paw. "By Yano, I so vow."
How do you read the sincerity of a Bocreel? Aeryn wondered. Who the frell was Yano? She sat back and gripped her rifle, glancing at the doorway, wishing once more Rygel was here and wondering if the Bocreel actually had the medicine or not. Finally, she decided that she had little choice but to take this chance. John seemed to trust him, though she wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.
Finally, she sighed and let the goolaw take over. "The first time I saw a wormhole," she began, "Crichton and I were in in module, orbiting Dam Ba Da." She then went on to describe John's first experiments with solar flares and how Furlow had gotten her hands on the data.
From there, she told him about the Ancients and the false Earth, everything she'd ever known about wormholes. She was like an airlock losing pressure in space. Words poured from her about Scorpius, Furlow, Jack and Neeyala's people. She told him how John had been split and how her John had had the wormhole knowledge unlocked in his brain. She told him how he had become fatally contaminated with radiation and how he'd touched the sun and destroyed the Scarren dreadnought. She told him how honorably he'd died. Then she told him about the other John, the one lying outside right now, the one that was not hers, and how he had the same knowledge locked inside his brain only he couldn't access it.
"Scorpius should not have this power. No one should. So we are going to destroy it. Somehow. That is why we need the chip."
Aeryn stopped and hunched over, breathing hard. Her throat hurt and her lips were parched. Tears ran down her face and across her neck, dampening the front of her shirt. She hadn't told it all like this before. She hadn't told anyone about John's death, leaving Crais and Rygel to fill the others in. To speak of it again was the second hardest thing she'd ever done. The first had been to close his eyes after he'd died.
Aeryn fought to bring her emotions under control, but she seemed to have lost the ability. Her chest hurt so much that she pressed a hand to it and just cried. The Bocreel watched silently.
