Chapter 11: Thanks For The Memory Part 2: If I Had One Wish
"Never again!" Carma screamed out the moment Crais stepped nervously into the room. "Never again, do you understand that?! I can't believe that I let you put me through this a second time! The moment this is over, I'm going to castrate you!!"
Crais pulled at his collar, not entirely convinced that she was joking, as he stepped slightly closer to the bed.
"Get here now!" Carma commanded, her face such a mask of barely-controlled fury that the head of Peacekeeper command herself would have obeyed her. "You are not getting out of this! It's your fault that I'm in this much pain, the least you can do is stay and help me!"
Crais stepped nearer. The moment he was close enough, Carma propped herself up on her elbow and grabbed a fist-full of the front of his jacket. "I hate you!" she yelled. "I never want to see you again, you bastard! Owwww, oh frell, Joooool!"
Jool, with the air of calm superiority that she always had when dealing with anything medical, moved back to her side and swiftly gave Carma the injection she had been preparing. Crais usually found Jool's super-doctor aura irritating, but just now it was strangely comforting that one person in the room knew what they were doing.
Carma slumped back on the medibed, controlling the short, shallow breaths that were supposed to ease her contractions. She'd already been in labour for ten arns and Crais had spent that time finding every excuse he could think of to stay out of the delivery room. There was, in fact, a certain element of truth in the story Crichton had heard about him fainting and he had no intention of repeating that humiliation. Carma, however, had other ideas.
***
"Crichton?" Braca asked, suddenly feeling that facing Peacekeeper high command would be better than asking the unusually moody Crichton what the writing on his back said.
"What?" Crichton said, his tone impatient and non too inviting.
"There is...I seem to have acquired some...writing, on my back. I believe that you may have been the one to write it. I wondered," Braca said, closing his eyes, unable to believe that he was asking this, "if you would mind telling me what it says?"
Crichton gave him a look that wouldn't have seemed out of place on Crais' face. "You want me to read what's on your back?" he asked, in an incredulous tone.
"Yes," Braca answered, suddenly very interested in the wall.
Crichton gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine, strip," he said, in a martyr-like tone.
Feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life before, Braca turned and pulled off his jacket and T-shirt, praying to Gods he'd only heard of a few monens ago that no one would come in.
Crichton read what was on Braca's back. His lips twisted up in a not-entirely-nice smile, his first since he and Aeryn had returned.
"Is it Human?" Braca asked, feeling thoroughly exposed.
"Yup," Crichton said, his grin slowly growing, his eyes glittering in sadistic glee.
"Can you read it? What does it say?" Braca asked, quickly pulling his garments back on.
"Sure can," Crichton said, turning to leave the room, still grinning to himself as Braca waited. He tossed his response over his shoulder as he walked through the doorway.
"It says 'Kick Me'."
***
"Okay Talyn," Raylani said, sitting down in command and adopting a conspiratorial tone. "Now, I know that you have vid-cameras in Crichton's quarters."
Talyn made outraged sounds.
"Don't try to deny it. I know that you do," Raylani said firmly. "So, I would like to know...what happened at Crichton's party." She grinned, it had taken all her self-control not to laugh and give away that she understood some English, "and why Braca has 'kick me' written on his back."
Talyn gave a series of chirps that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
"Besides," Raylani continued. "They are desperate to know what went on, they don't remember a thing and I'd like to know first." She gave a wicked grin. "Maybe I can spice it up if it's not interesting enough."
Talyn gave a reproachful chirp.
"Don't lecture me, young man," Raylani said. "It's very wrong to spy on people, you know that? Next thing you'll tell me that you've been watching me and Llyn."
Talyn was oddly silent.
"Ewww, Talyn!" Raylani exclaimed. "Okay, bad topic, I'll forget you said that...or didn't say that. Just make me a vid-chip of this and we'll call it even."
Talyn flashed his lights once. Done.
A short time later, Raylani sat in her quarters, shoulders shaking with laughter. This certainly explained a few things.
***
"Crais, outside a moment," Jool said. Crais obeyed, for once eager to have someone else take control.
She followed him out, letting the door shut behind them.
"I'm concerned," she said.
Crais started to feel woozy. "Concerned...how?" he asked, struggling to stay calm.
Jool shook her head. Her strawberry-blond curls bounced around her face. "She hasn't made as much progress as I would like," she said. "I worried that this might not be a normal birth."
"What can you do?" Crais asked hoarsely, fearing that the nightmare he'd had all through Carma's pregnancy was about to come true.
Jool looked helplessly at him. "Nothing," she said. "Normally I'd remove the child surgically, but she'd lose a lot of blood and we don't have any reserves. If she can't do it on her own...."
She left it unsaid, but Crais understood. His face went a murky shade of grey. Suddenly he had a brief flash of hope.
"Raylani!" he blurted out. "Could she be a compatible donor?"
Jool immediately hit her comms. "Raylani, come to the medilab immediately."
"Coming," was the reply.
***
"Crais," Crichton said, looking serious now as Crais came in. "What's happening?"
Crais sat down, struggling to maintain his composure. "Raylani...is a compatible blood donor, but I shall have to wait to see if the operation will be a success."
Crichton nodded, there wasn't much he could say. "Jool ask you to leave?"
"Yes."
Braca stood to one side, feeling awkward again. This was just one of the millions of situations that Peacekeeper training hadn't prepared him for.
Crichton held up a vid-chip. "Raylani gave me this before she went in. Apparently Talyn left his video cameras on and got the whole thing. You want to find out what happened? It least it'll help pass the time."
Crais nodded, any distraction was welcome at this point.
***
"What's the matter, Braca?" Crichton laughed at the expression on Braca's face. "I bet you've got a really embarrassing tattoo, haven't you? Something like 'I love my mommy'? Except Peacekeepers don't have them, do they?"
"Crichton, this is a ridiculous idea," a still-fairly-sober Crais said firmly.
"This is my goddam bachelor party!" a very-drunk Crichton said. "And I say we play strip-poker. It's traditional. So you can either take your clothes off or I'll undress you myself!"
In this state, none of the other men were willing to risk the possibility that he might be serious.
"We need," Crichton pronounced, jamming his lilac party hat further on his head, "more booze."
He looked down at his supply and grabbed the bottle with the pond weed mixture in it. It took several tries, his hand-to-eye co-ordination having deteriorated somewhat in the last two arns, but he got it eventually.
"More booze!" he said triumphantly. Crais removed the bottle from his grasp before he could spill it everywhere and filled up their cups himself. Really he was starting to feel better about this whole idea, although that was mainly the result of the raslak.
He and Crichton threw theirs down in one gulp, D'Argo regarded it suspiciously. Braca took an experimental sniff and jerked backwards as his eyes began to water.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Let's see, the guy I got it from said it's like medicinal alcohol," Crichton said cheerfully.
"Did he tell you a name?" D'Argo asked, his suspicion growing.
"Yeah, linthek," Crichton replied happily, taking another gulp.
D'Argo began to laugh.
"Hey man, what's so funny?" Crichton asked in confusion. "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to - but you're not allowed to laugh at me."
"Linthek is not meant to be drunk Crichton, it's meant to be injected," D'Argo said, barely suppressing his laughter.
"Oh," Crichton said, eyeing the bottle. "Ah, who cares, it's good strong stuff."
He and Crais both took another mouthful.
"It's used to treat erectile disfunction."
Crichton spat out his mouthful, Crais accidentally got his straight down his windpipe.
"What?" Crais wheezed, coughing violently.
"What?" Crichton said, at the same time. "No, no you've got to be kidding me."
Braca, suddenly very grateful for his hesitation, started to laugh.
"I'm afraid not John," D'Argo said, picking up a bottle of raslak and grinning at his friend.
"So...er...I'm gonna get...oh, man! All I asked for was some good strong booze and the guy sold me liquid frelling viagra!"
"Like the Luxan said," Braca said, laughing, too drunk to care that he was about three seconds away from death, "it's not meant to be ingested. It could do anything."
"How long does it take to kick in?" Crichton asked in disbelief.
"Well," D'Argo said, "usually it would only take a few microts. But people don't usually drink it. Especially not in that quantity."
"Oh man, so any minute now I'm either gonna have to kick you out for some private time or I could just keel over and die and...Crais?"
Crais did not look well. His face had taken on a rather...well...*stiff* expression.
"Crichton," he muttered. "I can't...move my head."
That finished D'Argo and Braca off. They collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically. Crichton started to grin as well as he realised that he was not similarly afflicted. Crais glared as well as he could when he could barely use the muscles in his face.
***
Present-day Crichton was not laughing. The lines of tension around his mouth and across his forehead had suddenly deepened by another fathom. Crais, his lingering stiff neck now explained, glanced over at Crichton. Suddenly his bad mood made some kind of sense. D'Argo got there first.
"I take it that...it had the opposite effect in your case," he said, trying not to laugh.
"Not talking about it," Crichton said flatly.
"I'll dispose of the supply later," Crais said, carefully controlling his features.
"Not yet," Crichton said, glaring at Braca and D'Argo. "I'm gonna put some in your breakfast cereal for laughing at me! It's not my fault that these stupid translator microbes don't work properly. When I said that I wanted stuff to keep us going all night, I meant quantity!!"
Even Crais managed a smile at that, enjoying a brief moment free from worry.
Crichton stopped the playback there. "I think we've seen enough," he said. "How long does that stuff take to wear off?"
"Apparently it takes longer when taken orally," Crais replied, stretching out his sore neck. "I cannot imagine that it is designed to last for more than a few arns."
Crichton sighed. "Well, it's official, no more bachelor parties. Aeryn'll be pleased."
***
Crais was sitting outside the door of the medilab, all thoughts of mirth and discomfort forgotten. Nothing, no word. He should go in to see if he could help, but he was paralysed. Behind that door, his wife and child could be dying.
The door opened quietly and Raylani came out. Crais scrambled to his feet, uncharacteristically off-guard.
"You can come in now," she said, looking a little pale but otherwise her usual self.
Crais followed her, too scared of the answer to ask what had happened. His fears were quickly laid to rest by the sight of Carma sitting up on the medibed. She looked tired and worn, but happy and proud. He moved to her bedside and looked down at the bundle in her arms.
Dark hair, dark eyes, a good solid face, the beginnings of a strong chin and full lips. Like father, like son.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Carma said, her eyes glowing softly. "I can't think who he reminds me of...."
Jool and Raylani made a hasty exit, leaving the parents to welcome their new arrival.
"Are you all right?" Crais asked, his heart ready to burst with pride.
"I'm fine, but no more," Carma said. "Or I may make good my promise to castrate you."
Crais grinned at her, too happy and relieved to worry about it. "I will do what I can to prevent it."
Carma looked from husband to son, noting the resemblance once again. "What shall we call him?" she asked softly.
"My first thought was Tauvo, but...I have changed my mind. No one can replace my brother and he should not have to try. I would prefer a different name."
Carma bit her lip. "I've been thinking too...and I do have one suggestion. I'm not sure if you will agree though."
"What is it?" Crais asked, thinking that he could accept just about anything in his gratitude that she was still alive.
"I was thinking," Carma said, her face breaking into a grin. "That we might call him...John."
"John?" Crais asked, in disbelief.
"Yes," Carma replied, grinning wider at Crais' reaction. "I rather like the name."
Crais remained silent for a microt.
"On one condition," he said.
"Name it."
"*You* will tell Crichton."
Carma laughed. "Done."
"Never again!" Carma screamed out the moment Crais stepped nervously into the room. "Never again, do you understand that?! I can't believe that I let you put me through this a second time! The moment this is over, I'm going to castrate you!!"
Crais pulled at his collar, not entirely convinced that she was joking, as he stepped slightly closer to the bed.
"Get here now!" Carma commanded, her face such a mask of barely-controlled fury that the head of Peacekeeper command herself would have obeyed her. "You are not getting out of this! It's your fault that I'm in this much pain, the least you can do is stay and help me!"
Crais stepped nearer. The moment he was close enough, Carma propped herself up on her elbow and grabbed a fist-full of the front of his jacket. "I hate you!" she yelled. "I never want to see you again, you bastard! Owwww, oh frell, Joooool!"
Jool, with the air of calm superiority that she always had when dealing with anything medical, moved back to her side and swiftly gave Carma the injection she had been preparing. Crais usually found Jool's super-doctor aura irritating, but just now it was strangely comforting that one person in the room knew what they were doing.
Carma slumped back on the medibed, controlling the short, shallow breaths that were supposed to ease her contractions. She'd already been in labour for ten arns and Crais had spent that time finding every excuse he could think of to stay out of the delivery room. There was, in fact, a certain element of truth in the story Crichton had heard about him fainting and he had no intention of repeating that humiliation. Carma, however, had other ideas.
***
"Crichton?" Braca asked, suddenly feeling that facing Peacekeeper high command would be better than asking the unusually moody Crichton what the writing on his back said.
"What?" Crichton said, his tone impatient and non too inviting.
"There is...I seem to have acquired some...writing, on my back. I believe that you may have been the one to write it. I wondered," Braca said, closing his eyes, unable to believe that he was asking this, "if you would mind telling me what it says?"
Crichton gave him a look that wouldn't have seemed out of place on Crais' face. "You want me to read what's on your back?" he asked, in an incredulous tone.
"Yes," Braca answered, suddenly very interested in the wall.
Crichton gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine, strip," he said, in a martyr-like tone.
Feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life before, Braca turned and pulled off his jacket and T-shirt, praying to Gods he'd only heard of a few monens ago that no one would come in.
Crichton read what was on Braca's back. His lips twisted up in a not-entirely-nice smile, his first since he and Aeryn had returned.
"Is it Human?" Braca asked, feeling thoroughly exposed.
"Yup," Crichton said, his grin slowly growing, his eyes glittering in sadistic glee.
"Can you read it? What does it say?" Braca asked, quickly pulling his garments back on.
"Sure can," Crichton said, turning to leave the room, still grinning to himself as Braca waited. He tossed his response over his shoulder as he walked through the doorway.
"It says 'Kick Me'."
***
"Okay Talyn," Raylani said, sitting down in command and adopting a conspiratorial tone. "Now, I know that you have vid-cameras in Crichton's quarters."
Talyn made outraged sounds.
"Don't try to deny it. I know that you do," Raylani said firmly. "So, I would like to know...what happened at Crichton's party." She grinned, it had taken all her self-control not to laugh and give away that she understood some English, "and why Braca has 'kick me' written on his back."
Talyn gave a series of chirps that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
"Besides," Raylani continued. "They are desperate to know what went on, they don't remember a thing and I'd like to know first." She gave a wicked grin. "Maybe I can spice it up if it's not interesting enough."
Talyn gave a reproachful chirp.
"Don't lecture me, young man," Raylani said. "It's very wrong to spy on people, you know that? Next thing you'll tell me that you've been watching me and Llyn."
Talyn was oddly silent.
"Ewww, Talyn!" Raylani exclaimed. "Okay, bad topic, I'll forget you said that...or didn't say that. Just make me a vid-chip of this and we'll call it even."
Talyn flashed his lights once. Done.
A short time later, Raylani sat in her quarters, shoulders shaking with laughter. This certainly explained a few things.
***
"Crais, outside a moment," Jool said. Crais obeyed, for once eager to have someone else take control.
She followed him out, letting the door shut behind them.
"I'm concerned," she said.
Crais started to feel woozy. "Concerned...how?" he asked, struggling to stay calm.
Jool shook her head. Her strawberry-blond curls bounced around her face. "She hasn't made as much progress as I would like," she said. "I worried that this might not be a normal birth."
"What can you do?" Crais asked hoarsely, fearing that the nightmare he'd had all through Carma's pregnancy was about to come true.
Jool looked helplessly at him. "Nothing," she said. "Normally I'd remove the child surgically, but she'd lose a lot of blood and we don't have any reserves. If she can't do it on her own...."
She left it unsaid, but Crais understood. His face went a murky shade of grey. Suddenly he had a brief flash of hope.
"Raylani!" he blurted out. "Could she be a compatible donor?"
Jool immediately hit her comms. "Raylani, come to the medilab immediately."
"Coming," was the reply.
***
"Crais," Crichton said, looking serious now as Crais came in. "What's happening?"
Crais sat down, struggling to maintain his composure. "Raylani...is a compatible blood donor, but I shall have to wait to see if the operation will be a success."
Crichton nodded, there wasn't much he could say. "Jool ask you to leave?"
"Yes."
Braca stood to one side, feeling awkward again. This was just one of the millions of situations that Peacekeeper training hadn't prepared him for.
Crichton held up a vid-chip. "Raylani gave me this before she went in. Apparently Talyn left his video cameras on and got the whole thing. You want to find out what happened? It least it'll help pass the time."
Crais nodded, any distraction was welcome at this point.
***
"What's the matter, Braca?" Crichton laughed at the expression on Braca's face. "I bet you've got a really embarrassing tattoo, haven't you? Something like 'I love my mommy'? Except Peacekeepers don't have them, do they?"
"Crichton, this is a ridiculous idea," a still-fairly-sober Crais said firmly.
"This is my goddam bachelor party!" a very-drunk Crichton said. "And I say we play strip-poker. It's traditional. So you can either take your clothes off or I'll undress you myself!"
In this state, none of the other men were willing to risk the possibility that he might be serious.
"We need," Crichton pronounced, jamming his lilac party hat further on his head, "more booze."
He looked down at his supply and grabbed the bottle with the pond weed mixture in it. It took several tries, his hand-to-eye co-ordination having deteriorated somewhat in the last two arns, but he got it eventually.
"More booze!" he said triumphantly. Crais removed the bottle from his grasp before he could spill it everywhere and filled up their cups himself. Really he was starting to feel better about this whole idea, although that was mainly the result of the raslak.
He and Crichton threw theirs down in one gulp, D'Argo regarded it suspiciously. Braca took an experimental sniff and jerked backwards as his eyes began to water.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Let's see, the guy I got it from said it's like medicinal alcohol," Crichton said cheerfully.
"Did he tell you a name?" D'Argo asked, his suspicion growing.
"Yeah, linthek," Crichton replied happily, taking another gulp.
D'Argo began to laugh.
"Hey man, what's so funny?" Crichton asked in confusion. "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to - but you're not allowed to laugh at me."
"Linthek is not meant to be drunk Crichton, it's meant to be injected," D'Argo said, barely suppressing his laughter.
"Oh," Crichton said, eyeing the bottle. "Ah, who cares, it's good strong stuff."
He and Crais both took another mouthful.
"It's used to treat erectile disfunction."
Crichton spat out his mouthful, Crais accidentally got his straight down his windpipe.
"What?" Crais wheezed, coughing violently.
"What?" Crichton said, at the same time. "No, no you've got to be kidding me."
Braca, suddenly very grateful for his hesitation, started to laugh.
"I'm afraid not John," D'Argo said, picking up a bottle of raslak and grinning at his friend.
"So...er...I'm gonna get...oh, man! All I asked for was some good strong booze and the guy sold me liquid frelling viagra!"
"Like the Luxan said," Braca said, laughing, too drunk to care that he was about three seconds away from death, "it's not meant to be ingested. It could do anything."
"How long does it take to kick in?" Crichton asked in disbelief.
"Well," D'Argo said, "usually it would only take a few microts. But people don't usually drink it. Especially not in that quantity."
"Oh man, so any minute now I'm either gonna have to kick you out for some private time or I could just keel over and die and...Crais?"
Crais did not look well. His face had taken on a rather...well...*stiff* expression.
"Crichton," he muttered. "I can't...move my head."
That finished D'Argo and Braca off. They collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically. Crichton started to grin as well as he realised that he was not similarly afflicted. Crais glared as well as he could when he could barely use the muscles in his face.
***
Present-day Crichton was not laughing. The lines of tension around his mouth and across his forehead had suddenly deepened by another fathom. Crais, his lingering stiff neck now explained, glanced over at Crichton. Suddenly his bad mood made some kind of sense. D'Argo got there first.
"I take it that...it had the opposite effect in your case," he said, trying not to laugh.
"Not talking about it," Crichton said flatly.
"I'll dispose of the supply later," Crais said, carefully controlling his features.
"Not yet," Crichton said, glaring at Braca and D'Argo. "I'm gonna put some in your breakfast cereal for laughing at me! It's not my fault that these stupid translator microbes don't work properly. When I said that I wanted stuff to keep us going all night, I meant quantity!!"
Even Crais managed a smile at that, enjoying a brief moment free from worry.
Crichton stopped the playback there. "I think we've seen enough," he said. "How long does that stuff take to wear off?"
"Apparently it takes longer when taken orally," Crais replied, stretching out his sore neck. "I cannot imagine that it is designed to last for more than a few arns."
Crichton sighed. "Well, it's official, no more bachelor parties. Aeryn'll be pleased."
***
Crais was sitting outside the door of the medilab, all thoughts of mirth and discomfort forgotten. Nothing, no word. He should go in to see if he could help, but he was paralysed. Behind that door, his wife and child could be dying.
The door opened quietly and Raylani came out. Crais scrambled to his feet, uncharacteristically off-guard.
"You can come in now," she said, looking a little pale but otherwise her usual self.
Crais followed her, too scared of the answer to ask what had happened. His fears were quickly laid to rest by the sight of Carma sitting up on the medibed. She looked tired and worn, but happy and proud. He moved to her bedside and looked down at the bundle in her arms.
Dark hair, dark eyes, a good solid face, the beginnings of a strong chin and full lips. Like father, like son.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Carma said, her eyes glowing softly. "I can't think who he reminds me of...."
Jool and Raylani made a hasty exit, leaving the parents to welcome their new arrival.
"Are you all right?" Crais asked, his heart ready to burst with pride.
"I'm fine, but no more," Carma said. "Or I may make good my promise to castrate you."
Crais grinned at her, too happy and relieved to worry about it. "I will do what I can to prevent it."
Carma looked from husband to son, noting the resemblance once again. "What shall we call him?" she asked softly.
"My first thought was Tauvo, but...I have changed my mind. No one can replace my brother and he should not have to try. I would prefer a different name."
Carma bit her lip. "I've been thinking too...and I do have one suggestion. I'm not sure if you will agree though."
"What is it?" Crais asked, thinking that he could accept just about anything in his gratitude that she was still alive.
"I was thinking," Carma said, her face breaking into a grin. "That we might call him...John."
"John?" Crais asked, in disbelief.
"Yes," Carma replied, grinning wider at Crais' reaction. "I rather like the name."
Crais remained silent for a microt.
"On one condition," he said.
"Name it."
"*You* will tell Crichton."
Carma laughed. "Done."