My name is Jared Berret... at least I believe my first name to be Jared and the name Berret having been given to me by my friend and my savior, so to speak. I was once known as Shrike457, an Enforcer or assassin for the Scarren Black Syndicate... the Scarren criminal underworld. I don't recall most my life before the Syndicate and what I can remember I owe to the good graces of Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan, a Delvian Priestess who has endured great pain and hardship in helping me recover bits and pieces of my past.
In my memories, I have murdered entire families in their beds. I have maimed, tortured, and killed my way across whole sectors of the Charted Territories. I have ended the lives of the good, the bad, and the innocent... all for the Syndicate's advancement. So one vile being could play at being king of a twisted kingdom.
All this Pa'u Zhaan has relived with me. While she claims I myself am not to blame for the acts of carnage for the reason that I was under the power of the Black Syndicate by means of a control collar and had no free will... I, myself, cannot forget the shame… or dishonor as Ka' D'Argo would put it, of my past. I do so regret the pain and suffering that gentle Priestess has endured on my behalf. My sessions with Pa'u Zhaan have not been all in vain. Through her other research, I have found where I come from and where I belong... and aboard the Leviathan Moya, there is even someone who shares my origins. John Crichton is of a race called human or Terran from a planet called Earth. Even thought I have been altered by a form of microbe technology to better fit the role of an assassin, I mostly in no way feel related to John or identify with anything he's told to me a about our species. Still, it's strangely comforting to know where I came from.
This journal was Zhaan's idea, so I will do my best to keep it updated and to explain my 'feelings' as best as I am able. Speaking of feelings, I should go into more detail about the person I've referred to as my friend and savior. Her name is Chiana... though I sometime to myself quite often refer to her as 'Pixie'. At the time we first met, I did not know what the term meant, it just sort of spring into my mind when I first saw her. Crichton explained later to me what a Pixie was, and the name describes and fits her fairly well. Chiana is of a race called 'Nebari'. She is also a talented thief, and an excellent con artist as John calls it. Strangely, she is the only one I fully trust among the crew of Moya. I'm not quite sure about our relationship. Though she is little more then half my size, I get the feeling that she believes herself my protector... and I have to admit, I am very protective of my small friend myself. I enjoy and look forward to her company, even though of late she has determined that my sense of humor is in need of work and has began to pull 'practical jokes' on me occasionally… which, as I'm told, by tradition… I am required to do in return to keep some sort of score even. Chiana can be devious and cunning in the application of her pranks; still I find it a good way for honing and practicing my survival skills in attempting to avoid them.
Another thing that is sometimes stressful between us is a physical relationship. She has explained that many of the modern younger Nebari have very strong sexual drives. Though I understand the basic principles of the mating ritual, I have no idea about how one goes about conducting a romance. I can often tell it frustrates the woman, but she never speaks of it or outwardly lets on about her disappointment. Despite this drawback, she still chooses to spend time with me and our personal relationship still grows... though for me, I'm beginning to worry what will happen if she ever realizes just what I have done in my past with the Syndicate. Sooner or later, she will find out about what all my nightmares have been about. When that happens, I don't know if I'll be able to bear the loss of her... her company and friendship I have found, have come to mean a great deal to me. That will be one more thing the Syndicate will have taken away from me... and I have to believe the most precious.
My kinsman, John Crichton is an enigma. He has been torn from his home, hunted by Peacekeepers, tortured and almost driven mad. Still he still possesses the ability for compassion... and a never ending and strange sense of humor. Several times in the past he was in a position to take revenge on an enemy, but instead, he showed mercy. When the others would take the easy or quick way out of a situation, he stubbornly chooses what he refers to as the right or moral way... even if it's at a great cost to himself. Such a moral character I have difficulty understanding, even if he explains constantly that it is the preferred way for humans to life their lives by. He has tried his best to be a human role model for me, but I'm finding it hard to emulate him.
The Hynerian, Rygel the Sixteen... for all I think of it, most times I cannot understand why he is allowed to stay here with the others. He is beyond a doubt, treacherous and self-serving. Though in his own favor, he is resourceful, cunning, and at times, has saved the crew. Even so I personally believe it would be best to leave him behind at some point... or more preferably, throw him out an airlock. Zhaan and John repeatedly tell me I must be patient with Rygel, though I often find their advice hard to follow. It does help when they remind me that I too, have been given many chances by the others.
Ka' D'Argo, the Luxan warrior aboard, I have mixed thoughts about. We do not relate well together. When I first saw the Luxan, I felt an unexplained fear. My first instinct was to fight or flee. I have learned from sessions with Zhaan that the reason for this is that Luxan warriors are the only thing a Shrike assassin fear. When Shrikes are sent to deal with Luxans, they are sent in groups of three called a Triad. Most times, the group does not return, even if the mission was successful. Sometimes a single Shrike would return from a strike against a Luxan, rarely ever will there be two. To the best of my knowledge, three have never returned. I have learned that I myself was the only survivor of an attack on a Luxan in my time as an Enforcer for the Syndicate. Luxans of course being a race of warriors, view such ambushes as acts of dishonor and cowardice. I cannot say, now that I understand, that I do not blame them for their hatred toward Shrikes. D'argo and I do seem to have formed a unspoken truce, though I know he doesn't trust me and I find trusting him equally as hard, even though we have fought side by side at times. Additionally, there is my relationship with Chiana between us. He definitely does not approve of her sharing my company. I believe he has feelings for her, even though I also believe there maybe something between Zhaan and himself.
Officer Aeryn Sun is the ex-Peacekeeper aboard Moya. She and John Crichton seem to have a hot and cold relationship, which I find very hard to follow. It is difficult to tell when they are getting along and when they are fighting. Officer Sun, I would have to say, besides Chiana and Zhaan, seems to have accepted me as part of the crew, but most of our interaction so far as involved mostly maintaining the small fleet of gunships we have aboard Moya. She helped me refit the Wraith and while I had ideas for adapting weaponry for use, it was her knowledge and know-how that made it possible to install the electric pulse cannon in the Wraith, among other refinements to the ship. Most of our relationship as of now seems to be based upon military matters, which at this point seems to be our only common ground.
The young Delvian woman, Malika, as I understand it came aboard the Leviathan at the same time I arrived, proof being she shared a cell on the same tier I did for a time. She is much younger that Zhaan and seems much more prone to violence, which I can only assume is the result from the hard life she has lead up until now. It is my understanding that she wishes to train for the Priesthood and has asked Zhaan to help her with that goal. She also appears to be an outstanding scientist though exactly in what field I am unsure being the woman seems to make it a point to avoid my presence. It maybe that she had a bad experience with a Shrike sometime in the past and I try not to unsettle the Delvian. She has tried several times to be friendly and I am aware that her smiles are somewhat forced. For myself, I find her long blue hair... intriguing, mostly because Zhaan is bald as is some Delvian Priestesses' custom. I think it would be sad for her to shave it. I also have to admit that I find her green eyes unsettling. In that blue face, they stand out and are very intense. They make me feel like I'm constantly being studied, like they never miss a single thing.
The other newcomer is a Sebacean male named Andar. I know even less about him as he became very ill shortly after arriving aboard and spend most of his time in sickbay. He seems a little taken with Malika as the pair spends much time together.
Next Entry:
Today I was educated in the arts of personal grooming. I had not realized how many fine details of everyday life had been taken care of by servants in my time while in the Syndicate. It seems that personal maintenance goes beyond the simple occasional washing of a dirty body part. It appears it is more preferable and more efficient to wash the entire body at times. Why this idea didn't occur to me sooner is a mystery. I have to admit I feel much better when clean and after the first few times I found I enjoyed the feel of hot water on my skin. Originally, the idea of soaking one's body under a stream of water seemed barbaric; also the added danger of slipping on a wet surface seemed tactically illogical to senselessly expose oneself to. However, after a few experiences, you can get use to walking across a wet shower stall floor without slipping and cracking your head. I am glad I was able to master this skill.
Note for future reference:
While nudity doesn't appear to effect Zhaan much in anyway, the others are made uncomfortable by it. While it seems all right while being examined in the Med-bay or in quarters, it doesn't appear to be socially acceptable in any other places aboard ship. It would be best in the future to be sure to don clothing before exiting the common shower area on tier five. Also by the strange look Chiana gave me, it might be best to be sure to be cloth in her presence as I found myself becoming very uncomfortable with the way she looked at me. There are so many new rules to learn. I suppose it will take time before I finally learn them all.
Chiana sighed to herself as the painful howl issued from Moya's common lavatory.
"Agh! It burns my eyes!" cried a frustrated Berret.
"You were suppose to close them before using the cleaner near your face," said the Nebari, doing her best to keep the tone of amusement out of her voice. She left her place leaning against the bulkhead and walked over to the curtained shower area. "Rinse your eyes out under the water," she suggested.
The Shrike grumbled from behind the curtain,
"This is completely barbaric! Even I know Wavonic Cleansers are preferable to bathing with liquids."
Chiana chuckled aloud that time, teaching the Shrike how to take care of his personal hygiene was turning into quite the adventure. As a Syndicate assassin, there were groomers who cared for the Enforcers when they weren't out on assignment. Beyond simple self-maintenance, they knew very little about how to take care of themselves.
"Get use to it!" she called happily. "You're in the uncivilized part of the Territories now. Time to learn how to rough it."
Berret complained some more as he continued trying to figure out the proper way to shower, relying on the Pixie's shouted instructions as the lesson moved forward.
A few microns later Zhaan arrived to see how the chore was progressing. It had been a struggle to get Chiana to take the man she'd found and teach him the basics he needed to know. The Pa'u was just stopping by to make she the young Nebari girl wasn't shurking her responsibility.
"How is everything going?" she asked, putting a pleasant smile on her face.
"As well as can be expected," answered Chiana dourly, not forgetting the argument they recently had.
"Good, I was just coming by to see if you needed any help,"
Chiana was just about to give the older woman a biting remark when Berret cursed loudly… and then slipped with a loud thud to the shower floor. More burning curses followed, this time the Shrike was using swear words that even Chiana rarely heard. Berret seemed to be doing a fair job of picking up some of D'argo's rather expressive vocabulary.
"I told you to be careful… and that the floor gets slippery," Chiana called so Zhaan wouldn't think she was being delinquent with her assigned chore.
"Thanks for the frellin' tip," answered Berret back.
"Goddess, how can the two of you take so long carrying out a simple task?" asked Zhaan in aspiration.
She began to undo her robes and as she slipped out of them Chiana asked, "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to go get this job done. You children are fooling around too much," she said as she grabbed a scrubber and entered the shower stall.
"Hey! What are you doing!" cried Berret in surprise at the Delvian's sudden appearance in the limited space of the stall with him.
Chiana could only listen to what happened next, she wasn't able to see the event but she was able to imagine it by the sounds and conversation taking place behind the curtain. Despite the earlier argument with the Delvian this might be worth hanging around for she decided.
"What is that? Get away from me with it!" yelled the Shrike.
"Hold still and stop behaving like such a child!" said Zhaan.
There was a sound of a small struggle taking place, but in the tiny confines of the stall the ex-assassin had nowhere to retreat to.
"Yeow! You're rubbing too hard! Are you trying to skin me alive?"
"That would not be a bad idea if you don't cease complaining and let me show you what to do," Zhaan said.
Chiana had to put one hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out into laugher.
"Hey! Oh No! I can do there myself!" cried Berret in a panic.
"Stop being a baby, it is nothing I haven't seen before."
"Yes, but you weren't trying to mutilate me before. Give it to me… I can handle the rest myself from here."
A few microts later Zhaan emerged from behind the curtain and took a towel from Chiana, pointingly ignoring the smirk that threatened to break out on her black Nebari lips.
She began to dry herself and she turned to smile at the younger woman.
"You see, all he needed was the proper enticement and he can learn."
As if on cue, Berret started to grumble again, this time including comments about evil blue she-devils with hard scrubbing pads.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Chiana's laughter escaped her.
After drying off, Zhaan slipped back into her robes. Seeing Chiana's look of self-satisfied amusement she added just before she left the common lavatory,
"Make sure you teach him how to dentic also."
The grin faded off the Nebari girl's face as she realized that her work wasn't concluded yet. Zhaan strode away before the Nebari girl could respond with another complaint. Miffed, Chiana crossed both arms over her chest and grumbled to herself.
"Which of these frelling bottles do you use on your hair again?" called Berret from inside the shower chamber.
"The green one," she responded automatically and then cursed herself for the missed opportunity to play a joke on the man; if he had used the blue one, which was Rygel's body oil, the effect on his long her would have been quite entertaining. She made a mental note to remember that trick for another time and thought about how hard it was going to be to get Berret to stick the dentic in his mouth. She was sure the man would balk at having to put the worm-like creature into his oral cavity. The girl's eyes slightly brightened at the thought of mischief and she went to the supply locker to pick out a few dentics… really big ones.
"Hold still!" Chiana chided the ex-assassin a while later as she carefully ran the razor along one of his cheeks. Berret tried to force himself to remain motionless despite his nervousness.
"It's very hard to do so when you're scraping a sharp blade against my face," he told her.
"Well, if you don't… I might slip and cut something that you need off," she went on to say. "So stop squirming!"
Berret instantly froze stiff as Chiana continued to shave him. The Nebari woman absently stuck her tongue out and ran it over her dark lips as she concentrated. She made several more passes with the sharp razor and then stood back to inspect her handiwork.
"There. That should do it," she said just as John and Aeryn entered Moya's Center Chamber.
"What are you two up too?" asked Crichton.
Chiana smiled at the human. "Berret wanted to change his appearance a little in case we might run into someone from the Syndicate who might recognize him," she explained. "I thought maybe I could clean him up and trim his beard."
John and Aeryn looked at the Shrike. The last few weekens since they picked him and the others up the man's facial hair had been allowed to grow out. Crichton tapped a finger against his chin as he examined the Nebari girl's work.
"You gave him Elvis' sideburns," he concluded after a moment.
"What?" replied Chiana in confusion.
John pointed at the long sideburns on the Shrike. "You trimmed them just like Salis had," he pointed out.
Chiana spun back and looked them over again. "Ack! You're right," she said. Before Berret could say anything the girl was back at his side with her razor and with a few deft strokes she removed the offending sections of facial hair. "There, that's much better," she commented after she stepped back again.
"But now he reminds me of Crais," put in Aeryn as she looked over the goatee Berret had left.
"Is that a bad thing?" asked the Shrike. Crichton narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly to indicate he didn't think the comparison was exactly a compliment as far as he was concerned.
Chiana tilted her head and regard Berret a second time. "You're right too," she said again as she hefted the razor to correct the problem. This time Berret caught her before she could go to work on him.
"Let me look at it and I'll decide if it's all right," he told her as he picked up a small mirror.
Aeryn pursed her lips as she thought his appearance over.
"It does alter the shape of his face somewhat," the ex-Peacekeeper added. "And you're right, it would be a good idea to make him look as different as possible for awhile in case someone from the Syndicate does recognize him and decides to try taking their property back." Aeryn regarded the Shrike's long hair. "Maybe you should consider cutting your hair also. If you like I can give you a Peacekeeper style hair cut," she offered. "It'll only take a few microts."
Behind her, Crichton began making frenzied throat cutting motions and mouthing the word "No". It was obvious to Berret that the human thought it would be in his best interests to refuse Aeryn's offer. John ceased his mad gestures as the Sebacean woman began to casually turn in his direction.
"Ah? Aeryn… you're forgetting that we were going to be busy today working on the Farscape module," Crichton put in.
"Nonsense, John. I'll get my clippers… it'll only take a moment to…" she started to say.
"But you promised me you'd help fix the module today," insisted John. "If Berret wants a haircut he can always ask Zhaan. You have more important things to do."
The idea of asking Zhaan to cut his hair seemed illogical and a tiny bit ridiculous to Berret, as Zhaan was bald. The Shrike failed to see what the Delvian woman would know about cutting hair if she had none while Aeryn, with more that a full head of hair, should have been the logical choice in the matter.
These grooming rituals were becoming more increasingly odd and making less and less sense to the Shrike as the day wore on. John keep insisting that cutting Berret's hair could wait over getting Farscape One flight ready. The ex-Peacekeeper finally agreed and turned to leave the Center Chamber with Crichton. Behind her back again, John rolled his eyes in relief and ran his hand over his own hair tightly, the gesture indicating that Berret just avoided massive loss of hair. Crichton flicked up his thumb in an okay sign just before he exited the room, telling Berret that he'd just somehow helped him dodge a pulse bolt.
Chiana grinned at John's antics and then bounced happy into Berret's lap after they left.
"So do you like it?" she asked as she re-examined her handiwork. "It'll grow out more in a few weekens and you won't look so much like Crais."
"Yes, thank you," Berret answered as he stroked the hair on his chin. "But why did you chose this particular style if it reminds everyone of someone they don't like?" he asked the girl.
Chiana smile grew wider as she moved her face closer to him. "Because it leaves the important parts bare," she said in a low throaty voice.
"What parts?" Berret asked in bewilderment. He had no idea what she could be talking about.
"These parts," Chiana answered and then rubbed one of her cheeks up against his.
The Shrike gasped slightly at the unexpected contact of the girl's warm skin against his cheek. It had been strange getting use to people touching him, but just as the first time Chiana had brushed her cheek against his in Nebari friendliness he found the sensation almost electric and very enjoyable. So enjoyable he was almost able to forgive her the way she had gleefully shoved that big insect into his mouth earlier… but only almost.
Next Entry:
I accompanied Crichton on a resupply trip to a commerce planet earlier today. While we were there John insisted we stop in a tavern before returning to Moya with our load. I fail to see the attraction for such establishments, as they are often noisy and full of intoxicated being who shouldn't be trusted even while sober. For some reason, Chiana also shares this affection for frequenting barrooms. To make matters worse Crichton insisted I leave behind my armor and gauntlets in favor of wearing a Peacekeeper surplus uniform. If there is anything more uncomfortable and restricting to wear… it's a PK overcoat, though John and Andar seem to like them fine. To me, they give nowhere the freedom of movement my cloak does.
I also made another social mistake while in the tavern that annoyed Crichton and somewhat embarrassed him. Again I guess I must work harder on my skills where relationship with other beings are concerned.
Crichton leafed through the new pad of star charts trying to ignore the man sitting across from him, which was kind of hard seeing he'd been sitting there for almost half an arm silently staring at him. Watching him like he was a bug under glass or a fish in a fishbowl. John glanced at the Shrike out of the corner of one eye every so often and saw the man hadn't moved an inch, much less a henta, or altered the blank expression on his face in the slightest. The astronaut found himself wishing that he would put something on his face, anything at all… a smile to show he was happy, a frown if he was sad… a freakin' grimace if he was angry about something. This totally blank stare Berret had on was driving him crazy!
Finally, he could take no more and slammed the pad closed.
"What?" he asked more loudly then he intended as he let the pad fall to the table between them. "What is it?" he asked again.
This time at least Berret cocked his head to one side and gave him a quizzical look.
"Why are you sitting there and just staring at me?" John tried again, shaking his hands in frustration.
"I'm sorry, Crichton. Was I disturbing you?" replied Berret.
"Yes, you were disturbing me!"
"I was trying to be quiet," explained Berret.
"Jeez, that's the problem. It's creepy when someone just sits there for an arn and just stares at you without saying anything."
"It was less then half an arn," corrected the Shrike.
"That's not the point," said Crichton waving one hand at him to cut him off. "Whatever… listen, what is it you want?" he asked.
Berret looked uncomfortable as if he were unsure on how to proceed with the subject.
"I was only observing you."
John shook his head as if the sentence didn't make much sense… and mostly it didn't, at least not to him.
"Observing me? For what?"
Berret's eyes crinkled and his forehead furrowed as he thought of the best way to phrase his next statement.
"On the commerce planet," he began and then paused until John motioned for him to continue.
"I noticed that the female beings in the tavern preferred your company over mine. We are both from the same planet, relatively the same height, age, coloring, and both dressed in PK issue clothing, but still they seemed to prefer you to me. Zhaan said I should attempt to learn from you so I was observing you to ascertain why."
Crichton couldn't believe what he was hearing, it sounded like Berret was asking him for advise about attracting women.
"Well, for one thing," he said after he got over the slight shock, "you growled at them like D'argo."
"They were getting too close," Berret replied as if it should have been obvious.
John held up his hands again to signal the ex-assassin to hold that thought.
"Yeah, but girls don't…like…to be growled at every time they go up to a guy," he tried to explain.
Berret looked dumfounded, "So you are saying the proper reaction would have been not to growl a warning?"
"Yes, growling is bad as far as trying to meet woman is concern."
"I was not trying to meet them," the Shrike commented.
"But they were trying to meet you," corrected John.
"I see," said Berret. "So the correct response would have been to attack without warning?"
"NO!" yelled Crichton in disbelief. "What the hell ever gave you that idea? Why would you attack a couple of girls?"
"To prevent them from striking first, of course," answered Berret as if John where the one who'd taken leave of his senses. "Why else would they have approached so close without invitation?"
"That's the way girls meet guys out in bars," Crichton explained again in aspiration. "When they come up to you like that, that means they're interested in meeting you. They're not trying to attack you."
"Oh, I see," said Berret, the light finally dawning on him. "Interaction with other beings is very complicated and confusing."
"I know. It was probably easier when all you had to do was kill them," John answered offhandedly.
Surprisingly Berret got a sad look on his face, "No, I did not like killing anyone and I do not find it easy doing so now."
Crichton felt like a heel in the next microt. "I'm sorry, Berret. That slipped out before I thought about what I was saying. I didn't mean it."
"That is all right, Crichton. I am sorry for embarrassing you in the tavern," Berret apologized.
"Not a problem, forget it. Look, not everyone who comes up to you is trying to hurt you. Sometimes they just want to talk. You'll have to relax and figure it out for yourself when someone wants to chat or if they want to stab you in the back."
"Yes," said the Shrike with a frown, "I suppose that will take some practice to learn the difference."
"You'll get the hang of it. Just think, you let Chiana walk up close to you and you don't think or worry about it."
"Chiana would never harm me," said Berret with a strange certainty.
"Don't count on that," mumbled Crichton before he could stop himself.
"Why do you say that?" asked the other man confused.
"Never mind, I did it again. Put my mouth in gear before I engaged my brain. Forget I said that."
"But you have already said it, how can it be forgotten… and I thought the brain had to be functioning before the mouth and vocal cords was capable of articulation?"
Crichton rested his head in both palm, "I don't believe this," he said and then looked back up at Berret.
"Can we just stick to the one subject if you don't mind?" he asked.
"I think we should. This is getting very confusing," the Shrike agreed.
"No argument there," replied John who then held up one finger to cut Berret off before he could point out that they really weren't arguing,
"Bottom line, Berret, no more growling or planning retaliatory attacks on females when they approach you in bars if you want girls to talk to you. After all, you don't growl at Chiana, do you?"
"I have," admitted the Shrike.
"What happens?" asked Crichton in curiosity.
"She only laughs," explained Berret, "and then she says 'I'm cute' and pats my cheek. She does not even take D'argo seriously when he growls at her."
"Yeah, well… that's Pip. Anymore questions?" he asked just as Aeryn entered the far side of the Center Chamber.
"Yes, what was the purpose of that one woman putting that slip of paper down your pants?" asked the Shrike, who then added as an afterthought, "Whenever Chiana attempts to place something in my clothing it usually is something very unpleasant done as a prank."
"Whoa!" said John standing up and ending the conversation before Aeryn could overhear. "That's enough instructional lessons for one day, we'll talk about that some other time." He smiled over to the ex-Peacekeeper and waved hello. "Besides I threw that out," he finished in a low voice before he went to join the woman. Berret blinked his eyes in confusion.
"But what was on it," the Shrike asked himself bewildered.
Next Entry:
It has been awhile since I updated my journal. It is difficult to determine an exact date as while the crew all use the cycle as the standard year in the Territories, they all cannot agree as to a numerical value for this cycle. Zhaan and Malika use a Delvian calendar. D'argo refers to the date by Luxan Era. Aeryn uses a Peacekeeper military reference while Andar goes by some sort of religious dating from his homeworld. Chiana doesn't seem to care when she is and has to figure out what season it is on Nebari Prime when she does want to know the date. Crichton goes by a year number and most annoying of all, Rygel marks time in cycles of his rule. I suppose I will have to make my own system for marking the passing of time. As of this moment I have been aboard Moya for approximately a little over one-twelfth of a cycle. So I am nearing the second octave of my first cycle on the Leviathan.
Many events have happened since the last I wrote, some I would say were interesting if they hadn't been so dangerous. Life here in the Uncharted Territories is fraught with pitfalls to say the least. Shortly after getting the Wraith battle ready with Officer Sun's help, we wander into the wrong sector of space and were attacked by pirates. Moya was damaged and we lost most of our drinkable water supply… I should also point out the pulse cannon I designed performed poorly in the battle with the pirates. If not for the compliment of missiles aboard the Wraith and Chiana's skill as gunner, only Aeryn and the Delvian girl, Malika, in their Prowlers would have been our only defense. For several days after the attack we searched for a planet to restock our water supply. When we finally found one, Chiana talked Pa'u Zhaan into letting her, Rygel, and myself travel planet side to barter for other supplies. At first the mission went relatively well despite our first misgiving about the trader the Hynerian was dealing with. As fate would have it, the trader sabotages our Transport Pod and the three of us crash-landed on a frozen ice moon. We later found out that the trader was holding us hostage in return for Crichton turning himself over to him so he could claim the reward Scorpius had offered for John.
Rygel, Chiana, and myself came very close to freezing to death but they managed to figure out a way to rig the heating elements from the caloric climate controls into a working heating system. My performance in the crisis, I feel left much to be desired. I was only able to offer assistance by way doing most of the manual labor for our survival; all the ideas that kept us alive came from them. I have to admit a grudging respect for the Hynerian for his quick mind. Surprisingly I also found myself becoming concerned for his health when he became groggy and ill-looking, sleeping most of the time. I'm still not sure if my concern was genuine or a reflection of Chiana's. I also have to admit in a moment of weakness and self-pity, I confessed to Chiana about the nightmares I have been having. To my surprise, she already knew about them but was giving me time to come to her with them on my own. I was very relieved when my confession of what I had done, what I was forced to do, by the Syndicate, didn't cause her to turn away from me like I believed she might. This event also brought something else to light. When the Trader's henchmen finally found us and tried to take us prisoner… I learned that there are still neural pathways left behind by the control collar in my nervous system. Apparently they are what enabled the collar's mainframe computer to interface and supply me with mission information when I was an Enforcer. However, without the collar to control the data flow I was overwhelmed by random bits of information and old data from past missions. After being wounded by our attackers, the collar pathways were able to take over and sent me on the hunt to kill my enemies, which worked out fine as none of our opponents survived, but when Rygel moved for a weapon, the pathways perceived him as a threat and I almost killed him. Chiana's shout was the only thing that stopped me from doing so and allowed me the time to somewhat restrain the pathway commands. Once loosed, the pathways refused to be silent and I thought for a time I would go insane from the constant voice in my head. Upon our return to Moya, aided by D'argo in one of the Prowlers, Zhaan and Chiana figured out a way to shut down the pathways and give me back control of my life again. Later Zhaan showed my some mental exercises that now allow me to keep the pathways under my control and to access them just as I would a normal memory. Still, I have an under laying fear that someday I might lose that control again.
After our return to Moya, D'argo wasn't too happy with my conduct, but we seem to come to a small understanding. The big Luxan seems more inclined to tolerate me now then when I first came on board.
The Sebacean male who came aboard shortly before the attack and became ill was up and about at this time. At first he seemed mostly to keep to himself except for spending time with the green eyed Delvian, Malika. The girl had stated her desire to become a Pa'u, and recently though she still avoids me when able, she had tried to smile and be friendly toward me… but that seems to be mostly for Zhaan's benefit. Recently there was a big argument with the Delvian girl over somebody using her Prowler. I would describe the incident further but unfortunately Chiana chose that time to celebrate and introduce me to the effects of wine. The details of the discussion that night escape me as I only remember waking up the next morning in Chiana's quarters. The Nebari's refusal to tell me what had happened the night before led us into an argument, which lasted most of the day. Somehow, Zhaan also became crossed with us and made us apologize to Rygel for another incident neither of us remembered happening. We finally worked things out later that night and the girl did finally full me in on some of what occurred the night before, though I believe Chiana is either stretching the truth a bit or outright lying to pull another prank on me. Either way, I have resigned myself to probably never learning the truth about what happened between the Pixie and myself that missing night. Needless to say, I think it will be a long time before I want anything to do with drinking wine for quite some time.
Next Entry:
Things have been relatively quiet aboard Moya for the last few solar days. Aeryn has us constantly working on our three gunships in the maintenance bay. Just when you think there is nothing more to be done with them she finds another system to overhaul. Zhaan has put a temporary stop to our Unity sessions saying she wants to give me a chance to recuperate from the events on the ice moon. I'm not sure if I'm relieved to have the break or whether I'm frustrated at the delay. Zhaan preaches patience in the case of the latter.
Chiana has been suspiciously quiet of late. She hasn't pulled one of her pranks on me in over three solar days. I'm beginning to believe that no-prank is in fact… the prank. It is possible that she is letting the waiting work on me, but than again I could be imagining it. Speaking of Chiana, I am finding the longer I am aboard the Leviathan my life is having to adapt more to her presence. I have yet to meet another Nebari but the woman has now made it a habit of spending the night in my quarters. Not that I mind her company, I have to admit if not for her… I would be very lonely. The rest of the crew obviously doesn't trust me except possibly for Zhaan, but still even if they did… they are all busy with their own business aboard ship.
Still, Chiana has what can only be described as rather odd sleeping habits. The woman sleeps mostly totally covered by a mound of blankets that have to weight almost as much as she does. I'm not sure if that is a Nebari trait but she easily has a body temperature several degrees higher that mine, yet while sleeping she seems to be always cold. It almost guaranteed that several times a night I will be awaken by one or both of her elbows being jammed into some part of my body. I don't have the heart to wake her, but her limbs are so thin that I'm sure her elbows would be deadly weapons if she decided to use them as such The only other option I can think of is to ask her to sleep in her own quarters, but I find the thought of being alone… disquieting. I have just become too use to her being around me.
It had just seemed like he had fallen asleep when the inevitable happened. Two sharp elbows buried themselves into his back. Berret fully awoke as Chiana managed to paste herself totally to his entire backside. Buried under the blankets, he felt the girl press one warm cheek against his shoulder blade and then sigh and murmur contently to herself in her sleep.
The Shrike sighed to himself and attempted to try and remain still so as not to disturb the sleeping Nebari woman. The more he thought about it the more the feat seemed impossible to carry out. Knowing the sprite was pressed up against him made him want to adjust his position even more to find a more comfortable one. He finally allowed himself a slight chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation. In his short time aboard the Leviathan, he discovered that when Chiana fell asleep in his room with him that once she found a comfortable position she could remain motionless for arns at times if she wanted. Unlike him, who seemed to like to roll around and change sleeping positions several times during the night.
Berret considered the recent change in his life as he lay still in his bed. He owed the Pixie his life and he enjoyed the nights when she would appear with a tray of dessert cubes and something to drink in his quarters. Then she would lay sprawled across his bed and regale him with stories of her adventures with her brother while they snacked. Berret found he loved to listen to her. Not only did he find the sound of her voice soothing, but also she'd seen and done so many things in her short life and the way she could describe the places she had been, Berret could almost picture them vividly for himself. At the same time it made him sad to realize in comparison how little he knew about his past life before she found him. His only few memories were broken and disjointed, and he only had them thanks to Zhaan's help. The only memories he could call his own where the nightmares of the killings he performed for the Syndicate. He knew he dared not share them with the Nebari girl least she regard him with something he was sure would be only horror and vile repulsion.
Chiana must have decided that she was warm enough. The girl rolled away from him and resumed her regular balled up shape underneath the mountain of blankets. Berret thankfully flopped over onto his back; happy to be able to satisfy the strange urge he'd had to move. Glancing down, he could make out the vague outline of Chiana's body under the covers. How anyone could sleep with his or her head totally covered up without feeling stifled was beyond the Shrike. Still, he found the quirk… cute, almost endearing. He lay looking up at Moya's ceiling thinking about the girl. The others, particularly the Luxan, didn't really approve about the time they spent together. There had been veiled remarks about the nights they spent in his quarters. He was aware of the comments being of a sexual nature and that the rest of the crew referred to him as her "Pet or Toy" at times. He thought that most of the crew's remarks were made in a slightly teasing way though most of D'argo's where made with a hint of anger to them, while Rygel's at times where outright mean spirited. Still, the Pixie brushed them off with a sly smile as if she had a secret or blatantly ignored them as if they were below her notice. Berret decided that he would take his cue from her, if she chose to ignore them then so would he. Though it somewhat bothered him that none of them bothered to ask what exactly they did do when they were alone. They just assumed it was one thing and not something else.
He wondered if they would be surprised to learn that they talked about anything and everything in the Territories. That Chiana had told him about where she had grown up, who her best friends where while she attended her education classes on Nebari Prime, what her dreams had been while she was growing up. He wondered if they knew that she could sing and how sweet and haunting her voice could sound. Had they even bothered to ask her to read some of the poetry she sometimes wrote? All this she had told him during their nights together. Compared to her he felt lacking. He had no talent for singing or writing verses… of telling a story in a few lines of rhyme. He had no happy memories of childhood, of friends… of getting into mischief in class. His only unwanted talent seem to be able to glance at another living thing and somehow know where to hit it to kill it as quickly as possible. Chiana despite her hard life had a deep kindness to her soul that he found almost unbelievable. As far as he could see in himself, he had no such redeeming value. It was little wonder he found himself drawn to her like a magnet to steel. Somehow, he hoped a little of her goodness would rub off on him if he stayed in her company long enough. That is the Chiana he saw.
She told him about some of her steamier escapades, which the others somewhat frown upon. Young Nebari were sexually adventurous, so she was just being true to her nature. He saw no reason for faulting her for living life with passion and to the fullest. A few affairs were nothing, especially with compared to what he had done in his life. Berret shook his head and wondered why it should be harder to forgive someone for having many lovers and barely blink an eye over somebody who'd committed many murders.
The Shrike adjusted his pillow under his head and let out a long breath. Maybe someday, the others would begin to see the person he saw in the girl and not who they thought they seen.
Something cold brushed up against his bare thigh under the blankets and then stuck there. Berret jumped slightly in surprise at the contact. The ex-assassin relaxed a microt later and chuckled as he realized that Chiana had planned her cold feet against his leg. Smiling, he guessed they all had some new things to learn. If he could learn to share sleeping arrangements with a sharp elbowed, cold-footed friend who though of him as her own personal heat source… then there must be hope for everyone else.