"Zhaan, why can't I go? It's my Prowler," Malika said over the comm. She had been arguing with Zhaan about it since she told her that John and Aeryn would be taking her craft.
"Malika, remember you last bit of training? Control your temper, your not always the best suited to the job," the older Delvian said.
"Fine! Tell them it's ready. I won't be there when they get here," she said as she cut the communication.
"Andar, want to come with me for a drink? I fell like one right now. I got some good stuff I brought with me when I came on board hidden in the mess," she said.
Andar nodded, considering that it was best to agree with anything the angry woman wanted at that point.
"Considering the week I've had, a little refreshment is most definitely in order."
"I thought you might say that," Malika said as she led him to the Center Chamber mess.
"I think it's here," she said a few microns later as she searched through the back of a cupboard. "Yes, here it is," she said as she pulled the dusty bottle out. "This is a rare vintage," she said as she poured some of it into two cups. "Here," she said handing him one. "To a future that treats us better than the past has," she said with a hint of sarcasm. Andar raised his cup and clicked it against hers.
"To new friends. Especially those who save your life," the Sebacean man added. He took a sip. It was definitely good.
Malika took a sip from her own cup. Her mother was right, nothing better in the universe. She knew Zhaan would be upset with her, She was constantly telling her to control her temper. "I don't know if I can do it, mother," she thought. "Oh, well, there's nothing more I can do about it now."
"So Andar... how are you liking Moya so far? Nice? Fun? Or just too overwhelming?" she asked him.
D'argo maneuvered the Prowler over the drifting drop-ship and then fired the Magnetic Grapple. The grapple hit the craft just above the cockpit and the powerful magnet latched onto its hull. The Luxan slowly throttled the Prowler's engines to take the slack out of the short cable connecting the two ships. Not being a skilled Prowler pilot there was still a jerk as the cable went taunt.
"Dren!" complained Rygel as his head was snapped backwards at the unexpected shutter. "Who taught that Luxan how to fly, much less perform a cable rescue," he grumbled as their ship stopped drifting and began to creep along behind the Prowler.
"Would you rather get out and walk back to Moya?" asked Chiana as she strapped herself in to a seat.
"It might be preferable to letting that lumbering Luxan tow us into another moon," Rygel replied.
In the Prowler, D'argo snarled in frustration at their slow progress. The attack ship was meant for speed and agility, not attempting to drag a lifeless hulk four times it's size and over ten times it's weight any considerable distance. The engines were redlined as it was. Knowing Aeryn would kill him... several times over, if anything happened to her Prowler while in his unauthorized care - he backed them down. Once the ship behind him was moving, momentum would keep it traveling at the same speed until another outside force acted on it. He keyed his comm on tight-band, "Pilot, I'm bring the craft with Rygel and the others back now. Prepare the docking web to receive and land it in the hanger bay."
Pilot's voice came back to him, "We are waiting your return Ka'D'Argo. Aeryn and Commander Crichton are on their way to meet you in Malika's Prowler."
"What is Aeryn doing up, much less out in a Prowler with Crichton?" demanded the Luxan.
"That I do not know as they failed to enlighten me as to the reason," said Pilot
"Ah... Pilot?" asked D'argo more subdued, "Is Aeryn... umm... angry?"
"I think it is safe to say that 'angry' may be somewhat of an understatement," Pilot came back.
"Oh dren," murmured D'argo under his breath, wishing he had borrowed Malika's Prowler instead. A Pa'u in training might be a little more forgiving then the ex-Peacekeeper when it came to their attack ships he reasoned to himself.
"You okay back there?" John asked.
"I'm fine, Crichton. Just watch what you're doing," Aeryn snarled.
"How's your arm?" he asked with concern.
"It's a little stiff but it'll be fine. Listen, John... we can talk about this later. Let's just find D'argo," Aeryn said trying to change the subject.
"So far there's no sign of him," said John straining his eyes thru the occulars.
"We are on the right trajectory, aren't we?" asked Aeryn.
"Yep, that's what pilot said," John answered. "Wait, what's that up ahead?" he asked.
"Here, give me the occulars," John took them off and handed them to Aeryn. "That's my Prowler. What's that behind it?" Aeryn asked giving John back the occulars. "I swear I'm going to kill D'argo if he let anything happen to my Prowler.
"It looks like he's pulling something along behind it, a small transport of some kind. Want me to get him on the horn?" John asked.
" 'On the horn,' Crichton?" Aeryn said in confusion.
"Do you want me to make contact with him?" he asked.
"Wait... let me patch in a frequency to my Prowler only. We don't want to let anyone else know we're in this sector," said Aeryn as she hit a couple of the controls in Malika's Prowler. "Okay, they're open."
"D'argo, it's John. Come in," he started.
"John, I'm here. I have Chiana and the others in the transport behind me. It's a little heavy and I may need some help bringing them in," D'argo said.
"Hang on, Darg. We're coming," said John.
"Here... give me the occulars," demanded Aeryn. John gave them to her again and she put them on and spoke into the microphone. "D'argo... you are one dead Luxan when we get back to Moya. You better hope that there's not a scratch on my Prowler..." Aeryn said as John cut her off. He took the occulars from her and put them back on.
"Aeryn, you can kill D'argo when we get back, but now is not the time for this. We have to help bring them in so will you chill out?" John said covering up the microphone so as not to let D'argo hear their conversation. Aeryn just glared at him.
"John, you still there?" Dargo asked as he could somewhat overhear his and Aeryn's conversation.
"I'm still here, big guy. Sorry about that. We're on our way," said John.
"I take it she's not too happy about me taking her Prowler."
"You hit the nail right on the head, big guy... but we can talk about that later," John said.
"Yeah, that's if I'm still around later," D'argo responded. He could still hear Aeryn mumbling angrily to herself in the background.
John smiled to himself thinking of Aeryn giving D'argo her famous pantak jab and knocking him out cold. If anyone could lie out this Luxan, it would be Aeryn. "Never underestimate the strength of an angry Sebacean woman," John said to himself as they moved closer and closer to Aeryn's Prowler.
The Shrike barely noticed the lurch as the Prowler took the old Drop Ship in tow, trapped as he was in conflict with the voice in his mind. The battle of wills had step up as the voice flooded his mind with images and information. Making him relive his past as a killer a hundred times worse then anything he'd experienced in the memory sessions with Zhaan. The voice reeled off names, dates, places, and detailed instructions in a non-ending stream. Any noise or stray bit of conversation from the cockpit was picked up and added to the mix, spawning new images and data, which at times blended together and cease to make any coherent sense. Whenever he tried to tune it out or not pay it any consideration the voice became insistent, demanding his attention.
He was becoming weary of constantly being on guard, if he relaxed he'd find that the voice somehow was able to guide his body. At one point in the trip he slipped and let his mind wander off trying to ignore the mental images and the harping voice with all it's meaninglessly jumbled information. Chiana had loudly snapped something at Rygel and Berret came back to himself just as he was about to step into the cockpit area. The blade on his right arm fully extended, but he had not remembered opening it. The voice screamed at his hesitation.
"Eradicate the witnesses!" it demanded.
In horror he realized that because of his lack of vigilance, he had been about to kill the Pixie and Rygel. Berret silently glided back away from the cockpit before his crewmates noticed him there. Shaken, he wrapped his cloak tightly around him. Leaning his back against a bulkhead he allowed himself to slowly slide downward until he was seated on the deck. Feeling more like a lost child then an assassin at that microt, he idly noticed that the wound in his thigh had started to bleed once more. The microbes still had not begun to repair the damage as they should have. Chiana had offered to dress the wound but as it turned out he had wisely refused the offer, instinctively knowing it was too dangerous for the others to be around him in this condition. He closed his eyes as a particularly bloody image flashed across his mind's eye, the voice droning on its endless lecture of information to a background soundtrack of cries and screams.
He opened his eyes and came to a conclusion that he would have to leave Moya as quickly as he could after they returned. The Wraith would be his new home for a while until he figured out what he could do... if anything could be done about it.
"One problem at a time," thought Berret.
Chiana snapped something else at the Hynerian, and Berret found it highly ironic that after confessing his 'sins' to her, he was going to lose her anyway. He had to admit; he'd grown somewhat attached to the others, even the Luxan and the Hynerian.
But the Nebari would always be special to him. His first friend when he woke up in this strange place and time. Parting ways was better then the alternative he told himself. Something wet ran down one of his cheeks. Wiping at it with a forefinger he found a single tear. He leaned his head back against the bulkhead behind him. At least finally he was experiencing emotions and knew the cause. The voice called for his attention again and he closed his eyes and gave it.
The Prowler towed the drop-ship close enough for Pilot to snare it with the docking web and guide it aboard, followed closely by the Prowlers. As the craft settled the hatch cycled open and Chiana and Rygel rushed out followed closely by the silent Shrike. D'argo leaped out of the parked Prowler and immediately yelled out, "Pilot! Jettison the drop-ship now!"
With a grating nose the ship lifted off the deck and reversed it's course back out of Moya's hanger bay.
Zhaan was already in the bay to greet her crewmates home.
"Pip! Sparky! J.B.! shouted John as he and Aeryn left their ship and moved to meet them. "God, we're glad to see you guys," he said as he got closer, then he suddenly backed off as if he hit a wall. "...And smell you guys... phew! You all need a shower... bad!"
"You never smell so good yourself," complained Rygel, "...so stop talking."
"Is everyone all right? Are any of you injured?" asked Zhaan anxiously.
Chiana and Rygel exchanged looks. "Well, we're basically all right, but...." she cut off as her gaze went to Berret.
For the first time they noticed the man had been totally silent, neither talking nor exchanging greeting with anyone. Crichton stepped around Chiana and Rygel to peer at the Shrike and was started to see his condition. The man was covered in dried blood and John could see fresh blood slowly dripping from his thigh. In a low voice Chiana explained to Zhaan "He's been shot through the leg with a pulse bolt and refused to let anyone look at it."
Berret looked up as if suddenly becoming aware he was the topic of discussion. His dead eyes took in the group for a microt, and then he spun on a boot heel and stalked away, his black cloak swirling behind him.
"Oh no," said John. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't good."
With the man gone from the hanger bay, The Nebari woman was free to tell the others what had happened.
When she was finished telling her tale, John said, "I knew this wasn't going to be good. He's hearing voices now? I hope he isn't doing what they tell him."
"If this is true," said D'argo, he's more dangerous now then ever."
Zhaan had been silent until then, having been deep in thought. She halted the discussion by asking Chiana.
"Tell me again, Chiana dear... what exactly did he do before going out to meet those thugs."
Chiana explained again, stopping only to clarify one point or another of the Delvian's questions.
"What is it Zhaan?" asked John. "Do you know something?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have to check my records. All of you, don't do anything until I look at something," she said to the group.
"It's not us doing anything I'm worried about... its him," stated John.
"Pilot?" called Zhaan, "Where is Berret now?"
Pilot showed up on the holo-comm at her call. "Berret is in his quarters," he reported.
"Monitor him, Pilot. Let us know if he leaves or does anything... strange," said Zhaan as she hurried out of the bay to her lab.
"Define 'strange,' Blue?" asked Crichton to the Delvian's back, but not getting an answer.
Chiana watched her go; silently hoping she would find a way to help her friend.
Berret went straight to his quarters. Ignoring the voice's demand that he return to the hanger bay and kill all the witnesses. Once safely in his room he began to gather his few possessions, getting them ready to transfer to the Wraith. The slight change in the Leviathan's normal sounds told him that she was getting ready to Starburst. The jump came and went with the usual wave of slight disorientation that accompanies hyperspace travel.
Berret almost went directly to his ship but catching a glance at his gore-splattered attire in the mirror surface of his room, he went instead to the shower unit and stepped under the spray of water fully clothed. He thoroughly wash down the cloak and set it aside to dry. He next detached his armor piece by piece and cleaned them, followed by the ballistic battle suit underneath and his boots. When he was done he finally washed himself and set about tending the wound in his thigh.
Zhaan found what she was looking for in the data almost right away. Checking with Pilot, she found out that Berret was packing his belongings, obviously intending to leave Moya. She hurriedly gathered and mixed several chemicals and herbs into an injector. The Delvian debated calling the others to advise them of her plan but decided that it would be too dangerous to involve them at that micron. She kicked off her sandals and on bare feet she traveled the hallways between tiers until she was outside Berret's quarters. Keying her comm she asked Pilot to open his door. The door slid silently open to reveal the man with his back to her, packing his armor into a bag. He had changed into a Peacekeeper issue day uniform. Zhaan cleared her mind of self and brought back the memories they'd shared in the memory sessions. This way she hoped the Shrike would not sense her presences until it was too late for him to react. The Delvian Priestess glided silently up behind the ex-assassin, jabbing him in the back of his neck with the injector. The contents shot into him before he was able to turn. Twisting around grabbing at the place on his neck where she'd injected him, Berret realized who it was. The look of betrayal on his face was apparent.
"You?" he said accusingly in a slurred voice as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed to the floor of his room.
Sighing with relief, Zhaan said, "Forgive me," to the unconscious man and then tapped her comm. "I need some help getting Berret to the Med-bay," she told whoever was listening.
Berret lay in a deep sleep on the med-table as Zhaan explained to the others what she found.
"It's technically part of the collar. The collar's mainframe computer carried information that was needed for him to do what the Syndicate wanted. There had to be a way for the mechanical part of the collar to interface with Berret's brain to rely that information. So it intergraded pathways for itself into parts of the brain that control sight, sound, and speech. When Berret meditated he was in a sense asking that part of his brain for instructions. With the collar no longer attached the pathways did the best they could to supply that information. They tapped into his memories and pieced together data and fed it back to him in a loop, but without the collar to oversee the process there was no control and no way to stop it once it started."
"So in a sense the voices were just a ghost, something he'd heard or done in the past?" asked John.
"In a sense. Yes, John," Zhaan relented.
"Can you do something to stop it?" asked Chiana.
"That might be a problem because of the microbes. They've established now that the pathways are supposed to be there and active. I have some herbs and drugs that will shut down the pathway synopsizes but the microbes will only repair them and keep them active," said the Delvian.
"What about cold?" asked Chiana. "On the moon the microbes seemed to go into hibernation. His injuries didn't heal almost at all after he'd been exposed to the outside temperatures. Maybe we can put them to sleep so you can do something."
"You want to freeze him?" asked Crichton stunned.
"It doesn't have to be that cold," said Chiana looking down at her sleeping friend.
"You may be on to something, Chiana. I had wondered why the wound in his thigh had not began healing," said Zhaan. "We can use thermal control blankets to lower his body temperature. When the microbes go into hibernation, I'll inject him with the drugs... after that the only thing we can do is wait and see what happens."
Within an arn Berret was wrapped in thermal blankets and his core body temperature dropped far enough for Zhaan to administer the treatment. The others went back to their shipboard duties, leaving Chiana and Zhaan alone in the Med-bay.
"Do you think this will work?" she asked the Priestess now that they were alone.
"I hope so, Chiana dear, " Zhaan answered. "But even if it does, it'll won't be a cure all for his condition."
"What do you mean?" asked the Nebari alarmed. Zhaan took a seat next to her before explaining.
"Those pathways however artificial, are a part of his nervous system now. He's going to have to learn at some point to control them. The mind is like a muscle, it has to be exercised and trained," she said with a smile. "Now that we know about them it will be a simple matter for him to learn how to control them, it's basically the same thing as learning to speak, sing, or read."
"I hope you're right," said Chiana.
Berret came slowly awake, and then shivered. "Why the Hezmana was he so cold?" he thought through the fog his mind seemed to have become. It took a few microts for him to decide it was important enough for him to look around and see where he was. He discovered sitting hentas away from him sleeping soundly in a chair was the Pixie, her head lying on a corner of his med-bed. That's where he was, the Med-bay. He was cold because somebody had wrapped him in thermal control blankets and the temperature controls seem to be set just above freezing. It suddenly dawned on him then that the voice was silent. He paused for a moment to listen. Silence - the voice was gone. There were no more gory images parading through his mind and no meaningless data demanding attention or forcing its way into his thoughts. He sighed heavily in relief. The cold blankets must have something to do with the treatment for his ailment. He stared at the ceiling for several microns and enjoyed the peace inside his mind. He glanced over at the sleeping Chiana. She looked so content laying there with her head propped up on her arms, that there was only one thing to do in that situation.
He slapped both his freezing cold palms against her cheeks.
Chiana awoke with a start and a scream. Rising so fast that she tumbled out of her chair. She clawed her way upright again, confused at what had just happened. She got to her feet and looked around for an intruder before realizing she heard weak laughter coming from the med-bed. She looked down opened mouthed until she realized what the burst of humor meant.
"You're okay," she said to herself smiling, forgetting about the prank. "You're okay!" she said louder, grinning ear to ear at him.
Chiana made Berret eat while Zhaan examined him and gave him an explanation as to what happened to him. He was having a rather difficult time trying to pay attention to what the Delvian was telling him while the Pixie shoved food cubes into his mouth. He was so relieved that he wasn't going mad that he was in an unusually happy mood. In fact, he couldn't remember feeling this good the entire time he'd been aboard the Leviathan. He even found himself enjoying the two women's consideration, where as before it made him uncomfortable to be the center of anyone's attention except Chiana's... and he really was only truly at ease with her when they were alone.
Zhaan had just finished up with him and was putting her equipment away when Chiana called his attention to a big dessert cube she was holding for him. He was thinking of asking Zhaan one more question when he opened his mouth for Chiana to feed him the cube... then too late he realized his danger. The Nebari girl smeared the soft and moist cube all over his face. Chiana burst into laughter while Zhaan obviously fought the urge but finally had to give in at the surprised look on the Shrike's cube covered face.
"That's what you get for playing with my cheeks!" Chiana playfully scolded.
Berret wiped as much as the cube off his face as possible, then shrugging his shoulders, popped the mess into his mouth, deciding that it still tasted good anyway. He licked a spot off his fingers and smiled up at her and chuckled. After a few microts he stared into her eyes and with a small smile still on his lips he said sincerely,
"But your cheeks are my favorite part."
Chiana looked down at him, now not sure how to take his comment, but knowing there was something more to the meaning then just the words.
"Malika, remember you last bit of training? Control your temper, your not always the best suited to the job," the older Delvian said.
"Fine! Tell them it's ready. I won't be there when they get here," she said as she cut the communication.
"Andar, want to come with me for a drink? I fell like one right now. I got some good stuff I brought with me when I came on board hidden in the mess," she said.
Andar nodded, considering that it was best to agree with anything the angry woman wanted at that point.
"Considering the week I've had, a little refreshment is most definitely in order."
"I thought you might say that," Malika said as she led him to the Center Chamber mess.
"I think it's here," she said a few microns later as she searched through the back of a cupboard. "Yes, here it is," she said as she pulled the dusty bottle out. "This is a rare vintage," she said as she poured some of it into two cups. "Here," she said handing him one. "To a future that treats us better than the past has," she said with a hint of sarcasm. Andar raised his cup and clicked it against hers.
"To new friends. Especially those who save your life," the Sebacean man added. He took a sip. It was definitely good.
Malika took a sip from her own cup. Her mother was right, nothing better in the universe. She knew Zhaan would be upset with her, She was constantly telling her to control her temper. "I don't know if I can do it, mother," she thought. "Oh, well, there's nothing more I can do about it now."
"So Andar... how are you liking Moya so far? Nice? Fun? Or just too overwhelming?" she asked him.
D'argo maneuvered the Prowler over the drifting drop-ship and then fired the Magnetic Grapple. The grapple hit the craft just above the cockpit and the powerful magnet latched onto its hull. The Luxan slowly throttled the Prowler's engines to take the slack out of the short cable connecting the two ships. Not being a skilled Prowler pilot there was still a jerk as the cable went taunt.
"Dren!" complained Rygel as his head was snapped backwards at the unexpected shutter. "Who taught that Luxan how to fly, much less perform a cable rescue," he grumbled as their ship stopped drifting and began to creep along behind the Prowler.
"Would you rather get out and walk back to Moya?" asked Chiana as she strapped herself in to a seat.
"It might be preferable to letting that lumbering Luxan tow us into another moon," Rygel replied.
In the Prowler, D'argo snarled in frustration at their slow progress. The attack ship was meant for speed and agility, not attempting to drag a lifeless hulk four times it's size and over ten times it's weight any considerable distance. The engines were redlined as it was. Knowing Aeryn would kill him... several times over, if anything happened to her Prowler while in his unauthorized care - he backed them down. Once the ship behind him was moving, momentum would keep it traveling at the same speed until another outside force acted on it. He keyed his comm on tight-band, "Pilot, I'm bring the craft with Rygel and the others back now. Prepare the docking web to receive and land it in the hanger bay."
Pilot's voice came back to him, "We are waiting your return Ka'D'Argo. Aeryn and Commander Crichton are on their way to meet you in Malika's Prowler."
"What is Aeryn doing up, much less out in a Prowler with Crichton?" demanded the Luxan.
"That I do not know as they failed to enlighten me as to the reason," said Pilot
"Ah... Pilot?" asked D'argo more subdued, "Is Aeryn... umm... angry?"
"I think it is safe to say that 'angry' may be somewhat of an understatement," Pilot came back.
"Oh dren," murmured D'argo under his breath, wishing he had borrowed Malika's Prowler instead. A Pa'u in training might be a little more forgiving then the ex-Peacekeeper when it came to their attack ships he reasoned to himself.
"You okay back there?" John asked.
"I'm fine, Crichton. Just watch what you're doing," Aeryn snarled.
"How's your arm?" he asked with concern.
"It's a little stiff but it'll be fine. Listen, John... we can talk about this later. Let's just find D'argo," Aeryn said trying to change the subject.
"So far there's no sign of him," said John straining his eyes thru the occulars.
"We are on the right trajectory, aren't we?" asked Aeryn.
"Yep, that's what pilot said," John answered. "Wait, what's that up ahead?" he asked.
"Here, give me the occulars," John took them off and handed them to Aeryn. "That's my Prowler. What's that behind it?" Aeryn asked giving John back the occulars. "I swear I'm going to kill D'argo if he let anything happen to my Prowler.
"It looks like he's pulling something along behind it, a small transport of some kind. Want me to get him on the horn?" John asked.
" 'On the horn,' Crichton?" Aeryn said in confusion.
"Do you want me to make contact with him?" he asked.
"Wait... let me patch in a frequency to my Prowler only. We don't want to let anyone else know we're in this sector," said Aeryn as she hit a couple of the controls in Malika's Prowler. "Okay, they're open."
"D'argo, it's John. Come in," he started.
"John, I'm here. I have Chiana and the others in the transport behind me. It's a little heavy and I may need some help bringing them in," D'argo said.
"Hang on, Darg. We're coming," said John.
"Here... give me the occulars," demanded Aeryn. John gave them to her again and she put them on and spoke into the microphone. "D'argo... you are one dead Luxan when we get back to Moya. You better hope that there's not a scratch on my Prowler..." Aeryn said as John cut her off. He took the occulars from her and put them back on.
"Aeryn, you can kill D'argo when we get back, but now is not the time for this. We have to help bring them in so will you chill out?" John said covering up the microphone so as not to let D'argo hear their conversation. Aeryn just glared at him.
"John, you still there?" Dargo asked as he could somewhat overhear his and Aeryn's conversation.
"I'm still here, big guy. Sorry about that. We're on our way," said John.
"I take it she's not too happy about me taking her Prowler."
"You hit the nail right on the head, big guy... but we can talk about that later," John said.
"Yeah, that's if I'm still around later," D'argo responded. He could still hear Aeryn mumbling angrily to herself in the background.
John smiled to himself thinking of Aeryn giving D'argo her famous pantak jab and knocking him out cold. If anyone could lie out this Luxan, it would be Aeryn. "Never underestimate the strength of an angry Sebacean woman," John said to himself as they moved closer and closer to Aeryn's Prowler.
The Shrike barely noticed the lurch as the Prowler took the old Drop Ship in tow, trapped as he was in conflict with the voice in his mind. The battle of wills had step up as the voice flooded his mind with images and information. Making him relive his past as a killer a hundred times worse then anything he'd experienced in the memory sessions with Zhaan. The voice reeled off names, dates, places, and detailed instructions in a non-ending stream. Any noise or stray bit of conversation from the cockpit was picked up and added to the mix, spawning new images and data, which at times blended together and cease to make any coherent sense. Whenever he tried to tune it out or not pay it any consideration the voice became insistent, demanding his attention.
He was becoming weary of constantly being on guard, if he relaxed he'd find that the voice somehow was able to guide his body. At one point in the trip he slipped and let his mind wander off trying to ignore the mental images and the harping voice with all it's meaninglessly jumbled information. Chiana had loudly snapped something at Rygel and Berret came back to himself just as he was about to step into the cockpit area. The blade on his right arm fully extended, but he had not remembered opening it. The voice screamed at his hesitation.
"Eradicate the witnesses!" it demanded.
In horror he realized that because of his lack of vigilance, he had been about to kill the Pixie and Rygel. Berret silently glided back away from the cockpit before his crewmates noticed him there. Shaken, he wrapped his cloak tightly around him. Leaning his back against a bulkhead he allowed himself to slowly slide downward until he was seated on the deck. Feeling more like a lost child then an assassin at that microt, he idly noticed that the wound in his thigh had started to bleed once more. The microbes still had not begun to repair the damage as they should have. Chiana had offered to dress the wound but as it turned out he had wisely refused the offer, instinctively knowing it was too dangerous for the others to be around him in this condition. He closed his eyes as a particularly bloody image flashed across his mind's eye, the voice droning on its endless lecture of information to a background soundtrack of cries and screams.
He opened his eyes and came to a conclusion that he would have to leave Moya as quickly as he could after they returned. The Wraith would be his new home for a while until he figured out what he could do... if anything could be done about it.
"One problem at a time," thought Berret.
Chiana snapped something else at the Hynerian, and Berret found it highly ironic that after confessing his 'sins' to her, he was going to lose her anyway. He had to admit; he'd grown somewhat attached to the others, even the Luxan and the Hynerian.
But the Nebari would always be special to him. His first friend when he woke up in this strange place and time. Parting ways was better then the alternative he told himself. Something wet ran down one of his cheeks. Wiping at it with a forefinger he found a single tear. He leaned his head back against the bulkhead behind him. At least finally he was experiencing emotions and knew the cause. The voice called for his attention again and he closed his eyes and gave it.
The Prowler towed the drop-ship close enough for Pilot to snare it with the docking web and guide it aboard, followed closely by the Prowlers. As the craft settled the hatch cycled open and Chiana and Rygel rushed out followed closely by the silent Shrike. D'argo leaped out of the parked Prowler and immediately yelled out, "Pilot! Jettison the drop-ship now!"
With a grating nose the ship lifted off the deck and reversed it's course back out of Moya's hanger bay.
Zhaan was already in the bay to greet her crewmates home.
"Pip! Sparky! J.B.! shouted John as he and Aeryn left their ship and moved to meet them. "God, we're glad to see you guys," he said as he got closer, then he suddenly backed off as if he hit a wall. "...And smell you guys... phew! You all need a shower... bad!"
"You never smell so good yourself," complained Rygel, "...so stop talking."
"Is everyone all right? Are any of you injured?" asked Zhaan anxiously.
Chiana and Rygel exchanged looks. "Well, we're basically all right, but...." she cut off as her gaze went to Berret.
For the first time they noticed the man had been totally silent, neither talking nor exchanging greeting with anyone. Crichton stepped around Chiana and Rygel to peer at the Shrike and was started to see his condition. The man was covered in dried blood and John could see fresh blood slowly dripping from his thigh. In a low voice Chiana explained to Zhaan "He's been shot through the leg with a pulse bolt and refused to let anyone look at it."
Berret looked up as if suddenly becoming aware he was the topic of discussion. His dead eyes took in the group for a microt, and then he spun on a boot heel and stalked away, his black cloak swirling behind him.
"Oh no," said John. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't good."
With the man gone from the hanger bay, The Nebari woman was free to tell the others what had happened.
When she was finished telling her tale, John said, "I knew this wasn't going to be good. He's hearing voices now? I hope he isn't doing what they tell him."
"If this is true," said D'argo, he's more dangerous now then ever."
Zhaan had been silent until then, having been deep in thought. She halted the discussion by asking Chiana.
"Tell me again, Chiana dear... what exactly did he do before going out to meet those thugs."
Chiana explained again, stopping only to clarify one point or another of the Delvian's questions.
"What is it Zhaan?" asked John. "Do you know something?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have to check my records. All of you, don't do anything until I look at something," she said to the group.
"It's not us doing anything I'm worried about... its him," stated John.
"Pilot?" called Zhaan, "Where is Berret now?"
Pilot showed up on the holo-comm at her call. "Berret is in his quarters," he reported.
"Monitor him, Pilot. Let us know if he leaves or does anything... strange," said Zhaan as she hurried out of the bay to her lab.
"Define 'strange,' Blue?" asked Crichton to the Delvian's back, but not getting an answer.
Chiana watched her go; silently hoping she would find a way to help her friend.
Berret went straight to his quarters. Ignoring the voice's demand that he return to the hanger bay and kill all the witnesses. Once safely in his room he began to gather his few possessions, getting them ready to transfer to the Wraith. The slight change in the Leviathan's normal sounds told him that she was getting ready to Starburst. The jump came and went with the usual wave of slight disorientation that accompanies hyperspace travel.
Berret almost went directly to his ship but catching a glance at his gore-splattered attire in the mirror surface of his room, he went instead to the shower unit and stepped under the spray of water fully clothed. He thoroughly wash down the cloak and set it aside to dry. He next detached his armor piece by piece and cleaned them, followed by the ballistic battle suit underneath and his boots. When he was done he finally washed himself and set about tending the wound in his thigh.
Zhaan found what she was looking for in the data almost right away. Checking with Pilot, she found out that Berret was packing his belongings, obviously intending to leave Moya. She hurriedly gathered and mixed several chemicals and herbs into an injector. The Delvian debated calling the others to advise them of her plan but decided that it would be too dangerous to involve them at that micron. She kicked off her sandals and on bare feet she traveled the hallways between tiers until she was outside Berret's quarters. Keying her comm she asked Pilot to open his door. The door slid silently open to reveal the man with his back to her, packing his armor into a bag. He had changed into a Peacekeeper issue day uniform. Zhaan cleared her mind of self and brought back the memories they'd shared in the memory sessions. This way she hoped the Shrike would not sense her presences until it was too late for him to react. The Delvian Priestess glided silently up behind the ex-assassin, jabbing him in the back of his neck with the injector. The contents shot into him before he was able to turn. Twisting around grabbing at the place on his neck where she'd injected him, Berret realized who it was. The look of betrayal on his face was apparent.
"You?" he said accusingly in a slurred voice as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed to the floor of his room.
Sighing with relief, Zhaan said, "Forgive me," to the unconscious man and then tapped her comm. "I need some help getting Berret to the Med-bay," she told whoever was listening.
Berret lay in a deep sleep on the med-table as Zhaan explained to the others what she found.
"It's technically part of the collar. The collar's mainframe computer carried information that was needed for him to do what the Syndicate wanted. There had to be a way for the mechanical part of the collar to interface with Berret's brain to rely that information. So it intergraded pathways for itself into parts of the brain that control sight, sound, and speech. When Berret meditated he was in a sense asking that part of his brain for instructions. With the collar no longer attached the pathways did the best they could to supply that information. They tapped into his memories and pieced together data and fed it back to him in a loop, but without the collar to oversee the process there was no control and no way to stop it once it started."
"So in a sense the voices were just a ghost, something he'd heard or done in the past?" asked John.
"In a sense. Yes, John," Zhaan relented.
"Can you do something to stop it?" asked Chiana.
"That might be a problem because of the microbes. They've established now that the pathways are supposed to be there and active. I have some herbs and drugs that will shut down the pathway synopsizes but the microbes will only repair them and keep them active," said the Delvian.
"What about cold?" asked Chiana. "On the moon the microbes seemed to go into hibernation. His injuries didn't heal almost at all after he'd been exposed to the outside temperatures. Maybe we can put them to sleep so you can do something."
"You want to freeze him?" asked Crichton stunned.
"It doesn't have to be that cold," said Chiana looking down at her sleeping friend.
"You may be on to something, Chiana. I had wondered why the wound in his thigh had not began healing," said Zhaan. "We can use thermal control blankets to lower his body temperature. When the microbes go into hibernation, I'll inject him with the drugs... after that the only thing we can do is wait and see what happens."
Within an arn Berret was wrapped in thermal blankets and his core body temperature dropped far enough for Zhaan to administer the treatment. The others went back to their shipboard duties, leaving Chiana and Zhaan alone in the Med-bay.
"Do you think this will work?" she asked the Priestess now that they were alone.
"I hope so, Chiana dear, " Zhaan answered. "But even if it does, it'll won't be a cure all for his condition."
"What do you mean?" asked the Nebari alarmed. Zhaan took a seat next to her before explaining.
"Those pathways however artificial, are a part of his nervous system now. He's going to have to learn at some point to control them. The mind is like a muscle, it has to be exercised and trained," she said with a smile. "Now that we know about them it will be a simple matter for him to learn how to control them, it's basically the same thing as learning to speak, sing, or read."
"I hope you're right," said Chiana.
Berret came slowly awake, and then shivered. "Why the Hezmana was he so cold?" he thought through the fog his mind seemed to have become. It took a few microts for him to decide it was important enough for him to look around and see where he was. He discovered sitting hentas away from him sleeping soundly in a chair was the Pixie, her head lying on a corner of his med-bed. That's where he was, the Med-bay. He was cold because somebody had wrapped him in thermal control blankets and the temperature controls seem to be set just above freezing. It suddenly dawned on him then that the voice was silent. He paused for a moment to listen. Silence - the voice was gone. There were no more gory images parading through his mind and no meaningless data demanding attention or forcing its way into his thoughts. He sighed heavily in relief. The cold blankets must have something to do with the treatment for his ailment. He stared at the ceiling for several microns and enjoyed the peace inside his mind. He glanced over at the sleeping Chiana. She looked so content laying there with her head propped up on her arms, that there was only one thing to do in that situation.
He slapped both his freezing cold palms against her cheeks.
Chiana awoke with a start and a scream. Rising so fast that she tumbled out of her chair. She clawed her way upright again, confused at what had just happened. She got to her feet and looked around for an intruder before realizing she heard weak laughter coming from the med-bed. She looked down opened mouthed until she realized what the burst of humor meant.
"You're okay," she said to herself smiling, forgetting about the prank. "You're okay!" she said louder, grinning ear to ear at him.
Chiana made Berret eat while Zhaan examined him and gave him an explanation as to what happened to him. He was having a rather difficult time trying to pay attention to what the Delvian was telling him while the Pixie shoved food cubes into his mouth. He was so relieved that he wasn't going mad that he was in an unusually happy mood. In fact, he couldn't remember feeling this good the entire time he'd been aboard the Leviathan. He even found himself enjoying the two women's consideration, where as before it made him uncomfortable to be the center of anyone's attention except Chiana's... and he really was only truly at ease with her when they were alone.
Zhaan had just finished up with him and was putting her equipment away when Chiana called his attention to a big dessert cube she was holding for him. He was thinking of asking Zhaan one more question when he opened his mouth for Chiana to feed him the cube... then too late he realized his danger. The Nebari girl smeared the soft and moist cube all over his face. Chiana burst into laughter while Zhaan obviously fought the urge but finally had to give in at the surprised look on the Shrike's cube covered face.
"That's what you get for playing with my cheeks!" Chiana playfully scolded.
Berret wiped as much as the cube off his face as possible, then shrugging his shoulders, popped the mess into his mouth, deciding that it still tasted good anyway. He licked a spot off his fingers and smiled up at her and chuckled. After a few microts he stared into her eyes and with a small smile still on his lips he said sincerely,
"But your cheeks are my favorite part."
Chiana looked down at him, now not sure how to take his comment, but knowing there was something more to the meaning then just the words.