Chapter Two
"Harvey, not now!" John Crichton snarled between clenched teeth. "This is not a good time!"
Why did the frelling neural clone always pick the damnedest times to show up? John wondered as he continued to try to get through to the terrified Pilot. In a psychotic sort of way, he was lucky the Xarai had eaten the poor guy's arms, otherwise he would have flung John right off the control console and into the abyss that formed the majority of the den. Course, that would probably be a more comfortable fate than that promised by the pounding fists that could be heard at way too many entrances to the vast room.
"Did you say something, Cr-Crichton?" Chiana still sounded scared, but she stood firm, pointing Winona at first one closed door then another, as the sound of the heaviest pounding shifted. Having taken out six of the cannibalistic Xarai – he prayed those six were the only ones in the room – she was more than ready to vent a bit more of her terror at those still waiting in the wings.
"Well, John, are you going to answer her?" Harvey's voice near his left shoulder made him swing at the specter in an attempt to banish him. It didn't work, though. It never did. Placing one hopefully reassuring hand on Pilot's heaving shoulder, John looked over his own at the clone. He about choked with hysterical laughter when he saw Harvey's get-up this time – gerry curls, mirrored sunglasses, a big-shouldered jacket and one sequined glove – and realized that Michael Jackson's Thriller was playing somewhere in the back of his mind.
Hoping that Chi wouldn't make the connection between his first words and the reappearance of Harvey, he played off his lapse. "Uh, yeah. We've got to get Pilot here to seal us off and vent the rest of the ship."
"Vent the...the Xarai into space?"
A grunt of humorless laughter escaped him as he replied, "Yeah. Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out." What the hell was he turning into?
He felt a light tap on his shoulder, which he tried to ignore.
"John, John, John." Now Harvey sounded as if he were speaking to a child. A slow child. "John, don't you think the Peacekeepers that remained trapped on this Leviathan would've tried that, had it been a real option?" The ghoul with one sequined glove shook his head. "This Leviathan can't do that sort of thing while he's wearing a control collar. Don't you know anything?"
"I dunno nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies..." John muttered. "Shit."
"What's the matter now?" Chiana hadn't been privy to his more-or- less internal conversation.
"I think we're going to have to get the control collar off Rohvu before we can deal with the rest of his, uh, passengers."
"How do we – how do we do that?"
"Lemme think. Just gimme a minute to think." Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen, with the pounding on the doors and the glittering light of the disco ball Harvey seemed to have brought with him, not to mention poor Pilot, moaning incoherently. John sat on the surface of the console, running the fingers of both hands through his hair, surprised it wasn't already standing on end.
"You could always ask the Pilot, you know," Harvey suggested. "Poor bugger's had nothing but time on his hands to think, when he's had hands, that is."
Chiana wasn't sure if Crichton was talking to her or to Pilot when he asked, "Where are the main controls to the collar?"
Pilot's den seemed to fade around him, the room taken over completely by the smoky atmosphere of an 80s disco. "Just a guess, John, but I really don't think the controls're in here, where Pilot could have set his DRDs to the task of removing 'em," Harvey replied.
John stood and walked across the floor, black and white tiles lighting up under each foot as he took a step, going dark as he moved on to the next, advancing on the neural clone. Backing the irritating clone into a wall, John adjusted the collar of his bright red shirt so that it was standing straight up, brushing against his hair. "Harvey. Shut. Up."
"I'm just tryin' to help, Johnny." The Sebacean-Scarran hybrid was the picture of wide-eyed innocence.
Another moan from Pilot broke through John's hallucination, snapping him back to the unpleasant reality of his – their – current situation. He shifted to his knees and leaned toward the frightened creature. Placing both hands on Pilot's face, he leaned in closer, resting his forehead against Pilot's. "Pilot, listen to me."
Enormous orange eyes locked onto intense blue ones. Pilot said nothing, but he did stop moaning and he did stop struggling.
"Pilot," John repeated.
"Yes?" The word was tentative, barely audible above the other noises. At least the Thriller soundtrack had gone silent.
"Pilot, I'm John. My friend here is Chiana."
Chiana threw a still panicky look over at Pilot and said, in an attempt at her usual cocky voice, "Pleased to meet you, Pilot," before returning her attention to guarding their perimeter.
"We're going to get through this, Pilot, but you have to help us. Do you understand?"
The Human was relieved when Pilot nodded his agreement. "What do you want me to do, John? Rohvu and I have no DRDs. They were all destroyed cycles ago by Kaarvok and the Xarai."
"That's okay, Pilot," John reassured him, even though that wasn't okay at all. "I need you to tell me where the master controls to Rohvu's control collar are. We have to get the control collar off him."
"We have tried, John." Pilot sounded despairing.
"I know you and Rohvu can't do it yourselves, Pilot, but if you can tell us where to go, Chi and I can get it off." Hell, if D'Argo could do it for Moya, without a clue as to what he was doing, he and Chiana ought to be able to figure it out. Right?
Pilot took a deep, shuddering breath, then said, "The master controls are in Command."
Makes sense, John thought. "Pip, I need you to stay here with Pilot."
"Huh uh! No way, Crichton. You're not leaving me here!" She shook her head violently.
"Somebody's got to stay here and keep Pilot safe. You stay here with Winona. I'm going up to Command and see if I can figure out how to disable that collar."
"How – How're you gonna do that? Do you even know what...what the frelling thing looks like?"
"I've got an idea, yeah." He didn't, really, but he was pretty sure his constant companion did. Harvey didn't want to die on this insane ship any more than John did.
"What do I do if the Xarai break through?"
"Shoot 'em." With that flippant answer, John rolled off the console onto a catwalk. He felt naked without Winona, but Chi needed her more than he did right now. He'd find something he could use as a weapon while he made his way up to Command.
He hoped.
"Harvey, not now!" John Crichton snarled between clenched teeth. "This is not a good time!"
Why did the frelling neural clone always pick the damnedest times to show up? John wondered as he continued to try to get through to the terrified Pilot. In a psychotic sort of way, he was lucky the Xarai had eaten the poor guy's arms, otherwise he would have flung John right off the control console and into the abyss that formed the majority of the den. Course, that would probably be a more comfortable fate than that promised by the pounding fists that could be heard at way too many entrances to the vast room.
"Did you say something, Cr-Crichton?" Chiana still sounded scared, but she stood firm, pointing Winona at first one closed door then another, as the sound of the heaviest pounding shifted. Having taken out six of the cannibalistic Xarai – he prayed those six were the only ones in the room – she was more than ready to vent a bit more of her terror at those still waiting in the wings.
"Well, John, are you going to answer her?" Harvey's voice near his left shoulder made him swing at the specter in an attempt to banish him. It didn't work, though. It never did. Placing one hopefully reassuring hand on Pilot's heaving shoulder, John looked over his own at the clone. He about choked with hysterical laughter when he saw Harvey's get-up this time – gerry curls, mirrored sunglasses, a big-shouldered jacket and one sequined glove – and realized that Michael Jackson's Thriller was playing somewhere in the back of his mind.
Hoping that Chi wouldn't make the connection between his first words and the reappearance of Harvey, he played off his lapse. "Uh, yeah. We've got to get Pilot here to seal us off and vent the rest of the ship."
"Vent the...the Xarai into space?"
A grunt of humorless laughter escaped him as he replied, "Yeah. Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out." What the hell was he turning into?
He felt a light tap on his shoulder, which he tried to ignore.
"John, John, John." Now Harvey sounded as if he were speaking to a child. A slow child. "John, don't you think the Peacekeepers that remained trapped on this Leviathan would've tried that, had it been a real option?" The ghoul with one sequined glove shook his head. "This Leviathan can't do that sort of thing while he's wearing a control collar. Don't you know anything?"
"I dunno nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies..." John muttered. "Shit."
"What's the matter now?" Chiana hadn't been privy to his more-or- less internal conversation.
"I think we're going to have to get the control collar off Rohvu before we can deal with the rest of his, uh, passengers."
"How do we – how do we do that?"
"Lemme think. Just gimme a minute to think." Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen, with the pounding on the doors and the glittering light of the disco ball Harvey seemed to have brought with him, not to mention poor Pilot, moaning incoherently. John sat on the surface of the console, running the fingers of both hands through his hair, surprised it wasn't already standing on end.
"You could always ask the Pilot, you know," Harvey suggested. "Poor bugger's had nothing but time on his hands to think, when he's had hands, that is."
Chiana wasn't sure if Crichton was talking to her or to Pilot when he asked, "Where are the main controls to the collar?"
Pilot's den seemed to fade around him, the room taken over completely by the smoky atmosphere of an 80s disco. "Just a guess, John, but I really don't think the controls're in here, where Pilot could have set his DRDs to the task of removing 'em," Harvey replied.
John stood and walked across the floor, black and white tiles lighting up under each foot as he took a step, going dark as he moved on to the next, advancing on the neural clone. Backing the irritating clone into a wall, John adjusted the collar of his bright red shirt so that it was standing straight up, brushing against his hair. "Harvey. Shut. Up."
"I'm just tryin' to help, Johnny." The Sebacean-Scarran hybrid was the picture of wide-eyed innocence.
Another moan from Pilot broke through John's hallucination, snapping him back to the unpleasant reality of his – their – current situation. He shifted to his knees and leaned toward the frightened creature. Placing both hands on Pilot's face, he leaned in closer, resting his forehead against Pilot's. "Pilot, listen to me."
Enormous orange eyes locked onto intense blue ones. Pilot said nothing, but he did stop moaning and he did stop struggling.
"Pilot," John repeated.
"Yes?" The word was tentative, barely audible above the other noises. At least the Thriller soundtrack had gone silent.
"Pilot, I'm John. My friend here is Chiana."
Chiana threw a still panicky look over at Pilot and said, in an attempt at her usual cocky voice, "Pleased to meet you, Pilot," before returning her attention to guarding their perimeter.
"We're going to get through this, Pilot, but you have to help us. Do you understand?"
The Human was relieved when Pilot nodded his agreement. "What do you want me to do, John? Rohvu and I have no DRDs. They were all destroyed cycles ago by Kaarvok and the Xarai."
"That's okay, Pilot," John reassured him, even though that wasn't okay at all. "I need you to tell me where the master controls to Rohvu's control collar are. We have to get the control collar off him."
"We have tried, John." Pilot sounded despairing.
"I know you and Rohvu can't do it yourselves, Pilot, but if you can tell us where to go, Chi and I can get it off." Hell, if D'Argo could do it for Moya, without a clue as to what he was doing, he and Chiana ought to be able to figure it out. Right?
Pilot took a deep, shuddering breath, then said, "The master controls are in Command."
Makes sense, John thought. "Pip, I need you to stay here with Pilot."
"Huh uh! No way, Crichton. You're not leaving me here!" She shook her head violently.
"Somebody's got to stay here and keep Pilot safe. You stay here with Winona. I'm going up to Command and see if I can figure out how to disable that collar."
"How – How're you gonna do that? Do you even know what...what the frelling thing looks like?"
"I've got an idea, yeah." He didn't, really, but he was pretty sure his constant companion did. Harvey didn't want to die on this insane ship any more than John did.
"What do I do if the Xarai break through?"
"Shoot 'em." With that flippant answer, John rolled off the console onto a catwalk. He felt naked without Winona, but Chi needed her more than he did right now. He'd find something he could use as a weapon while he made his way up to Command.
He hoped.