Chapter Five

Frell it all! Aeryn thought as she was forced to give up her shot. For several tense microts, there had simply been too much random movement and now Tikrel was between her and the Nebari leader. She so wanted to shoot something, but she just couldn't risk hitting the Diagnosan. Quite aside from the fact that he was a shipmate, he was also vital to John until their child was safely born.

By the time Tikrel had knelt again to treat D'Argo, the opportunity had passed. The tech and the leader were paying attention to D'Argo and the Diagnosan, but the other one was paying more attention to his surroundings than to the little drama that had just played out. She sighed. At least they were allowing Tikrel to help D'Argo.

As Aeryn continued to watch, Tikrel gently turned D'Argo back over onto his stomach. After a short examination, he lifted a fist and brought it back down very un-gently on D'Argo's head. The Nebari tech visibly winced. Unnoticed by all but Aeryn, and probably Tikrel, a DRD trundled through an opening identical to the one from which Aeryn watched, approaching D'Argo's face. Tikrel checked the color of D'Argo's blood and then, apparently not yet satisfied, lifted his fist again. Before he brought it down on the Luxan's head, the DRD seemed to nuzzle at D'Argo. As Tikrel's fist connected one more time, the little mechanoid backed away.

D'Argo's body stiffened at about the same time as the Diagnosan's strike connected, but the timing was such that Aeryn couldn't tell if his movement coincided with the DRD's nudge or the latest blow to his head. Either way, D'Argo was alive and suddenly fighting to get to his feet, or at least to his knees. The Nebari backed away a step or two, leveling a pair of rifles at the Luxan. Tikrel sat back abruptly, whipping his head backward in a defensive gesture and narrowly avoiding his mask being knocked askew by a struggling D'Argo.

Checking the area behind her for signs of movement, Aeryn again backed out of her hiding space. The way the players in the hangar were arranged now, both D'Argo and Tikrel were between her and the enemy. She carefully and silently made her way through the access channel, the DRD that had given her the communications crystal trundling along behind her.

If she couldn't help them from a distance, then she'd just have to get closer.

xxx

D'Argo shook his head violently, tankas flying. He blinked involuntary tears from his eyes, snorting. Frell, his head hurt! He didn't realize that he was growling, and thus didn't notice the apprehensive looks on his captors' faces. Thrusting himself to his knees, blinking his eyes again repeatedly to bring them into focus, he took stock of his surroundings.

At the moment, the only familiar sight was Tikrel's masked face. The Diagnosan said something, too fast for his microbes to catch. Beyond Tikrel was the incongruous sight of three Nebari, two of them armed and pointing their weapons at D'Argo. It amused him to note that, even though he was on his knees, wounded and unarmed, they were all at least a little afraid of him.

Unarmed. Frell. Earlier, before the sleep cycle, he and Chiana had been having what Crichton called a "date." D'Argo had strapped on his Qualta blade as usual, but Chiana had laughed and told him that wasn't the blade she wanted to play with, so he had left it in his quarters. He closed his eyes for a microt, cursing himself for seven kinds of a fool.

Opening his eyes, D'Argo rose slowly to his feet and barked, "What the frell are you doing on my ship?" His anger at himself gave the question more force than it would have had otherwise. He thought that Pilot and Moya would forgive him for the possessive. While the Nebari were still off balance, he reached out a hand to help the old Diagnosan to his feet. "Are you all right, Tikrel?"

Tikrel nodded and reached a hand behind D'Argo's head. He brought the hand back around and gave a satisfied nod at the sight of the clear blood that now covered the long fingers.

"You are the one called D'Argo?" one of the Nebari asked. He had an aura of command about him, lacking in the other two – the other male still trained his weapon on D'Argo while the female watched from behind one of Moya's diagnostic consoles, hiding behind it as though it were a shield.

Since the intruders seemed to know who he was, he didn't bother to answer the question, instead asking one of his own. "Who are you?" Directing the question to the leader, D'Argo made his tone as menacing as possible, not an easy thing to do given the throbbing at the back of his skull, the irritating trickle of blood into his shirt, and the hot spot that had popped up at the back of his head, quite separate from the area that was throbbing. He was a mess.

"My name is Gurvis." The Nebari leader gestured to his subordinate to lower his weapon. "We mean you and your crew no harm."

"Really?" D'Argo replied, sarcasm fairly dripping from his voice as he looked at Gurvis. He allowed a glint to reach his eyes that said more eloquently than words that he was just itching for a reason to allow himself to slip into hyperrage. Something that hadn't happened to him for quite some time, he realized. D'Argo allowed the silence to stretch between them, crossing his arms over his chest. He made note of the fact that only Gurvis dropped his weapon.

After a short but uncomfortable silence, Gurvis looked away and said, "I apologize. We are under strict orders to complete our task as quickly as possible. The control collar was the fastest way."

Control collar? A Nebari control collar, large enough to fit Moya? D'Argo narrowed his eyes, glaring at Gurvis, less sure now than he had been a microt ago just what the hezmana was going on.

xxx

Siporo stood in the middle of what was called the "center chamber" and sighed. She and the others had combed through the decks their intelligence reports had designated as the crew quarters, but had found exactly nothing. Oh, there were signs of life everywhere. They had found clothing draped across rumpled beds, boots apparently thrown across rooms for whatever reason, chairs toppled by the convulsions the Leviathan had undergone when the control collar was attched… Here in the center chamber, plates and cups that had been waiting to be cleansed were scattered at random, others that might have been in recent use had spilled their contents across the table and floor. But there were no living beings to be found, only those small, yellow mechanicals. It was becoming frustrating.

She and the rest of the squad had continued with their search after Noren had left them, ordered by Gurvis to search specifically for the Diagnosan. She had no idea if Noren had found the alien or even why Gurvis had been so adamant that he be found. After all, their stated purpose for being here was to find the Nebari girl called Chiana.

"Siporo, over here!" Rakiri, barely more than a boy, was gesturing wildly for her to look at something. If only to make him stop acting so…flamboyantly, she made her way over to him.

"What is it?" she asked, leaning in for a closer look.

"Blood." He poked a finger into a smear on the table's edge and presented his finding to Siporo's eyes, much too close for her to focus on it. She took hold of his wrist, pushing his hand back a bit further as he continued, "Nebari blood."

Indeed, the smear of color on his fingertip was the blue of Nebari blood. None of her squad had been injured. In fact, no one had been to this chamber at all until now – they had all been occupied with searching the crew decks.

"Good job, Rakiri. That's the first real sign that Chiana is even on this ship." She clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, avoiding as best she could touching the distasteful queue of long hair that hung in a black tail down the center of his back. "Now, we just need to find the rest of her."

xxx

Winona drawn and steady in his hand, John moved cautiously through Moya's corridors toward the main hangar. He stayed close to the walls, just in case his earlier vertigo reared its ugly head, but, so far, he was doing fine. Not even a twinge of dizziness.

The side effects of the pregnancy were like that. He'd go for days at a time with no symptoms at all, then he'd be hard pressed to function like a normal human being for a couple days and then he'd be fine again, like now. I wonder if adrenalin has an effect on that? he mused, ducking behind a rib as two Nebari passed through the intersection he was approaching.

John absolutely did not want to be caught or even spotted this close to the laundry room. The last thing he wanted was to lead the bad guys to Chiana. This was the third time since she had moved in on Moya that the Nebari had tried to take her, for whatever reason – the first time had brought her into Moya's dysfunctional little family, the second had resulted in the knowledge that Pip's brother was still alive, after all, and that he was now the leader of the Nebari "resistance." Whatever their reasoning was this time, they couldn't have her.

Having given the passing Nebari enough time to move on, John approached the intersection. Poking his head around the corner, he looked first left then right, just like his mama had taught him. As certain as he could be that the coast was clear, he dashed across and continued on toward the hangar.

Ten minutes and two levels later, John was finally near his destination. He'd had to duck another pair of bad guys who seemed to be performing a door-to-door search, but nothing more serious than that. He spotted a DRD up ahead. A quick survey of his surroundings told him that there were no Nebari in sight. Hoping there were none in sound range, either, and that the DRD was close enough, he said, barely audible, "Pilot? You there, bro?" The DRD stopped and pointed an appendage back at John, then began to roll toward him.

"Yes, Commander," came Pilot's slightly delayed reply.

"I don't suppose you've gotten any kind of head count on the intruders…?"

"I do not have an exact count, John, but there are at least a dozen on board." There was a pause before he continued, "Moya was able to run a partial scan of the Nebari ship, before the power to the control collar was increased – we believe that there are several more Nebari remaining on their ship."

John made another quick check of the corridor before he asked, "How many of the dozen on Moya are in the hangar?" They'd worry about taking care of the bastards actually on Moya before taking on however many might still be in the Nebari ship.

"I believe there are three Nebari in the hangar with Captain D'Argo and Diagnosan Tikrel."

"Where's Aeryn?"

"She is observing. Officer Sun is not in the hangar itself, but she is in a position from which she has a clear view of it." Another pause. "Commander…"

"Yeah, Pilot?"

"D'Argo also has been fitted with a communications crystal."

"Hallelujah," John whispered with another quick check of the area. "Pilot, where's D'Argo in relation to Aeryn? And in relation to the door?" If he could get into position so that he and Aeryn could set up a cross-fire, D'Argo and Tikrel might be able to make their escape. He could see the main door from where he was, so he slipped back in behind another rib, the DRD following dutifully.

"D'Argo is near to the wall that includes the main door, John. I do not think it advisable for you to attempt to enter through that door, however."

John smiled and shook his head. "Hadn't planned on it, Pilot." There was no way he could open that door without those in the room noticing it. "It'll be a tight squeeze," he continued in a whisper, "but I guess it won't be the first time I've had to use one of the doggy doors." There was an access point not too far to the right of the hangar door.

John's nose itched and he reached up without a second thought to rub at the offending tickle. At about the same time, a pulse pistol appeared, held in an unwavering gray hand, pointed at his head from the other side of the rib behind which he had tucked in. Damn. How long had the bastard been standing there?

More than a little pissed at himself for being so careless, John thought, Aeryn is going to kill me. Raising his hands above his head, Winona loose in his grip, he said aloud, "I don't suppose we could talk about this?"