Chapter Six
Moya groaned as another wave of discomfort sped through her systems from the control collar. It wasn't pain, exactly – nothing at all like the sensations the Peacekeeper control collar had put her through for so many cycles – but it was…unpleasant. The discomfort was infrequent and coincided with her attempts to communicate with Pilot on anything more than a purely sensory level. The control collar seemed unable to detect it when she communicated with her DRDs, as though they – or the frequencies she used – were beneath the notice of the Nebari.
The presence of the Nebari ship, hovering by her treblin side like a malevolent cloud, was another source of distress. It had moved to well within sensor range, but was surrounded by an energy field that confounded her sensors even as the control collar radiated waves of pseudo-pain each time she attempted to break through that field.
A quick internal scan told Moya that Chiana, Rygel, Stark, Noranti, and Tinkerbell were all in the amnexus chamber. With so many in one place, she sent another pair of DRDs to the chamber to facilitate communications. Ka D'Argo was inside the main hangar, and both John Crichton and Aeryn Sun were just outside. Moya was uncertain as to Diagnosan Tikrel's location, since he was now the only one of her crew that had not been fitted with a crystal. From several of her DRDs, she was aware that there were Nebari both in the hangar and on the tiers that contained the crew quarters.
She continued to do what she could, monitoring the movements of her crew as she and Pilot brainstormed ideas to help them expel the Nebari. She ignored the discomfort, pretending that it did not exist.
xxx
"Hands behind your head." The Nebari issued his order in a tone that allowed for no argument as he took Winona from John's grasp, slipping her into his belt. The pulse pistol aimed at John's head never wavered.
Just in case the guy had an itchy trigger finger, John complied, raising his arms and lacing his fingers together at the back of his head. The movement pulled his t-shirt loose from his belt, reminding him that he would have to ditch the leathers in favor of something a little less constrictive before much longer.
"Commander, has something happened?" Pilot's voice seemed to echo at the back of his head and John realized that the DRD was still trundling along after him.
He couldn't just tell Pilot the truth, that he was a frelling moron and had gotten himself captured. Instead, he directed a comment to the young Nebari, who couldn't be much older than Pip, and hoped Pilot would catch the significance. "Careful with Winona, man, she doesn't like being abused by strangers."
"I shall take that as a yes, Commander." Good man, that Pilot, John thought to himself with a small smile.
"Move." The Nebari at his back gave him a light shove toward the hangar door before speaking into his own version of a comms badge. "Gurvis, I just caught a Sebacean male outside the hangar."
"I'm not Sebacean," John said, stalling a little while he turned as much as he could to examine the Nebari before he was roughly persuaded to set his eyes forward again. He was able to learn what he wanted in those few seconds – Winona was only loosely restrained in the boy's belt, oriented so that John would be able to re-arm himself if an appropriate opportunity presented itself.
Pilot spoke in his head again. "I have advised Captain D'Argo and Officer Sun of your situation."
Gee thanks, Pilot, John thought. You gonna tell Pip, now, too? Then everybody'll know what an ass I am. With a sigh, he walked over to the hangar door. Pulse pistol still pointed at John's head, the Nebari reached around him to open the door, giving the Human another light shove.
xxx
Stark chanted loudly, tucked into what could be called a corner of the otherwise round laundry room – Chiana heard the faint echo of his voice as it bounced off the convergence of ribs a few motras away. She had been pacing for the past solar day, it seemed, although she knew that it was much closer to an arn. As the chanting continued, becoming more aggravating with each passing microt, her steps became more and more rapid, each footfall landing more heavily than the last.
Tink splashed about in the amnexus fluid – something about the chemical composition stripped off a film that had formed on her wings, allowing them to function more smoothly. When the Diagnosan's assistant had commented on that, a boring conversation – at least boring to Chiana – had begun between Tink and Wrinkles about easy medical remedies. And that was what had set Chiana to pacing.
The two of them were still at it – the medical talk. Their voices blended with Stark's ceaseless chanting and Tink's arrhythmic splashing, weaving a sticky web of frustration around the Nebari girl.
"Gheeeyak!" Chiana screamed at Stark. "Will you shut the frell up?" The chanting abruptly stopped. She felt a little guilty at the remorse that radiated from the man in palpable waves, but her relief was too intense for the guilt to last. She wondered if her ability was mutating again.
"All of you shut the frell up," Rygel added from the spot where he had earlier landed his thronesled, claiming that he needed a nap. His thronesled rested on the floor of the chamber opposite Stark, as far away from the others as he could get. "How is anyone supposed to sleep with all of you yammering away?" She heard Tink's jaws click shut as her conversation with Wrinkles suddenly stopped – the little Paakrit's piping voice was able to cut through any background noise. No doubt her carapace had modulated to an embarrassed purple.
"Leave Tink alone, your Frogness, she isn't…isn't hurting anything," Chiana shot at Rygel, completely ignoring the fact that she had just had the same effect on Stark a few microts before. "Pilot, is there any word?"
Not knowing what was going on with D'Argo, other than what that fekking dream had implied, coupled with Crichton taking off on his own, was killing her by degrees. She couldn't take much more of this…this uncertainty.
"Yes, Chiana. D'Argo is alive and well in the main hangar, along with Diagnosan Tikrel." Her relief was so great that she felt suddenly boneless, liquid, rather than solid. She reached out a hand, feeling for the nearest bulkhead, and sat abruptly, sliding down with her back against the wall. She heard the sound of small wheels and motors scrambling to move away from her landing zone. "I…" Pilot began to say something else but trailed off again almost immediately, sounding embarrassed.
"You what?" she prompted him, distracted by one thought. D'Argo is alive. Her vision had been wrong and D'Argo was alive. And if her vision was wrong about that, or at least, if her interpretation of the vision was wrong, then maybe they weren't all about to be taken by the Establishment…
But above all else, D'Argo was alive.
"I apologize, Chiana. I should have informed you of D'Argo's status earlier."
She didn't feel the tears tracing a path down her cheeks until she felt a gentle touch, wiping them away. Reaching out, she grabbed at the tiny hand, causing its owner to let out a short squeak. Chiana heard the faint whir of Tink's wings, felt the whisper of air on her cheek, stirring wisps of hair to tickle her skin.
D'Argo was alive!
"Are you okayee, Chiana?" Tink asked, patting the Nebari girl's cheek.
"Yeah… Yeah, Tink, I'm… I'll be fine." D'Argo is alive…
xxx
The seed of a plan had begun to gel in Aeryn's mind when Pilot interrupted her thought process to inform her that John had been taken. For a split microt, her mind actually seemed to shut down. It started working again, faster than before, when the hangar door opened and John came through. There was a tall Nebari at his back, pointing a gun at his head.
"Pilot, send as many DRDs with weaponry as you can to the main hangar." The sight of John Crichton in danger didn't change anything, it merely moved up the timetable.
"They are on their way, Aeryn."
"John, D'Argo, be ready to move on my signal," she continued, trusting that the crystal comms would work as well relaying her voice to them as it did between herself and Pilot.
Her current position was much nearer to the other inhabitants of the room, shielded to an extent by a rolling tool rack. She was close enough now to hear what all parties said as she maneuvered through the access hatch into the hangar and rolled into a crouch, although she could see only John and his captor. She'd deal with John and the whys of his deviation from their earlier discussion later, after the present threat was dealt with.
"Hi, there. I'm John Crichton. Damn glad to meet you." At the microt, John was between her and the Nebari holding him at gunpoint – the angle created by her crouch didn't allow for any kind of shot. Not unless she planned to shoot John, which wasn't such a bad idea just now.
Aeryn shook her head in disgust and stood, pulse pistol trained on what little target John's captor presented. Before, the angle had allowed no shot at all – now she had a possible head shot, but not much else. There was too much risk of hitting John if things went badly, which was likely. So Aeryn bluffed. "Step away from Crichton. If you don't, I will not hesitate to shoot." Her voice was ice, like the blood pounding through her veins.
xxx
A few microts or a few arns later, Chiana neither knew nor cared, she became aware of the others' agitated voices. She couldn't grasp what they were saying, though, until Stark's manic voice broke through.
"Captured! Captured! Crichton captured!"
Frell.
Chiana thrust herself gracelessly to her feet and took a couple of steps toward the faint vibration that indicated a nearby DRD.
"—John Crichton. Damn glad to meet you."
She heard nothing else through the crystals for a couple of microts, then, "Step away from Crichton. If you don't, I will not hesitate to shoot." Aeryn's voice, crackling with tension and restrained violence.
Surrounded by darkness, Chiana closed her eyes and, concentrating, turned toward the faint whine of the thronesled's motor. "Ryg, get me to the hangar."
xxx
The Nebari did exactly as Aeryn had hoped. In his inexperience, he pulled John close, right up against his body. While his pistol remained trained on the Human, there was now more of the Nebari exposed, even though he held John as a shield.
"You won't risk him," came the contemptuous reply.
Aeryn paid no attention to the others in the room, save to note their location. She could tell from the sound that the DRDs she had requested were surrounding the group. She focused on her target as she smiled coldly, knowing that smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Don't bet on it, white boy," John said, blue eyes locked on hers. "You don't know how much I've pissed her off."
All hezmana broke loose then, as almost overpowering music blasted through the hangar.
No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…
Again, Aeryn paid no heed to the startled reactions of those around her. Nothing was important save John and the baby as she took aim at the black eye visible beyond John's left ear.
"Now," she said.
John dove to his right before the Nebari could react. Aeryn took her shot and put a pulse blast into that space-black eye. She watched as John rolled, Winona gripped securely in both hands. He fired at another Nebari male, even as the one that had held him prisoner crumpled to the floor.
And no one knows what it's like, to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies…
The DRDs fired at the Nebari, dozens of pulse blasts, varying in intensity from light enough to weld a pair of microwires to hot enough to pierce Peacekeeper body armor, even if only with a pin-prick. The DRDs kept up their covering fire, carefully avoiding any damage to Moya's crew even as they harried the remaining Nebari into seeking cover.
But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be…
D'Argo pushed Tikrel out of the line of fire. As Aeryn watched dispassionately, the Diagnosan scrambled from the main area of battle, secreting himself under a metal shelving unit.
I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance, that's never free…
As though time had slowed, she saw John's pulse blast slice through the smoke in the hangar. The damaged rifle flew from white Nebari hands, even as the rifle shot whizzed past Aeryn's ear, close enough for her to feel the heat.
No one knows what it's like, to feel these feelings, like I do, and I blame you, you, you…
She became aware of the Nebari leader taking aim at her, ignoring the DRD pulse blasts zinging his way in order to remove the real threat, and brought her own pistol to bear, but D'Argo got there first, slamming into the man. They crashed into the rolling tool chest Aeryn had earlier hidden behind, a tangle of arms and legs and tankas. The chest careened into the diagnostic console before skidding across the hangar toward a free-standing spotlight.
The Nebari tech cowered behind the diagnostic console, her long white hair pooling on the floor as she tried to become one with it. The woman was surrounded by DRDs, weapons at the ready although they no longer fired. No danger from that quarter. Aeryn dismissed her, returned her attention to the firefight.
No one bites back as hard on their anger, none of my pain and woe can show through…
Observing through the swirling smoke that the Nebari threat had been neutralized, Aeryn ordered, "Cease fire." Instantly, the DRD weapons fire stopped. Whimpering from the tech could be heard for another microt below the beat of the music blasting through the hangar.
But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be…
No one moved for several more microts. Aeryn stood with her arms outstretched, pulse pistol aimed at the space in which the Nebari leader had stood, before being tackled by D'Argo.
I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance, that's never free…
John lay on his back, shoulders lifted from the floor, knees raised, Winona aimed at another Nebari male.
No one knows what it's like, to be mistreated, to be defeated, behind blue eyes…
D'Argo held the Nebari leader in a chokehold around his white-skinned neck, which had begun to darken into an interesting shade of blue, spreading up toward his face.
And no one knows how to say that they're sorry, and don't worry, I'm not telling lies…
The Nebari woman cowered still, though she was now quiet. She was a black and gray and white bundle of quivering fabric and hair, surrounded a yellow cordon formed by half a dozen DRDs, her arms curled protectively over her head.
But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be…
A body lay by the hangar door, its single remaining eye staring upwards at nothing.
I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance, that's never free…
Diagnosan Tikrel's long-fingered hand could be seen extending from beneath the shelving unit.
No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…
There was sudden silence as the music faded out. The spotlight chose that moment to crash to the floor, losing its battle with the tool chest. The glass bulb shattered on impact.
"Well, you know what they say…" John drawled. "It ain't a party 'til something gets broke."
