The representation of this section of the Moya deck they were on spun before them in the strange space of Moya's mind. Crichton, Rigel and Chianna stared,
wondering what it meant.

"Does this happen all the time here?" Chianna asked
softly.

"Dunno, Pip, I haven't been here much. Besides, I don't want to intrude into Moya's thoughts. That would be rude. Right, Sparky?" he said, noting Rigel's eyes
narrowing shrewdly.

"Hm. Test it, Crichton," Rigel mused.

"How?"

"Draw something! Use your imagination and that 'pen'! See what happens!"

"Yeah," Chianna chimed in. "Draw us! Tell a story! Maybe Moya can watch it, too."

"I hope so," Crichton mumbled, "Since it's her mindwe're messing with here. She might as well get some entertainment out of it, too. Lessee, how do I get the
drawing there out of the picture...maybe it's like an Etch-A-Sketch..."

Crichton shook the pad, just to see what happened.

Nothing. The deck picture continued to spin before them.

"Heh," Cricton grunted. "Ok, let's...turn the page."

He flipped to a blank sheet in his pad. The deck sketch vanished.

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere," Cricton nodded with satisfaction. "Let's see...Pip, you're a wandering thief, galavanting throughout the realm, looking for adventure, to relieve your boredom..."

He sketched for a few minutes, and a bare bones image of Chianna appeared in the air, in a semi medieval outdoors costume of leather and wool, with a sexy,
but still practical cut. Arms bare, but with gloves, a dagger strapped to her thigh. A glint of mischief in her eye.

"How's that?" he said to Chianna, indicating the rotating image.

Chianna grinned widely, "This is fun! Do Rigel!"

"Ok, exiled despot with no home..."

An even shorter, fatter image of Rigel took shape, floating on an enchanted palanquin, wearing garments that were once fine, now tattered, precious metal
formerly shiny, now tarnished, and places where jewels used to be.

"He once ruled a vast empire, but intrigues saw the end of his reign. He lives for the day he can return to his throne. And have serving wenches bring him food
nonstop," Crichton and Chianna chuckled as the image ate a morsel, and looked mournful at the fact there was no more.

"Very amusing, you disrespectful, insufferable cur,"
Rigel growled.

"See, you're already into the role," Crichton laugh, slapping Rigel on the back, pulling his hand back quickly when Rigel snapped at it.

"What about you, Crichton? What role are you in this play?" Chianna asked with childlike giddiness.

"I'm an explorer, a ranger, lost, a long way from home. I know of ways of getting around the realm that certain powers would love to possess, only I don't really know how the secret works. I'm in danger wherever I go, as are those who travel with me," he said in a low voice, sketching furiously.

An image formed. Cricton in leather armor, with arboreal patterns. Bow, pack, shining eyes, haunted, lonely expression...

"Wow, that's good," Chianna breathed.

"Pheh," Rigel sniffed. "Lowly commoner. Why would I be traveling with you?"

"Because I hold the most likely way to get you back to your realm, Spanky. Sorry, Lord Spanky."

Rigel sniffed, raising his nose imperiously.

"Besides, I know how to get food out in the wilderness," Crichton added.

"An exchange of skills, I see," Rigel said.

"Better be," Crichton said. "No freeloaders on this expedition..."

He began sketches of the other members of the crew.

Aeryn began to take shape before them...