Berret rose slowly through the hazy fog that was slumber. The first thing he became aware of was the strange background noise that was his new home on the Leviathan. His eyes drifted half-opened and he stretched his limbs outward to ease the odd feeling they had upon awakening each morning; he still wasn't use to sleeping on such a soft surface as the mattress on his bed. He was not use yet to natural sleep either, the collar had always put him into a static-mode cycle or woke him within a split microt when his services were required, there had been none of this sluggish unawareness. Waking was a confusing and strange experience for him still.
His roving hand encounter cool sheets on the right side of the sleeping platform and he made his second discovery – Chiana was gone from her usual place. The bed linens were cold, indicating that the Nebari had arisen some time before him.
The ex-Enforcer frowned at the odd state of affairs. The gray girl usually was a late sleeper if she were left to her own devices. At least that is what he'd observed over the last few weekens he'd known her and she'd taken to the odd unspoken arrangement of sharing his new quarters with him… not that she had actually given him any choice in the matter. Not that he had any real complaint, without the girl's constant company he concluded he would have been rather… lonely.
Nothing special came to mind as to the cause of the Nebari girl's absence that early in the morning cycle. The crew had nothing out of the ordinary planned for that day, Moya was in deep space attempting to keep away from the Peacekeeper patrols and Scarran scout probes, and they had not encountered another ship for at least six solar days. If there had been an emergency during the sleep cycle, one of the crew or Pilot would have woken him to help with whatever it was. At least he surmised he would have been informed, as the crew's current constitution was too small to forgo any degree of assistance in a crisis.
Berret finally conclude that perhaps Chiana had gotten hungry earlier than usual and had gotten up prematurely to look for something in the Center Chamber.
She was probably there at that moment with that annoying Hynerian, seeing who had the grosser eating habits.
Berret shook his head as the mental picture appeared; the pretty Nebari had some strange and unladylike hobbies he'd discovered.
Berret threw off his light blanket and swung his feet off the bed in one motion. The still tranquility of the room was broken by the unexpected clanking ring of the serving platter Chiana had brought into his quarters the night before, and left tangled in the sheets, hitting the floor as it was flung off the bed.
The frown returned as the Shrike recalled the mound of food that had threaten to overflow the serving dish and over run the sleeping platform last night, and entertained the thought that Chiana couldn't possibly be hungry so early after all she had the night before. The evidence of her debauchery was still present in the evidence of crumbs and empty food cube wrappers that littered his room.
The ex-assassin gave up attempting to reason out Chiana's disappearance and decided to commence his morning cleansing rituals. He rose up from the platform and immediately almost tripped over a single boot that Chiana had left in his room a few days before. Berret sighed and picked the errant footwear up and automatically looked around for its mate. A few microns of resultless searching failed to yield the allusive boot anywhere in the vicinity. He idly wonder why Chiana would bring only a single boot to his quarters but almost immediately decided it also wasn't worth contemplating.
He was beginning to believe the Nebari female did peculiar things for the sole purpose of confusing him.
He set the footwear off to one side, out of the way, and continued on to his lavatory, having to dodge around or step over several piles or items of unidentified female clothing and other artifacts to get there.
Inside his wash area, he had to duck under several more items of feminine clothing that were hanging up to dry. Why Chiana didn't use the thermo-oscillator units that the rest of the crew used for drying laundry was beyond his reasoning. When he asked, she'd only gave him a vague rationale and the explanation that certain garments had to be treated differently in their care. He had noticed that several of the items were not very sturdy in design and thus in his opinion, useless for daily wear as they were too delicate to last very long under use. Still, Chiana insisted that they were important to her and further persisted in using his quarters and lavatory to hang them in… often holding them up in front of her and asking his opinion on the article of clothing.
When he gave her his logical assessment on their practicality, she without fail gave him a dissatisfied look and grumbled comments about his eyesight being deficient and his priorities being backwards.
His corrective annotations about his augmented eyesight being, in all likelihood, far superior to anyone else's aboard the Leviathan… and that avoiding capture by either the Scarrans or the Peacekeepers was always foremost in his mind and tactical planning, were simply met with more irrational scorn from the lithe gray female.
Berret once more had the feeling that Chiana had been testing him to see how far she could push him with her anomalous behavior… and in fact she seemed to take great pleasure in the disorder she wroth. His young friend did indeed have some unusual diversions other than the ones that involved edibles he could only conclude in the end.
He ran cold water into his basin and splashed it onto his face to fully wake himself up. After popping a dentic into his mouth, he turned to his waste disposal unit… and stop dead in his tracks to stare at the circler hole in the deck where the sanitary unit normally sat.
The unit was gone!
Half unnoticed, the dentic slid from his mouth as he regarded the missing waste unit in new bafflement.
"This… is different," he murmured to himself.
A clicking whir off to one corner of the lavatory brought a hence unseen DRD to his attention. Berret looked upon the little drone whose laser armature was deployed. The machine made a warbling noise and the little arm bobbed up and down slightly. If Berret didn't know better – he would have thought the DRD had found something amusing.
"What are you laughing at?" he inquired without fully deliberating the question through. He often had to ask that inquiry to the other biological crew members aboard Moya when he didn't understand something they found humorous. It was ridiculous to ask it of the drone of course, but he had gotten into the habit and did it automatically now. He made a mental note to break the tendency and to stop asking about anything that made the others laugh, as most times it wasn't of importance anyway.
The Shrike quickly concluded that the DRD's presence was a simple indication that something had been wrong with the waste disposal unit in his quarters, and Pilot had the DRD's remove it for repair while he slept.
Chiana probably awoke during its removal and had decided to return to her own quarters to use her own lavatory at some point. That explanation seemed to fit the current circumstances nicely.
Feeling that the mystery had solved itself to his satisfaction, Berret gathered a few personal grooming items and went next-door to the nearest unoccupied cell on the tier to use the faculties there.
He once again commenced his morning ritual and was just about to use the waste unit when his Enforcer instincts unexplainably kicked in. They were warning him something in his surroundings wasn't as it should be.
Berret quickly looked around but could find nothing out of the ordinary that he should be alarmed about. Still the feeling would not go away. He remembered having it many times on assignments as an Enforcer for the Black Syndicate.
It was warning him of a trap!
Unable to settle the unexpected feeling, he decided the most logical course of action would be to pacify it by closely investigating his surroundings. Once that was done, and he proved there was no danger, the sensation should go away. He'd found many new things about his new life left him uneasy until he understood them. He considered this just might be one of those times when his old life and new life conflicted.
He searched the lavatory and the vacant cell but found nothing out of the ordinary, it was simply a basic cell, empty of everything but the normal fixtures. He returned to the lavatory, but still could not shake the feeling all was not well. He paused and studied the area once more, his eyes coming to rest on the waste disposal unit, and exact replica of the one missing from his quarters. He suddenly remembered he was just about to make use of it when the feeling of unease began.
He didn't think the unit posed much of a threat, but still the sensation had started with it, so he humored the strange instinct. He lifted the unit's seat up and immediately found something that was surely out of the ordinary. The bottom of the seat had several wired white packets attached to it.
The unit had been booby-trap he realized.
His heart began to race as he thought about the possibility of a hidden enemy aboard the ship. He knelt down and inspected the devices more closely. Berret studied the instrument's construction and found that it had a pressure sensitive detonator, but no ignition charge or main explosive. The detonator would go off with a loud pop and small displacement of air when squeezed, but was relatively harmless without an ignition source and an explosive compound to set-off.
He next examined the white packets. A close sniff immediately told him what the sachets held.
"Delvian Straffa Flour?" Berret mused in confusion, another completely harmless substance.
He paused and rubbed his chin in bewilderment. Why would somebody go through the trouble to devise such a relatively useless device? And then place it in an empty cell?
He reconsidered the packets and where they were place. It became obvious what they were intended to do in the next moment and the strange events of the morning suddenly fell completely into place.
They weren't meant to be a destructive device at all. It was a makeshift haze-bomb of a sort.
"It is a prank," the Shrike concluded out loud, his lips turned into a half-sadistic smile with the discovery.
And he knew just who had engineered it.
Immediately his mind flashed to several recent incidents.
The morning he awoke and started dressing, only to discover that his boots had mysteriously filled with Luxan Sparrp pudding. A few days later, someone had taken a drawer out of his clothing storage chest, filled it with old hetch-drive gimble ball bearings, and then reinstalled it in the chest – upside down.
When the Shrike opened the draw to retrieve a clean shirt, the bearings spilled out all over the floor to his quarters. It had taken him over two arns to clean the small metal spheres up, as mysteriously there were no DRD's available to help. And to this day he could not figure out how the feat was accomplished as the chest is built-in as part of the cell wall and would not be very accommodating to having a draw full of ball bearing placed into it upside down.
Of course, Chiana innocently claimed to have no knowledge of either event.
Just as she had no knowledge of how all the support legs to his bed had become loosened to the point where they collapsed just a few solar days ago. Though at the time, Berret hadn't suspected foul play as the girl herself was also lounging in the bed when it fell apart. Now in hindsight… he should have been suspicious when the Nebari rode out the tumble so calmly, neither spilling her drink of fillip nectar nor her plate of Delvian chocolate squares – which the Nebari confessed had been pilfered from Malika's room.
Logically, she should have been surprised as he had been at the structural failure of his sleeping platform, while instead she had merely keep eating and chatting as if nothing at all had happened.
Another clue should have been that she also happened to have a spanner wrench of the exact cam-bolt size at hand when it came time to fix the platform.
Several more recent bizarre incidents came to mind and Berret half-sighed. It seemed Chiana was bound and determined to plague him with never-ending pranks. Which she claimed was for his benefit.
The gray girl had decided her new friend was way too serious and needed to learn to enjoy life… and the pranks were going to be her way of teaching him.
Why having furniture fall apart while you were attempting to make use of it was funny… just simply eluded him.
He looked back down at the rigged waste unit and frowned as he considered it, suddenly his mind starting turning the event over from a different perspective.
When he looked at it in a purely tactical way – the planning and strategy were superlative.
Chiana had expertly and unknowingly to him steered him into using this unoccupied cell after disabling his own lavatory. Somehow she had deduced step-by-step what actions he would take and cleverly laid her trap for him here. The amount of planning had been pinpoint and precise to equal any military plan.
Berret was truly impressed by his small friend's deviousness and cunning. He would have to take that into account in future dealings and interactions with the Nebari thief.
Crichton had warned him that Chiana's pranks would only become more ingenious and elaborate as time wore on. Berret had hope the gray female would tire of them sooner-or-later, but the human also predicted that the girl would not let up until she "started to collect as well as she plated it out"… or some human saying along those lines. What retribution had to do with plates, dishes, or other tableware… the Shrike didn't understand either.
Berret left the rigged cell and headed down-keel one tier and picked another unused cell to finish his morning cleansing ritual, after checking the faculties to be sure they hadn't been tampered with also. Less than half-an-arm later he exited the borrowed cell and headed back up to the tier that had been designated as "Quarters."
He felt strange wearing the surplus Peacekeeper grab that Chiana had gotten for him from ship stores. The fabric was still slightly stiff with newness and it felt too light to him compared to his ballistic suit and Enforcer armor. Even with the heavy leather combat pants, he almost felt naked. The armor was too cumbersome for everyday shipboard wear and there was really no need for it when Moya was out in deep space away from the shipping lanes and the threat of Peacekeepers or Scarrans.
While he adopted the dress of the rest of the humanoid crew, he did keep his armored Enforcer boots. They were fairly comfortable and he was use to them, unlike the new pair of PK combat boots Chiana had brought him with the rest of the clothing. The hard leather and shin guards made his feet ache when he tried wearing them. The Nebari girl promised that as soon as the boots were "broken-in" they would feel fine.
Berret doubted the footwear ever would feel anything but torturous, but he wore them for short periods of time, hoping they would "break"- one way or another.
The one thing he absolutely refused to give up was his cloak. Crichton and Chiana had both insisted that he take to wearing one of the Peacekeeper duster that the rest wore… but thirty microts in one left Berret feeling smothered and with the dreaded sensation that he had been tied up. The garment was just too constricting for his taste, and he much more preferred the freedom his cloak allowed.
Chiana had told him the feeling was all in his head. But he assured her the feeling resided solely in his body, where the overcoat covered him.
The ex-assassin had just made it to the quarters tier when he heard a displeased murmur from somewhere else on the deck. Curiously, he paused in the middle of the corridor to see if he could discover the source of the grumbling. He didn't have to wait long as the doorway to Malika's quarter's cycled open and the young Delvian stormed out of her room so quickly that the heavy drapes that gave her privacy in the converted cell fluttered after her like great clutching hands.
Berret expected her to walk straight pass him as if he wasn't present like she always did. The Shrike knew that the Delvian teenager disliked him a great deal, and for the most part ignored him.
That wasn't the case this time.
Malika spotted the ex-Enforcer standing in the middle of the corridor… and deliberately made eye contact. And the flashing green eyes were a storm of jade anger.
"YOU!" she snapped and stormed up to him. In her hand she held a wad of cellulose wrapping that crinkled loudly each time she clenched her fingers into a fist. She held the wrapping up just short of his nose, and shook it and her balled fist at him accusingly. "Where's that little mono-colored tralk of yours?" the Delvian demanded.
Berret was so surprised that the blue girl was speaking to him that he failed to comprehend right away who she was asking about. Instead he simply stood there with a befuddled look on his face – which only annoyed Malika even more.
"Were you in on it?" she asked, shaking the wrappers once more. "Did the two of you think I wouldn't notice?" she all but yelled.
"Ah… notice what?" Berret finally got around to asking.
"Don't play dunc'ta' with me!" Malika replied with a righteous crossing of both her arms across her chest. "You know frelling well that Chiana stole my chocolates and replaced them with some of Rygel's Plotek soap… like I'm such a brainless kiqbit that I wouldn't notice the difference!"
"Oh…" Berret than said, his eyes showing a hint of surprise, he had indeed already forgotten for the time being about Chiana's snurching a few nights before.
"OH? That's all you have to say… Oh?" Malika demanded. "These are expensive… almost five credits a bar! Not to mention frelling hard to come by… and all you have to say is… OH?"
Surprisingly, Berret felt rare embarrassment for his new friend's dishonesty. "I have spoken with her about the stealing, especially while on ship… but it does no good."
Malika wadded up the wrappings and disgustedly threw them at Berret's chest. The Shrike made no attempt to deflect the packaging projectile, as it would do no damage, even if thrown by an angry Delvian. The paper bounced off and fell to the deck and rolled off to one side. Berret idly noted that no sooner had the trash come to rest near one bulkhead that a DRD scurried seemingly from out of nowhere, extended one claw-like gripper, and took hold of the wrapper ball then rushed off down the corridor with it in tow. Idly he wondered why the DRD's allowed Chiana's food wrapper carnage to litter the floor of his quarters, yet kept the rest of Moya near spotless. He would have to remember to inquire to Pilot about the inconsistency at the next available opportunity. The angry Delvian refocused his attention on her gripe a microt later.
"Well… I've had enough of the thieving little bitch," Malika announced as she stepped around Berret. "I'm going to have a talk with her this time, and I'm going to take the price of those chocolates out of her skinny pale eema."
Berret turned to watch her go and before she reached a corridor junction, the Delvian looked back over her shoulder at him one last time.
"And don't even thing of getting in the middle of this," she warned before turning the corner.
Berret allowed himself a frown. He seemed to be always frowning more than anything else since coming to the Leviathan. It certainly came much more easily than smiling he thought… and more than often fit the situation.
If Berret had been anyone else, he might have swallowed in apprehension at the cold glint in the Delvian girl's eyes. Being who he was, he simply accepted what was. Malika might pick a fight with Chiana, but she wouldn't kill her over a package of chocolate… at least he didn't think the Delvian would.
And Chiana did deserve to pay for stealing from a shipmate. It was bad enough the Nebari had what Crichton called "sticky-fingers" while on commerce worlds. There was no stopping the girl from snurching planet side. But he had to agree, that she shouldn't steal from her crewmates as it caused too much friction. He brought the subject up several times in the weekens they'd been together, but the girl only laugh at his concerns.
Well, perhaps dealing with an irate Malika would make her change her ways – at least while aboard Moya.
He also decided to comm Zhaan and inform the older Delvian about her student's intentions. Sooner or later, Malika was bound to find Chiana no matter where she hid aboard Moya. He just hoped that the younger Delvian cooled down enough not to seriously injure the gray girl, or he might have to step in.
A thought and possibility he didn't relish considering a Delvian's natural strength when they were in good spirits, let alone grised off with having their favorite chocolates stolen.
Zhaan assured him a few moments later that she would do her best to head off any violence between Malika and Chiana, and that if possible she would work out some type of restitution the Nebari could perform to make up for taking the other girl's property… and eating it. The ex-Enforcer had some doubts as to whether or not Zhaan would have any success in chastising Chiana, but then again, the older Delvian seemed to be the only one the gray girl showed any disposition to respect on some occasions.
It was a possibility, but Berret concluded that not even that bothersome Hynerian, with his tendency for gambling, would take that wager on Chiana minding Zhaan… at least not fully.
The older priestess terminated the comm-link after arranging a Unity session appointment with him for later in the day.
Berret next found his way to the Center Chamber in search of something to break his fast with. The mess room was empty when he arrived, but Crichton appeared as he was examining the freezer storage for anything appealing. Another nuisance of living with free will. As an Enforcer he ate whatever was given to him by the keepers or supplied to him on the hunt regardless of how it tasted. Now that a personal preference was allowed to enter into the equation, it made the task of acquiring and choosing sustenance more difficult.
"Hey, Berret," John said with his usual good cheer.
"Crichton," the Shrike replied as he continued to scan and catalogue items for possible consumption.
"Say, I just ran into Blue Junior on my way down from Command," the human continued, "And I think its safe to say she's major pissed at Pip for something."
It took Berret a microt to recall the nicknames and whom they belonged too, as Crichton seemed to almost never refer to a crewmate by their normal designation. He quickly identified that the other man was speaking of Malika and Chiana in this instance.
"Yes, I am aware of the situation," the ex-assassin responded.
"Okay…" Crichton said. "Don't you think something should be done about it before we have a cat-fight on our hands?"
"Cat-fight?" Berret repeated with some bewilderment. He wondered if his specialized translator microbes were malfunctioning, as the context of the translation was not making any practical sense. Malfunctions in even normal translator microbes were rare, but they did happen. "I do not understand. There are no feline or feliniodic entities aboard the Leviathan at this moment. How then can they be in combat?"
Crichton rolled his eyes in a gesture Berret had come to learn meant that the human was annoyed. Berret felt himself frown again and was about to point out that it was not his fault that the other man insisted on constantly using inappropriate phrases when he wanted to communicate. It was no mystery why even microbe technology would eventually breakdown from the massive amounts of erroneous input the human was feeding into them.
"The girls, Berret. I was talking about Chiana and Malika," John explained before the Shrike could speak his thoughts. "It looks like Malika's mad enough to start a fight with Chiana if she finds her. I was suggesting that we do something to stop it."
"Then why did you not just simply say that?" Berret asked as he closed the freezer door. All of a sudden he didn't feel hungry any longer. Having to deal with the strange behavior and mannerisms of the others aboard often did that to his appetite. "I have already informed Zhaan of the situation. She said she would take care of it and bring it to a peaceful resolution."
"Hey, that's good," John perked up.
"If she was able," the Shrike added.
Crichton now frowned himself. "That's maybe not so good."
Before the ex-Enforcer could reply his comm badge chirped for attention and then the older Delvian's voice came over the channel.
"Zhaan to Berret."
He reached up and touched the new gold-colored communication device on his lapel.
"Here," he answered.
"I have located both Chiana and Malika," Zhaan went on. In the background of the channel it sounded like there was a tussle going on. "I will be speaking with them on that matter you reported earlier," she went on, this time Berret could distinctly hear the Nebari girl squealing in the background for somebody to release their hold on her earlobe, the plea was followed almost instantly by Malika making almost the very same request. John's eyebrows rose in obvious amusement as he listened in.
"You have the situation in hand?" Berret asked, only to have Crichton erupt in a great guffaw an instant later. The Enforcer ignored the man for the moment. "Do you wish my help?" he added with some concern.
"You can say the matter is well in hand," Zhaan replied with what sound like her own amusement in her tone to Berret. In the background were more female squeals and some inaudible words. John started to laugh harder at the Delvian's reply… all of which only confused, and annoyed, Berret further. "What was wrong with these people?" he silently asked himself for the hundredth time. "I will never understand them."
"As you wish," he answered. "Summons me if you need."
"I believe the problem will be solved shortly," Zhaan said and cut the link.
Crichton had settled down somewhat to only the occasional chuckle. His thumb idly rubbed at the corner of his mouth for a moment, and then he glanced back up at Berret with a smile.
"I guess that's taken care of with a minimum of fuss."
Berret responded with another of his frowns. Perhaps someday this would all make sense he thought… but that might only mean he had become as insane as his new shipmates.
While he turned over the drab possibility of a future involving him running in circles all over the Territories with a ship full of ludicrous beings for eternity in his mind, John found a bowl of fruits and after selecting one for himself place the container on the mess table. The bowl attracted the ex-Enforcer's attention and Berret decided to help himself to one or two pieces as well. At least that solved the current impasse of having to choose something to eat for the moment.
He set himself in a seat across the table, directly opposite from the human and began to peel the skin from his fruit. John was already into eating slices of his choice and was openly regarding the other man with some curiosity and interest.
"Um," he started, then paused to suck a few drops of juice from his fingers before continuing. "Pilot told him a little while ago that you were having some… 'trouble' with the waste disposal unit in your quarters."
Berret took only long enough to swallow the bit of his breakfast he had in his mouth. Some times, the task of eating seemed to take far longer than should have been necessary, he considered silently.
"Chiana had it removed as a element of a prank," he supplied as he broke off the next section of his piece of fruit and then ate it.
"Yeah… Pilot told me that part of it too," Crichton admitted. "I take it you caught onto it in time?"
"Yes."
John raised an eyebrow in growing interest. "So what are you going to do about it?" he inquired.
"Nothing."
"Ah, come on, Berret," the astronaut nearly groaned. "I love Pip… but she's been riding your ass from one end of Moya to the other with these practical jokes."
"There is nothing practical about them," the Shrike deadpanned. "They serve no useful purpose."
John pushed aside the pile of fruit skins he had before him and leaned over the table to get closer to the other man.
"That's besides the point," he said in a conspiring tone. "I told you before you need to start paying her back for what she's done to you."
"Retribution is a Syndicate attribute," the ex-assassin paused and replied with a slight frown. "Are you suggesting that I eradicate her for performing a few pranks? I had thought you were Chiana's friend?"
"No! No, you're taking me too literally," Crichton waved the thought off. "Or you're just pulling my leg," he added with shrewd eyes a microt later. Berret titled his head in near copy of the Nebari girl when she was curious about something.
"I… have not touched your leg," he told Crichton with a hint of bewilderment.
"Its just an expression!" the human explained.
"Of what?" Berret asked with near perfect copy of Crichton's raised eyebrow gesture of a few moments before. "You are a very odd creature, Crichton. You say many things which context have no comprehendible meaning."
"There's the pot calling the kettle black," John muttered before he could think better of it.
Berret performed a quick scan of the Center Chamber.
"There are no cooking utensils present at this moment," he reported, "And allowing for your fantasy that such inanimate objects were able to speak… why would they wish to engage in such a debate?"
Crichton released a helpless groan and lowered his forehead to the tabletop and began to call on a number of names to give him strength. Berret supposed that the other man was praying to his Erp gods, just as Zhaan prayed to her Delvian ones.
"Very odd," the Shrike thought to himself as he finished the last of his portions of fruit.
A few microts later the human raised his head from the tabletop, his lips twisted briefly at the other man across from him.
"Look… lets get back on the main subject," Crichton offered. "Chiana and her slapstick…NO! FORGET I just SAID that," he cut off before Berret could derail the discussion with a question into what slapstick was. "Chiana and her pranks… let's get back to Chiana and her pranks."
"As you wish," said the Shrike.
"You need to get her back, and by that I mean… you need to prank her in return," John explained.
"Why?"
Crichton blinked. "You just do."
Berret looked as if he was going to repeat his last question so Crichton just pushed on ahead before he could speak.
"Just trust me. If you don't get her back… Pip will make your life holy hezmana."
The Shrike gave him the head tilt again, but now he seemed as if he had a genuine interest in the conversation.
"For what reason would she do this?" he asked the astronaut.
Crichton shrugged. "I dunno. She's a girl and that's what girls do."
"That is not logical."
John smiled. "That's what Mr. Spock said. And nobody ever said women were logical. Bottom line… Chi wants attention and this is her way of getting it from you. You need to learn how to play because she wants a playmate… and it looks like you're it."
The ex-Enforcer frowned again. "I do not think I will be very good at… play."
"Better learn quick," John replied while tapping at his temple. "If you want to survive… I mean if you don't want Chiana to slowly drive you crazy with her tricks," the human added when it looked like Berret might have thought he was talking about actually real life survival instead of mental survival.
The Shrike sat silently for a micron, his lips twisting up in deep thought.
"What do you suggest?" he finally asked.
"The old Earth saying goes, 'turn-about is fair play', if that's any help," John told him.
The ex-assassin narrowed his eyes for a moment in contemplation and then he nodded as if the answer had suddenly presented itself.
"Yes, I believe it is," he said.
"Glad to hear," John answered with a growing smile of satisfaction. It seemed like Berret was finally getting the hang of learning to manage things about his new life.
"I do have one more question."
"Shoot… maybe I can help with that one too," John said confidently.
"Who is… Mr. Spock?"
A little over an arn later Berret was exiting his quarters after inspecting his reinstalled waste unit when he ran into Chiana.
"Hi," she called innocently as she casually strolled up to him with her gloved hands unseen and locked behind her back.
"Hello," Berret greeted her back, his eyes barely narrowing in suspicion. Crichton had additionally warned him that the Nebari might not be happy with the fact that he had been the one to report her to Zhaan. A consequence he had not considered until the human brought it up at the end of their discussion in the Center Chamber. Both Chiana's earlobes appeared to be intact under her shaggy wild hair, so he concluded that Zhaan had not been too harsh in dealing with the girl.
The gray girl brought both her arms out from behind her and crossed them over her chest. Berret was relieved to see both her hands were empty of any unpleasant surprises she might have had in retaliation.
"Anything… new happen today?" she asked slyly.
"No," he replied neutrally.
The girl let a tiny frown slip for a split microt. "Nothing strange at all?"
"Nothing that I am aware of."
"No… unexpected surprises?"
"None… should there have been?" he countered deadpan.
"No," Chiana hurriedly put in. "Nothing that I know about."
They both glanced at each other silently for a few microts, each keeping a blank expression on their face.
"There was something odd in my lavatory now that I consider it," Berret suddenly said.
"What?" Chiana asked with a growing grin.
"You have not taken down all your under garments as you promised," the Shrike answered. "They are still hanging where you left them."
The smile fell from the Nebari's beautiful face.
"That's it, just that?"
"Yes, I was just in there making use of the facility and I notice your clothing still remains."
Chiana leaned passed him and poked her head through the doorway of his room, from that angle she could just make out part of the lavatory facility… and the spotless floor it held.
She pulled back with a look of befuddlement and scratched at the side of her head.
"I'll come get them in a little while," she told him. "Are you sure… nothing else 'interesting' happened today?"
"Very positive," Berret responded. "How has your day progressed?" he asked in return.
Now Chiana's eyes held a tiny glare and the Shrike right away regretted asking the question.
"Oh… just fine, if you don't count having Zhaan chew my eema off for almost an arn because somebody couldn't keep their mouth shut about my snurching Malika's chocolate stash."
Berret thought about pointing out that Malika had discovered the theft on her own… and that it was unreasonable to believe that the Delvian could actually mistake soap for chocolate… at least for not very long at any rate. However he decided that it possibly wouldn't return him to his friend's good graces any sooner if he pointed that fact out, so he wisely remained silent with the thought.
"What did Zhaan do?" he asked instead.
"She made me pay back that blue fenik the cost of her precious chocolates," Chiana reported. "So we're even now."
"I see," said Berret, and then another thought occurred to him. "Wait a moment… you told me last planet fall that you were out of currency of any type. How then… did you pay Malika what you owed her?"
Chiana's smile turned wicked as she drifted up close to him.
"I have my ways," she said seductively.
Berret rolled his eyes just as Crichton had earlier as he caught her unspoken meaning. His hand automatically searched around the circumference of his heavy PK belt but did not find the small pouch he knew should have been there, but never paid much attention to.
"And I'm sure somebody would take this as a valuable lesson as to when to keep their mouth shut about certain things," the Nebari girl purred.
Berret frowned … again, and wondered if his face would one day freeze that way. Chiana had gotten her revenge on him for going to Zhaan by relieving him of his belt pouch… and the credits that were in it. The consideration suggest itself that she had to have snurched it from his belt some time ago and was only letting him know it now as a form of punishment.
"And now if you don't mind… I'll be in my quarters if anyone needs me," Chiana concluded and then sauntered away, humming pleasantly to herself all the way to her door.
The Shrike watched her disappear into the room. He really didn't care much about the money; he had more items of value hidden about his quarters, and it was far easier to let Chiana have it in hopes of ending the situation.
He paused to check the rest of the gear on his belt and found all his weapons in place, the money carrier was the only thing missing, and he was satisfied with that result.
He had just turned away to head back up to Command when a loud pop issued from Chiana's quarters, followed almost simultaneously but a female yelp of surprise.
Berret spun on his heel and turned back in that direction… just in time to see a fluffy white cloud of powder began to drift out of the Nebari's doorway.
Somewhere inside, Chiana sneezed and sputtered.
With worrying about the gray girl's reaction to his involvement in Zhaan disciplinary action… he had momentarily forgotten he had relocated Chiana prank device to her quarters.
He waited a moment for the woman to emerge from her quarters like an angry whirlwind.
Instead he heard a few more minor sputters… and then Chiana's growing laughter, which strangely grew to the point where he knew from past experience that the Nebari would be incapacitated with her fit for several more microns.
He shook his head and turned away to head for his prior destination up on Command. He would never understand this crew, or his new friend.
Abruptly he stopped as a mental picture of Chiana cover head to toe in white Straffa flour struck him. He turned the scene over in his mind a few more time… and found it… amusing!
His lips turned upward in a smile all on their own, the unfamiliar gesture felt funny on his face, but the longer he held the mental picture, the bigger the smile grew.
He pictured a totally white Chiana… with big black eyes blinking in total surprise… and he actually began to chuckle.
He surprised himself with the thought that perhaps he was finally getting it… to understand humor as the others did.
He continued walking and tried out the smile once more… it wasn't so bad he decided.
"Turn-about is fair play," he said to himself.
Somehow… Crichton had made sense.
