A warning light on the control board caught his attention. The thruster fuel cells had not been totally filled in order to reduce even more weight, and the telltale was announcing that the cells were almost depleted and may not have enough fuel left for braking the Pod on landing. The Luxan idly snarled a curse; there was nothing he could do about the problem now but hope for the best.
"Pilot!" he half-shouted over the comm link. "We are in route. Prepare for immediate starburst as soon as the Pod is in the landing bay."
"We have you on scanners, Captain D'argo," the helmsman replied. "Moya is de-orbiting now and setting a rendezvous vector. We are charging for starburst now."
In the background of Pilot's channel, the Luxan could hear Chiana shouting orders to the rest of the crew on-board.
"And Pilot... we are coming in hot! The pod's braking system may be out, so have Moya prepare the landing bay for a hard landing. Seal all the hanger and maintenance bay doors, and transfer all reserve fuel in that bay to the holding tanks in bay two!" D'argo continued.
"Understood and under way, Captain," responded Pilot.
"D'argo? Is everything okay?" asked Chiana over the link a split microt later.
"Not now!" the Luxan snapped harder then he meant too. Right then he needed to concentrate on flying the Pod and then the coming landing on a ship that was on the verge of entering into starburst.
Less than a hundred microts later, the Cargo Transport rushed around the north polar hemisphere of the moon. Only a few metra away from the craft, Moya sailed stately away from them, pointed out-system. The cargo ship waved and bobbed as the warrior lined it up with the massive landing bay port in the Leviathan's rear hull.
Almost too fast the Pod screamed by Moya's joined tails that were even then cracking with unreleased starburst energy. The bay outer doors grew larger as the craft raced toward them at dangerous speed. Out of the corner of his eyes, D'argo could see that huge space doors already starting to cycle closed as Moya timed their arrival. In a flash the Pod was by them, leaving only a split microt of rumble in his ears as the space doors shut closed.
Just as quickly he was in the cavernous landing bay and running out of room. Several docking web projectors sped along their rails trying to keep up and attempting to snare the transport in their beams. Only two of the webs managed to lock on to the speeding ship with negligible effect.
D'argo growled and set himself to battle the stick and control board for command of the pod. He full-reversed the engines, not caring if the maneuver tore them from their housings, as long as they slowed the craft down. He was thrown forward an instant later, only keeping his seat due to his safety belt.
The Cargo ship bucked and lurched for the landing deck gracelessly. As it neared the deck, D'argo muttered a prayer and tripped the braking thrusters on full. The thrusters under the belly of the Pod and at the nose fired up and ran for three or four microts before dying. Not enough for a correct landing but enough to put the transport into a slide on the landing deck without letting it bounce air born again.
The ship started to skid and before the slide could spin out of control and tumble the Pod, the Luxan had one last trick up his sleeve. He reached up and activated the magnetic landing skid locks.
The Pod jerked even harder that time as the metal landing skids under the craft tried to lock to the deck.
The slide slowed even further, but D'argo could hear pieces of the skids been torn off. Sparks filled the forward view port as the rails disintegrated.
The gambled paid off as the crash netting just outside the hanger bay doors deployed upward and snared the nose of the Pod in a last ditch effort to keep it from crashing into the pressure doors.
Luck was also with them as the ship finally came to a shuddering halt in the mesh cocoon.
It was only then that D'argo registered the familiar feeling that told him Moya had just come out of starburst. He had been too focused on avoiding a serious crash to notice the odd sensation of intra-space travel. A moment latter he realized he still had a death-grip on the Pod's control stick. The warrior forced his numb fingers to pry their hold off the stick, and then shook them in the air at his side to restore circulation in the digits. He let out a deep breath that he hadn't known he was holding until then.
"Frell me dead!" he muttered, flopping back almost limply in the pilot's seat for a moment.
Rygel untangled his face from the sleeve of his black coverall's and looked around after the Pod came to a stop.
"Are we dead yet?" he asked of no one in particular.
"Not yet, Dominar," came the reply.
Across from him, Berret sat casually, legs propped out before him with his back leaning up against one of the cables that held up the machine they had stole. The Hynerian would have jumped to the Transport Pod's deck as soon as the cargo doors were closed, but Berret had idly suggested that they remained where they were on top of the device for the ride back to the Leviathan.
The Shrike refused to elaborate more on the suggestion and Rygel almost told him to go frell himself, but his own instinct for self-preservation warned him to follow the assassin's lead and stay where he was. The reason soon became apparent with the violent flight and the even rougher landing. While still attached to the winch cables, the reconstruction device might as well be in a floating sling with shock absorbers. The ride was much more pleasant and safer than it would have been down on the deck. There was some jolting and bouncing, but the Hynerian ruler was able to hold his place by wrapping his arms around the nearest cable. Berret for his part just leaned nonchalantly against his own cable as if he were so bored that he might have nodded off for a nap. The Dominar wondered how he so easily kept his position and concluded it was probably another trick of his battle armor. Rygel also had the sneaking suspicion that the Enforcer would have been very entertained by his bouncing around the cargo hold should he have totally dismissed his suggestion to remain on top of the medical machine until after landing.
The Hynerian frowned.
"A pity for you," he shot back. "You'll just have to be satisfied with all the poor bastards you killed down there."
Berret's only reply was to reach up and trigger his helm release from his armor's neck collar. The lighted optics died and he split the helmet halves open and removed it, pausing only to give his long sweat-soaked matted hair a brief shake. He then gave the smaller being a sick grin that didn't touch his eyes.
"When one makes omelets, Dominar," the Shrike replied, "Some eggs get broken."
Rygel sneered in return. He was simply too tired to be intimidated for the rest of the day.
A thought pricked his normally quick mind and Rygel mentally reviewed the last few microts of conversation. Something had stuck him as out of place. A moment later he thought he had it.
"Wait a moment," he said as Berret jumped to the transport's deck. The assassin halted a moment, obviously wondering if there would be one final chance to torment the Hynerian. "That phrase you so callously spouted off... where did you hear it?"
The twisted smirk on Berret's face actually faltered a moment.
"I do not recall," he finally admitted with some bemusement. "Why? Did the reference make you hungry again?" he taunted.
"Was it in Crichton's quarters? On his Tee-Vee machine?" Rygel than asked, ignoring the jab.
Berret frowned when he didn't get the reaction from the small being he wanted.
"No. I believe the expression predates my experience with your crewmate's primitive video device," he supplied a few microts later. "Perhaps it is a old Scarran saying if you must know."
The Enforcer turned to leave, obviously becoming bored with Rygel and the discussion.
"One more thing... do you even know what an omelet is?" the Hynerian threw out.
"Of course I do!" Berret turned and spat back in growing annoyance. Rygel only looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the answer. The Shrike growled low and continued, "... It is a..."
Berret face suddenly drew blank in deep puzzlement. Rygel felt his curiosity grow; it was plain that the assassin didn't know the answer... didn't know the answer, but knew a phrase he shouldn't have known.
"You don't know, do you?" Rygel said, unable to keep the hint of superiority out of his tone.
Berret's brows furled in irritation and his eyes began to glint in hatred.
"Your question is pointless," he spat as he slammed a fist into the hatch switch. The doorway cycled open letting in the smoke and sound of burning and crashing debris outside the Pod as everything settled down after the crash landing. Without another word, the Enforcer descended the companionway to the landing bay floor, leaving the Hynerian to ponder the new development for a moment.
"Pointless to you, bastard," Rygel muttered, "But revealing to me." The Shrike had known a phrase about making omelets but had not known what one was when asked. And at some level knew they were edible, but the fact never registered when he made himself try to think about it... almost as if something were purposely blocking the information from being recalled.
One of the things the Dominar prided himself on was being a connoisseur of good food the Territories over. He'd eaten in the best refreshment houses and the most prestigious palaces on countless civilized worlds. He could even say he'd had more than his fair share of military rations and prison slop.
But there was only one place he'd ever visited that had that wonderful creation called "the omelet," a delectable delicacy that could be such a varying dish, so plain or creative as the chef or patron wished it to be. One place, and one place only.
He wondered just how the damn Shrike fitted into the grand picture now?
"Curious-er and curious-er..." he mumbled, and then smiled as he remembered where that particular quote came from also.
An arn later, and Pilot and Moya used one of the landing bay cranes to lift up the damaged Pod.
A scaffold was set up underneath it to replace the missing landing skids and the crew was able to release the reconstruction device from the craft's hold.
Most of the crew gathered round the machine, chattering excitedly while D'argo examined the device. Despite the fast extraction and hard transport flight, the machine was in better shape then he could have hoped.
He was just inspecting the power cable, a task made somewhat more difficult with Chiana clinging happily to his arm, when he dropped the bundle of wires and stood up straight, frowning deeply.
The low hum of concentration that escaped him was less than hopeful at the moment.
"What's wrong?" Chiana piped up. She could make out her lover's shape but not the expression on his face. She didn't need her vision to tell her that the hum meant the Luxan was not happy with how something was working out.
"This is going to be more complicated than we thought," he answered. "I can't began to figure out how we have to rewire this machine so it works correctly. One wrong connection... and we could frell the whole thing."
Out of habit, he gazed around at his shipmates for suggestions. Finding only Chiana, Rygel, Stark, Noranti, and the Shrike with him. Rygel and Chiana followed what he said closely, while Stark repeatedly mumbled to himself. Noranti looked off in her own world as usual and the ex-Enforcer stood some distance off from the group, idly watching as if the events held little or no interest to him - which suited D'argo just fine for the time being.
"I wish Zhaan were here," the warrior said out loud almost as a sigh. "She might be able to figure this device out given enough time."
Stark perked up at the mention of the Delvian woman's name.
"Oh yes! My Zhaan could figure it out in no time," he ranted. "Zhaan would have..."
"Stark, shut up!" D'argo snapped absentmindedly. The Banik started at the rejoinder and went back to his mumbling. Occasionally he said Zhaan's name louder then the rest of his words, but not loud enough to bother anyone more.
"So what do we do now?" asked Rygel with a raised earbrow. He turned in his Hoverthrone slightly to take in the rest of the crew. "Noranti has at least some medical training, but the old hezzm-bat is as about as useful as shat-looms on a Kasperian bull with medical machinery," The old woman raised an eyebrow placidly, smiled at the comment and give everyone a cheery wave as if agreeing with the assessment. "The rest of us aren't much better either," the Dominar added.
"So what, we give up?" Chiana asked. "We forget about John and Aeryn after all this?"
"Chiana, the technology is beyond us," D'argo told her.
"So we find somebody who its not!" the Nebari shot back stubbornly.
Before anyone could answer, Pilot cut in from the holo-comm. "If I may interrupted... Moya and I would like to offer our services in studying the device. Perhaps there is something in Moya's data banks which might prove useful and lead to answers after we have scanned it."
The Luxan seemed momentarily distracted by a thought. Abruptly he snapped back to the conversation.
"Yes, Pilot. That would be a big help if you and Moya could search her data bases."
Pilot smiled in the hologram, happy to be making a contribution to the effort. D'argo turned back to Chiana.
"That is a good idea," he said to the gray girl.
"What exactly?" she asked.
"Finding somebody who can figure it out," he supplied, "What we need is a scientist."
Chiana bobbed her head in slight surprise. "Oh!" she murmured.
"The question is... where do we look?" the Luxan then put out.
The crew searched their minds for an answer, a few microts later Chiana smiled.
"Princess!" she said.
"What?" several voices seemed to say at once.
"Jool!" Chiana explained, "She was always bragging about her education. If anyone can figure this contraption out, Princess can!" The smile on the Nebari's face grew wider as she laid her thoughts out for the others.
D'argo's gruff features spilt into an equally big grin.
"Jool!" he exclaimed and then swept Chiana up into his arms and spun her around, making the Nebari girl laugh with pleasure. "By the Goddess, you've come up with it, Chiana!"
"Well... I have my moments," the girl replied in a pleased tone.
Rygel put in his approval and even Stark had a lucid moment of agreement. Noranti crossed both her hands in front of her and gave the group an un-noticed solemn nod. She had wondered how long it would take the younger members of Moya's crew to realize the problem of the machine's complexity and work out a solution. Sometimes it was best to let youth work out life's problems without the benefit of age and experience. There were several more hurtles she foresaw, but they would wait for the proper time and place to be dealt with. Let them handle each crisis one-at-a-time.
Off to the side, Berret wondered who this Jool person that the others were exalting was... and then decided that it really didn't concern him. The rest, even Chiana, had not seen fit to include him in the revelation. The omission only drove home the point of how much an outsider he was and would remain.
He caught Noranti regarding him with a knowing look and returned the gaze with dead eyes. The old woman simply titled her head and shrugged her shoulders to say she didn't mind his isolation from the group if he didn't. Berret turned away and ignored her.
"Pilot!" D'argo barked, "Can you and Moya still locate Arnessk?"
Pilot checked his boards and reported back, "We are still within the known sectors of space we have traveled through. Moya is checking her logs and coordinating a return course to Arnessk. We will have a vector solution within one hundred microts."
"Excellent," the Luxan said with a genuine smile. "As soon as you have it, take us to Arnessk."
"It will be our pleasure, Captain D'argo," Pilot responded. "We are looking forward to seeing Joolushko again."
Reluctantly, D'argo secured Stark's help in bringing the reconstruction machine to the medical bay.
Chiana giggled pleasantly as she watched the pair of dim forms roll the device out of the maintenance bay.
She turned back and vaguely made out Noranti working at something in Zhaan's old Apothecary in the corner of the chamber. Looking further, another shape caught her eye and she squinted. The form was no clearer but she decided it could only be Berret.
She smiled broadly, she'd really didn't have much of a chance to speak with her friend since the Pod's return. She boldly began to stride over to the man, only to trip lightly over something in her way.
She nimbly caught her balance and giggled once more, this time at her near accident. It wouldn't have mattered to the Nebari if she had gone head over eema in the fall. She was happy, her sight was healing and they were one step closer to having Aeryn and John back with them. She already had Berret back in her life after believing for so long that he had died in their escape from the Syndicate. Things could not be turning out any better she dared to think.
"Hi, welcome back," the gray girl said happily. She was close enough now to make out the white blur that was the Shrike's face over the dark blob that was his gunmetal armor.
"Hello..." the Enforcer replied rather hesitantly. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Chiana told him, "I can make out where you are now." To demonstrate the point, she reached up and laid her palm against his cheek on the first attempt. She could feel the muscles in his cheek and jaw tense at the contact, but she just put it down to Berret's ways. Given enough time he would grow accustom to a friend's touch. She thought nothing more of it when a slight shift of the Shrike's weight from foot-to-foot was enough to break the contact. The move could have been casual though she knew it was not, Chiana felt no offense and instead lowered her hand to rest on his metal-covered forearm, a contact she had no doubt he would allow as he had guided her enough times in her blindness in this manner.
The gray girl made a mental note that when her sight had improved enough; she was going to make arrangements for some private time with the ex-assassin to work on his interaction with people. D'argo would surely look sourly upon the effort, but she was sure he would see the logic in it. Chiana had swore up and down to her lover, that given enough time, Berret could be taught how to fit in aboard Moya and that he would be a excellent addition to the crew once she showed him what it was like to have real friends. He just needed a chance is all.
Berret for some eccentric reason hadn't been looking forward to seeing the Nebari again. When she had started to head over to his vicinity, he had thought about turning and walking away as if he hadn't noticed her before she could reach him, but he dismissed the idea as foolish and illogical.
There was no good reason why he should wish to avoid the girl.
He had also recently gotten the voice in the back of his mind down to a background murmur. Somehow, it seemed to realize that there was nothing to wreck its havoc on here aboard the living ship. Perhaps it knew that survival hinged on remaining concealed for the time being. Berret also had the strange feeling that he and that wild specter had reached a sort of truce where Moya and her crew was concerned. For the moment, he needed a place to prepare for his return to the Syndicate to exact his vengeance, and the Leviathan was a better place then most to do so. It was like the voice was willing to put its bloodlust on hold for the promised unfettered violence to come in the near future against the Scarran and his criminal organization.
A sudden cold prick inside his brain told him that was exactly what his personal demon was waiting for. It was willing to trade the insignificant crew of the Leviathan for mass carnage among Arckatius' Black Syndicate House.
Berret found that was a trade he was more then gladly willing to make, but at the same time he felt he should have been slightly disturbed that he was even giving in that far to the ranting ghost in his head.
He knew he couldn't afford too much compromise with whatever was inside him.
The thoughts were pushed into the back of his mind to be dealt with at a later time as Chiana made small talk with him. Her eyes had begun to darken more to the glistening black he remembered. It wouldn't be long before she was able to see him and he found he didn't like that prospect much.
With her sight back would she be able to look and see what he had become? From their past talks since meeting again, he was aware she had this mental vision of who she thought he was. In a way her blindness had been a safety net, she had only her memory of their brief time together to draw from. Soon she would truly see and it would be a miracle if she were just merely disappointed at the man he really was and not outright disgusted. Berret knew that the comfort he had drawn from her handicap had made him a coward.
He had been a frelling idiot to even think of asking her to leave with him in the beginning.
Her gentle touch of his cheek should have left him elated. How many times had he witnessed her caress the Luxan like that... and more? He recalled the deep pangs of jealousy that left his stomach cold, but his chest in fire. Oh, he told the others that he did not understand or feel emotion, but it was a lie.
He understood the darker ones all too well.
The Syndicate had only left him with those emotions it considered useful in an Enforcer. The collar magnified all that was negative emotions at the proper times. Hate, rage, blind fury... and even fear were sometimes useful. You had to hate in order to slaughter the innocent, you had to rage in order to rip a person limb-from-limb, your victims needed to see your merciless blind fury and known what the results were in crossing the Syndicate. In such ways, terror was the leash of obedience in the underworld.
And the Shrike Enforcer deep down on some subconscious level where not even the control collar could touch, needed the fear of knowing what failure to carry out his owner's directives would bring as a reward.
Jealousy was the blackest of all emotions, and Berret didn't need the collar's help to feel it.
For an uncountable time since his arrival and her delicate refusal to leave with him, he found himself wishing that the Nebari had never touched some deep part of him. A part of him that always eluded his understanding.
Right now, he just wished she would go away.
His features gave the gray girl no hint as too what was going on inside of the tall ex-assassin. It was clear that she was euphoric with the prospect of the full recovery of her sight... and the near possibility of her friends being restored to the crew sometime soon.
Berret made his pretext to leave as soon as seemed reasonable, claiming to wish to retire to his quarters to clean up after the successful mission to steal the medical device. On his way out of the maintenance bay, Noranti nonchalantly sided up to him and regarded him with a curious lift of a single eyebrow.
"Leave me be, old woman," Berret growled in a warning tone only loud enough for her to hear.
Rygel watched the Shrike leave the bay as Noranti cheerfully steeped aside. Unseen by the assassin he had made his way closer to Chiana.
"How ya doing, Toad-face?" the Nebari asked happily as she made out the Hynerian's blurred features.
"We need to talk," he replied in a low guarded voice.
"Pilot!" he half-shouted over the comm link. "We are in route. Prepare for immediate starburst as soon as the Pod is in the landing bay."
"We have you on scanners, Captain D'argo," the helmsman replied. "Moya is de-orbiting now and setting a rendezvous vector. We are charging for starburst now."
In the background of Pilot's channel, the Luxan could hear Chiana shouting orders to the rest of the crew on-board.
"And Pilot... we are coming in hot! The pod's braking system may be out, so have Moya prepare the landing bay for a hard landing. Seal all the hanger and maintenance bay doors, and transfer all reserve fuel in that bay to the holding tanks in bay two!" D'argo continued.
"Understood and under way, Captain," responded Pilot.
"D'argo? Is everything okay?" asked Chiana over the link a split microt later.
"Not now!" the Luxan snapped harder then he meant too. Right then he needed to concentrate on flying the Pod and then the coming landing on a ship that was on the verge of entering into starburst.
Less than a hundred microts later, the Cargo Transport rushed around the north polar hemisphere of the moon. Only a few metra away from the craft, Moya sailed stately away from them, pointed out-system. The cargo ship waved and bobbed as the warrior lined it up with the massive landing bay port in the Leviathan's rear hull.
Almost too fast the Pod screamed by Moya's joined tails that were even then cracking with unreleased starburst energy. The bay outer doors grew larger as the craft raced toward them at dangerous speed. Out of the corner of his eyes, D'argo could see that huge space doors already starting to cycle closed as Moya timed their arrival. In a flash the Pod was by them, leaving only a split microt of rumble in his ears as the space doors shut closed.
Just as quickly he was in the cavernous landing bay and running out of room. Several docking web projectors sped along their rails trying to keep up and attempting to snare the transport in their beams. Only two of the webs managed to lock on to the speeding ship with negligible effect.
D'argo growled and set himself to battle the stick and control board for command of the pod. He full-reversed the engines, not caring if the maneuver tore them from their housings, as long as they slowed the craft down. He was thrown forward an instant later, only keeping his seat due to his safety belt.
The Cargo ship bucked and lurched for the landing deck gracelessly. As it neared the deck, D'argo muttered a prayer and tripped the braking thrusters on full. The thrusters under the belly of the Pod and at the nose fired up and ran for three or four microts before dying. Not enough for a correct landing but enough to put the transport into a slide on the landing deck without letting it bounce air born again.
The ship started to skid and before the slide could spin out of control and tumble the Pod, the Luxan had one last trick up his sleeve. He reached up and activated the magnetic landing skid locks.
The Pod jerked even harder that time as the metal landing skids under the craft tried to lock to the deck.
The slide slowed even further, but D'argo could hear pieces of the skids been torn off. Sparks filled the forward view port as the rails disintegrated.
The gambled paid off as the crash netting just outside the hanger bay doors deployed upward and snared the nose of the Pod in a last ditch effort to keep it from crashing into the pressure doors.
Luck was also with them as the ship finally came to a shuddering halt in the mesh cocoon.
It was only then that D'argo registered the familiar feeling that told him Moya had just come out of starburst. He had been too focused on avoiding a serious crash to notice the odd sensation of intra-space travel. A moment latter he realized he still had a death-grip on the Pod's control stick. The warrior forced his numb fingers to pry their hold off the stick, and then shook them in the air at his side to restore circulation in the digits. He let out a deep breath that he hadn't known he was holding until then.
"Frell me dead!" he muttered, flopping back almost limply in the pilot's seat for a moment.
Rygel untangled his face from the sleeve of his black coverall's and looked around after the Pod came to a stop.
"Are we dead yet?" he asked of no one in particular.
"Not yet, Dominar," came the reply.
Across from him, Berret sat casually, legs propped out before him with his back leaning up against one of the cables that held up the machine they had stole. The Hynerian would have jumped to the Transport Pod's deck as soon as the cargo doors were closed, but Berret had idly suggested that they remained where they were on top of the device for the ride back to the Leviathan.
The Shrike refused to elaborate more on the suggestion and Rygel almost told him to go frell himself, but his own instinct for self-preservation warned him to follow the assassin's lead and stay where he was. The reason soon became apparent with the violent flight and the even rougher landing. While still attached to the winch cables, the reconstruction device might as well be in a floating sling with shock absorbers. The ride was much more pleasant and safer than it would have been down on the deck. There was some jolting and bouncing, but the Hynerian ruler was able to hold his place by wrapping his arms around the nearest cable. Berret for his part just leaned nonchalantly against his own cable as if he were so bored that he might have nodded off for a nap. The Dominar wondered how he so easily kept his position and concluded it was probably another trick of his battle armor. Rygel also had the sneaking suspicion that the Enforcer would have been very entertained by his bouncing around the cargo hold should he have totally dismissed his suggestion to remain on top of the medical machine until after landing.
The Hynerian frowned.
"A pity for you," he shot back. "You'll just have to be satisfied with all the poor bastards you killed down there."
Berret's only reply was to reach up and trigger his helm release from his armor's neck collar. The lighted optics died and he split the helmet halves open and removed it, pausing only to give his long sweat-soaked matted hair a brief shake. He then gave the smaller being a sick grin that didn't touch his eyes.
"When one makes omelets, Dominar," the Shrike replied, "Some eggs get broken."
Rygel sneered in return. He was simply too tired to be intimidated for the rest of the day.
A thought pricked his normally quick mind and Rygel mentally reviewed the last few microts of conversation. Something had stuck him as out of place. A moment later he thought he had it.
"Wait a moment," he said as Berret jumped to the transport's deck. The assassin halted a moment, obviously wondering if there would be one final chance to torment the Hynerian. "That phrase you so callously spouted off... where did you hear it?"
The twisted smirk on Berret's face actually faltered a moment.
"I do not recall," he finally admitted with some bemusement. "Why? Did the reference make you hungry again?" he taunted.
"Was it in Crichton's quarters? On his Tee-Vee machine?" Rygel than asked, ignoring the jab.
Berret frowned when he didn't get the reaction from the small being he wanted.
"No. I believe the expression predates my experience with your crewmate's primitive video device," he supplied a few microts later. "Perhaps it is a old Scarran saying if you must know."
The Enforcer turned to leave, obviously becoming bored with Rygel and the discussion.
"One more thing... do you even know what an omelet is?" the Hynerian threw out.
"Of course I do!" Berret turned and spat back in growing annoyance. Rygel only looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the answer. The Shrike growled low and continued, "... It is a..."
Berret face suddenly drew blank in deep puzzlement. Rygel felt his curiosity grow; it was plain that the assassin didn't know the answer... didn't know the answer, but knew a phrase he shouldn't have known.
"You don't know, do you?" Rygel said, unable to keep the hint of superiority out of his tone.
Berret's brows furled in irritation and his eyes began to glint in hatred.
"Your question is pointless," he spat as he slammed a fist into the hatch switch. The doorway cycled open letting in the smoke and sound of burning and crashing debris outside the Pod as everything settled down after the crash landing. Without another word, the Enforcer descended the companionway to the landing bay floor, leaving the Hynerian to ponder the new development for a moment.
"Pointless to you, bastard," Rygel muttered, "But revealing to me." The Shrike had known a phrase about making omelets but had not known what one was when asked. And at some level knew they were edible, but the fact never registered when he made himself try to think about it... almost as if something were purposely blocking the information from being recalled.
One of the things the Dominar prided himself on was being a connoisseur of good food the Territories over. He'd eaten in the best refreshment houses and the most prestigious palaces on countless civilized worlds. He could even say he'd had more than his fair share of military rations and prison slop.
But there was only one place he'd ever visited that had that wonderful creation called "the omelet," a delectable delicacy that could be such a varying dish, so plain or creative as the chef or patron wished it to be. One place, and one place only.
He wondered just how the damn Shrike fitted into the grand picture now?
"Curious-er and curious-er..." he mumbled, and then smiled as he remembered where that particular quote came from also.
An arn later, and Pilot and Moya used one of the landing bay cranes to lift up the damaged Pod.
A scaffold was set up underneath it to replace the missing landing skids and the crew was able to release the reconstruction device from the craft's hold.
Most of the crew gathered round the machine, chattering excitedly while D'argo examined the device. Despite the fast extraction and hard transport flight, the machine was in better shape then he could have hoped.
He was just inspecting the power cable, a task made somewhat more difficult with Chiana clinging happily to his arm, when he dropped the bundle of wires and stood up straight, frowning deeply.
The low hum of concentration that escaped him was less than hopeful at the moment.
"What's wrong?" Chiana piped up. She could make out her lover's shape but not the expression on his face. She didn't need her vision to tell her that the hum meant the Luxan was not happy with how something was working out.
"This is going to be more complicated than we thought," he answered. "I can't began to figure out how we have to rewire this machine so it works correctly. One wrong connection... and we could frell the whole thing."
Out of habit, he gazed around at his shipmates for suggestions. Finding only Chiana, Rygel, Stark, Noranti, and the Shrike with him. Rygel and Chiana followed what he said closely, while Stark repeatedly mumbled to himself. Noranti looked off in her own world as usual and the ex-Enforcer stood some distance off from the group, idly watching as if the events held little or no interest to him - which suited D'argo just fine for the time being.
"I wish Zhaan were here," the warrior said out loud almost as a sigh. "She might be able to figure this device out given enough time."
Stark perked up at the mention of the Delvian woman's name.
"Oh yes! My Zhaan could figure it out in no time," he ranted. "Zhaan would have..."
"Stark, shut up!" D'argo snapped absentmindedly. The Banik started at the rejoinder and went back to his mumbling. Occasionally he said Zhaan's name louder then the rest of his words, but not loud enough to bother anyone more.
"So what do we do now?" asked Rygel with a raised earbrow. He turned in his Hoverthrone slightly to take in the rest of the crew. "Noranti has at least some medical training, but the old hezzm-bat is as about as useful as shat-looms on a Kasperian bull with medical machinery," The old woman raised an eyebrow placidly, smiled at the comment and give everyone a cheery wave as if agreeing with the assessment. "The rest of us aren't much better either," the Dominar added.
"So what, we give up?" Chiana asked. "We forget about John and Aeryn after all this?"
"Chiana, the technology is beyond us," D'argo told her.
"So we find somebody who its not!" the Nebari shot back stubbornly.
Before anyone could answer, Pilot cut in from the holo-comm. "If I may interrupted... Moya and I would like to offer our services in studying the device. Perhaps there is something in Moya's data banks which might prove useful and lead to answers after we have scanned it."
The Luxan seemed momentarily distracted by a thought. Abruptly he snapped back to the conversation.
"Yes, Pilot. That would be a big help if you and Moya could search her data bases."
Pilot smiled in the hologram, happy to be making a contribution to the effort. D'argo turned back to Chiana.
"That is a good idea," he said to the gray girl.
"What exactly?" she asked.
"Finding somebody who can figure it out," he supplied, "What we need is a scientist."
Chiana bobbed her head in slight surprise. "Oh!" she murmured.
"The question is... where do we look?" the Luxan then put out.
The crew searched their minds for an answer, a few microts later Chiana smiled.
"Princess!" she said.
"What?" several voices seemed to say at once.
"Jool!" Chiana explained, "She was always bragging about her education. If anyone can figure this contraption out, Princess can!" The smile on the Nebari's face grew wider as she laid her thoughts out for the others.
D'argo's gruff features spilt into an equally big grin.
"Jool!" he exclaimed and then swept Chiana up into his arms and spun her around, making the Nebari girl laugh with pleasure. "By the Goddess, you've come up with it, Chiana!"
"Well... I have my moments," the girl replied in a pleased tone.
Rygel put in his approval and even Stark had a lucid moment of agreement. Noranti crossed both her hands in front of her and gave the group an un-noticed solemn nod. She had wondered how long it would take the younger members of Moya's crew to realize the problem of the machine's complexity and work out a solution. Sometimes it was best to let youth work out life's problems without the benefit of age and experience. There were several more hurtles she foresaw, but they would wait for the proper time and place to be dealt with. Let them handle each crisis one-at-a-time.
Off to the side, Berret wondered who this Jool person that the others were exalting was... and then decided that it really didn't concern him. The rest, even Chiana, had not seen fit to include him in the revelation. The omission only drove home the point of how much an outsider he was and would remain.
He caught Noranti regarding him with a knowing look and returned the gaze with dead eyes. The old woman simply titled her head and shrugged her shoulders to say she didn't mind his isolation from the group if he didn't. Berret turned away and ignored her.
"Pilot!" D'argo barked, "Can you and Moya still locate Arnessk?"
Pilot checked his boards and reported back, "We are still within the known sectors of space we have traveled through. Moya is checking her logs and coordinating a return course to Arnessk. We will have a vector solution within one hundred microts."
"Excellent," the Luxan said with a genuine smile. "As soon as you have it, take us to Arnessk."
"It will be our pleasure, Captain D'argo," Pilot responded. "We are looking forward to seeing Joolushko again."
Reluctantly, D'argo secured Stark's help in bringing the reconstruction machine to the medical bay.
Chiana giggled pleasantly as she watched the pair of dim forms roll the device out of the maintenance bay.
She turned back and vaguely made out Noranti working at something in Zhaan's old Apothecary in the corner of the chamber. Looking further, another shape caught her eye and she squinted. The form was no clearer but she decided it could only be Berret.
She smiled broadly, she'd really didn't have much of a chance to speak with her friend since the Pod's return. She boldly began to stride over to the man, only to trip lightly over something in her way.
She nimbly caught her balance and giggled once more, this time at her near accident. It wouldn't have mattered to the Nebari if she had gone head over eema in the fall. She was happy, her sight was healing and they were one step closer to having Aeryn and John back with them. She already had Berret back in her life after believing for so long that he had died in their escape from the Syndicate. Things could not be turning out any better she dared to think.
"Hi, welcome back," the gray girl said happily. She was close enough now to make out the white blur that was the Shrike's face over the dark blob that was his gunmetal armor.
"Hello..." the Enforcer replied rather hesitantly. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Chiana told him, "I can make out where you are now." To demonstrate the point, she reached up and laid her palm against his cheek on the first attempt. She could feel the muscles in his cheek and jaw tense at the contact, but she just put it down to Berret's ways. Given enough time he would grow accustom to a friend's touch. She thought nothing more of it when a slight shift of the Shrike's weight from foot-to-foot was enough to break the contact. The move could have been casual though she knew it was not, Chiana felt no offense and instead lowered her hand to rest on his metal-covered forearm, a contact she had no doubt he would allow as he had guided her enough times in her blindness in this manner.
The gray girl made a mental note that when her sight had improved enough; she was going to make arrangements for some private time with the ex-assassin to work on his interaction with people. D'argo would surely look sourly upon the effort, but she was sure he would see the logic in it. Chiana had swore up and down to her lover, that given enough time, Berret could be taught how to fit in aboard Moya and that he would be a excellent addition to the crew once she showed him what it was like to have real friends. He just needed a chance is all.
Berret for some eccentric reason hadn't been looking forward to seeing the Nebari again. When she had started to head over to his vicinity, he had thought about turning and walking away as if he hadn't noticed her before she could reach him, but he dismissed the idea as foolish and illogical.
There was no good reason why he should wish to avoid the girl.
He had also recently gotten the voice in the back of his mind down to a background murmur. Somehow, it seemed to realize that there was nothing to wreck its havoc on here aboard the living ship. Perhaps it knew that survival hinged on remaining concealed for the time being. Berret also had the strange feeling that he and that wild specter had reached a sort of truce where Moya and her crew was concerned. For the moment, he needed a place to prepare for his return to the Syndicate to exact his vengeance, and the Leviathan was a better place then most to do so. It was like the voice was willing to put its bloodlust on hold for the promised unfettered violence to come in the near future against the Scarran and his criminal organization.
A sudden cold prick inside his brain told him that was exactly what his personal demon was waiting for. It was willing to trade the insignificant crew of the Leviathan for mass carnage among Arckatius' Black Syndicate House.
Berret found that was a trade he was more then gladly willing to make, but at the same time he felt he should have been slightly disturbed that he was even giving in that far to the ranting ghost in his head.
He knew he couldn't afford too much compromise with whatever was inside him.
The thoughts were pushed into the back of his mind to be dealt with at a later time as Chiana made small talk with him. Her eyes had begun to darken more to the glistening black he remembered. It wouldn't be long before she was able to see him and he found he didn't like that prospect much.
With her sight back would she be able to look and see what he had become? From their past talks since meeting again, he was aware she had this mental vision of who she thought he was. In a way her blindness had been a safety net, she had only her memory of their brief time together to draw from. Soon she would truly see and it would be a miracle if she were just merely disappointed at the man he really was and not outright disgusted. Berret knew that the comfort he had drawn from her handicap had made him a coward.
He had been a frelling idiot to even think of asking her to leave with him in the beginning.
Her gentle touch of his cheek should have left him elated. How many times had he witnessed her caress the Luxan like that... and more? He recalled the deep pangs of jealousy that left his stomach cold, but his chest in fire. Oh, he told the others that he did not understand or feel emotion, but it was a lie.
He understood the darker ones all too well.
The Syndicate had only left him with those emotions it considered useful in an Enforcer. The collar magnified all that was negative emotions at the proper times. Hate, rage, blind fury... and even fear were sometimes useful. You had to hate in order to slaughter the innocent, you had to rage in order to rip a person limb-from-limb, your victims needed to see your merciless blind fury and known what the results were in crossing the Syndicate. In such ways, terror was the leash of obedience in the underworld.
And the Shrike Enforcer deep down on some subconscious level where not even the control collar could touch, needed the fear of knowing what failure to carry out his owner's directives would bring as a reward.
Jealousy was the blackest of all emotions, and Berret didn't need the collar's help to feel it.
For an uncountable time since his arrival and her delicate refusal to leave with him, he found himself wishing that the Nebari had never touched some deep part of him. A part of him that always eluded his understanding.
Right now, he just wished she would go away.
His features gave the gray girl no hint as too what was going on inside of the tall ex-assassin. It was clear that she was euphoric with the prospect of the full recovery of her sight... and the near possibility of her friends being restored to the crew sometime soon.
Berret made his pretext to leave as soon as seemed reasonable, claiming to wish to retire to his quarters to clean up after the successful mission to steal the medical device. On his way out of the maintenance bay, Noranti nonchalantly sided up to him and regarded him with a curious lift of a single eyebrow.
"Leave me be, old woman," Berret growled in a warning tone only loud enough for her to hear.
Rygel watched the Shrike leave the bay as Noranti cheerfully steeped aside. Unseen by the assassin he had made his way closer to Chiana.
"How ya doing, Toad-face?" the Nebari asked happily as she made out the Hynerian's blurred features.
"We need to talk," he replied in a low guarded voice.