Orsus Comitas
AN: Yes, so this is overdue. I'm over it, and it's due. I have mad cow disease. My dog ate it. I had amnesia and was forced to learn English all over again. Just pick an excuse. You can argue that not much happens in this chapter, but honest, I'm getting somewhere. Honest.
Chapter Nine
Moya, Pilot's Den (24 arns, 1728 microts after contact)
When Aeryn came to, the first thing she realized was how still Moya was. Too still. Her heart bunched up in her throat as she pushed herself off the floor. She reached out and felt a warm hand, recognizing it as John's, and crawled over to him. "John, get up," she told his unconscious face, slapping his cheek lightly a few times. "Wake up, John. Come on."
But he was out cold and was not going to wake soon. Groaning, Aeryn turned herself over and rubbed her lower left leg, certain she'd bruised, if not sprained it. Before she blacked out, Moya had been shaking uncontrollably and Pilot howling at her to stop. They were alive, which meant Moya was alive. As for the others, she had no idea.
D'Argo!
Her son was lying on the bridge next to her, one arm curled around his DRD protectively. Aside from a small trickle of blood on his forehead, he seemed fine. Kissing him firmly on the forehead, Crichton's wife climbed to her feet and coughed, the acidic stench of smoke and a muskier, more burnt smell flooding her nose and mouth. It was then she noticed that the entire den was filled with a faint greenish-gray haze.
Movement caught her eye, and drew her attention to Pilot. Two of his arms were sluggishly moving to and fro, pressing down on various spots of his console with great effort. There was a delirious, confused presence to his actions, and the pupils in his large, yellow eyes were enormous.
Aeryn climbed onto the bulkhead in front of him and tried to turn his face towards her, but he simply pulled out of her hands and continued to look right and left. He was muttering something, unaware of her presence.
"Second...Starburst...must vent gas...weak, so weak...toxins, must vent the toxins..."
"Pilot, what is wrong with Moya?" croaked Aeryn. She was startled by how hoarse her voice was, and her throat was swollen. Her lungs burned. "What is all this smoke?"
"Sleep...all of you, to sleep...when Leviathans...so heavily damaged...releases toxins...hard to...maintain," the pilot grunted, before his arms collapsed. He was breathing in an out heavily, relying mostly on his own biological systems rather than those connected to Moya. In fact, it was possible that the lines that connected the symbiotic pair might have been damaged by the virus spread by these aliens. Aeryn realized that as long as Moya remained as she was, Pilot was going to die.
"What can we do to help?" asked a gruff voice from behind her. She whipped around and found Colonel Sheppard standing there, weapon dangling in his hand. If anything, he looked like he might pass out at any time, what with the blood on his scalp to match her son's and the unfocused look in his eyes.
Sliding down, Aeryn looked over her shoulder at Pilot before facing the Earth military man. "Those creatures frightened Moya into a second Starburst, far before her drive was completely repaired. Now she is dying, and she is taking us with her. What could you possibly do now to make things worse?"
Suddenly, D'Argo jolted to his feet, right between them. He moved so quickly that the DRD in his hands crashed to the floor and started skittering in circles, as the boy scrambled over to Pilot and leaped onto the bulkhead. "Pilot, I know you can't hear her. It's okay. I can help. You can vent everything by using the holes in Moya! You know, the ones the creature's made with the disease. If you can't open the ventilation ports, force it out of the holes."
"D'Argo...?" Pilot seemed to look right through him, either unable to understand or too exhausted to comply.
"I know you can do it. Come on, I'll help you," D'Argo urged him, climbing over to where one of Pilot's large arms lay, struggling to move. He grit his teeth as he pulled on the large appendage, before dropping it on top of one of the glowing console pads. "That's the first one. You know the rest. Please, Pilot; if you don't do it, we'll all die and we won't have a chance to save Moya. It's only four more!"
Aeryn stared on with wonder and Sheppard with blank confusion as the pilot's remaining arms trembled to life, sliding across the console and hitting the appropriate mechanisms in the correct order. When he was finished, his large head began to sag, and he let out one last exhalation before he ceased to move at all.
It took a world and a half for the gentle hissing in the air to stop, as the thin haze grew clear once more. Breathing no longer burned Aeryn's chest, but she was too stunned to realize that her husband had regained was shakily getting to his feet, holding his head in one hand painfully. Ignoring the groggy look her gave her, Aeryn pushed past him and climbed onto the bulkhead next to her son.
"Pilot," she said gently, putting a hand on one the the enormous claws in front of her. She shook it, inducing no response. "Pilot, wake up. Please wake up, Pilot."
No amount of desperate shaking earned her a reaction from Moya's symbiote. Finally, Aeryn leaned forward and rest her head against the leathery one of her old friend, closing her eyes.
"M-Mommy?" D'Argo's voice was small, like a child five years younger than he. The stillness of Pilot must have confused him, because of his foolish parents who had never burdened him with a complete understanding of death. Crichton, having realized what had happened, silently put and arm around his son's shoulders after the nine-year-old climbed back down from the bulkhead.
No one in Sheppard's team said a word. All four of them, excluding the Scottish doctor were occupying the bridge in stunned silence. Ronon crouched down next to Teyla, using a piece of cloth he'd ripped from his shirt to wrap up a bleeding gash on her arm. Rodney was the first to shake free of the dismal moment and moved closer to the colonel. Neither one of them made eye contact.
"Moya."
Crichton's voice cut through the air inside the den with a sharpness that tugged everyone out of their stupors. He sounded vexed, but suspicious. "Wait a second, if Pilot's...then Moya...not trying to be the insensitive one here, but shouldn't she be going a little...I don't know, nuts?"
"She's being quiet," D'Argo said simply, with no small trace of fear. "I think she's scared. Like she doesn't know what's going to happen."
Carson started to move then, stepping quickly up to the bulkhead that surrounded the alien pilot. Reaching up to the large plates that covered Pilot's head and back, he pinched his fingers underneath one, where he had injected the stimulant before. Something unusual twinged his face. "I—I cannae be positive," he started, eyes flickering over the assembled adults. "But I do think I feel a pulse. There's no telling how strong it is, since I don' know what's normal and what's not."
"It's alive?" Rodney asked, blurting it out before anyone else reacted. Sheppard elbowed him in the ribs, hard. "Ow!"
"He's in a catatonic state," the doctor explained haltingly, and when he withdrew his fingers, they were covered in a greasy, yellow goo. Trying to be polite about it, he quickly wiped the substance off and smiled reassuringly at Aeryn. No one moved or spoke as he circled around, took a very small flashlight from his front pocket, and pried open one of Pilot's eyelids. Aeryn stepped down to let him do his work, but bore the expression of someone who would take more bad news with a grain of salt...and a weapon. "I don' have much tae go on, but mae best guess—he's dying, and judging by these cataracts and the lack of random pattern decay we've seen aroun' the ship, it's not the virus that's killing him. It's old age."
"C'mon, Carson, the Wraith didn't feed on him that long," Sheppard said dismissively. He appreciated that Dr. Beckett was trying to boost their reputation here, but he was worried that acting like they knew more about their non-human friends than they did was only going to make Crichton and Aeryn Sun angrier.
But Carson was adamant. "That's jes' it, colonel. I don't think the Wraith stopped feedin' on him because you startled him; he stopped because the feeding process was expedited. Remember, I was talkin' about his cellular integrity being somewhat of a miracle. I'd assume his kind has quite the lifespan?" The question was tossed in Aeryn's direction, who had shown the most concern for the pilot's welfare so far. She nodded silently and warily. "Then tae put it in the simplest terms, the Wraith probably thought they were faced with an entity that could sustain them over an extremely long period of time. But the way his blood cells were reactin' under my scope, his immune system sped up the feeding process a hundred times faster than a Wraith is used tae."
With so much new information, Sheppard's head was starting to spin. "So Todd," he said slowly, naming the Wraith on the spot. "Fed on him, and got a bigger dose than he was expecting."
"A much, much bigger dose," Carson agreed seriously, looking at him. "We've dealt with Wraith who just fed on their victims and they are bloody hard tae kill. This 'Todd' we're after will probably be next tae invincible, if we're lucky."
"This all sounds like wonderful news, but how the frell do we bring him back?" Aeryn snapped suddenly, not referring to the Wraith, but Pilot.
"You figure out how to fix your alien," Ronon said, standing up. He grabbed his blaster and powered it up with a slap of a hand and a fierce glare. "I'm going to see how invincible our Wraith buddy really is."
"What Ronon means is," Sheppard interrupted loudly, stopped the Satedan in his tracks before he could run off. "We'd be more than happy to search for...Todd, capture him, and bring him back here so he can return what he stole. Preferably before more Wraith find us."
Crichton, for the first time, met that suggestion with optimistic skepticism. Taken aback, he examined Sheppard's face for some telltale sign of deception. "These Wraith guys can do that? No one thought to mention this, say...back when we were all bonding after Pilot was fed on in the first place?"
"It's a new concept for me, too," the colonel said defensively, pitching his voice in annoyance.
"Colonel," Carson said quietly. Everyone returned their attention to him. "Whatever you're planning on doing, I suggest that you do it fast. I doubt this poor creature can hold on much longer and if he's as important as our new friends let on, saving his life means we all get tae live."
"Damn straight, we do." Crichton exchanged looks with his wife.
"Teyla, go with Ronon and try to track down the Wraith, but do not engage," Sheppard told his two team members. "Rodney, you're with the kid. You can figure out how to fix this Starburst thing, since I've got this feeling we'll need it once the pilot's back on his feet—figuratively speaking."
"Why am I always the one with the kids?" McKay asked no one in particular, evidently aware that his complaining only worked on himself. There was no need to point out that he wouldn't be able to help much, being an astrophysicist and not an alien doctor.
"Dr. Beckett stays here to keep an eye on Pilot's condition." This time, it was Crichton giving the orders. And it was an order, not a request. Sheppard paused, then nodded his head once in compliance, not wanting to counter what was possibly the first thing they agreed on without using weapons as collateral.
Aeryn straightened her shoulders and bent down to pick up one of the pulse rifles on the floor. "Alright, then I'm going with the team that hunts down the blood-sucking alien. If things happen to get messy, I want to be the last thing it sees before it becomes a stain on a tier wall."
"Anyone want to argue with the lady?" said Crichton.
Silence.
"Then let's tango." The commander kissed his wife's cheek, ruffled D'Argo's hair and with a final, somewhat darkened glance at Pilot, turned to Sheppard while cradling his rifle. "I'd like to take a good look on the cool-looking spaceship you rode into town, if it's okay with you."