By their second day in orbit around Dymar IV, John Crichton had concluded that there would be nothing interesting about this supply stop. Certainly there was nothing interesting about the planet. That seemed crazy, that a whole god damn alien planet could be boring, but it was. It wasn't even a so-boring-that-it's-interesting-how-boring-it-is kind of boring. Just the boring kind of boring.

It was an average-sized rocky planet, about the size of Mars. Breathable atmosphere, a bit heavy on the argon. It had no trees, no shrubs, just various species of beige scrub grass. There were no large animals, no exotic mineral deposits, no strange lights in the sky - hell, there wasn't even a frelling moon. The most interesting thing about the planet was the amazing resemblance its main settlement bore to Cleveland, Ohio.

Just as John decided that Dymar IV was the most boring planet in the world (and before he noticed the problem with that statement) another Leviathan showed up. John was alone in command enjoying a few arns off baby duty when it appeared on sensors approaching the planet. God, how long had it been since they'd seen another Leviathan? Probably at least a year. Deep groans and hums ran through the ship as Moya said hello in her own way. John got on the communicator to say hi in his.

"Other Leviathan, this is Moya. How's it going?"

Their Pilot, which John was pretty sure was female, answered. She looked a lot like Moya's Pilot, at least to John's eyes, but with a more greenish color and a craggier looking shell. "Moya, this is Roelim. Your question is not understood, please restate."

John sighed. Everyone was so uncultured in space. "How are things, how's life treating you, wazzzzzup?"

Pilot - Moya's Pilot - appeared on the clamshell. With a weary sigh, he interjected, "I believe it's a greeting among his people."

"I see. Then wazzup to you too, passenger," she said, in what John found to be a rather patronizing tone of voice. "Pilot, etalak Moya di'ent; Bi Dymar IV titen'ka. Arn-fe'uilt bok."

John pounded the side of his head with his palm, attempting a little percussive maintenance on his translator microbes.

"Understood, thank you, Pilot," Pilot replied. "We extend the same offer to you and Roelim." He ended the connection.

"What'd she say?" John asked Pilot.

"She said, 'Pilot, etalak Moya di'ent; Bi Dymar IV titen'ka. Arn-fe'uilt bok.'"

John's hand collided with his head again, this time against the forehead. "Yes, but what does that mean?"

"Oh, did the translation cut out?"

"Yes!"

"In essence, she suggested running a diagnostic on Moya's systems to see if there's is anything they can help us with in the three solar days they'll be at Dymar IV. They'll reach orbit in point three arns and will call again then. Then I thanked her and said we would be willing to do the same for her and Roelim."

"I got your part, actually"

"I apologize. It sounds the same to me whether or not the translation works. I'm going to run a diagnostic. Expect some brief system outages."

John tooled around in command a while, watching the bioluminescent indicators fade on and off as Pilot did his checks. Eventually, Aeryn brought the baby by. She held his drooling face up to John.

"I thought it might be time for a visit," she said.

"Oh, why's that?" John asked as he took the child. A familiar smell answered his question before Aeryn could. He sighed. "Aeryn, you gotta to learn to change a diaper."

"Is it really necessary? I'm sure he'll learn to use the proper facilities soon."

"He's four months old!"

"Exactly! I'd mastered it by half a cycle. Even with your primitive genes, how much longer could it take?"

"Most humans are potty trained at around three or four cycles."

"Three or four cycles!?" Disgust filled her face. "But he'll be on solid food soon. Think of the smell."

"Yep, kids are gross."

"Human kids maybe."

"He's half human"

"Yes, your half. You deal with it."

At this point, Roelim's Pilot made her promised second call. Pilot answered, and they began a rapid exchange that John's translator microbes didn't even attempt to follow. Aeryn watched it intently as John wrangled their son's legs into a fresh cloth square.

"Does something seem off to you with Pilot?" she whispered to John.

"Which one?"

"Our Pilot. He seems flustered, or distracted, or something."

John peered at the image and shrugged. "Maybe he didn't sleep well?" A thought occurred to him. "Do Pilots sleep?"

"Of course they sleep."

"But how does he fly the ship while he's asleep?"

"It's mostly uninodular sleep, only one segment of the brain at a time. Pretty common for aquatic species."

"Pilots are aquatic?"

"They're 100-stonnen carcaforms; where did you think they lived?"

"Car phones?"

"Carcaforms, it's a pretty common body plan. Not as common as sebaceanoid, but it still turns up a lot. Exoskeletons, six to ten segmented limbs, distributed nervous systems. Earth even had some carcaform species. I think they were crap."

"I think you mean 'crabs.'"

"Close enough."

"It's really not." John took a moment to absorb this new information. "Do Pilots have gills?"

Aeryn didn't look up from the screen this time. "I don't understand why this is such a revelation for you. No gills; they breathe air. They can hold their breathe a long time, though. I've seen Pilot hold his for half an arn without even trying during on of Rygel's farting sprees."

"Handy."

"Maybe later," Aeryn replied. She pointed at the screen. "She keeps clicking her claw like that."

John looked at the screen. The other Pilot was casually snapping her far-left claw like a lazy castanet player as she spoke.

"Nervous habit?" he suggested.

"Does she look nervous to you?"

"Well, no, but as you said, they're a hundred stolen crackhead ferns. I'm not exactly an expert on the body language."

"I don't like it."

John shrugged. "Seems normal to me, but you've usually got good instincts. How about I watch the kid for a bit, and you play space-crab psychologist?"

John spent the rest of the day teaching their son how to blow raspberries, or at least the few stretches of the day not taken up by naps and crying. He didn't really expect anything to come of Aeryn's investigation. Of course, she was probably right about Pilot being a little "off." She had a pretty good read on him most of the time. He figured she'd just go talk to him after the call though, he'd tell her he missed the beach or something - seriously, they're aquatic? - and that would be the end of it.