I Don't Like Mondays. a.k.a. Tuesday Fic

Author: Red
Email: spooky@watchfarscape.com
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: FARSCAPE and all related characters and elements are trademarks of The Jim 
Henson Company. I do not own it and I am not making any money off of it.
Spoilers: Takes place after season 4.

WARNING - for your safety and mental wellbeing during the reading of this fic, I feel 
obliged to advise that there are many run-on sentences, incomplete sentences, curious 
phraseologies, and very possibly characters saying "ouch". Please prepare yourself 
accordingly.

***

"Ouch. Damn it, D'Argo."

"Shut the frell up, Crichton."

Welcome to my life. "That had better be your freakin' Qualta blade."

"Will you two be quiet?" The sweet, steely hiss made clear that that was not in anyway a 
request and having had way too much experience with that tone of voice, D'Argo and I 
made what was arguably our wisest move in at least a weeken and shut it. 

Of course having made one wise move, we were feeling all kinds of cocky and confident 
and we didn't let it go there, we couldn't. D'Argo gave me another jab in the ribs, I shoved 
him just a little bit, then he lost his balance and made a hell of a lot of noise doing it. It's the 
tentacles, I tell ya. 

The noise went on for a while, sounding a whole lot like he was losing a battle with the Tin 
Man. And because it's us, this attracted the attention of the fugly baddies who hated us on 
this particular floating hunk of rusty parts. I'm pretty sure that if there'd been enough light 
to see by, Aeryn would have shot us both and saved the guys with the bigger guns the 
trouble. We could hear them shouting, thumping, howling, shooting and in general making 
just about as much noise as D'Argo and his war with the spare parts. 

D'Argo finally hit bottom and let out a string of curses that blistered the ears off my 
translator microbes. He fell silent for a second and then I felt a small breeze kiss my cheek 
and heard a sharp whip crack. The son of a bitch tried to tongue me. 

The Luxan obscenities started up again as soon as he had enough of his tongue back in his 
mouth and I made a dive towards him. I'm not real sure what I had in mind, the big guy 
could probably snap me like a dry twig, but damn it, he tried to tongue me and I wasn't in 
the mood to let that pass. It was those long, cool fingers that I loved so much that kept me 
from getting myself messily dismembered. The fact that they were clamped around my 
throat in a very secure sort of way had nothing to do with me stopping dead in my tracks. 
Man, is it wrong that she was a hair away from crushing my windpipe and I was still 
turned on? 

"If you move, I will snap your neck," she growled. Oh god, whispering in my ear. My 
eyes rolled back in my head and I shivered. Her fingers released their hold on my neck and 
a sudden pounding on the wall next to us shook me out of my near-death induced bliss. 

"Don't move," she hissed her orders once more in case the death threat hadn't gotten 
through to me. Truth to tell, it hadn't. She'd purchased some new soap at the last planet we 
hadn't gotten kicked off of and, swear to god, she'd had it specifically formulated to turn 
my brain off.

D'Argo swore again, the Tin Man beat him down, and I felt Aeryn push past me. I couldn't 
hear the words they were saying, but judging by the rumble coming from D'Argo's 
direction curses on me and any of my future offspring for all of eternity were probably 
being seriously discussed. Of course considering how spectacularly lovely and lyrical 
Luxan isn't, he could have been reciting a sonnet for her. The rat bastard. 

I was debating with myself whether or not to brave the Tin Man and make my way over to 
them, when the decision was ripped out of my hands by a really frelling loud roar. I 
ducked instinctively, but as usual, flying dren finds my head like it's a flame and the large 
heavy things are moths. There was a blinding light and then . . .

***

I hate being unconscious. No, wait, I take that back, unconsciousness is good, waking up 
from being unconscious is very, very bad. I barely managed to roll over onto my side 
before I heaved my breakfast across the ground. ABC'd food cubes. Nice. I dropped onto 
my back, took a few deep breaths and wondered why I was humming 'Minnie the 
Moocher'.

"Crichton, why are you singing?"

A deep, deep Luxan voice boomed through my skull -- it was like sitting in the drum kit at 
a Who concert. I held up one weak hand and whispered my reply, "Not singing, humming. 
Best way I know to keep my internal organs where they are. Where's Aeryn?"

"I don't know. How does humming keep your internal --"

"D'Argo, stop," I pleaded. God this was like a hangover squared. "Don't talk. No 
questions. Questions make me queasy. Stop."

I felt a large hand close on my shoulder. "You threw up."

"I did."

"How hard did you hit your head?"

"Very, very hard," I whimpered, it's true, and I'm man enough to admit that I can 
whimper.

"Are you going to open your eyes?"

The Luxan talks too much. Has the Luxan always talked this much? "Not if I can help it. 
They'll fall out."

"No, they won't," he said extraordinarily loudly. However, in spite of his assurances I 
could tell he was thinking about it. "Would they?"

"Not gonna risk it," I groaned and another sharp wave of pain slammed through my head. 
"D, what did I say about asking questions?"

"Don't?"

"Right. Where's Aeryn?"

"I told you I don't know."

"Oh, right. Must have missed that in all the ringing."

"I thought you were humming?"

I finally peeled one eyelid from one eyeball and after a brief pause to make sure it stayed in 
place, I gave D'Argo a queasy glare. "You're doing it on purpose aren't you?"

D'Argo grinned a way too toothy, way too innocent grin. "I don't know what you're 
talking about, John. And look, your eye stayed in place. Congratulations. Get up."

I closed my eye again and moaned pitifully. "No. My head'll fall off."

D'Argo made a sound like a hurricane hitting the side of a house. "Crichton, I am 
reasonably certain that all your limbs, organs and any other important attachments will stay 
attached."

"D'Argo, you don't know anything about human physiology," I argued. "My head could 
fall off and the more you talk to me the more likely it is to happen."

"John, you are behaving like a small, furry . . . something."

"What?" It took my brain a while to process that. What with the humming, the ringing, the 
booming from the babbling Luxan and the big time headache, it was totally understandable 
that my processing speed wasn't up to it's usual snappiness. When I finally got it, I sort of 
laughed. It was a pathetic laugh and ended with an unappetizing burp. "A pussy?"

"Get up," he rumbled, shaking the very foundations of the world. 

I groaned and rolled over onto my other side and pushed myself to my knees. "Crap." I 
opened both my eyes and squinted. "Where the frell are we?" We were sitting in the dirt in 
the middle of a road, right smack dab in the center of what looked an awful lot like the dark 
underbelly of a Stanley Kubrik nightmare. 

"I have no clue."

"Great," I took another deep breath and tried to concentrate on making the spinning stop. 
"It cracks me up when you speak human, but you know, pussy doesn't mean what you thi-
-"

"Get up," he demanded again, this time with a warm and gentle, vice-like iron grip on my 
upper arm to encourage me.

I tried to shrug off his hand but he wouldn't let go. I struggled to my feet, hoping that if I 
got up, he'd let go and I'd be able to use my left arm sometime in the future . . . after 
intense rehabilitation. "D'Argo, chill, I'm getting up."

"We are out in the open and we are being watched. You're pathetic John, but not this 
pathetic. Move."

He propelled me across the road and down a filthy alley between grimy buildings. Placing 
both hands on my shoulders, he navigated me around the piles of trash and the piles of 
trash that were actually beings. I tried my hardest to keep track of where we were, where 
my feet were, who was behind me, what my name was and a dozen other things that were 
nagging at my soggy brain. The best I could do was one stupid question at a time, though. 
"Where are we going?"

"This way."

"Oh good. This way looks fun."

"It does," he said patiently. "Don't step on the Karbiuf."

"What's a Karbiuf?" 

The pile of rags in front of me shifted and something that looked like a cross between a 
poodle and an earthworm reared up. "Arrggaahhhhh."

I stumbled back into D'Argo. "Arrggaahhhhh."

He set me back on my feet and pushed me forward. "I told you not to step on it."

Gingerly stepping around its . . . tail, I offered it a silent apology and tried to ignore the 
bitterness in its gooey eyes. "Thanks for the heads up, D."

"No problem."

We made it to the end of the alley and D'Argo propped me up against a grubby, soot caked 
wall while he looked out into the street. 

"Where's Aeryn?"

"What part of I don't know, do you not understand?" He growled.

"The part where you don't know where she is."

I must have sounded pretty pitiful because instead of yelling or glaring at me, D'Argo gave 
me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, John. I was knocked unconscious as well. When I 
woke up I was next to you in the road."

"God. Reminds me of a night I had in St. Louis once. It was my girlfriend's birthday. I 
called her from a bar and told her I was having a great time in her honor," I started to giggle 
and began to wonder just how hard I had hit my head. This was more than just a 
concussion. Damn. "I got hammered. Woke up under some bleachers. I don't remember a 
damn thing. She dumped me when I got back to school."

"Brilliant, John."

"Yeah." Now I was depressed. St. Louis was a lifetime ago, I hadn't thought about it in 
years and it felt like it was just something I'd read in a book, not something I'd actually 
done. Not that I'd mind all the much if it had been something I'd just read about, but it's a 
little depressing when your memories start pretending they don't know you. "D'Argo. 
Something's wrong."

I started to slide down the wall and D'Argo hurried over to catch me. "What?"

"My head. Crap." I reached up and grabbed hold of my skull, trying to keep it from 
bursting like an overripe melon. "This isn't just me getting knocked out. I know what that 
feels like. This isn't it."

D'Argo started getting a little fuzzy and he wouldn't stay still. I squinted and blinked and 
finally gave up. "John? John? Frell it, Crichton," his voice sounded far away, at the other 
end of a really bad cell connection.

"Sorry, D," I felt myself dropping back into unconsciousness, and I welcomed the pain 
free oblivion.

***

" . . . --oison. The head injury aggravated the situation."

I was clawing my way out of the heavy, syrupy insensibility and I'm pretty sure those 
weren't the first words I wanted to hear. At the very least they weren't in the voice I 
wanted to hear. "I've been oisoned?" I muttered.

"John," D'Argo boomed.

"D'Argo, take it down a decibel or two, please, I'm begging now."

"John," he tried in a loud sotto-voice, and I tried not to giggle again. I might whimper but I 
draw the line at giggling. That's Stark's gig anyway. "You're okay. They used some sort 
of gas on us and it made you a little sick."

"A little sick. That's a little understatement, D'Argo." I forced my eyes open and took a 
look around. It was dark and smoky and smelled strongly of socks. I tried to sit up and 
D'Argo pushed me back. "Now you don't want me to get up? Where are we?"

"I found a healer's hut."

A healer's hut? Things just get better and better, don't they? "I knew this HMO would 
screw us. Didn't I say that? I said that. I said this HMO is going to screw us."

"I think he may be delirious," the new voice said.

"No, this is normal," D'Argo assured the voice. 

"Has he been brain damaged before?" 

"I'm almost certain he was born like this." Thanks, D'Argo.

"Where's Aeryn?" I asked again, trying to get them off the subject of the stability of my 
gray matter. Nothing like the UTs to make a man humble. 

"I still don't know, John, but when I do, you'll be the first person I tell."

"Cool. Thanks."

"You're welcome." He patted me roughly on the shoulder. It was comforting in the way 
only a guy uncomfortably comforting another guy can be comforting. 

"Where are we?" I tried again. One of these times I'd ask a question somebody could 
answer.

"A healer's hut, John," D'Argo spoke slowly as if I'd turned into a three-year old instead 
of just having a really frelling big headache.

"I know that, D'Argo," I replied patiently, I was too tired to be irritated. "I mean, where 
are we? We're on a planet. We weren't on a planet the first time I was knocked out."

"You are in the city of Kiel," the new voice materialized into a small, squat, furry thing 
with a pink, fleshy face -- an Ewok meets Miss Piggy in a horrible transporter accident. 

"Kill," I repeated. "Nice."

"Kiel," Mr. Ewiggy corrected.

"Kill."

"Kiel."

"Kill." Something about the little doctor man was setting off my freak-alert. 

The healer turned to D'Argo. "This is normal?"

D'Argo shrugged his massive shoulders. "It is."

"My sympathies." The healer poked me in the side with a long, surprisingly sharp finger. 
"You must rest and drink this," he handed me a small glass with something the color and 
consistency of camel snot that smelled suspiciously like sauerkraut. 

"I drink this?" I asked doubtfully. What would not kill me would probably make me sprout 
a second head, knowing my luck.

"You drink all of it."

"How about just a sip?"

"All of it," the little doctor said loudly, obviously getting irritated with me now. His pink 
face was rapidly turning a pretty amazing shade of blue. "There is poison in your system 
and it must be cleansed or you will collapse again. Do you want to collapse again?"

Mom logic. Gee, doc, I sure do want to collapse again, it was such good fun last time. I 
pinched my nose and tossed back the concoction. "Gahh. That's nasty. What good'll it do 
me if I throw it up?"

"Don't throw it up," he said flatly and poked me in the side one last time.

I didn't even bother to glare, my head still hurt, my stomach was queasy, and now my 
mouth tasted like the back end of a rhinoceros. I dropped back down onto the extra lumpy 
mattress and did my best to ignore D'Argo and the tiny, testy doctor. They were still 
chatting about my health or lack of, as the case seemed to be. I gathered I got my bell rung 
a lot harder than originally thought, because the headache and the double vision just 
weren't enough of a tip off, and then, to make everything so much more fun, the gas they 
used sucker punched my nervous system. Crap. 

I finally managed to tune the doctor out, and my thoughts drifted where they always drift. 
Crap again. Where was Aeryn? Not that I thought she couldn't take care of herself. She 
was nothing if not a terrifyingly capable woman. God, she was probably doing better than 
D'Argo and I. Well me for sure. She'd probably already kicked the asses of whoever did 
this to us and was busy ripping up the other side of this city looking for us. She'd show up 
soon. I hoped.

"John?"

Uh-oh, D'Argo had his gentle but cautious voice on. That wasn't ever very good. Usually 
meant he had bad news to lay on me, 'Aeryn's pregnant', or he knew I was going to freak 
out, 'and she's not sure who the father is'. Or both. "Spit it out, D."

He heaved the Luxan sigh of the put-upon. "The healer is concerned about your head 
injury. I tried to tell him that you were frequently incomprehensible when healthy, but he 
wasn't so sure. He wants to make sure it's normal incomprehensibility and not injury 
related incomprehensibility." 

Great. Am I crazy because I'm crazy? Or am I crazy because my brain's hemorrhaging? 
The eternal question. "D'Argo, how long have you known me?"

"A very, very frelling long time. Cycles and cycles."

"I'm not still that hard to understand, am I?" I'm pretty sure I was almost pleading there. 
My head hurt, I'm pathetic, what else do you want? I thought we'd made pretty good 
advances on the communication front, and, I mean, sure I keep talking sometimes, and I'm 
obscure on purpose, I miss having people around who get my pop-culture spoutings but I 
keep tossing them out because one day somebody will get it and besides, it's damn, damn 
funny when everybody else tries to use them. But I'm not that bad anymore. Am I? Maybe 
I do have an aneurysm.  

"No, John, you're not that bad," D'Argo told me delicately and I tried to roll my eyes at his 
tone. You'd think I had a pulse cannon pointing at a school bus full of nuns and bunnies 
and he was trying to talk me into putting the gun down.

"Thanks, D'Argo. So what does the little Ewok-gone-wrong want me to do?"

D'Argo blinked once, processed the 'incomprehensible', and shook his head slowly; 
tentacles waving almost mesmerizingly as he did. I closed my eyes tightly against the swell 
of dizziness. Stop moving your head, D'Argo. Stop. Please. Urg. "He wants you to rest 
here tonight."

"Only if he takes the rocks out from under this damn mattress first."

"I'll tell him." 

I could feel D'Argo start to move away and I reached out a hand and grabbed him. Then I 
opened my eyes and let go because I really hadn't wanted to grab that. "Sorry. Um, did he 
tell you where we are? I mean aside from," I pitched my voice a half-dozen octaves higher 
and did my best impression of the little, furry medical madman, "the city of Kiel."

D'Argo eyed my hand suspiciously and rumbled thoughtfully. "He says beings show up 
here. He tends them, sends them on their way, and he doesn't ask beyond that."

"Is this the planet we were orbiting or not?" I know for a fact that I'd moved from groggy, 
stupid questions, to questions that I'm pretty sure we needed to know to survive. 

"I don't know. I don't know how we got here and the healer doesn't know either, or, more 
likely, he doesn't care." D'Argo leaned down next to me and tried his hand at whispering 
again. "He doesn't want payment, John. He just said it was his job to tend to us and send 
us along."

"Along where?"

D'Argo shrugged helplessly. "No idea."

"Great. No idea where we are. No idea why we're here. No clue where Aeryn is. Good to 
know lady luck still hates our guts." I want a week, just a single week, seven days, where 
I'm not knocked unconscious, shot, stabbed, mentally cleansed, cloned, or in other ways 
molested and stressed out. 

"We are still alive, John. She must not hate us that much."

I tried to mimic a Luxan sized sigh and ended up doubled over, coughing my right lung up. 
The little doctor sprinted back over and tried to force another glass of something slimy 
down my throat. "No thanks," I gasped. 

"It will stop the cough."

"No thanks."

He raised his Bert-loving mono-brow and bared some gnarly looking teeth. Whoa. 
Doctors, no problem. Dentists? You're SOL. "If you collapse, it is not on my hands."

Yeah, I don't want anything else to do with your hands, buddy. "Fair enough.

He took the opportunity to poke me again and then he turned to glare at D'Argo. "Keep him 
down."

We both watched him waddle back into his little den and then turned to look at each other. 
"Where are my boots?"

The big guy hesitated for a minute. "I think you should rest."

"Fine. Find me a gutter somewhere and lay me down," I was slowly getting myself out of 
bed, "but I've got a bad feeling about this place and that little dude."

D'Argo was undergoing some pretty intense mental processes and staring at me. Come on, 
D'Argo, you know I'm right. Finally he nodded his head sharply and pulled me up 
straight. "Alright. For the record, I don't think he'll hurt us."

"Noted," I groaned and swayed and thought about what it would take to stop the planet's 
spinning. Now that would be cool to see. 

"But I don't like it here, either. The smell is horrendous." D'Argo wrinkled his nose and 
glared over his shoulder in the general direction of our friendly, post-apocalyptic 
neighborhood healer. 

While D'Argo looked for my boots, I looked for my pants. Why did he have to take off my 
pants for a head injury? I grumbled and groused and finally found them. I tugged them on 
quickly and turned around in time to catch my boots. It just about cost me my balance, but I 
stumbled back into the bed and shot a frosty glare in D'Argo's direction. The big guy at 
least had the decency to look contrite. 

I had one boot on when the healer came back into the room, his little furry legs chugging as 
he flew across the floor. "What are you doing? Rest! You need to rest!" He grabbed my 
remaining boot with one long, clawed hand and started to tug. "You will collapse. You will 
not be strong."

I tugged back and frowned. "I thought you didn't care if I collapsed?"

He smiled at me, an ingratiating, placating sort of smile, but kept my boot in an iron grip. 
"But you don't want to collapse, do you? You are my patient. My patients should be strong 
when they leave me. Strong like Arkanthian Ravage Beast. Strong!" 

He tried to rip my boot out of my hand again but I yanked back and pulled the little monster 
off the floor and into my shins. "Ow. Damn it. Let go."

"Strong," he whined. 

I shook him off and eyed him warily while I pulled my boot on and laced it up. "Where are 
we?"

"Kiel."

"Why are we here?"

"I don't know. They come. They go," he mumbled and looked around nervously, licking 
fleshy lips. 

"Why, oh why, don't I believe you?"

"You are a bitter, untrusting soul?" He offered.

"That and the fact that you're lying," D'Argo growled cheerfully.

The healer bent his head and inhaled deeply, driving his tiny shoulders up into his ears. 
"Maybe I'm not saying the truth--"

"Which is the standard definition of lying," I pointed out helpfully.

The little guy gave me an almost murderous glare, but it's hard to be too creeped out by an 
oversized Gremlin. "You want out?" He spat. "You make it to the end. Yes? I don't know 
who makes it to the end. I don't know where the end is. I don't know what's after the end. 
I don't care. My job is to make you strong. Strong like--"

I waved my hand, cutting off the speech. "Yeah, yeah, strong like Arkham Asylum rats, 
got it." I stood up again and gritted my teeth against the world's tendency to heave 
drunkenly under my feet. I snatched my vest from the back of a stool and pulled it on and 
then went for my gun belt. My empty gun belt. "Where's Winona?" I looked up at D'Argo, 
horrified. This was worse than being naked. "Where's your Qualta blade?"

D'Argo frowned sullenly and glared at the sniveling doctor. "I haven't seen it since I woke 
up."

"This sucks," I observed succinctly because, really, what else could I say. It sucked. Not 
only did it suck but it was also very bad. There was nothing about any of this that was, in 
any way, good. Except maybe that I could stand up, remember my own name, and I 
wasn't wearing fishnets.

"It sucks hugely." D'Argo elaborated and we both stood in that small, smoky hut, trying to 
fathom the absolute suckiness we'd once again descended into.

***

I was never a fan of Captain Stubing. Sure he was a nice guy, everybody liked him, stern 
but fair, but, c'mon, you've got to admit he was about as interesting as licking slime off the 
bottom of the boat. 'Course nobody ever said I'd found my way aboard the Love Boat of 
the Uncharted Territories. 

Captain D'Argo, for example, is the anti-Stubing. While I was cooling my heels on a crate, 
he was across the road holding some scrawny, Sebacean-looking guy by the neck and 
doing a pretty good job of scaring the hell out of him. I didn't think we were going to get 
much from him, I doubted anybody here had any better idea about the wheres and whys 
than we did, but it's the kind of thing that makes D'Argo happy. 

After we'd left the healer's hut we did a little looking around. And what did we find? Not a 
whole hell of a lot. Dirty shacks, dirty buildings, dirty critters, and a lot of them. The sky 
was a quaint Industrial Revolution black, with some not so fluffy, sooty gray clouds for 
contrast. I couldn't tell if it was day or night -- there was a sort of cold, diffused light over 
everything. I wasn't able to see what its source was, but given the weather conditions on 
the planet, I didn't think we were anywhere near a sun strong enough to punch through 
those clouds. 

How the frell did we end up here? I tried to back trace the events leading up to our trip to 
the gutter of the UTs in my mind, but things were, understandably, a little scrambled. 
We'd stopped by a commerce station to pick up some parts for Lo'la, duct tape for my 
module, and some food that wasn't green and jiggly. 

For once things were pretty quiet. No wanted beacons screaming our names, no clots of 
drunk Peacekeepers, no evil geniuses or deranged priests. Quiet. Which, of course, turned 
out to be just as bad as any of those other things. For once I think I can safely say I didn't 
do it. Of course, since I didn't know what "it" was, I guess I could have done it. That was 
another depressing thought, in a day full of depressing thoughts. Crap. Whatever "it" was, 
the end result was a swarm of big, furry bugs with big, loud guns chasing us through the 
station. There was our pathetic attempt at hiding, followed by the big boom and my present 
headache. And that's all I had. Damn.

D'Argo finally put down the terrified guy and stomped back over to me. "He doesn't know 
anything," he told me in his gloomiest tone.

I rubbed at my eyes and yawned. "Nah, didn't think he would. We're all transplants."

"He was terrified of being on the street, though. The longer we talked the more anxious he 
became."

I gave D'Argo a considering look. "You sure that didn't have anything to do with the fact 
that you had him by the neck?"

"That's a completely different kind of scared. I can tell the difference, you know," he told 
me haughtily. I managed a small smile at that and rubbed my eyes again. "How's your 
head?"

"Better, I think. There's only one of you now." The headache was still there but the 
dizziness was fading and I didn't feel like my stomach was trying to do a triple lutz 
anymore. All in all, I'd call that better.

"Good. I'd still like to find a place for you to rest."

"Well, pick a direction, Cap'n," I said with as much obnoxious pep as I could muster.

D'Argo gave me a look that said he wasn't buying the jovial act, so I just shrugged my 
shoulders and scratched my ear. "We'll go this way," he said, pointing down the road to 
our left.

"Why that way?" I asked suspiciously.

D'Argo frowned in frustration and hissed softly. "Because I said so." 

D'Argo grabbed my arm, pulled me up, steadying me when I swayed -- damn it, this was 
getting old -- and led me off in a general leftward direction. I didn't pay too much attention 
to where we were going, it wasn't like anything was going to sneak up on D'Argo, and my 
eyes kept being pulled to the sky. It was just so weirdly dark, smoky, thick and the ashy 
clouds that limped pathetically by, seemed more like half-assed versions of clouds -- 
afterthoughts, rather than the real thing. I suddenly felt an almost suffocating surge of 
claustrophobia. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth and let D'Argo drag me along. 

The closing of my eyes didn't really help as much as I thought it might. We were the only 
people on the street, but I could feel other eyes staring out at us from the black, empty 
windows around us, and itch on my scalp told me those dark bundles of filth that were 
trying so hard not to be noticed as living things were watching us closely, too closely. All 
of it was pressing in on me and making me damned uneasy. And the air, I finally noticed it 
and I wondered why I hadn't all along. It was still and dead. 

"D'Argo, I don't like this place," I mumbled. 

D'Argo nodded and tightened his grip on my arm like I was a small child about to wander 
off. "I don't like it either. It's very quiet."

"Quiet is bad," I told him, sharing my earlier revelation. No, I wasn't at my most brilliant, 
but I had plenty of excuses for that, ultimately though, it came down to pain and the 
distraction of being slightly freaked. I couldn't shake the feeling; it was like having bugs 
crawling around under my skin. Deeply unpleasant.

We walked about another quarter metra when I was suddenly forced to mentally add to the 
'quiet is bad' observation. It now went something along the lines of -- quiet is bad, except 
when it's broken by the lonely howl of a demon forged on Satan's anvil in the fires of hell, 
which is then very, very bad. "D'Argo, tell me you hear that." Maybe it was just my ears 
ringing again. Please just be my ears ringing.

"I hear that." Frell.

The metallic wail was coming from somewhere to the back and right of us. I twisted 
around and tried to get a look at whatever it was but D'Argo pulled me along down the road 
again, and I stumbled back, almost falling. "D'Argo, we've got to get off the street."

"Where do you suggest we go?"

"Pick a damn alley," I whispered harshly. 

D'Argo hissed and started marching me along even more quickly than before. Whatever it 
was, it was coming on us fast though, and I could feel the wail vibrating through my bones 
like a dentist's drill on a sore tooth. 

I darted another quick look over my shoulder and immediately wished I hadn't. Not more 
than a couple of blocks behind us was the sorriest looking collection of beings I had ever 
seen. And coming from a member of the crew of Moya that was really saying something. 
As they got closer to us, I could finally make out their cries above the demonic din. There 
were probably fifty of them, a handful of bizarre critters of all shapes and sizes and every 
single one of them was scared out of its mind. 

I tripped over my feet again and landed heavily against D'Argo. He hissed down at me but 
finally slowed his pace and shoved me back against a wall. 

"We're not going to outrun that," I told him, breathing heavily.

"Frell," he growled. 

"Frell," I agreed. 

I looked back down the street, the mass of panicked beings getting closer and now I could 
see what was driving them. Robots. There were three of them, probably a good three feet 
taller than D'Argo and twice as wide. This was a first. I don't remember ever seeing actual 
robots in the Uncharted Territories. That bioloid nightmare doesn't count. These were real, 
honest to Asimov, gunmetal gray robots. 

Any blind stinking terror I may have been inclined to feel, faded in the face of the extreme 
coolness of seeing these robots. I couldn't help it. Humanoid, fully articulated limbs, 
glowing lights in odd places on their torsos, and angular, art deco man-of-metal faces. 
They definitely weren't Robbie; gigantic, mean ass, mother looking distant cousins maybe, 
but damn it, they were still an awesome site to behold.  

I was so fixated on them it took me a few seconds to notice that D'Argo was cursing my 
name and pulling me down the block toward the next alley. "Robots, D'Argo."

"I am very happy that you find them so fascinating John, but perhaps you didn't notice that 
those people running from them don't look nearly as thrilled. I have the strong suspicion 
they know something we don't."

"Oh, well, sure," I grumbled. I took one last quick look at the robots and followed D'Argo 
to the alley.

"Luxan. One." The cold, empty voice stopped us both cold. "Human. One." And if I 
hadn't already been frozen, that would have done it. Waiting at the mouth of the alley was a 
fourth robot, just as big and gnarly looking as the other three. "Move . . . along.Move . . . 
along.Move . . .along.Move . . .along." It pointed a long arm in our direction and the eerie 
green light coming from the fingertips was more than enough to get us moving along.

"D'Argo," I whispered as we both backed warily into the street, "he said I was human."

"You are human, John."

"How would they know that?" I persisted.

"Everybody knows that," D'Argo snarled.

"No, no, they didn't say 'John Crichton. Human. One.' They said 'Human. One.' They 
don't know me, D'Argo, but they know I'm human." I'd slowed to a halt, my concussion 
fuzzed brain trying to work out if I'd actually just discovered something worth knowing. 

"Along.Move. . .along." 

I looked up straight into a large metal hand, glowing green, like a cheap Flash Gordon 
special effect, and then I was flying through the air and landing with in a painful heap at 
D'Argo's feet. The big guy picked me up quickly, god only knows why, I was more 
trouble than help on this trip so far. I gritted my teeth and shuffled along with him, trying 
to shake off uncomfortable burn of electric shock shooting through every nerve in my 
body.

The robots were herding us down the street, their howling drone and the monotonous chant 
'move along' was starting in on my head. I couldn't concentrate beyond the next step and 
the already lousy headache was getting worse. God, I did not want to pass out again. 
Please, please don't let me pass out again. Not that I thought anybody was actually 
listening to me. I licked my lips and concentrated on putting one foot after another. 

I kept one eye on D'Argo's back and the other on the ground beneath my feet and tried to 
ignore the new pain slicing through my skull. I actually got a pretty good rhythm going, 
but wouldn't you know it, just as I was in the groove and I had my headache back at a 
manageable level, I slammed into D'Argo's back and hit the ground again. For what 
seemed like the hundredth time that day, D'Argo reached down and pulled me back to my 
feet. 

"Why'd we stop?" I muttered.

"There's a very big wall in our way," he said simply, as if he'd expected no less. Just a 
little too prosaic, is our Luxan these days.

I looked around D'Argo and noticed that there was, in fact, a very big wall in our way. 
Huh. It was a good thirty feet high, smooth, metallic, with techno looking dohickies all 
along the top. It didn't look friendly. Our four robots had been joined by a couple more and 
they were funneling us toward a small gate in the wall. This was so far down the scale of 
good I was wishing for the feathered chicks again. 

"D'Argo, this is bad," I said softly, a little bit of the earlier fear returning.

"You're extremely observant today, John," he grumbled darkly. "I would never have 
noticed that this was bad."

I ducked my head and mentally kicked myself. "Sorry."

D'Argo either didn't hear me or didn't care or was just on a roll. "Because, you know, I 
thought for sure we were on a Sora pleasure planet. Thank you for pointing out that we 
are, in fact, thoroughly frelled."

"Now you're just being pissy," I groused. "I said I was sorry."

"Move. . .along.Move. . .along."

The glacial synthesized voice boomed through my head and I winced. "Yeah, yeah. 
Moving."

D'Argo, despite his irritation, took me by the shoulder again and we shuffled along to the 
gate like good little pathetic beings. This day continued to suck.

***

If things on the outside of the walls had been gray and depressing, things on the inside 
were almost psychotically joyless. Our robot keepers lined the inside of the walls, watching 
everything with demonic red gazes, while those of us funneled through the tiny gate, 
shuffled nervously around in a thin, barren strip of no-man's land that hugged the wall. 

Beyond our ribbon of dirt was the start of Barnum and Bailey's circus in hell. Lights 
flashed and blinked in eye searing patterns, and screams and discordant music drifted to us 
along with the smells of rotting garbage and sour milk-like substances. At the edge of our 
little patch of nothing were lines of toady looking beings, watching us all with hungry 
eyes. This didn't look like fun.

In that not so warm monotone, the robots at our backs told us to 'along.move' and pushed 
us forward into the ramshackle city. Our fellow captives were rethinking their admission 
into the circus of the damned, but the 'bots weren't letting them back out. The closer we all 
got to the city, the worse the general panic became. 

D'Argo and I were trying to hang back, get a view of things, and what we saw was pretty 
damn unpleasant. As soon as the first captives crossed out of the no-man's land, they were 
grabbed by the natives and pulled into the city. 

"If anybody touches me," D'Argo growled, "they'll be looking for their limbs on the other 
side of that wall."

I wasn't sure it was going to be too big of a problem, at least not for us. The natives were 
picking off the weak and panicky. Anybody who even looked like they'd put up a fight 
was given a relatively wide berth. I know I was still looking a little like dren -- a lot like 
dren -- the poison was still working its way out of my system, but there was nothing about 
D'Argo that said he'd be an easy target. 

D'Argo put his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. Straightening up as much as 
I could, I tugged at my coat and tried to look a little less like baggage. D'Argo'd had to 
carry me enough already that day. I put on my 'I'm a lunatic' face and he and I pushed our 
way through the ugly throng and into the city.

"Now what?" I asked once we'd made it through the nasty critter gauntlet.

"Answers," D'Argo replied.

"Which we find where?"

"How the frell should I know?"

Winding through the first line of shacks landed us in some sort of market place, where we 
waded through yet another ragged mass of sorry beinghood. I tried not to look at what the 
stalls were selling, I'd had a glimpse and it was more than enough. My stomach still wasn't 
up to that.

"I thought you were the Captain. Captains are supposed to know everything." I swatted 
away a tiny pickpocket and glanced back up at D'Argo. "You're destroying my Captain 
Kirk illusions here, D'Argo."

D'Argo had obviously had a look at the stalls too, because he couldn't quite manage to 
keep the queasiness out of his glare. "I've been some bad places, Crichton, but this . . ." 
He shook his head and I nodded my agreement.

We both swung around at the nearest shriek, and watched, with a colossal amount of 
revulsion, as a pair of Sebaceans were lashed to something that looked way too much like a 
spit. I licked my lips and tried not to throw up. I am never eating a gyros again. 

"Answers," I croaked and tried to pull my eyes away.

"Someplace that's not here." D'Argo was having the same problem not looking that I was 
having. 

The eardrum-shattering scream shook me out of my paralysis and I pushed D'Argo toward 
the opposite side of the market. "Not here," I agreed. "But if this is the welcome we get, I 
don't think things are going to be much better anyplace else."

"Weapons." D'Argo finally pulled his gaze away and turned to clear a path for us through 
the crowd.

"Big weapons."

"Many big weapons."

"We need them."

The unpleasant sights didn't end as we shoved through the crowed. They got worse. And 
the press of beings got worse. And the smells got worse and the screams got louder and all 
in all it made me miss the L.A. riots. 

D'Argo and I pushed, and shoved, and tossed away the beings pressing around us and 
finally made it to a relatively safe area of the market. We had what looked like a way out to 
our right and a good solid wall at our backs. We stopped to take a breather and leaned back 
to admire the chaos. 

I've been around the Uncharted Territories for a while now, I wouldn't say I'm an expert, 
but I've got a pretty good handle on things these days and, hell, I've even got a bit of a rep 
in the seamier parts. All of which meant not a frelling thing just then. And brother, I knew 
it.

The market was a pretty standard layout, I've seen similar on a hundred different planets. 
And you know, it's just one of those things I catch myself thinking every now and again -- 
a hundred different planets. Not cities; planets. Damn. Anyway, the stalls, carts, tables 
with dren pilled on them, lined the edges of a wide square and were clumped together in 
dozens of groups in the square itself. The stalls sold bits -- bits of machinery, bits of cloth, 
bits of things I couldn't identify, and bits I could identify and wished I couldn't. X creature 
at one table would be selling the bits of Y creature and the table next to it would be Y 
creature selling the bits of X creature. It was a pretty impressive display of capitalism at it's 
most gruesome. Go free market.

Like all the other markets I'd been to, this one was crowded. But unlike those happier 
markets, all the beings in this one were trying to keep some personal space and a wary eye 
at their backs. The mass flowed and the creatures danced about each other with surprising 
delicacy; nobody wanting to get too close to anybody else. The mood of the market 
screamed paranoia and sudden violence. 

To make things even more insanely intense, there were scuffles here and there, roving 
gangs of beings battling with other roving gangs of beings for no reason I could see. Off to 
our left we watched a trio of wide cockroach looking things corner a Delvian. The Delvian 
put up one hell of a fight and two of the 'roaches were choking on their own limbs before 
the third one put a pincher through the Delvian's throat. 

I brushed a shaky hand across my eyes and pressed my fingertips into my temples. It 
wasn't the sights -- well, okay it wasn't only the sights. I was still on the dren side of 
wellness and no matter how much I tried to will myself one hundred percent health-wise it 
just wasn't happening fast enough. I needed to be as solid as I could be or we were never 
going to make it out of here.

I dropped my hand and noticed the cockroach, with the skewered Delvian still dangling 
from one long pincher, watching us watch it. It clicked its mandibles in our general 
direction. I got the message and shot a glance at D'Argo. 

Nodding down at me with out looking, D'Argo hissed softly at the creature. "We've 
already been here too long. Head toward the street, I'll watch your back."

"Aye, aye, cap'n." I sketched a half-hearted salute and shoved a scrawny looking Tavloid 
out of my way. Yeah, yeah, Tavlek. No Aeryn around to deck me for it, though. God, I 
missed her.

The market exited onto a narrow street, more ally than street really, where thankfully, the 
crush of beings was considerably less. I took a deep breath and immediately spat it back 
out. Note to self: do not take a deep breath when in fourth level of hell. The air was thick 
with rot and the body odor of a hundred different species. There's that surreal hundred 
again. I cleared the phlegm out of my throat and spat again, trying to get the taste out of my 
mouth. It was no use. I spat uselessly one last time and a thought I never thought I'd think 
flittered through my brain -- what I wouldn't give for a dentic. 

"News. Freshes. Don't likes se way she tastes? Don't likes her . . . sharms?"

I had moved into a defensive position before the soft, reedy voice even finished its first 
word. I mentally thanked the cycles of living with an ex-peacekeeper. It always frelling 
came in handy. 

D'Argo had taken a similarly defensive posture and was hissing again. This time it was at a 
plant. I mean literally a plant and not in the way Delvians are plants. This guy looked . . . 
well he looked like a head of broccoli. Only not. But that was about the best analogy I 
could come up with. 

It was probably as tall as D'Argo, and had a thick, err, trunk, twice as big around as 
D'Argo. His skin was smooth and a weird, shimery gray-green. It was like you could see 
into it, layers deep, but it had an opalescent cast that made my eyes cross. It had leg like 
appendages, three of them, and its arms, if you could call them that, looked like long 
leaves, trailing down to his waist and again, there were three of them. I couldn't really tell 
where its eyes were, or in this case, visual sensory receptors, but I was thinking they might 
be under the sprouts at the top of its head; there was a wide strip that was slightly darker 
than the surrounding skin there. That was my best guess at any rate. 

"What shus gots?" Its mouth? Well its mouth seemed to be more a thinning of the skin just 
below the aforementioned dark patch that vibrated for speech. All in all, low on the creepy 
scale, high on the interesting scale, and probably just as high in essential vitamins and 
minerals. "What shus gots?" It repeated again, this time a little more impatiently.

"We've got nothing, man," I told it, raising my arms and spreading them slightly to show 
just how much nothing I had.

It shook its sprouts at me, which really isn't as dirty as it sounds, and waved a leaf under 
my nose. "Shus gots somesin'. Everytings gots somesin'. If shus gots somesin', is maybe 
us's can help shus."

I looked at D'Argo, who helpfully shrugged and then looked back at our new floral friend. 
Gave the 'animal, vegetable, or mineral' game a whole new spin. "What do you want?"

"What shus gots?" It asked again, waving slightly where it stood.

"I've got the best of Prince. I've got a killer gumbo recipe. I've got a Star Trek joke for 
every occasion. What do you want?"

"Freshes. Shus freshes. Shus know where shus is?"

"Not a frelling clue, buddy."

It twisted the top part of its body to one side, and tapped a claw like foot on the ground. 
"Ecksplaining to shus. Heres is where shus is. Shus at se edge. Shus wants to be at se oser 
edge. Sis se begin. Shus wants se end. See?"

"No."

"To gets to se end shus needs to starts. Heres. Shus gots somesin, sen us's helps you gets 
to end."

"Why would you help?"

"Wants to gets to end, too. Helps. Us's has knows. Shus has somesin, maybe helps us's 
gets closer to end."

I stared at the creature for a long moment. I couldn't tell if it was sincere or not. It wanted 
to help us because it would help itself. I got that. No real altruism there, which was good, I 
wouldn't have trusted that. 

"Sinks maybe shus is strong. Looks strong. Maybe smarts, too." D'Argo barked out a 
sharp laugh at that but under my withering glare he backed off and gave me an apologetic 
look. Well, no, actually he didn't. He shrugged his shoulders at me and kept chuckling. 

The creature twisted itself back and forth on it trunk for a minute while we silently regarded 
each other and D'Argo giggled as only a Luxan can giggle. Are we sure I was the only one 
with a head injury?

"Shus is warriors. Yess?"

I glanced back over at D'Argo who was looking at me with undisguised hilarity. Were 
those tears in his eyes? I ground my teeth and glared venomously at him. Alright, this was 
too much. Five cycles, D, five cycles. I am not inept at the art of ass kickings, I haven't 
been for quite a while. "Yes," I bit out. 

"Yess. Sees? Us's has knows, shus has strongs. Helps us's, helps shus."

"Give me a minute to consult Captain Giggles here." I turned around, and grabbing 
D'Argo's arm pulled him a short distance away from every vegetable-hating kid's 
nightmare. "You done laughing yet, D?" I growled angrily. My pride had been wounded 
enough for one day, thanks.

"I'm sorry, John. It was just . . . it was just the situation. And it's not you." He held up 
his hands in a placating gesture. "It's both of us. Really."

"Fine, whatever," I growled again. I wasn't done being pissed yet. "So? Do we help out 
the Jolly Green Giant or what?"

"Do we have a choice?"

"Yes, but it sucks."

D'Argo sighed. "Don't they always." He shrugged again and looked back over at the 
creature. "We keep a close eye on him and we can ditch him if we have to."

"Fair enough," I agreed and stomped back over to our new pal. "Buddy, you got yourself a 
pair of strongs."

***

"So which one?"

"Both."

"Why both?"

"Because that's the way it is," I snapped, D'Argo frowned, I frowned back. Good times.
What daylight there'd been was fading into a smoky twilight and D and I still didn't have 
much clue about where we were. The day had been pretty unenlightening on that score. To 
sum up -- we'd been chased by bugs with guns, knocked unconscious, tossed in an ugly 
city, herded by big robots, we'd lost Aeryn, and now we were following a walking head of 
broccoli like he was the second coming of the pied piper. It was Monday somewhere, 
wasn't it?

"Yee?"

"Haw."

"Both?"

"Right."

"I don't get it. Why not just Yee?"

Don't ask me how we came to this; I don't know. Quite frankly the train of thought that led 
to our current conversation was a twisty, twisty one that derailed somewhere around 
Newark and past that we were just frelled and better off not remembering the better times, 
back before this train ride of joy began. But, whatever, it kept my mind off just how 
queasy I got trying to watch broccoli lad walk. Things shouldn't move like that. Ever. At 
all. Gaah.

I sighed and looked down, watching the dust swirl around my boots. "Because then it's 
not 'yee-haw'."

"Human is a stupid language," D'Argo huffed with great disgust.

"English."

"Whatever. How about if I just say yee? I like yee."

"How about if you don't say it at all and leave the human speaking to those of us who 
aren't going to say yee-haw all girly like?"

"You don't complain when Aeryn speaks human."

"That's because I like Aeryn and I'm confident in her ability to effectively use both the yee 
and the haw. Why are you bustin' my chops?"

D'Argo gave me a Luxan-Gallic shrug of great indifference. "Because I am bored out of 
my mind." 

I rolled by eyes but was forced to agree with his state of bored. For a place that was as 
mindlessly, chaotically violent as this one, it had been pretty boring so far. Well, aside 
from the skewered Delvian and the roast Seba- I repeat my earlier "gahh".

"Rock, paper, scissors?" I offered, hopefully. Anything to get the memory of toasty 
Sebacean out of my head. 

"No, I'm too bored even for that," D'Argo groaned piteously. "I thought he wanted 
warriors? When do we get to hit something? I wouldn't be bored if I could hit things."

I shrugged and kicked a rock. It rolled lethargically away from me, bounced against a 
larger rock and flopped sadly back into the dust. It was bored, too. 

"Never mind," D'Argo snarled suddenly. I looked up startled and yet stealthily because 
I've learned the hard way that sudden movement can be a bad thing. 

Broccoli boy was scampering back to us in that oddly rolling way that broccoli scampers. 
Really, it's like his -- its, whatever -- legs were joined to his body as a loose afterthought 
and they swung out all crazy-chicken like when he walked. And at a full on scamper it 
made me blink my eyes a whole lot to try and get the world to stop spinning. 

Not far behind him were a pair of Sebacean-like critters and a 'Roach. The first two looked 
Sebacean enough really, except for thing where their faces looked like melted wax. And I 
don't know if this was our 'Roach from before or another 'Roach. They all look alike. 
Seriously. 

"Shus strongs. Shus fightses." Broccoli boy waved his leaves at the critters following him 
and ducked behind D'Argo. Brave one, our Broccoli boy.

"Why are we fighting?"

"Shus's strongs. Shus said shus fightses for us's. Fights."

"Does it really matter, John?" D'Argo asked reasonably.

"Well, no," I shrugged back just as reasonably. "I just wanted to know if we wanted 
something from them or if this was just a regular ol' ass whupin'."

"I vote for ass whupin'," D'Argo said brightly.

"Broccoli boy?"

"Seyses has nosings. Seyses tried to steal from us's."

"Steal what?" I eyed our veggie friend a little skeptically. It's not like he had pockets. 

"Knows."

"Alright, alright," I held up my hands. An ass whupin' it was. You know, once upon a 
time, I was a theoretical physicist. I could wield a mean scientific calculator. Equations 
trembled before me. Now I brawl in the slums on a planet far from my own humble star. I 
miss my lab coat.

I was just squaring up for battle, preparing to make the opening witty remarks designed to 
make our opponents indignant and pissed enough to make that key mistake that would 
allow me to triumph like I do, when the 'Roach took a flying leap at me and slashed me 
across the chest with one long pointy leg. I fell back with a curse but it was one me before I 
could right myself. D'Argo wasn't having much luck with the critters o' wax either. One 
was on his back and the other was wrapped around one leg. Not that I noticed all that much 
at the time, I was trying not to have my face snapped off by black, shiny mandibles. I hate 
bugs. God above, I hate bugs. 

I remember once reading about bugs and how they couldn't actually grow above a certain 
size because the weight of their exoskeleton would crush their internal organs. I wanted 
very much just then to find the writer of that particular piece of brilliance and feed him to 
my new, huge, bug friend. 

There was an upside to fighting the 'Roach, though - bugs don't have eyelids. I grabbed a 
handful of dust and ground it into the 'Roach's eyes, getting a grim sort of satisfaction 
from the mucus that oozed out as I did so. It screamed and pulled itself away from me. I 
scrambled to my feet and put an arm around the neck of the wax guy who was trying to bite 
the back of D'Argo's head and gave him the old heave-ho. After that things went 
considerably better. The 'Roach ran off shrieking and the two Madame Tussaud's rejects 
lay in broken heaps on the dirty street. 

I gave D'Argo a quick look over but he seemed fine, a little put out at being jumped like 
that, but otherwise fine. Broccoli boy seemed particularly thrilled by this turn of events. Or 
at least I think he did. He was twisting on his trunk and waving his arms and sprouts 
around in a way that was probably some sort of tree version of a happy dance. Seems, as 
usual, I came off the worse for wear. I rubbed at my stinging chest and grimaced when my 
hand came away red. 

D'Argo made some concerned noises and pulled my shirt away from the wound. "That 
doesn't look very good."

"Doesn't feel very good," I groused and bunched up the edge of my shirt, pressing it to the 
cut to try and stop the bleeding. Probably needed stitches. Great. Who was going to give 
them to me? Little freaky healer Ewoks? I most emphatically think frelling not.

While D and I were hemming and hawing, but no yeeing, over my battle injury, one of the 
wax dudes tried to get up and run off. His attempt to slip away was thwarted by the his 
sudden realization that his feet didn't work the way he was used to them working and he 
fell on his face. Broccoli boy made a sound like a sick modem and started shaking his 
leaves all over the place. 

"Stopss its," BB shrieked.

"Why?" D'Argo asked, expressing both of our puzzlement here. It was supposed to be an 
ass whupin'. We whuped ass. What else did he need?

"Itss gots knows."

"You said it didn't know anything," I pointed out, even more confused now while my trust 
in Broccoli boy went from tiny bit to none at all in about a microt flat.

"Knows us's has knows."

"So?"

"Kills its," BB hissed furiously.

"That'll be a negative, good buddy," I told him. My trust going from none to 'there's no 
way in hell I'm turning my back on BB'. "You wanted protection, we protected you. 
We're not hired killers." Today, I added silently, with a sort of morose bitterness. Then I 
mentally kicked myself and told myself to get off that moral high horse and focus on the 
crappy facts at hand. We're not hired killers, never had been, and that critter didn't need 
killing. Easy enough.

"Protects bads shus. Now everytings knows, we've gots knows. Nows all harder. 
Stupids. Strongs maybes; smarts no."

I didn't like being called an idiot by something I used to cheerfully bite the heads off of 
when I was a kid. "So tell me something, Broccoli boy, how the hell did they know you 
knew something?"

BB shook his sprouts at me and swiveled around, stomping off, or actually it was more 
like a Ministry of Silly-Walking off. Sort of ruined the effect, you ask me.

I looked over at D'Argo who had a confused frown on his face. "So?"

"Well. I guess we follow him. He still knows more than we do," D'Argo offered weakly. 
He wasn't anymore impressed by Broccoli boy than I was. 

"He says he knows more," I mumbled.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"No."

"Fine."

I sighed and rubbed at my chest again. "I hate my life."

"So do I."

***

A half dozen blocks and three brawls later, we stopped while Broccoli boy got his 
bearings. I leaned heavily against a wall and tried to catch my breath. My chest was 
burning like a mother and I had a cut across the back of my right hand now that was 
bleeding down onto my fingers, making them black and sticky. And to cap that all off, so 
to speak, I'd lost a tooth. I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth, probing at a raw, 
bloody hole where an incisor had been. I hate this damn city.

I shot a glare in the direction of our 'guide'. Broccoli boy was twisting around in the 
middle of the street, not the most inconspicuous walking plant there ever was, trying to 
decide which way to go. He wouldn't tell us where we were headed; the most he seemed to 
actually do for us was grumble about our intelligence -- or lack of -- and hide behind 
D'Argo. 

"This deal sucks," D'Argo rumbled near my ear.

"I told you," I grumbled back.

"No you didn't."

"Well I meant to."

He snaked a finger out and pulled down a torn edge of my shirt. "That is still bleeding."
I irritably swatted his hand away. I wasn't in the mood for a Luxan mother hen. "It's 
stopping. Mostly an ooze now." I growled.

D'Argo stared at me for a few microts. I wouldn't look at him, but I could feel his gaze, 
heavy on me. I had to resist the urge to reach my hand up and rub at the side of my face. 
Finally the weight lifted and he looked out at Broccoli boy. "We could pluck his sprouts 
one at a time and get the information from him," he suggested.

I pursed my lips, cursed when I realized I had a split lip and pursing hurt, and thought 
about it. "Or put him through a salad shooter." I laughed to myself. "Kinda like the wood 
chipper scene in 'Fargo'."

D'Argo was looking at me again, but this time questioning not judging. I grinned up at 
him. Grinning also hurt, by the way, not quite as much as pursing though. "Chews him up 
and spits him out."

He smiled at that thought. "Cool."

Broccoli boy ambled back over to us and I swear if he'd had an actual face he would have 
been looking down his nose at us. I frowned while I pondered that; can a vegetable actually 
look down its nose at you? Answer? Figuratively, yes. Literally, he needs a nose first. 
Maybe one of those Mr. Potato-Head jobs.

"Strongs, shus come now."

Crossing his arms and glaring mulishly at BB, D'Argo growled, "Um, no. I think I'd like 
to know exactly where we're going first." 

D'Argo got an angry hiss and a leaf in the gut for that. "Shus wants out? Yes? Sen shus do 
what us's says."

"Where. Are. We. Going?" Woo, doggies, D'Argo was getting testy. I couldn't help but 
grin, even when it meant I had to wipe more damn blood off my chin. 

Broccoli boy threw his leaves up in the air and shook his sprouts like the big cellulose 
drama queen he was turning out to be. 

"Yo buddy," I said, holding up my hands and trying on the unusual role of peacemaker. 
"Just tell us where we're headed. It's no big deal. We said we'd help you, and we will. 
Just give us an idea here." Broccoli boy shook his sprouts again but didn't otherwise reply. 
"Look, we've got a long history of being screwed by people who said they'd help us. You 
gotta admit we've got no reason to trust you here."

"Advantages, shus jus want advantages."

"Well, yeah. You use us, we use you, everybody's happy. I thought we'd already covered 
this."

Broccoli boy seemed to be thinking about this. His visual . . . er, receptor narrowed and 
darkened. Finally he twisted himself and stomped a foot. "Goes to next wall. Levels. 
Srough one to se next. Yes?"

I scratched my chin while I worked that out. More blood flaked off. Did I mention how 
much I hated this city? "Okay. There are levels, great. Like Quentin Tarentino's Super 
Mario Brothers. And you know how to get to the next level and we keep the big bugs from 
making you salad while we try to get there. See? How hard was that? So where's the next 
level?"

I think the green guy was trying to glare at me but it just wasn't coming across. The skin 
around his 'face' contorted and rippled before he twisted around again and scuttled off 
across the street. "Sis ways. Shus comes or shus never gets out."

"I say next time we get jumped, we let the bugs have him," D'Argo snarled darkly. 

As luck would have it we weren't jumped again. The rest of our trip was quiet. And when I 
say quiet, I mean eerie, deserted, one squeaking children's swing on the lonely playground 
of Stephen King's nightmares quiet. No critters, no sound, nothing. Too bad, I was kind 
of looking forward to seeing Broccoli boy being chased down the street by a pack of 
'Roaches. Things just never frelling go my way, do they?

We reached the end of the street and the buildings gave way to a broad open area divided 
by a high, semi-transparent wall. Broccoli boy pushed us back against a building and 
pointed a leafy arm at the robot standing sentinel a hundred yards or so down. I peered at 
the metal monstrosity and took a step in its direction. D'Argo jerked me back against the 
brick.

"Musts have knows to gets by. Us's has knows."

"Well, go do what it is you need to frelling do then," D'Argo hissed at our veggie pal, all 
the while eyeing the robot warily and bunching one fist in the collar of my coat. 

I tried to shrug out of his grasp but he just held on more tightly. "D'Argo, leggo." 

"No."

"Yes."

"I know you like the shiny robot, John, but I'm not in the mood to get dead today."

"I'm not stupid, D'Argo. I just want to get a closer look. If these guys are everywhere 
we're gonna need to know more about them," I explained in my very reasonable, rational 
scientist voice. D'Argo didn't seem to buy it.

"I'm even less in the mood to explain to Aeryn how I let you get killed. How long do you 
think I'd survive after giving her that bit of news? Which goes right back to my earlier not 
in the mood to get dead statement."

I frowned and stopped struggling. "I don't think she'd kill you."

"No?"

"Maybe . . . no, she definitely wouldn't kill you," I said with as much certainty as I could. 
She had been a might moody lately. Hard to tell, really.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll avoid finding out just how she'd react to that. Sound 
good to you? Sounds good to me."

I gave a resigned shrug of my shoulders and slumped back against the building, but 
D'Argo refused to let go of my coat. I shot him a surly glare and glanced around to see 
what Broccoli boy was up to. 

The party platter refugee was scuttling across the open area towards a small recessed area in 
the wall. I narrowed my eyes and watched a couple shadowy figures approach from the 
other side of the wall. I couldn't really make them out through the wall but they looked a 
hell of a lot like big walking stalks of broccoli. I started to get a really bad feeling, a 
sneaking suspicion creeping up my scalp that maybe Broccoli boy wasn't all that big on 
following through his end of our little agreement.

Twisting impatiently and fiddling with something in the wall, BB was giving off guilty and 
anxious vibes. I could feel my nostrils flaring in irritation and I turned back to my big 
Luxan watchdog. "D'Argo, Sprouts is gonna rabbit." I took a step away from the building 
but D'Argo still had a grip on me and he pulled me back by the scruff of my neck. 

"You are --"

"Don't say insane. Don't say it." I held up a warning finger.

"I, uh, wasn't going to say it," D'Argo muttered.

I glared at him and jabbed my thumb in Broccoli boy's direction. "That guy? Is gonna run 
on us."

D'Argo looked over my shoulder. "Frell."

"Can I go now, Dad? I think maybe I can manage not to get myself dead."

D'Argo released me, somewhat reluctantly I thought, and with a wary eye on the watchful 
robot, we made our way towards our shifty floral friend. Unfortunately we weren't quite 
fast enough, an opening appeared in the wall and with an arrogant glance over his . . . um, 
shoulder, Broccoli boy slipped through to his waiting sprouty buddies. 

"Damn it!" I spat, skidding to a halt in front of the rapidly closing opening. I pounded a fist 
against it. "Son of a bitch!"

D'Argo added his own massive fist to the ineffectual pounding and we both watched 
Broccoli boy scurry away without another glance our way. "I will find him and I will pluck 
him and then I will give him to Noranti and she can make a soup out of him and then I'll 
feed him to Rygel." D'Argo's muttered threats grew dark and he let loose with a stream of 
Luxan curses.

I ignored the big guy's rant and tried to figure out what Broccoli boy had been fiddling 
with. I found a small panel and pried it open. There was an unfamiliar keypad and a 
something that looked like a scanner but I was damned if I could be sure. I punched a few 
buttons, flinching away in case something blew up, but when nothing happened I leaned 
closer and tried to lift up the keypad with a fingernail. 

D'Argo stopped cursing and came to hover over me. "What are you doing?" 

"Trying to figure out a way through this wall," I muttered absently, focused on the wires in 
front of me and not my looming friend.

"And?"

"And, I've got a bunch of damn wires I don't know what to do with." I contemplated a red 
one and a green one, paused, wondered if I should do it, paused again, hesitated, chewed 
on my lower lip, tapped a finger on the wall, glanced at the mercifully unmoving robot and 
then looked up at D'Argo. "Uh, you might want to stand back."

He gave me a puzzled looked and took a big step away from me. I closed my eyes and 
brought the two wires together. The good news was it didn't kill me. The bad news was I 
was thrown about ten feet from the wall and landed flat on my back. I stared up at the ashy 
sky and took a few deep breaths, trying to catch my breath. I could feel the electricity still 
coursing through my body, making my teeth itch. 

"John, are you alright?" D'Argo dropped to his knees next to me and helped me sit up, 
dusting me off as he did so. 

I propped my arms on my knees and stared at the wall. This had been one hell of a day. 
Chased, concussed, attacked by a robot, slashed by a bug, led astray by a giant vegetable, 
and now electrocuted. It was enough to make a lesser man weep. Fortunately I wasn't a 
lesser man and I just sat in a stupor for a minute or two. Then I climbed to my feet, patted 
my burly friend on the shoulder and walked through the now open wall. At least I'd done 
something right that day.

***

Alright, so it wasn't that easy. The wall did open and I did attempt to stride through it, chin 
held high. I got about halfway to the wall when the robot turned and took one giant step 
towards us. And then I ran. Fast. D'Argo ran with me, tentacles flying. I am telling you, 
there is nothing funnier than watching D'Argo run. 

Anyway, we got through the wall just as the big metal monster came even with the 
opening. We ran a few dozen feet past the wall, just to be safe and turned around to check 
on the shiny brute. The robot didn't come after us, though. It just stopped there and stared, 
its demonic, mechanical gaze hanging on us. I wondered, briefly, if it could shoot laser 
beams out its eyes, or maybe do the Superman heat ray thing. I took a few more steps 
backwards. The robot never made a move towards us or said anything. What these guys 
did when they weren't herding critters and standing around looking scary as hell remained 
a mystery. And honestly, at that moment in time, I wasn't going to go up and ask it what 
its purpose in life was. I swear. But, D'Argo grabbed me by the scruff of my neck anyway 
and yanked me into the twisting maze of narrow streets and slightly cleaner buildings. 

"What are you doing?" I gasped; he was strangling me.

"There's another one," he growled back.

"What?" The twisting and stumbling and general lack of oxygen running to my brain, were 
making things a little difficult to sort out.

D'Argo stopped, straightening me when I tripped over his massive boot, and thrust an arm 
past my nose. I followed the arm and the long finger at the end of it. Big robot, our side of 
the wall, watching us. I felt an icy knot form in my stomach. The robots were officially no 
longer cool. "Oh."

"Yes. Are you going to move or am I carrying you?"

"I'm moving."

With all the warmth and cheer of fugitives in a police state, D'Argo and I moved out, back 
into the city, looking for the way forward and hopefully not getting ourselves killed as we 
did. I thought about Aeryn. Granted, I always thought about Aeryn, but there was a little 
bit more than just a touch of panic in my thoughts now. While the rational part of me was 
sure she was somewhere ahead of us, perfectly fine and terrorizing anybody who looked at 
her funny, the much larger, much less rational part of me was terrified that we'd somehow 
left her behind. Our best bet was to keep moving forward, get to the end, and then we'd 
have a better idea, but a hundred 'what ifs' dashed wildly through my head. What if she 
was just a street over, hurt or in trouble? What if she was behind us, alone and struggling 
to find us? What if she was being held by one of these gangs? What if she wasn't down 
here at all? What if --?

"It's older here."

The whirling thoughts and worries careening through my skull crashed to an almost painful 
halt at D'Argo's words. "Que?" 

D'Argo waved a hand at the buildings around us. "They're older. See the columns? They 
look almost Luxan. Pre-Durath Empire. The fluting is not quite right, though. And the 
markings, I can't make them out, but see how they're worn? This city has been here for a 
very long time," he pronounced solemnly while I stared at him slack-jawed. 

"Older," I managed.

"Yes. Classical architecture, well constructed." He fingered the stones on the corner of one 
building. "The masonry is remarkable. This was once a beautiful city." 

D'Argo continued to stare at the buildings and I continued to stare at him. You think you 
know a guy. You think all he likes to do is blow dren up and bam, turns out he's an art 
freak. Good for him. It's nice to have hobbies. Unfortunately I didn't think this hobby 
would do us any good. 

"Er. That's really good to know, D'Argo. Luxan?"

"Resembles Luxan, but it's not," he pronounced. "Could be Ilanic."

"Right. Ilanic." I shivered involuntarily at the memory of the last Ilanics we'd seen. Or, 
um, maybe it was just the pseudo-Ilanic. Matala. That chick still gave me nightmares. She 
had the creepiest damn eyes. I shook off that disturbing trip down memory lane and 
followed D'Argo across the street. 

I can't say that I liked this side of the wall any better than the other side, no matter how 
pretty the buildings might be under the grime. This side didn't have quite as many 
menacing critters as the other side, but something about 'here' ratcheted up the sense of 
imminent doom about twenty notches. The beings that were here were bound together in 
tighter packs, well-organized gangs. Lone figures were rare and after watching a few get 
sucked under by a roving pack or two it wasn't hard to see why. Nobody'd made a move 
on D'Argo and me yet, but they were watching us. 

"Hm, we're not anywhere near Ilanic space, though. At least we weren't when we were on 
the space station. I guess they could have transported us. But the distance between the 
space station and Ila-"

"D'Argo, stop looking at the pretty buildings. We have a more immediate problem."

"It could help us find out where we are, John," he told me with a tremendous, and fairly 
irritating, amount of patience. I hate it when he talks to me like I'm five. 

"I hate it when you talk to me like I'm five, D'Argo," I growled. "Right now we're here, 
here is bad and we need to not be here. So stop knock off the house hunting."

D'Argo's already impressive brow lowered dangerously. I swallowed heavily but tried not 
to look like I was swallowing heavily and ended up choking. I think I pulled a muscle in 
my throat. Massaging my neck and coughing slightly, I ignored the glowering Luxan and 
pondered our next move.

"Broccoli boy."

"What?" I asked, mildly annoyed at being distracted from my ponderings yet again. 
D'Argo was suddenly full of random pieces of . . . er, pieces. Words, um, came out of his 
mouth that weren't connected to . . . never mind. I didn't get it and I gave him a wary 
glance, prepared to look away if it was just a ploy to get me to look at him so he could give 
me the hairy eyeball. 

"Right. Over. There," he growled fiercely and stomped away from me. Frell me, and they 
say I'm impulsive.

The never subtle Luxan started to cross out onto a wide and fairly busy avenue, packs of 
critters roaming relatively freely here and there in some sort of uneasy truce. I ran after him 
and caught his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Right over there. Our little green friend. Our little green friend who used us and left us to 
the robots. I hate our little green friend."

Following the direction of D'Argo's stormy scowl, I saw a . . . stand? grove? bunch? . . . 
of broccoli beings. "How can you tell which one's which?"

"I can tell," he proclaimed with deadly certainty. 

"Well there's like twelve of them, D. As much as I'd love to de-sprout the leafy freak . . ."

D'Argo gave me a disgusted look. "Don't tell me you're afraid of the vegetables, John."

I bristled. "I'm not afraid. I'm being reasonable." The dubious expression on D'Argo's 
face nearly set me off on a table hopping rant. I've had a bad day. My head hurt, my chest 
hurt, my hands hurt, I was tired and hungry and I missed Aeryn, damn it. I wasn't in the 
mood for a temperamental Luxan. "Knock it off. I want out of here, I don't give a flying 
frell --"

Grabbing me by the coat, D'Argo pushed me back off the street and slammed me up 
against the nearest wall for roughly the umpteenth time that day. My head bounced off the 
stone with dull thud and bright lights followed immediately by black spots darted through 
my vision. "D'Argo. What the hell?" I croaked out weakly. 

"Shut up," he snarled. Oh god, I needed this. A hyper-rage. Man, I was so dead. 

"D'Argo," I tried again faintly, struggling helplessly against his grip. The black spots in 
front of my eyes were joined by more black spots and they gave birth to even more black 
spots. I was almost out completely when he clapped his supersized paw over my mouth. 

"Peacekeepers," he hissed in my ear. 

My battered brain struggled valiantly to understand what was going on. It was a desperate 
battle but in the end confusion won and my brain whimpered and retreated out my ears. I 
managed to twist my head out of his grasp. "'M not a Peacekeeper, D'Argo," I told him 
weakly, what was left of my muzzy brain had decided that in his rage D'Argo must have 
forgotten who I was. 

"Shut the frell up," he growled dangerously and clapped his hand over my mouth again. I 
pushed at his arm with all the strength of a sleeping day old kitten. D'Argo shifted his grip 
on my vest and dropped his hand from my mouth with a bitter sigh. "Frell."

"Let him go, Luxan."

For my part I was having a little of trouble catching up to exactly what was going on. Still 
stuck in thinking this was all about a hyper-rage that was going to get me messily 
dismembered, I tried again to reason with D'Argo. "Not a Peaceke-"

"You are now," D'Argo whispered and let go of me so suddenly I fell back against the 
wall. As usual, my skull connected violently with the stone, with the stone winning the 
round handily, rattling my tragically abused gray matter one more time. My last thought, as 
blackness swallowed me, was a resigned, weary, and more than a little hazy, "Again? 
Damn i-" 

***

"Oy. Oy, Bond. Wake up." A hand on my shoulder, shaking me firmly, pulled me up out 
of my very comfortable, big, black hole of oblivion. Can't a guy get any sleep around 
here? "He's not responsive." Ya don't say? Couldn't possibly be 'cause I'm trying to 
sleep, could it? "How hard did the Luxan hit him?" Oh, okay maybe it was 
unconsciousness. Not as good as sleep. Plus it hurts to wake up. Which explained why I 
was fighting off waking up. Usually, when strange guys shake me, I wake up. Just one of 
my little quirks.

"Didn't see. He was almost out when we got there." Make that, two strange guys.

"Bond." The hand shaking me again. Wakefulness started poking incessantly at my brain, 
ignoring my attempts at fending it off, and I groaned in protest. "Good. Bond, how ya 
doing?"

"Head hurts," I mumbled. 

"Frelling Luxan," guy number two growled. The venom in his voice surprised me enough 
to pry one reluctant eye open. Sebaceans. Peacekeepers. Frell.

"Drink this." Guy number one pushed a cup into my hand. "Nasty dren but it'll do the job 
for ya."

"Thanks," I mumbled and not even bothering to wonder if it'd do me any good or kill me 
outright, I slammed back the liquid. Nasty dren is right. Definitely not Dr. Ewok's cabbage 
surprise. This stuff burned like liquid nitrogen going down and sent a glacial bolt straight 
through my sinuses. "Damn." I coughed and blinked back tears. 

"Nasty, eh?" Guy number one grinned at my reaction and patted me on the shoulder. I 
nodded and handed him back the cup. "How's the head, than?"

I paused and made a brief internal systems check. My innards were feeling a little frosty, 
and my head was buzzing from the drink, but the skull shattering pain was gone. "Better."

Guy number one thumped me on the shoulder again and sat down on a box across from 
me. "So Bond, how'd you find yourself in this dren hole? Where's the rest of your unit?"
Bond? "Bond."

Guy number two frowned. "S'your name innit? S'what the Luxan told us. Probably lied 
about that, too."

Dimly remembering D'Argo's last words to me, my muddled head finally caught up to the 
situation. "Er, yeah, it's, uh, Bond, " I muttered in my best Peacekeeper Captain voice. 

"My head's a bit worse for wear."

"Understandable," guy number one said. "Never had the bad luck to be on that side of a 
Luxan hyper-rage, myself." 

"It's painful," I confirmed. "Where is D'Argo?"

"The Luxan?" Guy number two? Not very bright.

"Yeah. The Luxan."

"He tried to kill you."

"If he'd actually tried, I'd likely be dead."

"Get off it, Wenz. You know about the treaty," guy number one glared at guy number two 
and guy number two, er, Wenz, glared back.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it. Filthy Luxans."

Guy number one's glare went from dark to furious and he slugged Wenz on the arm. "Oy. 
None of that. High Command says we work with the Luxans, we work with the Luxans. 
You don't question High Command. Understand?" He barked.

"Yes, sir," Wenz replied not all that meekly. 

Guy number one nodded firmly and turned back to me. "The Lux -- uh, D'Argo?" I 
nodded helpfully. "D'Argo is in the next room. Thought it best to secure him."

They tied him up? Oh crap. He was never going to let me forget this. The scars were never 
going to let me forget this. "Probably for the best."

"Yeah. Hyper-rage and all. Didn't put up much of a fight, though. Thought Luxans were 
tougher than that." Guy number one shrugged. "Oh, name's Pirs. Lieutenant, Teyon 
Company, Sorala Regiment. This here's Wenz Alphric Company, Sorala Regiment."

They both stared at me expectantly for a while before a clue finally knocked against my 
frontal lobe like a bird with no sense of direction. Ah, they wanted an introduction. "Bond, 
Captain, uh, Peacekeeper Special Directorate. Licensed to kill. Pretty certain, that's all you 
need to know."

I wasn't sure if that would float with them, or what exactly D'Argo had told them, but Pirs 
actually looked relieved and gave me a big smile. "Yes, sir."

"So, uh, just the two of you?" 

"No, there's seven of us here. The two of us been here longest, though. Five weekens."

"Weekens?" I croaked brilliantly. God I don't want to be here for 5 days let alone five 
weekens.

"Yeah," Wenz spat. "We were grabbed on leave at some frelled up little station. Sentenced 
they said. Frellers."

"Sentenced? Big insect, uh, beings?" I asked.

"Yeah. Said we were trespassing or some dren," Pirs elaborated. "You?

"They didn't tell me what I was being _sentenced_ to this place for. They just knocked me 
out and tossed me down here." I rubbed my hands over my face. "Frelling bugs."

"Yes sir," Wenz growled. "Frelling bugs, sir."

I raised an eyebrow and stared at him. He was a little creepy. Had a psychotic thousand-
yard stare going. Come to think of it, I wondered why, despite the fact that they were 
hostile, xenophobic, lunatics, Peacekeepers managed to be fairly sane. Well relatively sane, 
I guess. Cycles of dealing with them and I'd have expected to run into more deranged 
berserker types. Huh. They must have a fabulous Shrink Corps. Though they probably 
called it something truly disturbing like Mental Reformatting or Neuron Realignment. I'd 
have to ask Aeryn. Providing I ever found Aeryn.

"There was another member of my party," I said. "Another, uh, Peacekeeper. A woman. 
You haven't seen her or heard about her, have you?"

Pirs shook his head regretfully. "No, sir. Last Peacekeeper we found, excepting yourself 
sir, was three solar days ago. And I don't reckon as I'd ever mistake him for a female, sir."
I gave him a wry, weary smile. "It was worth asking."

A loud roar and the sudden shaking of the wall made the three of us jump and turn as one. 
"Um, that'll be D'Argo. Better let him loose before he hurts, er, all of us."

"Filthy Luxan," Wenz snarled again. I gave him my patented 'I'm a bigger lunatic than you 
are' look and he stood up. "I'll go see to him, sir."

"Yeah, you do that. You might want to make sure and stay out of arms reach, though." 
Wenz gave me a blank look. "Little warning. He can be kind of cranky."

Wenz shrugged indifferently and walked out of the room. Pirs and I sat, staring at each 
other, our heads cocked towards the other room. There was a low growl, a scuffle, a 
chorus of swearing and then the door flew open, crashed against the wall and bounced 
back, slapping against an extremely large hand attached to an extremely large Luxan.

D'Argo took two long strides in, gave Pirs a truly vicious glare that sent the Peacekeeper 
stumbling off his box and fumbling for his pulse pistol, and stopped in front of me. My 
very large, very irritated friend gave me a careful once over and stuck his big tentacly head 
about two inches from my own. 

"How many of me are there?"

Um, "What?"

"How many of me are there?" He repeated, carefully enunciating each word.

Was this a trick question? "One?"

"Good." He brightened considerably and slapped me on the shoulder. "I'm, uh, sorry 
about your head."

I waved him off. "Not like I need it."

D'Argo gave me a toothy grin and spun around to face a nervous looking Pirs, who still 
hadn't decided if he was going to point his pistol or holster it. "So," D'Argo boomed, 
"how the frell do we get off this rock?"

***

"Sheyang or Scarran?"

I grimaced, growled and glared at D'Argo. "Sheyang or Scarran?"

"That's what I said," D'Argo huffed.

"Gah."

"Sorry, sir." Pirs winced.

"S'alright. Um . . ."

D'Argo repeated his question while he examined his filthy nails. "Sheyang or Sca-"

"I heard you," I gritted out.

"So which is it?"

"Ugh. Scarran."

"With a big hat?" My Luxan tormentor smirked. 

I was never going to live down that hat. "One question at a time! You had your question. 
Now it's my turn. Marjoules or fried dentics? Ow, frell."

"Sorry sir," Pirs winced again but kept dabbing at my chest.

"That's disgusting, Jo- uh, James."

I grinned triumphantly and tried to ignore the stinging in my chest. Pirs was patching up 
the gash on my chest and D'Argo was sitting next to me trying to keep my mind off the 
pain with a rousing game of 'death is not an option.' It wasn't working all that well; it felt 
like my chest hairs were being plucked one at a time with white-hot pliers. But it's the 
thought that counts.

"Marjoules," D'Argo finally answered with a groan of disgust. I started to chuckle evilly at 
D'Argo's distaste, unfortunately I was forced to swallow it when he gave me a smug 
smile. "Furlow or Akhna?"

My eyes widened in horror. Granted we both tend to sink pretty low with this game, but 
today had been kinda mild by our usual standards. Up 'till now that is. He must still be 
bitter about the 'Stanz or Noranti' question. "Akhna," I practically spat my answer. "God, 
definitely the Scarran."

D'Argo grinned happily and triumphantly while I tried to shake off the memory of that . . . 
woman. Pirs had finished with me and was sitting back looking at D'Argo and I as if he 
wasn't quite sure if he was amused or confused or resigned to the notion that superior 
officers were by their very nature bizarre. Resignation seemed to be the wisest choice for 
him, so he nodded at us both and stood up.

"Sir, I'll go see if we've got a spare shirt for you."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." I gave him a captainly nod and we watched him disappear out of 
the room.

"So, nobody answered my earlier question," D'Argo rumbled a microt later.

Only half paying attention to D'Argo, I was busy poking at the puckered gash on my chest 
and trying to find it in myself to admire the Lieutenant's handy work. It wasn't pretty. It 
was good of him to stitch me up and I guess all things considered it could have been 
worse, but Florence Nightingale he wasn't. Aeryn would like the scar, though, so it wasn't 
a total loss. "Which one was that?"

"How do we get off this rock?"

I stopped my perusal of my gory wound and raised an eyebrow. "D'Argo, you ever think 
maybe asking advice on that from guys who have been stuck here for weekens is not such 
a great idea?"

D'Argo opened and shut his mouth a few times, like a big, furry guppy, before shrugging 
his shoulders. "Well, they must have some idea."

I snorted and fingered the cut on my lip. I was gonna have all kinds of happy memories 
from this trip. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would they have some idea? If they had some idea they probably wouldn't be here. 
Frell me, there's seven of them," my exasperated whisper drew a low growl from D'Argo. 
"Unless these guys all flunked PK school, I think we're frelled."

"You know what your problem is, John?" He hissed.

Poking at a knot on my cheekbone, the thing had to be the size of an egg -- one of those 
double A jumbo-sized jobs -- I absently corrected D'Argo's use of my name. Really what's 
the point of using an alias if he wasn't going to remember it? "James and I have just one 
problem?"

"You're a pessimist."

"No, I'm not." I dropped my hand down from the cut above my left eye and stared at him 
incredulously. "If I was a pessimist I'd have thrown myself out an airlock cycles ago."

"You're a lazy pessimist," D'Argo said quickly, amending his earlier stupid statement with 
even more stupidity. "Or a masochist with a pessimistic streak metras wide. Or the other 
way around? Either way, there is pessimism. Lots and lots of pessimism."

"Oh, give me a frelling--"

"You can't deny it, John."

"James and yes I can. Watch me deny it. This is me denying." I stood up quickly, fighting 
off a wave of dizziness and sharp tearing pain as the stitches pulled slightly. "A pessimist 
doesn't sneak onto a Gammak base. A pessimist doesn't march onto a command carrier 
and help blow the frelling thing up. A pessimist doesn't . . . doesn't . . . uh, doesn't do 
other stuff I've done."

"You just keep telling yourself that, John."

"James!" I barked.

"Hey now, settle down. The pain is obviously getting to you," he said patiently and stood 
up, shaking his tentacles. "I'm going to go see if they have any weapons and I think you 
should sit here and think about what I've told you."

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. "You're Bizarro D'Argo, aren't you?"

The expression on his face quickly went from patience to irritation and he leaned close to 
me. I took a prudent step back and continued to eye him warily. "We are getting out of 
here," he growled fiercely then spun around and stormed out the door, shoving the 
returning Lieutenant Pirs out of his way. Yeah, one of us had issues and it damn sure 
wasn't me. For once.

Pirs stumbled into the room, catching hold of the edge of the door for balance in the wake 
of the Luxan dervish. "Sir?"

"Find me a shirt?"

"Oh, yes, sir." He offered me the bulky, black bundle.

I took the shirt from him and pulled it over my head, trying not to stretch the abused 
muscles in my chest any more than I had to. The fabric fell in long swaths across my torso, 
the sleeves hid my hands completely and the hem dropped to just above my knees. It was a 
little big.

Pirs shifted swallowed heavily and nervously. No doubt waiting for me to go off on him 
like a good, little, unreasonably insane PK officer. "Um, it was the cleanest we had, sir."
I raised an arm and shook my hand, letting the voluminous sleeves drop back, exposing 
my hidden digits again. I felt like a Jawa. "This is fine. It's  . . . roomy."

"Jo. . .ames!" D'Argo's voice thundered through the hovel, shaking the plaster and the 
Lieutenant. I ground my teeth and stalked over to the door.

"What?" I shouted back.

D'Argo glanced over his shoulder at me and waved a mighty paw at the table in front of 
him. "Weapons!" The only way the grin on his face could have been any bigger is if 
Chiana'd been on the table too, wearing one of the guns and not much else. 

"I'm very happy for you, D'Argo." I sighed and pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. 
"Anything good?"

"Pulse rifle?"

"Too big."

"I'll take it then. Pistol?"

"Won't be as good as Winona," I grumbled and caught the pistol he tossed my way. I 
hefted it in my hand, twisted it back and forth, tested the balance and sighed. Nope, not 
Winona.

"Want another one?"

"Sure. Wait. Did you ask our friends here if you could take their weapons?"

D'Argo gave me a puzzled frown. "You're the Captain, aren't you?" I gave him a frosty 
glare and he turned to the half dozen Peacekeepers in the room. "Do you mind if the 
Captain and I arm ourselves?"

A chorus of 'no sir's echoed through the room. "Help yourself, Captain," Pirs grinned at 
me. Pirs grinned too much. I couldn't take much more of the grinning. 

"Thanks," I grumbled again then grunted when D'Argo tossed the second pistol at me. It 
bounced off my chest and got caught in the material of my shirt when I raised a hand to 
catch it. A couple of microts of fumbling, some eye-watering pain, and I managed to secure 
the second pistol. "Thanks," I growled much less cheerily. D'Argo just grinned back with 
the oblivious grin of a kid with a new toy that makes things blow up real good. 

"The Luxan is a little . . . strange," Pirs whispered. 

"More than a little."

"Are all Luxan's like that?"

"Well I haven't met too many but I think D'Argo's probably pretty frelling special."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"So," boomed D'Argo jovially, like an over-amped cheerleader. "Who wants to get off this 
frelling rock?"

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. This day just kept getting longer.

***

Now this is what I'm talking about. A good solid wall at my back, a pair of pistols in my 
hands, and my best friend at my side. What more could I want from life? Well, except to 
find my girl, get off this hellhole of a planet, get back to my ship and to . . . duck.

BAM!

"So you add a pinch of cordia . . ."

I brushed the dust off my face and turned my attention back to D'Argo. "Wait. Is this 
before it comes to a boil?"

"No, no, it has to be after it boils. Just before it's done. If the cordia steeps too long it 
becomes a powerful laxative."

"Oh, yeah, wanna avoid that."

POW!

D'Argo fired off a few quick shots over his shoulder and nodded his head in agreement. 
"Definitely want to avoid that. Ruins the whole batch. But it's tricky, you have to add it at 
just the right time, otherwise it won't ferment properly."

"I'm thinking this is one recipe we don't let granny try her hand at."

KAPOW! KAPOW!

"Sir! Sir!" Pirs scrambled over the pile of boxes to our right and dropped to his knees in 
front of me. "Lathan set the charges, the doors are ready."

"Gro--excellent, Lieutenant. How lo--"

KABOOOOOOM!

"--ng. Never mind."

We pushed ourselves up and over the wall, guns blazing, critters shrieking and the smell of 
burnt chakan oil thick in the air. Running through the clouds of smoke towards the gaping 
hole in the warehouse, I bit my tongue and managed not to make a really lame _Apocalypse 
Now_ comment -- it was too easy, nobody'd get it, and damn it, I can do better than that. 

I fired off a few more shots and dove behind a pallet of goods, ignoring the shower of 
pulverized food cubes. Snaking my head around the corner, I tried to get a lay of the land 
and ended up swearing loudly when Pirs almost found himself eating a little, yellow bolt of 
light. Sure he was a Peacekeeper, but, well, weird as it sounded he was my Peacekeeper 
and I didn't want to watch his skull explode. Fortunately for him, D'Argo's a damn fine 
shot. A sudden movement from a catwalk above me caught my eye and I pulled back 
behind the pallet, wincing at the heat from a blast that passed just a little too close to my 
own skull. Nothing like a gun battle to get the blood pumping on a cold, dreary evening. 

Turns out one of the only ways to get ahead in this part of Murderville was to gain control 
of one or more of the supply shipments. They were dropped off once a weeken at a handful 
of warehouses spread out across the city, and then it was a battle for who'd control them. 
Food, weapons, clothes, meds -- it was money, it was life, worth more than gold or blood 
and every critter on this rock would kill to control the flow. My PK troop had been after 
this warehouse for the past couple of weekens but they hadn't managed to take it. Enter PK 
Captain James Bond. D'Argo started snickering when they all turned to me for a plan. 

My plan was pretty simple, actually. There weren't very many of us, so we'd go in the 
back, use confusion, explosions, smoke and night to cover us and we'd make like an 
army. Easy enough. I sent a couple of the PKs up to sweep the catwalks and whatever else 
was on the second floor, while the rest of us advanced through the main warehouse. It 
wasn't pretty, it wasn't fun, and they were on to us before we even got to the building, but 
it seemed to be working. 

A sharp cry and the thud of a heavy body hitting the floor, drew my head around the pallet 
again. Critter. Good. I glanced up at the catwalk and one of my PKs gave me a quick 
wave. I turned and signaled Lathan and Wenz to move while I gave them some covering 
fire. Things went on like that for about a quarter of an arn, but eventually we cleared the 
warehouse and secured the entrances. 

A couple of arns after we secured the warehouse and spent some time convincing 
everybody else and their uncle with a gun that the warehouse wasn't up for grabs anymore, 
I stood up on one of the catwalks, leaning against the wall and looking out of a small 
window at the street down below. Dim, shadowy figures swarmed near the front entrance 
of our building, some looked a little more hostile than others did, but the battle of the 
evening was won and the nastier gangs appeared to have slipped back into the dark, 
conceding this shipment to us. For now. 

"John."

"James," I corrected absently. He really was never gonna get it, was he?

"Right. James." D'Argo came up next to me and peered over my shoulder, out the 
window. "There are a pair of Delvians down there who want to talk to you."

"About?"

D'Argo shrugged his massive shoulders and almost knocked me off the catwalk. 
"Information for trade. They want something."

"Everybody wants something," I told him wearily then pointed a stern finger at him. "But 
never let them tell you coconuts migrate. Not even with a pair of swallows to carry them."

D'Argo gave me the cool glare of the interminably patient Luxan. "Did you hit your head 
again?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?" He grabbed my head in one giant paw and tried to look for fresh damage.

I pushed his hand away and backed up carefully, well aware of the twenty foot drop on one 
side. "Gee, I know you like me and all, D'Argo, but won't Chiana get jealous?"

"Oh stop," he huffed, irritated.

I laughed and brushed a hand through my hair, trying to flatten the bits D'Argo messed up. 
"My head's fine." D'Argo gave me a long look, no doubt trying to decide if I was lying or 
not. I decided to interrupt his train of thought before he decided he needed to examine me 
again, "So . . . Delvians huh? Hope we have better luck with the blue plants than we did 
with the green ones."

"I still say we should have plucked him when we had the chance."

"What? And miss out on the fun of knocking me out again?"

"I said I was sorry. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" D'Argo demanded 
loudly.

"That's a really good question," I mused, D'Argo scowled and we both crossed the 
catwalk and started down the narrow, metal stairs. 

I was almost to the bottom when the lights went out and a massive explosion rocked the 
warehouse. The stairs buckled under my feet and I hit the stone floor with an awkward 
tumble. Fortunately I caught myself and managed a semi-decent roll before my head 
cracked against the floor. Unfortunately it was only a semi-decent roll and I landed hard on 
my left elbow, jamming my arm up into my shoulder. White-hot agony shot through the 
joint and I flopped back onto my back, gritting my teeth against the pain and gasping for a 
desperate breath. 

Shouts, minor explosions, pulse fire and general mayhem drifted from other parts of the 
warehouse, through the ringing in my ears. I groaned and rolled to my knees. I guessed the 
other gangs weren't the gracious losers I'd thought they were. Another shout caught my 
attention, nearer to me, sounded like Wenz and then a vicious round of pulse fire followed 
by heavy silence. I stumbled from my knees to my feet and pushed myself through the 
oppressive darkness towards what I hoped was the shelter of some of the larger pallets. I'd 
lost track of D'Argo, and I was probably more turned around from the fall than I wanted to 
be, but I figured sounding out just then wasn't going to be the wisest move I could make. 
Who said I never learned? 

My knee banged painfully against the edge of something large, heavy, and square and 
hopefully was one of the pallets I was aiming for. Before I could reach out a hand to 
examine the thing, I heard a soft shuffling sound off to my right. I dropped my hand, 
swore silently when the sleeve of my shirt became unrolled and the fabric slipped down 
over my fingers, making it difficult for me to pull my pistol. My other arm was almost 
immobile, moving it feel an awful lot like somebody was shoving flaming spikes through 
the shoulder, and it took me far too many microts of fumbling before I pushed enough 
fabric back off my good arm to actually pull my pistol. The shuffling got closer and I held 
myself perfectly still, straining through the pitch black. Whoever it was, they were moving 
fairly confidently, the warehouse was strewn with pallets, boxes, crates, and general dren, 
it wasn't an easy walk through when there was light. Critter probably had night vision. 
Figures. 

I lowered myself slightly, bracing against the pallet behind me and cocked my head to one 
side, listening. The shuffling came again, softer this time, but closer. I gripped my pistol 
firmly and turned towards the sound. It came one more time and I raised the pistol, feeling 
it come in contact with something solid, just as a cold and unmistakably pistol-like object 
pressed itself to my forehead. 

"Don't move," rasped a hard voice. 

***

Once, a long, long time ago, D'Argo, in one of his weirdly timed moments of insight, told 
me, 'calm shepherds the certainty of death.' Or something like that. This was a whole other 
kind of calm. 

"Lower your pistol," the voice grated.

"I'll lower it on one condition."

There was a brief pause, but I could hear the other person, and swear to god, their 
breathing even sounded irritated. Zero to annoyed in less than five microts. I am good.

"Which is?"

"That you promise to strip search me."

"You'd like that, would you?" 

"It's no fun if you don't find the big gun."

"The temptation to shoot you is unbelievably strong." The cold metal moved away from my 
frontal lobe and I allowed myself a triumphant grin.

"Aw, shoot me and who'll keep you warm at night?"

"Moya's environmental controls?"

"Just like a woman to go for the mechanical option."

"Less hassle. And less mess."

"God, I love you."

"Lower your pistol."

"Whoops. Sorry." I fought with my muumuu -- I mean shirt -- for a few microts and 
managed to holster my gun without shooting myself. 

The warehouse had fallen mostly silent, though I could hear some rustling and cursing and 
a few louder noises that sounded like they were coming from outside. I wondered who was 
winning. Aeryn grabbed my, mercifully uninjured, shoulder and pushed me down next to a 
pallet, hopefully giving us some small bit of cover.

I couldn't see her, it being night and there being no light, but I could smell her -- brain 
numbing soap, chakan oil and leather -- I could feel her and, oh, I could taste her. Aeryn's 
one hell of a lot of things, and kisser's definitely way up there towards the top of the list. I 
don't know where she learned it, I don't want to think about where she learned it, but 
whoever the guy was . . . well, if he was standing here now I'd probably kill him, but after 
I killed him I'd thank him. She has the most flexible ton--

She pushed me away and whispered breathlessly, "Where's D'Argo?"

"Huh?"

"D'Argo? Tall, Luxan, your friend?" Now she sounded amused, relaxed, sort of. I take 
full credit for that and it's because I happen to be one hell of a kisser myself. 

"Oh. Him. He was on the stairs when the explosion went off. What the hell was that 
anyway?"

"Big explosive. Blew off the front doors."

"Nice. We did that earlier. Blew off the back doors."

"Nice. How many of you are there?"

"Me, D'Argo, seven Peacekeep-- oh, frell. Who did you come in here with?"

"Pair of Delvians--"

"I knew they were after something," I spat furiously, Aeryn tried to hush me but by god I 
was not to be shushed.  "God, is every plant on this planet a backstabbing waste of 
cellulose?"

"A pair of Delvians," she hissed again, slightly louder, "four Zenetan pirates and three 
things I can't identify."

"Fun," I groused bitterly, still pissed about the global plant conspiracy. I was off plants, 
strict meat diet for me from now on. My luck with plants and the next veggie goulash 
grandma tried to feed me would contain some toxin only I was allergic to and I'd turn into a 
giant blue ball like that kid in Willie Wonka. "Why hit this place?"

"Same reason you did, I imagine."

"I think maybe we should call off this little party. I wanna find D'Argo and I want to check 
on my guys."

She paused for a moment and I could almost feel her eyes searching my face. "You can't be 
that attached to these Peacekeepers."

"Sorta. I. . ." I coughed, a little embarrassed, it felt a little like the time DK found out I 
liked a certain ABBA tune. I don't know how he found out, I suspect an evil sister, but I 
had to threaten to frell with his math grade to get him to shut up. "Well, they're alright and 
they haven't tried to kill me yet and I'm not doing too bad by ex-Peacekeepers, all things 
considered. And they think I'm one of their captains and I did lead them here --" I stopped 
when she clapped one hand over my mouth.

"You and your compassion." I could hear the smile in her voice and even got a small taste 
of it when she dropped her hand and quickly kissed me again.

"Missed you," I whispered. I may, occasionally be a jackass and I may swagger and rant, 
but comes down to it, nobody can bring me to my knees like she can. 

"Missed you, too," she whispered back. "I can't see you very well, these are a pathetic 
excuse for oculars, but I taste blood and you seem to be missing a tooth." I did mention the 
tongue thing, right? "What the frell have you been up to?"

"D'Argo first, story time later."

"Right." She paused again, and I had to admit I felt more than a little exposed, sitting there, 
knowing she was looking me over and not being able to see in return. Damned 
uncomfortable. "Did you hurt your arm?"

I shrugged and immediately regretted it. Because, yes, I did hurt my arm. Wincing, and 
silently listing for myself all the ways I was a dumbass, I gritted out, "Sprained shoulder. I 
don't think it's dislocated but I've lost some mobility there. Hurts like hell."

"You should have said something earlier," she replied with the impatient tone she only uses 
when I'm being particularly obtuse or incomprehensible. 

"And miss out on the kissing? Frell that," I grumbled. If I'm gonna get blown up, held at 
gunpoint and lectured, I'm not going to miss out on whatever kissing I can score from the 
deal. 

She sighed and I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Fine. Stay here, stay out of 
trouble, I'm going to go find D'Argo."

I sat back to wait without argument, which must have surprised her because she didn't 
move away for a handful of microts. I was essentially blind anyway, and more than happy 
to let her go off and be commando chick -- she does it so well. She touched the side of my 
head briefly and then disappeared back into the dark. I pulled a pistol back out and drew 
my knees up to my chest as much as I could, rested my elbow on my knee and waited.

The blackness felt heavy and almost smothering, my eyes were straining to find any source 
of light and my ears twitched at every sound. I didn't like sitting here, I was vulnerable, 
clearly the invaders were prepared -- if Aeryn could find me, so could her cohorts -- and 
the sounds from outside were getting unhappier. All in all a typical John Crichton evening 
on the town. 

I dropped my head back against the pallet and tried to concentrate on the sounds around 
me, unfortunately my concentration was being shot to hell by something I couldn't even 
really identify. Something was rasping at the edge of my senses and I couldn't figure it out. 

I was so caught up trying to identify this new source of puzzlement, I didn't hear Aeryn 
come back right away. Or at all, actually. She had to touch my arm to get my attention. I 
hate it when people sneak up on me, I tend to point guns when that happens.

"It's me," she informed me hastily and I felt her crouch down in front of me.

I relaxed and dropped my gun waving hand. "That was quick."

"D'Argo's unconscious. I'm not dragging him over here."

"Reasonable," I observed quietly. "He's alright?"

"He seems fine. Just out," she reassured me. " I also found one of your Peacekeepers."

"That right?"

"Quite."

"Alive or dead?" I asked almost hesitantly. They hadn't been with me very long but I didn't 
really want to hear that they'd been massacred. 

"Alive. He's behind a crate not far from D'Argo."

"Anybody else?"

She hesitated for a moment and I felt a flood of acid in my stomach. "Nobody else is 
moving around. At least, not in this part of the warehouse."

She was letting me down gently and I almost think that was worse than had she come 
straight out and told me she was tripping over bodies. I swallowed back the bile working 
its way up my throat and tried to focus. "Alright. Plan?"

"Grab your Peacekeeper, grab D'Argo, get the frell out of here."

"Good plan."

"I thought so."

***

I've learned a lot of hard lessons in all my years in the UTs and today's hard lesson was, 
'Never poke a sleeping Luxan with anything shorter than a ten foot pole'. 

I landed on my back with a large hand wrapped around my throat, a massive knee planted 
squarely in my gut and a lungful of Luxan halitosis. Oh, and before I forget to mention it, it 
was still pitch black and there were still all kinds of unpleasant rumblings coming from 
outside, so even for being strangled, the conditions weren't ideal. Not that I was paying 
attention to any of that, I was a little more focused on my rapidly collapsing windpipe. 

Aeryn hissed at us to be quiet, D'Argo ignored her and I was having flashbacks to where 
this all started, of course I was also having flashbacks to my fourth grade saxophone recital 
and that party my freshman year in high school where Sally Ann Murdock and I made it to 
second base in the closet. In other words, lack of blood and oxygen to my brain were 
starting to take their toll. I managed a sort of gurgle in her direction I hoped would convey 
the fact that while I'd love to be quiet, I'd also love to breathe again. 

"D'Argo, let him go," Aeryn stepped up to save me from asphyxiation. 

"Aeryn?" D'Argo always was a swift thinker.

"Gack, urg." And he still hadn't let go of my throat.

"D'Argo," she hissed again and followed up with a loud thump and a yelp from the 
homicidal Luxan. 

The hand around my throat loosened its grip and I pushed him away furiously, rolling to 
my knees, coughing and gasping for that sweet, sweet oxygen. 

"I'm sorry, John," D'Argo muttered somewhat contritely. He sounded like a three-year-old 
who got caught stealing somebody's paste and wasn't at all sorry he'd done it, only sorry 
he'd gotten caught. 

I managed a low, guttural growl but otherwise ignored him. "Aeryn, status?"

"One of your peacekeepers is two pallets to your right. I see another one about thirty paces 
behind you. This one appears to be injured."

"'Kay. Good. We'll get 'em. Uh, Aeryn, they think my name's Bond. Captain Bond."

There was a long pause and when she finally spoke I thought she sounded kind of amused.  
"Bond? Why do they think that?" She asked innocently and I totally wasn't buying it. 
Aeryn's never that innocent and I knew it, I knew it, all those times I heard, 'no John, I 
can't help you clear the blockage in the amnexus chamber. I've got to make a vital repair to 
my prowler,' it was a total load of dren. Nobody's prowler needs that much maintenance. 
God, you'd think they were the Peacekeeper version of an MG. The truth comes out -- she 
was sneaking off to watch movies. If it wasn't so insufferably cute of her, I'd be pissed. 

"I, uh, told them," D'Argo said hesitantly, obviously still feeling he was on shaky ground 
with one or both of us. "James Bond," he added with an odd little giggle at the end.

I threw a glare in his direction, knowing he couldn't see it, but it needed to be done 
anyway. "I'm glad we're all so incredibly amused by this," I snarled quietly. "But, hey, 
here's an idea, let's take a few microts to get the hell out of here and then you two can 
chuckle over Captain Bond as much as you want. Sound good to you? Sounds good to 
me."

I gingerly pushed myself to my feet and ran a quick body part count. "Aeryn, give me your 
oculars."

She made a soft, disbelieving little laugh, "Frell you."

"What? You're gonna walk up to these Peacekeepers, these traumatized and trigger happy 
PKs, and say . . .? 'Howdy? Don't shoot? I come in peace?' Give me your oculars, damn 
it."

She stepped up next to me, radiating icy spikes of irritation -- that could very easily put an 
eye out if she wasn't careful, and probably more likely she'd put my eye out -- and grabbed 
my hand, forcing the oculars into my grasp. "Um, thanks."

"Uh-huh," she grunted flatly.

Oh forget it. You know what? I wasn't in the mood to play 'guess Aeryn's mood swing'. 
"Whatever." I pulled the oculars on and tried to find whatever adjustment would keep me 
from tripping over my own feet. "Stay here," I grumbled and moved off without waiting 
for a reply. If they stayed put, great; if not, whatever. 'Whatever' was going to be my 
philosophy for the rest of the night. 

I spotted the Peacekeeper Aeryn had identified earlier as the injured one and slipped 
through the dark warehouse towards him. "Lathan? That you?"

"Captain Bond?"

"Yep. How're you doing?"

"You sound different."

"No kidding, huh? Hey check it out, you're bleeding. A lot." I dropped down next to him 
and tried to find the source of his bloody gushings. "Where are you hit?"

"Um, my si-side, sir."

"Anyplace else?"

"Leg?"

"Is that a question or an answer? These oculars really are dren."

"Leg. Yes, sir, leg."

"Which one, Lathan?"

"Sorry, sir," he sobbed apologetically at me. As if I didn't already know it, this just 
confirmed how utterly screwed up the Peacekeepers were. Poor guy gets shot up and he's 
more scared of me than his wounds. "Left leg, sir."

"Don't worry about it, let's just try not to make it worse."

"Yes, sir."

I'd found the wound in his side, and actually it was pretty much three-quarters of his belly 
around to his side. However, while it looked pretty ugly it didn't seem to go too deep. Well 
this was just our lucky day, wasn't it? I slipped my good arm under his shoulder. "Alright, 
Lathan, ready to stand?"

"Yes, sir," he said, though he didn't sound all that ready. 

"Up," I grunted and lifted him. D'Argo really should be the one hefting these guys. Why 
didn't I just send him over? Oh, right, because I was pissed at him. Man, I am a dumbass. 

Lathan and I started gimping pathetically back towards the sulking D'Argo and Aeryn. 
Unfortunately for me, Lathan couldn't quite manage the walk and passed out about halfway 
there, forcing me to carry/drag him the rest of the way. Dropping him to the ground at 
D'Argo's feet with a relieved sigh, I ignored the grumbles coming from my 'friends' and 
went after my other wandering Peacekeeper. 

By this time I was totally and completely sick of the dark. It felt like some giant, disgusting 
fungus creeping over everything I touched or looked at. Was there anything about this city 
that wasn't twisted, corrupted, or in every way stomach-churning? Just asking.

"Who's there? You have two microts before I start shooting."

I stopped and crouched down a little, just in case the sound of my voice set him off on a 
shooting spree. Hard to tell with Peacekeepers. "Pirs, I'd take it as a huge favor if you 
didn't shoot. I've had a frelling long day but I've managed not to get shot and I'd kinda 
like to keep things that way."

"Captain," he sighed, totally relieved. "Are you well, sir?"

"Don't worry about me, Pirs. I can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'."

There was what could only be described as a confused moment of silence. "Um?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"Fine, sir."

"Good. Okay, I'm about 5 paces from you and I'm gonna --" that strange prickle at the 
edge of my senses, that I picked up when I was waiting on Aeryn, was going off again. I 
closed my eyes and cocked my head to one side, trying to pick out what it was.

"Sir?"

"Do you hear that?"

"No, sir."

Hm, so much for Sebacean superiority. Clearly they've got nothing on a good ol' human 
spider-sense. "Stay quiet for just a microt." I tried to still my own breathing in time to get a 
handle on the feeling, but the prickle was gone and all I had left was a blackness that 
seemed to strangle everything like one of Aunt Ruth's Christmas sweaters. Damn.

"Lieutenant, we're getting out of here now," I informed him brusquely. This place had 
some bad mojo working for it and I wanted gone.

"Yes, sir."

I took the last couple of steps towards him and grabbing his shoulder, steered him in 
D'Argo and Aeryn's direction. We quickly made it back to the still glowering duo and the 
poor battered Peacekeeper forced to bleed silently in their frosty presence. I parked Pirs on 
a crate and made a quick round of introductions for the blind and irritated. 

"Pirs, the cold and bitter presence to your right is my Lieutenant," I stopped myself 
quickly, realizing I'd been about spill Aeryn's name and while these guys may not always 
be the brightest crayons in the box, the crew of Moya was just the wrong side of infamous. 
"Um, my, uh, Lieutenant," trying to think fast my brain seemed to freeze on an entirely 
wrong and entirely too amusing idea but I couldn't get it off. Frell, she was gonna kill me 
and frell I wish I could get a good look at her face, I want to die laughing. "Lieutenant 
Galore."

"Lieutenant Galore," Pirs repeated. "Erm, nice to meet you."

"Quite," Aeryn growled frostily. 

"Lieutenant Galore, meet one of our fellow Peacekeepers, my new friend Lieutenant Pirs, 
he's been invaluable to me here . . ."

"Yes, you've done so well," she snarled. 

"Play nice, Lieutenant." I was going to die, and it was going to be worth it, but it wasn't 
quite as sweet given the completely surreal fact that the conversation was taking place in the 
heart of the deepest, darkest, blackest, nightest night that ever was night.

"A true pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Pirs," she bit out in a sickening sweet tone I'd 
never heard before. I was torn between laughing and running. 

I gave up my internal struggle and settled for a sigh. Tapping the oculars, trying to get them 
to focus properly, I wished with all my heart and soul upon an unseen star and a funny 
little cricket with a hat that this ever loving night of bleakness and F. Scott Fitzgeraldness 
would frelling either hurry up and suck the marrow from my bones or just end already. 

And end it did -- a whole hell of a lot more suddenly than I expected. A low, howling, and 
yes, demonic wail sent a bolt of ice through my stomach and set every hair on my body 
quivering. Within half a microt the night cracked and shattered under a million watts of 
pure hellfire. I yelped, jumped back a good five feet and knocked the oculars from my 
shockingly abused eyes. Grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes, I tried to stop the 
searing pain and swore under my breath. 

"Combatants. Cease."

Squinting for all I was worth, I pried open one eye and stared balefully across the 
warehouse towards the entrance. Framed by the jagged hole in the wall was one of the 
robot coppers, his shiny metal chest glowing like a laser show at a Satan worshiping 
synthpop concert. A blue robed Delvian dangled limply from one shiny claw. Not only 
were these guys creepy as all hell, they were getting just a little bit annoying. 

"D'Argo, what do you say we pack up the kids and find ourselves a new playground?"
"I say that sounds like a particularly fine idea, Jo--James."

***

I've had dreams like this -- probably not since I was about twelve, but still, just like this. 
Running through a dark city, chased by ten-foot tall mechanical abominations bent on 
crushing the life from my frail human body. Actually, I was a little stumped on why we 
were being chased and just what the robots wanted. I wasn't sure it made a whole lot of 
sense but then nothing seemed to these days and who really cared anyway? If I didn't have 
to figure it out just then and I could get by with my ass intact, I'd live a happy life in 
ignorance.

Rounding a corner, jumping over a pile of . . . something, we took refuge behind a bizarre, 
monumental architectural feature jutting out from side of building number 31,528. I made a 
mental note to ask D'Argo about it later and dropped back against the wall, gasping for 
breath, grabbing my side and trying to ignore the flames ripping through my chest. D'Argo 
propped Lathan up against the monument dealy and Pirs and Aeryn both looked more 
annoyed than winded. 

"How do you like your robots now?" D'Argo braced one hand on the wall and bent over 
slightly, taking in deep, wheezing gulps of stagnant air. 

Well, I wasn't liking them all that much. Though, to be honest, I never actually did like 
them. I was intrigued by them, and really how could I not be? They are big and shiny and 
metal and the stuff of a million childhood dreams and novels. 

I didn't actually say any of that, though, I was too busy trying to breathe, so I settled for a 
glare in his direction.

"Robots?" Aeryn asked, darting a look back around the monument, checking for the Iron 
Man Gestapo.

"That's what J-James calls the metal creatures."

"Robots?"

"Yes," I snarled. "Where I come from, they're called robots. It's not hard. Say it with me 
here, Lieutenant. Ro-bot."

"Frell you," Aeryn gave me a horrifyingly bright smile. Pirs gasped in surprise, his eyes 
widening in terror as he looked back and forth between us. No doubt waiting for the 
Captain to go off. Wasn't gonna happen buddy, if the Captain ever wanted to get off again 
there'd be no going off.

I leaned as close to Aeryn as I dared. "Lieutenant," I said slowly, "Shut. Up."

"Respectfully, sir, bite me." Pirs gasped again and D'Argo snickered. 

"When we get home," I leered and she grinned.

"Combatants. Halt."

"Frell."

Aeryn and I dropped the flirting, D'Argo snatched up Lathan and we took off on a 
zigzagging dead run. 

We made another hundred yard dash through the murky pseudo-dawn, down a filthy street 
or two, over a low wall, up a small hill, ducked into a narrow alley, skirted mounds of 
critters, and stumbled down the other side of the small hill. Another dozen yards further on 
Aeryn spotted a opening in the street next to building number -- ah hell, I lost count -- and 
foregoing our normal caution, she darted over and dropped herself into it. I followed close 
behind her and dropped to my knees by the opening.

"Aeryn?"

In the gloom below me her face appeared, ghostly pale in the blackness. "Tunnels. 
Drainage, possibly. It's clear right here and small enough your robots can't get in."

I pulled away and waved the others in. Pirs obeyed my frantic motion immediately and 
jumped in. D'Argo handed down Lathan and then followed. I took one last look around 
before tucking my coat close around me and slipping down into the darkness.

I stumbled heavily when I hit the ground, catching myself painfully against the rounded, 
metal walls. My shoulder protested its sudden contact with the wall and when I tried to 
brace myself, the rough metal tore at the cuts and blisters on my hands.

"Frell," I hissed and blinked back the tears of pain. Flipping myself around, I let my back 
fall against the wall and I slid to the filth-encrusted floor. 

"Sir?"

"Give me a microt, Pirs," I whispered harshly, still gritting my teeth against the wide and 
colorful assortment of agonizing injuries screaming through my body like a whirlwind of 
fire. There's only so much my body could take at any one time. I rubbed the back of one 
hand across my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I'd done okay, been knocked out a 
couple of times and took a few more nasty blows, but, wouldn't you know it, that last little 
drop, probably only seven or eight feet, was enough to make my body finally cry uncle. 

I felt Aeryn's firm fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling my arm down from my face. 
"I'm okay."

"Liar," she murmured.

I gave her a small smile, almost able to make out her face in the shadows. "Long day."

"Long few days. Have you had any sleep?"

"He's been unconscious at least three times," D'Argo chirped from somewhere to my right.

"That doesn't count," Aeryn whispered, a surly note to her voice. 

Reaching out, I pressed the tips of my fingers to her lips and cocked my head towards the 
opening above us. She stilled immediately and we froze, listening to the approaching 
whine.

"Combatants. Emerge."

I snorted softly. "That'll happen."

Aeryn tugged on my elbow, urging me to my feet. I set my teeth and pushed myself up 
slowly, painfully, and we moved further into the tunnels. 

"They're sure to know all the exits," Pirs muttered unhappily.

"Do you have any suggestions, Lieutenant?" I snapped angrily. I already had a good idea 
how bad this all was and if he didn't have anything to contribute, I didn't need to hear any 
more about it. 

Pirs mumbled a weak, "No, sir," and we kept moving, blindly stumbling down the tunnel 
The deeper we moved the stuffier the air got, and a rancid stench, stronger and more rotten 
than the air in the city above, flowed around us. I gagged and spat and tried to take shallow 
breaths. It was a torturous march through the decaying bowels of the city, and it was all I 
could do to keep moving. 

I called a halt after about a quarter arn. "Damn, it's too hot. How're you guys doing?" I 
asked anxiously. If it was hot for me, how much worse was it for the Sebaceans in our 
little expedition?

"It is warm," Aeryn said slowly. "But it's not uncomfortable yet. Pirs?"

"I'm fine."

"So, just me then? Great." I sighed and straightened up, preparing to shuck my coat. "A -- 
um, Galore," I stopped and smothered an unbelievably inappropriate laugh. I couldn't help 
it, and the sick corner of my brain that had pulled that name up, gave itself a high-five. 
"Um, help me out here, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," she growled and I sighed in relief at the icy chill she sent my way. We struggled 
to get my coat around my shoulder and it wasn't an entirely painless procedure. I cursed a 
lot, Aeryn cursed some more, and D'Argo was making a strange snuffling noise was I was 
pretty sure was suppressed laughter. 

We finally got the heavy thing off of me and I sighed again, this time with real relief. 
"Thanks."

"Mm-hm." I rolled my eyes and threw the coat over my uninjured shoulder, and stomped 
away from Aeryn, down the tunnel again. The rest of the troop followed me silently. 

Another quarter arn and I was ready to lose my jawa shirt, too. I realized it had to be a 
fever. Not a stunning revelation, no, but one I was hoping not to have to make. Crap

"I have to stop," I panted.

"What's wrong?" Aeryn asked.

"Not feeling too good."

"Is it your head?" D'Argo, who must have set Lathan down again, put a steadying hand on 
my back. 

"No, I think it's the cut on my chest. Burns. Frell me."

"Sir," Pirs cleared his throat nervously. "I noticed some light down a side tunnel a few 
microts back."

"Why the frell didn't you say something?" D'Argo growled fiercely. 

"I, uh . . . ro-robots. I thought, it might be the-the robots," he stuttered.

"Oh for . . ." Aeryn muttered and slipped her arm around my waist. "How far back?"

"It wasn't too far, just a few microts ago," Pirs mumbled.

This stumbling through dark tunnels stuff wasn't something I wanted to make a career out 
of.  Sure it had its Dungeons and Dragons appeal but DK and I gave that game up when we 
were fourteen. Well I gave it up, I think DK still probably plays it. I may have my geek 
aspects but he's King Gnome of the Geeks. Heh. 

Okay, definitely feverish. 

The source of the light turned out to be a small grate out to the street above. Morning light 
dripped sluggishly down through it, along with some kind of gray-green mystery moisture.
Aeryn set me down on the ground and crouched down in front of me, preparing to assess 
the damage. D'Argo put Lathan down a few paces away and prepared to do the same for 
the Peacekeeper.

"You know, you're not being a very good Captain," Aeryn breathed in my ear while she 
tugged off my vest and made a move at the circus tent we were calling a shirt.

"You're not being a very good Lieutenant," I pointed out.

"Well whose fault is that? I didn't choose to be a Lieutenant. You could have made me a 
Captain, too."

"Right," I grunted and ducked my head so she could remove the shirt completely. She put 
my coat behind my back and pushed at my shoulder until I was leaning against it.

"It's not entirely unprecedented. So why do I always have to be your Lieutenant?"

"Always? Try one other time. And that was just because the uniform fit me, and you know-
-"

"It's a male thing, isn't it?" She interrupted with furious suspicion. "I'm not some weak, 
pathetic female who needs her big strong male to tell her what to do. I know how you think 
this works on Earth, but--"

"Oh would you just give it up? When have I ever suggested you were anything other than 
capable? More capable than me? Honey, you are the scariest chick in anybody's universe. 
Next time, you get to wear the Captain pants, no argument from me."

"And you'll be my Lieutenant?"

"Whatever makes you happy."

"Hmmm." She looked me over slowly and I glared at her suspiciously.

"This isn't some weird PK foreplay, is it? I mean, you know I'm good by the--" I cut off 
with a strangled howl when she poked at the gash on my chest.

"It's infected."

"Thank you, Doogie," I snarled. 

"How did this happen?"

"Big bug guy tried to steal my broccoli."

"Are you delirious?"

"I've gotten that question a lot today."

"You get that question a lot every day," she muttered wryly.

"And today the answer is 'not yet'."

"Fine. It doesn't look too bad yet, but, goddess, John," she whispered, "What the frell 
have you been up to? Your shoulder looks like dren. Your hands. Your face." She touched 
the knot on my cheekbone and shook her head. "I can see I can't let the two of you go off 
anywhere alone together ever again."

"Well, you know us. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye. You're . . . you're 
not gonna tell Pilot are you?" I gulped loudly in mock terror. 

She sucked in her cheeks and pursed her lips in that special way she does when she wants 
to convey just how not amusing she's finding me. I tried to give her a charming grin but 
she didn't seem to fall for it. 

"I love you," I dropped my chin and looked up at her hopefully.

"You are the most absurd man," she sighed and brushed her fingers down my jaw, 
grabbing my chin lightly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Tie me up and call me dessert?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head, laughing quietly. I grabbed her hand and kissed 
her fingertips, inordinately pleased with my ability to climb off of her dren list and make 
her laugh at the same time. 

"Ahem." We were so involved in our little conversation we forgot for a moment exactly 
where we were. Pretty amazing considering the stench. D'Argo cleared his throat again and 
we turned to look over at him. "Do you two think maybe you could save this for the ship? 
Not that I'm not happy you're happy, because, I am all about happiness but it's not 
necessarily something we," he nodded to the two Peacekeepers sitting behind him, "want 
to witness. If you get what I'm saying."

"I think we do," I coughed and dropped Aeryn's hand.

"Good."

Aeryn returned to a more critical examination of my injuries and when I pointed out there 
really wasn't much she could do, she sighed loudly and helped me put my tarp and vest 
back on. During the exam I noticed that Pirs seemed to find a spot on the wall just above 
my head incredibly interesting. I craned my neck and looked up, expecting some hideously 
leggy critter to be perched up there, ready to puke yellow goo all over me. Just a rusty 
wall. I glanced back at him and watched him curiously while Aeryn maneuvered my 
damaged wing into my vest.

"Got something on your mind, Pirs?"

He dropped his eyes down to meet mine and answered flatly, "You're John Crichton."

***

Before my name even fully left his lips, Aeryn had spun around, her pistol pointed at his 
forehead. D'Argo had moved almost as quickly and Lathan, fumbling weakly for his 
pistol, was sucking on the end of a pulse rifle before he could do more than sit up 
straighter. 

"Good guess," I said blandly, happily dropping the stupid Peacekeeper accent.

"I should have known earlier," he replied bleakly, looking a lot like he'd just lost his 
puppy. "And you're the traitor, Aeryn Sun." Aeryn raised an eyebrow but didn't otherwise 
reply.

"So . . ." I sat back and let my head droop. "What are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do?" He spat, frustrated, angry, disappointed, all of the above. 

"Play nice and we'll help each other out. You think you can't do that, we can go our 
separate ways right now. No harm, no foul."

"You helped us. Why did you help us?" He asked, almost pleading with me. 

I stared at him for a moment, watching him watch me with a desperate expression on his 
face. It seems I'd crushed the poor Lieutenant's hopes. I can only imagine. Stuck here for 
weeks and along comes a PK Captain set to get them all out. Only, surprise, turns out he's 
a fraud. Bummer. I actually felt pretty bad about it. 

"I helped you because I could. And," I shrugged lightly, "I wasn't too helpful, was I? That 
warehouse was a disaster."

"But you tried," he said slowly, his forehead crinkling as he went from desperation to 
confusion. 

"I did."

"And you came back for Lathan and me."

"Yeah."

"You could have left."

"We could have."

"But you didn't."

"Nope."

"Why?"

"I led you in there, I figured I should at least try to get you out."

"Why?" He insisted stubbornly, doing an impressive impersonation of a three-year old. 

"Just the kind of guy I am."

"I don't understand," Pirs muttered pitifully.

"It's called honor," D'Argo rumbled reproachfully. "He took responsibility as your leader. 
He wasn't going to leave you."

"But . . . but . . ." the Lieutenant sputtered. 

"But he's a wanted fugitive?" Aeryn asked.

"Yes."

"Life is never that simple." She shook her head and glanced down over her shoulder at me. 
I nodded and absently ran my finger down her calf. "You have choice. You can come with 
us, help us, and we'll try to get you out of here--"

"In return?"

"In return, you don't shoot us in the back," she said coldly, "and you don't try to turn us in 
when we get out."

"And my choice is that or Lathan and I are on our own?"

"Pretty simple," I nodded. 

"You helped us," Pirs repeated softly, staring at the puddles of putrid ooze at his feet.

"Yeah, okay, look, we've covered this already," I pointed out. I was already exhausted by 
the conversation, by the day, by the absolutely disgusting things floating around my feet, 
could we all just move on? "Yes, we helped you. No we weren't going to leave you to be 
robot happy meals."

"Well, I wouldn't really say _we_," D'Argo muttered under his breath and Aeryn kicked 
him in the leg.

"Yes," I continued, raising my voice above D'Argo's irritated hiss. "We'll help you get out 
of here. Why? Because I am dumb as a rock and never learn. So," I reached up a hand to 
Aeryn and let her pull me back to my feet, "get up and get moving because I hate this god 
damned city."

Pirs glared up at me glumly and crossed his arms petulantly over his chest. "How're we 
supposed to get out of here? Those robots--"

"Shut the hell up about the damn robots," I suggested loudly. And it was, judging by 
everybody's reactions, a whole lot louder than I'd intended -- if by loud I mean crazy, 
lunatic shrieking. Huh. D'Argo and Aeryn gave me an almost identical pair of surprised 
and dubious looks and Lathan curled up on his side and pitched to the damp floor. Pirs, for 
his part, actually took my suggestion and shut up. My satisfaction at the whine free silence 
was a little marred by the disturbing sight of Pirs's eyes bugging ungracefully out of his 
head. I ground my teeth and raised my eyes to the ceiling. "Stand up," I ordered through 
clenched teeth. 

Pirs obeyed immediately, with nary a squeak. It was a little bit more of a struggle for 
Lathan who fell face first into a puddle and spent the next few microts spitting out gray-
green slime. D'Argo eventually reached down and set him back on his feet. Holding the 
man at arm's length, gingerly trying to keep him upright, D'Argo's face scrunched up in 
disgust as the stinking goo dripped off of the luckless Peacekeeper. 

"Well this is fun," I mumbled softly to Aeryn. She warily holstered her pistol and gave Pirs 
a hefty dose of the hairy eyeball.

"It always is with you. I think I'd die of shock if ever a day went well or quietly," she 
replied dryly, narrowing her eyes dangerously when Pirs adjusted his jacket.

I glanced over at the Lieutenant who was inching uncomfortably behind Lathan, no doubt 
trying to get out of Aeryn's line of sight. "He's not going to try anything. He'd be dead if 
he did and he knows it. If not us, than the robots." 

"Just the same, I think I'll not trust him, if you don't mind," she snapped.

I tried not to flinch at the tone and pursed my lips, letting out a long breath. "Whatever you 
say, honey," I told her carefully. "So . . . how do we get out of here?"

"That grate's too small, we'll have to find another," she answered immediately and 
frowned slightly, appearing to think it over.

D'Argo, not terribly appreciative of being left to baby sit the PKs while Aeryn and I had 
our little tÍte-ı-tÍte, handed Lathan off to Pirs who looked like he might just lose his 
breakfast, and stomped over to us, his large boots splashing noisily through the squishy 
muck. "If I am ever able to smell anything again, I will be amazed." He snorted loudly and 
shook his head, trying to clear his sinuses of the stink. "So," he said when his tentacles 
stopped waving around like a hippie on acid, "how do we get out of here?"

Aeryn sighed heavily and gave us both weary glares. "How, exactly, did you two get this 
far?"

"We did just fine, I'll have you know," D'Argo snarled indignantly.

Aeryn looked me over pointedly. "I can see that."

"Kids, kids," I chanted quietly in a soft singsong. "Let's not do this now. 'Kay?"

D'Argo kicked at a pile of . . . something brown, spattering it on Aeryn's boots and 
grumbled quietly to himself. Aeryn looked down at her boots, back up at the Luxan and 
straightened her shoulders, preparing for battle. I stepped quickly between the pair and 
couldn't quite keep the curl off my lip. "I feel like unholy dren. Can we shelve the attitudes 
and just get the frell out of here? Please."

"We'll need to keep moving. Find another exit. I suggest we continue on as we were," 
Aeryn said evenly, still glaring at D'Argo.

"Tell Pirs to keep his frelling eyes open," D'Argo instructed me bitterly. "And if he frelling 
sees a frelling light he needs to frelling tell us or I'll frelling snap his frelling neck."

I set my jaw and glowered at him. "Fine."

"Good."

Aeryn harrumphed impatiently and poked me in the back. "Would you just go?" I shot her 
as fierce a look as I dared and crossed the dingy tunnel to the nervously shuffling 
Peacekeepers. 

Pirs watched me warily and Lathan swayed where he stood, looking a little glassy-eyed.

"Lathan, how're you doing?"

"Fine, sir," he replied weakly. "I mean . . . I shouldn't call you sir now. I should call you . 
. . I don't know. What should I call you?" He rambled, perplexed, his unfocused gaze 
bouncing around the tunnel.

"Call me Crichton. Call me Commander. Either works."

"Can I call you Bond?"

I frowned at him; he really wasn't all there. "Sure."

He grinned a pathetic sort of grin and nodded a head that was evidently feeling about five 
sizes too large. "Thank you, sir." He started to slide back but I reached out and grabbed his 
jacket just as Pirs braced him from behind.

"It's just not a party if there isn't an incoherent Peacekeeper around," I muttered.

"It's not his fault," Pirs spat at me.

"Didn't say it was. I've had days like this," I jerked my head at the unsteady officer. "He 
needs medical attention. So do I. The little hang-up we've got to that right now is -- have 
you decided if you're gonna play nice or if you're going to be a pain in the ass? I can go 
either way, really easily. But you need to pick one and you need to do it now."

"Right," he replied dully, staring down at his reflection in the ooze.

"Right what? I'm not a mind reader, Lieutenant," I growled unhappily. 

"Right, sir! I'm going to . . . play nice. Follow you. Sir."

"I'm so thrilled to hear it I just can't stand it," I told him flatly, grinding my teeth against 
my urge to deck him. "So, move out. Back the way we were heading."

Pirs, refusing to meet my eyes, headed back towards the junction with the main tunnel. He 
slipped past Aeryn carefully, keeping the stumbling Lathan between him and a clear and 
glacial danger. She seemed to be taking her mission to not trust him very seriously, and 
watched him closely, glaring fiercely every time he so much as took a deep breath. I could 
almost feel his relief when he got to the far side of D'Argo and handed off Lathan. You 
know you're having a bad day when the safest place for you is the bad side of a cranky 
Luxan. 

We all stood around in stony silence, glaring at each other for a moment. Well, all of us 
except for Lathan, who was too busy trying to keep his eyes open and his legs from 
collapsing to join in the glareapolloza. Though, I'm sure, in his heart, he was glaring, too.

I was the first to cave, the gash on my chest was throbbing and I was starting to feel a lot 
more like Lathan looked than I wanted to. I jerked my head at D'Argo and then back at the 
junction and stepped back while he hoisted Lathan up and stalked back down the tunnel, 
grumbling under his breath as he went. Pirs followed him quickly, ducking his head as he 
passed me, but be turned his head at the last bit of light and gave me an injured look. I 
closed my eyes and tried not to snarl back at him. 

Aeryn stepped up next to me and slipped her arm around my waist. She took hold of my 
wrist when I put my good arm across her shoulders. The guy my mama raised was a little 
hesitant about putting too much of my weight on her, but the guy who actually knew Aeryn 
told the mama's boy to shut up and I gratefully accepted her support. 

The main tunnel was just as dark and smelly and in all ways as gross as before and I 
quickly lost all track of time and distance. We stopped four times when somebody spotted a 
light and each time we were forced to pull back when a booming metallic voice told us to 
'emerge'. Pirs was so traumatized by the robots that when we saw the fifth light he stopped 
where he was and flatly refused to move. Aeryn snorted in disgust and made a colorful 
observation about his Peacekeeper manliness. I choked on a laugh, which set me coughing, 
which pulled at my chest, which made me hunch my shoulders, which hurt like hell. 

"D'Argo," I gasped quietly, trying to get back my breath. "Stay here with Pirs. Aeryn and 
I'll go take a look."

"Why do I have to stay here? I should go. I'm stronger than you. I can see better in the 
dark. I can--"

"C'mon, don't argue with me here," I gritted out. "Just . . . just, you've got Lathan, I can 
at least still stand. You stay here."

"When we get back to Moya," he intoned dangerously, "we're going to have a little talk 
about who the real Captain is."

"D'Argo, shut up," Aeryn told him impatiently, and tightening her grip around my waist, 
she started us shuffling forward towards the new source of light. It was a pretty good 
indicator about how crappy I felt that I couldn't even force a 'light at the end of the tunnel' 
joke. I was together enough, though, that I noticed this light was a little different from the 
others. Bluer, I thought. 

"It's not coming from up above," Aeryn whispered to me. 

I nodded my head and leaned forward a little bit, trying to get a better look without actually 
stepping closer. "I can't tell what it is. You?"

"No. Stay here."

"No way, baby."

"John," she rumbled a warning at me.

"You can go first," I said quickly, "but I can still use a pistol and I'm gonna watch your 
back."

She stayed silent for a moment, and I could almost make out the thoughtful frown on her 
face in the ghostly blue light. "Alright," she relented and without another word, stalked 
towards the blue light.

I struggled with the long swaths of fabric that made up my shirt but I was eventually able to 
free my pistol and I held it by my side, at the ready. We both moved closer to the light, and 
while it didn't necessarily get brighter, it did get . . . deeper, I guess. Bluer. 

I felt nervousness dig its claws into my gut when Aeryn started to fade into the blue light. 
"Aeryn, be careful."

"I . . ." she paused and looked over shoulder. "John, you have to see this."

I tightened my sweaty grip on the pistol in my hand and took a handful of unsteady steps 
towards her. She was kneeling on the floor, peering through a large grate. She reached up 
a hand when I got to her and pulled me down next to her. I fell clumsily to her side, 
grunting in pain when my knees ground against the corrugated floor. She caught my fall 
without complaint and pointed a long finger at the scene below us. 

I sucked in a sudden, deep breath of shock. "Holy--"

***

"That is very blue."

I don't know how long Aeryn and I had been staring down through the grate but we were 
so enthralled by the scene I didn't even hear the cacophony of sounds made by a large 
Luxan as he stomped through the sewer. 

When D'Argo's voice rumbled in my ear I jerked in shock and fell into Aeryn with a 
surprised howl. "Eeeyyaaagggh."

D'Argo just grinned and looked back down at the cavern that opened up on the other side 
of the grate.

Aeryn pushed me off of her with a soft growl and I rocked back onto my bruised knees and 
glared at D'Argo. "You were supposed to stay with the Peacekeepers," I hissed furiously, 
pissed at being surprised like that. 

"You were gone for too long. Pirs is convinced you've been eaten by the robots," D'Argo 
said brightly, his voice dripping with malicious humor. Gee, I wonder who put that idea 
into his head in the first place.

I rolled my eyes and ground my teeth. "Pirs needs to grow a pair."

"So you just left them there?" Aeryn asked incredulously.

"Maybe they'll run away," D'Argo suggested hopefully. 

Aeryn's mouth opened and closed a few times while she tried to think of a response to that. 
She finally settled on a narrow-eyed glare and a jerk of her head. "Can you fit through 
there?"

D'Argo frowned in confusion. "Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"What? Out through there? We don't even know were that goes. If it even goes anywhere."

"Well we're not getting out through these frelling tunnels. Robots, D'Argo, robots," Aeryn 
pointed out with more than just a hint of impatience.

"Well, looks like there's somebody else who needs to grow a pair," D'Argo snarled back.

I raised one finger. "Actually, I'd really appreciate it if Aeryn didn't grow a pair. Just, you 
know, on a purely aesthetic level. "

They both ignored me and continued their warrior bonding or whatever the hell it is they're 
doing when they get like this.

"You did not just suggest I was a coward, did you?" Aeryn's eyes flashed in the cold blue 
light.

"If the cowering fits."

Aeryn started to get to her feet, but I grabbed her arm and tugged her back down. Her 
focus never wavered from D'Argo and she gave him the sort of murderous look only 
Peacekeepers seem to be able to manage. I'd have to ask her if they had a special class for 
that. *Looks That Kill 205: From Theory to Practical Application*

After a moment she took a deep breath and stared him down. "Last time. Can you fit 
through there?" 

D'Argo sat silently, his eyes locked with hers in a battle of wills. I could have predicted the 
outcome without even thinking too much about it. Guy was toast. Finally he blinked and 
lowered his head down to peer through the grate. 

"Yes."

"Good. Go get the Peacekeepers and then you're going down first."

D'Argo sat back on his heels and protested immediately. "Why am I going down first?"

"Oh my god," I muttered and pushed myself off my painful knees to sit my ass down on 
the filthy floor. "It's like a field trip with armed kindergartners."

D'Argo sniffed at me suspiciously. "What did you say?"

"I said, quit your whining and go get the Peacekeepers because I am tired of listening to 
you two snip at each other in this damn sewer."

D'Argo gave me a venomous glare and climbed to his feet, muttering Luxan curses under 
his breath. Spinning away from us, head held high, he clomped off back to Pirs and 
Lathan. 

"Okay, next time you say you've had enough of me and D'Argo, I'm reminding you of 
this," I told Aeryn when D'Argo was finally out of earshot. 

Giving me an icy scowl she turned her attention to the grate again. "Help me get this off," 
she ordered.

I got back onto my knees with a groan and tried my hand and prying the rusty metal free 
from the wall. I could tell immediately the thing wasn't going to budge and I sat back 
shaking my burned and abraded fingers. "Not gonna happen, Aeryn."

She contemplated the grate for a moment and then pulled her pistol. I had only enough time 
to throw myself to my side and duck my head under my arms before she atomized the 
thing.

"There. Problem solved," she said with a small, satisfied smile on her lips.

"Thank you, Han Solo," I mumbled.

She gave me an amused, slightly smug look over her shoulder. "Would that make you 
Princess Leia then?"

I glared back and pushed myself back up.

"Crichton is a princess?" D'Argo's voice boomed through the tunnel, shaking the fillings in 
my teeth.

"You know what?" I snapped. "I liked you both better when you had no idea what I was 
talking about."

D'Argo stumbled into the light - Pirs lurking nervously behind him - put Lathan down on 
the floor and came over to clap me on the shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, John, you 
continue to be frequently incomprehensible."

I gasped at the sudden, eye-watering pain that shot through the joint. "Tons D'Argo. I feel 
tons better."

"Good," he thumped my shoulder again and I bit my cheek trying not to shriek like a little 
girl. "So, uh, you want me to go down there first?"

"Yes. John and Lathan are injured. You go down, they'll go next and you make sure they 
don't hit the ground."

"Right." He eyed the blue, glowing opening warily.

"Right."

"I'll just . . ."

"Jump."

"Uh-huh."

"Now."

"Right." He took a step towards the opening and then stopped. "And when are you going 
down?"

"Last, D'Argo."

"So that if that kills us you can get away?"

Aeryn gnashed her teeth. "Just go."

D'Argo took a deep breath, shook his tentacles, squared his massive shoulders and 
dropped down to crawl towards the opening. "It is very blue in there."

"So he'd be Chewbacca than, I guess," I muttered to Aeryn.

"For the love of Chilnak, D'Argo, just go already," Aeryn yelled, exasperated.

D'Argo is not quite as menacing on his hands and knees. Sure he tried for a fierce, Luxan 
snarl, but he just wasn't pulling it off from the floor. I snickered and gave him a toothy 
grin when he directed his ire towards me.

He gave an indignant sniff and pushed himself through the opening with a wild roar. Aeryn 
and I both rushed to the grate to watch him hit bottom. I'm not sure how he did it, but 
somehow he managed to land on his feet with only a small splash and stagger. 

"Oh, I'll give him an 8.9 for that."

Aeryn, proving that D'Argo was right and my gift for apparently nonsensical statements 
was still strong, gave me a puzzled frown. "What?"

"I know, I know, it's a little low, but he did take that step so I had to take off for that. He 
should just be happy the French aren't judging this year."

Aeryn gave me a long look and then decided to ignore me again. "Pirs, bring Lathan over 
here."

Pirs complied without comment and he and Aeryn struggled to put the limp, injured 
Peacekeeper through the grate. They gently maneuvered him about halfway through and 
then gave up and just shoved. I heard a loud grunt from D'Argo, so either he caught Lathan 
or Lathan landed on him. Either way I had to give it to Pirs and Aeryn for great aim. 

They both turned to me and I waved them off. "I can do it myself, thanks."

I pulled myself over to the grate and peered through the heavy blue light. "Hey D'Argo, 
you ready for me?"

"I am."

I swung my feet around and stuck them through the hole. Taking a deep breath, I cast a 
nervous look at Aeryn, but she looked as calm and dispassionate as ever. Well if the 
thing's to be done I figured I may as well get it over with before she and Pirs decided to 
just give me a good heave-ho. The whole procedure was more than a little awkward with 
my damaged chest muscles that pulled and burned with every breath, my sore and blistered 
hands, and my sorta frelled shoulder. I did manage to get myself through the opening 
without doing too much additional damage to my person and I found myself sliding down 
the long slope of the wall. It wasn't a gentle or fun slide, there was a lot of careening 
involved, but I fell back on years of water park training and when I finally flew off the lip I 
was able to sort of control my plummet and D'Argo was saved a boot in the nostril. 

D'Argo climbed out of the pool of muck that lay at the base of the wall and plopped me 
onto the ground next to Lathan. "Thanks D'Argo."

"You're welcome."

A loud splash behind us drew our attention again and we watched Pirs struggle wretchedly 
from the disgusting river of filth. 

I looked back up at D'Argo with a worried frown. "You might want to try to catch Aeryn."

His eyes widened in something very like fear. "Right." He sprinted back into the pool and 
was just in time to keep Aeryn from taking a bath. 

I let out a long sigh of relief and gingerly sat back to get another look at our surroundings. 
The whole place really was amazing. I mean just so remarkable. I've seen a lot of cool 
things in all my years out here but this . . . well this is one of those things that just stops 
me still and makes me wish I could live forever in just that one instant. It was a cavern that 
towered over our heads, so high I couldn't quite see the roof, and it stretched back so far 
away from us, I lost the walls in the blue glow. 

We were located at the edge of a ledge and the room fell away below us a hundred feet or 
so. The only clearly being made aspects of our current location where the wall we just came 
down. It sloped out from the sewer above and ended in a sharp drop off that led to a large 
pool. The liquid in the pool was directed off along the wall towards the left. Some sort of 
flood control channel maybe. Why, I wasn't really sure. This room would seem to be an 
ideal place to store waste. I'm glad it wasn't though, that would have been a tragedy of 
galactic proportions. 

The glow, that bright, deep blue, was coming from the millions, billions, trillions, of 
formations, stalactites, stalagmites, and other groovy geological things I didn't know the 
names for. Some were large, massive as tree trunks, some were thin and delicate and hung 
down like spider webs, some were thick and pointy and looked like bad toupees on top of 
stone skulls but they all glowed with an ethereal light. 

I though maybe it was in the rock itself that was glowing, but I when took a closer look at 
the ledge we were sitting on I could see small, fine tendrils clinging to the rocks. Some 
kind of lichen I figured. Maybe. I was not a biology or geology major and lichen was close 
enough. The more I looked the more I realized the blue glow wasn't uniform, it came from 
huge patches of the lichen, and the light reflected off of and was redirected through and 
around massive crystal clusters.

The whole room was absolutely breath taking. It was one thing to look down on it from the 
sewer but to be down here and feeling just how immense and old it was, was enough to 
shut me up. No jibes at this. Not from me. 

"It's incredible," Aeryn whispered to me as she sat down next to me. 

I nodded dumbly and kept my gaze fixed on the dark, blue distance. I finally pulled my 
eyes away when she reached up and started to brush her fingers along the back of my neck. 
She smiled at me and I smiled back. I complain sometimes that my life sucks, but it really 
didn't and hadn't for a long time. Sure some days sucked and some things that happened 
sucked, but when I could sit in someplace this beautiful with the beautiful woman who 
loved me for some unfathomable reason, I never had the right or will to ever really 
complain. Life was strange, life was mysterious, life could be a pain, but most of the time 
it was okay and sometimes it was beyond amazing. 

I gave in and leaned over to brush a brief kiss across her lips. "It's beautiful."

***

The five of us must have looked like a pretty sorry sight as we trudged, stumbled and 
slogged our way through the funky blue twilight. Aeryn and Pirs were both trying to keep 
me upright, D'Argo was carrying Lathan and the floor itself seemed determined to conspire 
against any sort of rapid movement. There were pits and valleys and hills and it rose and 
fell and I tripped through about six depressions before I finally called a halt. Aeryn sat me 
down on a tree stump-like stone block; I yelped in pain and moved myself to sit on the 
uneven but thankfully sharp crystal-free floor. There's a reason my ass is leather clad. 

Aeryn sat down next to me and muttered a quiet apology about the unfortunate choice of 
seating. I shrugged tiredly and peered through the gloom with a disgruntled frown; it was a 
lot like looking at the world through one side of a pair of 3-d glasses. It was really, really 
novel at first. Pretty and shiny and a hell of a lot better than anything else the city had 
offered up. Unfortunately it was just a little too blue and it had lost its charm after about an 
arn. I had one frelling monster of a headache and the eyestrain was killer.

"You won't be able to go much further." Aeryn told me after about a quarter arn of silence. 
She fidgeted next to me, her fingers tapping anxiously on her knee, and her general 
restlessness gave me a clue as to how worried she was. Aeryn was the picture of stillness, 
careful in her movements, trained over years to assess a situation before reacting -- unless 
she was worried about something and then her natural need to act would override her 
trained caution. Seated next to me now, she was practically shaking with the effort of 
sitting still for even a microt. 

"Yeah, I know." I reached out and caught her nervously moving fingers. 

"It was a mistake coming down here."

"No. We didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Robots?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pirs flinch away from the word. I turned my 
head and gave him an incredulous look. He glared and looked away. "Not much of a 
choice," I told Aeryn as I returned my attention to her. 

"No, I suppose not." She climbed to her feet and tried to pull me up. I wasn't moving very 
quickly though, so she almost pulled my arm out of its socket before I managed to get to 
my feet, swaying slightly as the world rocked beneath me. 

Pirs and D'Argo grumbled darkly as we prepared to move again and Aeryn and I both 
grumbled back -- complaining wasn't going to get us out of this city any faster. The sudden 
and very off-key caterwauling of Lathan broke the tense moment and made for an . . . 
interesting change. Aeryn told me it was a Peacekeeper drinking song. I took her word for 
it. I don't know what it sounded like but I would have figured the creation of a sound like 
that could only have come with the assistance of a red-hot poker and a pair of tweezers. No 
wonder Sebaceans feared the Living Death. 

"He's got a fever. We need to get him to a healer," Pirs yelled over Lathan's aria. 

"No kidding," D'Argo growled, holding Lathan as far away from him as he could while 
still carrying the Peacekeeper.

"Than I'm going to suggest that you quit bitching every time we start moving again, Pirs," 
I couldn't resist that little bitter snark, but damned if I wouldn't take Lathan's incoherence 
over Pirs' whining any day. 

I met Pirs scowl for scowl until Aeryn grabbed me by the collar and started us moving 
again. "You know, I'm really sorry I pretended to be a PK captain and shook his faith in 
the little furry Peacekeeper gods but he needs to get the frell over it before I deck him and 
toss him to the next robot we see. Hell, we'd probably be able to get away if we did that."

"Peacekeeper gods have never been furry," Aeryn commented absently.

"Bummer."

A puzzled frown crossed her face as she considered the possibilities of shaggy deities. 
"Does anybody have furry gods?"

"I dunno. Hey D'Argo," I shouted over my shoulder. "Are your gods furry?"

D'Argo didn't even pause at the question, just shook his head, slapping Lathan in the face 
with a tentacle or two -- his singing continued, unabated -- and answered firmly, "No."

"Bummer," I said again. "You don't suppose Hynerian gods are furry, do you?"

"Slimy, more like," D'Argo said.

"Nebari?"

"No clue."

"Hope they don't look like Elvis. That would be scary. Though, you could really 
consolidate the velvet painting market."

"Do you have a fever?" D'Argo yelled, Lathan's song seemed to have hit a new high.

"Yeah."

"Bummer."

"Yeah."

"You should probably concentrate on walking, than."

"Probably."

I turned back to the path in front of us and snuck a glance at Aeryn. "Not furry?"

"Not in the slightest."

"You're making an awful lot of noise."

Aeryn froze, but her fist shot up, a silent order to stop, and I stumbled slightly, dropping to 
one knee at the sudden halt. "Did you say that?" She asked me in a harsh whisper.

"No."

The sound of Lathan's singing was muffled, probably by D'Argo's fist, but his broken 
humming and our breathing echoed loudly in my ears as I strained to hear any other 
sounds. I was starting to get slowly to my feet again when a searing pain burst through my 
chest and I fell back onto the cave floor, held down by a sudden weight pressing on my 
stomach. 

"John!" 

Aeryn's cry was a distant sound, barely distinguishable through the red haze in my brain 
and the rush of blood through my ears.

"You're very tall."

My breath was coming in short, agonizing gasps and tears of pain were blurring my vision 
but I managed to pry my eyes open and utter a bewildered, "huh?"

"All of you. Very tall. Very loud."

My vision cleared slightly and I got a look at the creature sitting on my stomach. Rygel 
sized, blue, lizardy. Long, sharp toes were wrapped in the many folds of my oversized 
shirt. Long, sharp fingers poked curiously at my face and neck. I tried to swat him away 
but he dodged quickly and stuck his toothy, bug-eyed face in mine. "Greetings."

"Urgh."

"You're hurt?"

"Gahhg."

"What are you doing to him?"

I rolled my head to one side, groaning as the numerous bruises on my skull rubbed against 
the rocky floor, and saw that Aeryn and the others were surrounded by dozens of the little 
lizardoids. I rolled my head back and looked at my new friend who was looking up at 
Aeryn, an expression of lizardy innocence on his tiny face.

"He's injured," he/it said in a tone that sounded almost scandalized. I agreed. How dare I 
be injured?

"Jumping on him isn't helping." Aeryn snarled furiously, her voice raising to dangerous 
levels.

Several of the lizardoids made some ominous clicks and shuffled towards her. For the first 
time I noticed they all carried small, silver sticks. Boom-sticks? I started to laugh weakly 
and regretted it immediately. 

Lizardoid numero uno turned back to me and poked me in the cheek and grabbed my lower 
lip, shaking it slightly. "You're injured."

"I noticed," I tried to pull my face away from his grasp but he had freakishly long fingers 
and arms and I was still flat on my back. 

He hopped off of me and squatted down by my head, sticking his face about two inches 
from mine again. "You should get up."

"I would have if you hadn't been sitting on me."

"I'm not sitting on you now. You should get up. We'll take you where you'll be better."

"Right," I said flatly.

He cocked his head to one side and blinked he right eye. "It's bad you're hurt."

"I agree."

"You should be unhurt," he said, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

"Love to be."

"Than you should get up."

"Easier said than done," I muttered and tried to push myself up. My chest muscles 
protested violently and long fingers of fire licked across my torso. 

Lizardoid moved closer and slipped his bony hands under my shoulders, tugging with all 
his might, trying to help me up. When I was up far enough he threw his shoulder into the 
mix and I could hear him making little hiccuping noises as he pushed. Together we 
managed to get me into a sitting position and he collapsed next to me. 

"You're very big."

"Yeah. That's what Aeryn says." I tried to suppress another laugh. I was sick, what could 
I do? I was totally at the mercy of my injuries. A giggle broke through, and that lead to a 
coughing fit, which lead to agony, which lead to another collapse on the floor. When I 
could breath again, I felt a different pair of hands pulling me up.

"Serves you right," she muttered.

"Couldn't be helped. It was just right there, begging for me to say it."

"You're hopeless," she sighed, clearly exasperated.

"I am," I agreed soberly.

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah, sure, you betcha."

With much grunting and groaning we managed to get me back to my feet. My chest felt 
tight and I couldn't catch a deep breath and my eyes continued to water with the pain, but I 
got a good look around. An army of the little Lizard guys surrounded us. My little Lizard 
guy stood in front of me with his long, thin arms crossed, spindly fingers wrapped around 
narrow shoulders. His eyes blinked expectantly -- one after the other -- and he gave me a 
lipless grin. 

"Home," he ordered loudly.

The Lizardoid army prodded at our legs to get us moving and we stumbled along in the 
deep, blue twilight, surrounded by our . . . hosts? Captors? 

D'Argo had stepped up next to me, Lathan had passed out at some point, and Pirs hung 
behind us a few paces -- though the Lizardoids didn't let him get too far back.

"How much weird can one planet have?" I grumbled as we waded through the river of 
critters.

"Well, we've been to Earth, so, I'd say--"

"Shut up," I snapped. Sick and surrounded by small, bug-eyed aliens, I wasn't in much of 
a mood to put up with Earth bashing.

"You can't deny that Earth is very odd," he persisted.

"Shut. Up," I reiterated, more loudly this time. That earned a click from my little lizard 
friend.

"I'm just saying," D'Argo said evenly. "Planets can have loads of weird. Like Earth."

"D'Argo, stop it," Aeryn ordered. "You're just provoking him."

"I am. I really am. I'm sorry, John. Earth is a lovely, completely rational planet."

"D'Argo," Aeryn growled a warning. 

"Oh come on, Aeryn. A planet populated _entirely_ by humans."

"There's nothing wrong with humans," Aeryn defended loyally. 

"Fine, fine," I snarled. "It is a silly place. Let's drop it."

D'Argo hummed thoughtfully for a second. "I liked borscht."

I couldn't quite keep the disbelieving look off of my face. He could really just pick his 
moments. 

"And pickles," he continued. "But not together because that would be disgusting."

***

I'd say it was getting warmer, but I really wouldn't be qualified to judge. I'd shed my 
circus tent sized shirt about a metra back, and tried to ditch my vest and coat but Aeryn 
insisted I'd want them later. What the frell would she know about it? It was an inferno 
down here. If DK and Olivia hadn't kept trying to steal my Major Matt Mason doll, I'd 
have been more concerned about the heat and Aeryn's physiology. As it was my launch 
vehicle was missing and damn if it wasn't that tech down in astrobiology messing with the 
seals _again_. Asshole. Wonder how he'd like some 40 weight in his coffee maker.

Pirs spotted it first. I was still busy drifting in and out of about a dozen different memories, 
Aeryn was working on walking and keeping me upright, Lathan was gripped by some sort 
of fever dream and D'Argo was occupied with trying to carry the struggling man. The little 
army of Lizardoids pushed us forward, through the deep blue non-day, and deeper into the 
cave system below the city. 

"AAAIIIIEEEEE!" The manly shriek pulled me out of my daydream of a hot summer 
evening at the ballpark. Too bad, too, I could almost taste the beer and smell the cool grass. 

I steadied myself against Aeryn and focused my eyes on the ruckus to my right. Pirs was 
down on his backside, trying to push backwards through the mass of lizardoids. A few of 
them had their silver sticks up against his back but he kept scrambling, his face contorted in 
terror. I glanced over at Aeryn to see if she could offer some insight into whatever it was 
that was going on but her gaze was fixed straight ahead. I followed her eyes and almost fell 
over myself. 

It rose head and shoulders above the cave floor, its red eyes burning through the blue light 
of the cavern, a painful contrast. Another frelling robot. Only this one was huge. Those 
robots on the surface were the runty kid brothers of this robot. 

We stopped on the path and no amount of jabbing with the cold, silver sticks was going to 
get us moving again. I could see Aeryn and D'Argo scanning the room we were in for 
some sort of exit, but with the press of beings around us and the fact that we didn't know 
where we were, I figured we were a little stuck at the moment. 

"That's a robot," Lathan had woken at Pirs' shriek and now he blinked at the metal man. 
"We don't like robots, right?"

"Right," D'Argo muttered. 

"Right," Lathan echoed and helpfully passed out again. 

My lizard friend stopped at my feet and looked up at me, puzzled. "Come. We're almost 
home."

"The metal creature over there," Aeryn waved her hand towards the robot while we all 
leaned back warily, "we haven't had much luck with them."

That was an understatement if ever I'd heard one. Herded and hounded equaled 'not much 
luck.' Okay, baby, whatever you say. "They're bad for our health," I elaborated.

The little guy pushed his head forward towards us, blinked his left eye, and then turned his 
head almost all the way around to look at the robot. "It's ours."

"If it's anything like the ones upstairs, we're not moving."

He turned his head back around and flapped his hands in my direction, making a soft 
huffing noise I supposed was a laugh. "It's ours."

"And yet, still a robot," I pointed out.

"It won't hurt you," he snuffled another laugh and bobbed his head at me. "Why would we 
bring you to make you unhurt only to let you be hurt?"

"The 64,000 kretma question."

He stared at me for a long moment, blinking his huge eyes, until he finally decided to just 
ignore my comment. "Come. We're almost home," he repeated and turned with a click of 
his jaw. 

"I don't like this," Aeryn murmured in my ear.

"Aeryn, I'm not going to make it much further and you can't carry me, so we've got a 
couple of choices as far as I can see. You park me somewhere while you get out and then 
try to come back for me, or we see what our little lizard friends are up to."

"Those choices are dren," she exclaimed in a harsh whisper.

"Yeah, well, I showed you mine, you show me yours."

"We could all keep going together, tell these creatures we appreciate their offer but we can 
make it on our own."

"Honey, unless Moya's on the other side of that wall, that's not happening," I told her 
wearily. 

"I know," she growled in resignation. Her cheeks puffed slightly as she let out a long 
frustrated breath. Tightening her grip on my belt, she eyed the robot suspiciously. "I 
suppose if we're going to do this thing we ought to do it."

"That's my little Peacekeeper," I said and patted her shoulder affectionately.

She scowled and jerked at my belt. "Don't _ever_ call me that again."

"Um, sorry," I muttered, trying desperately for the right combination of meek and 
apologetic. "I'm sick," I tried again with a whimper.

"Remind me why I put up with you?" She asked as we started forward towards the 
horrifically large metal menace.

"'Cause I've got such pretty blue eyes?"

"Hmm," she hummed flatly.

"And I'm cute? I look good in leather?"

"According to who?" She asked, amused.

"According to Pip."

"Oh, well she's just a brilliant judge of men," she sniffed dismissively.

"And I've got the best plans ever."

"Your plans . . . I'm not even going to go into the history of your plans. I think it's safe to 
say they are most certainly not the best."

Yeah, the plans thing, not a good plan to bring them up when trying to discuss my best 
qualities. I tried again, "I give great backrubs."

"Very true," she agreed.

"I let you kick my ass whenever you want to."

"Oh, please."

"What are you two talking about," D'Argo rumbled as he walked up next to us again.

"We're discussing all the reasons why Aeryn is madly in love with me."

D'Argo stared at us, looking faintly queasy. "Sorry I missed it. I think I'll walk over 
there." He took a few large steps away from us and I caught sight of Pirs hiding behind 
D'Argo's broad back. He really wasn't the bravest Peacekeeper ever. He went to the Braca 
school of Peacekeepering, I guess. 

"What are you laughing at?" Aeryn asked sharply.

"Pirs." I jerked my head towards the terrified Peacekeeper.

"Oh for the love of Chilnak," Aeryn spat, disgusted. "That man is a disgrace."

"C'mon, maybe we should give him a break, he's had a bad night. And the robots are 
creepy, you've got to admit that."

Aeryn raised her chin in indignation and held me with a fierce look. "He is a Peacekeeper, 
he should--"

I raised a hand and begged for mercy, "Please no, no Peacekeeper dogma. Please. My 
stomach can't take it."

Her mouth snapped shut but she shot one last dirty look over my shoulder at Pirs. "So, 
you let me kick your ass, do you?"

I smiled and squeezed her shoulder gently. She was trying to keep my mind focused on 
where we were and what we were doing. I didn't know how well it would work, but I 
appreciated the effort. "I make a mean food cube platter."

"Mean food cubes?"

"Surly food cubes. Sometimes even vicious."

She nodded slowly, "Okay."

We were still headed straight at the robot, its red eyes glowing steadily, pulling us in like 
some unholy tractor beam. As we got closer it got bigger. 

"I'm a damn fine shot."

"You weren't always."

"See? And I'm an excellent student."

The room we were in opened into a larger cavern and the floor dropped away from us. The 
robot was 25-30 feet high if he was an inch. It was a little hard to tell just how tall it was, 
because it was seated on the floor of the cavern. It was immobile, which was the best news 
we'd had, and there were lizardoids crawling on it at various points, including it's torso 
which was opened up, its guts hanging down the outside of his shiny body. That, of 
course, didn't keep its eyes from watching us and as our escort started us down a path 
along the side of the cavern wall, the massive head turned to follow us. 

"And I'm not scared of robots," I told Aeryn quietly.

"Sure."

"I'm not."

"I believe you."

"Are you scared of the robot?" I asked curiously, without a hint of ridicule.

"Well," she replied slowly, "I don't know that I'd use the word scared. Perhaps rationally 
cautious and aware of a potential threat."

I laughed softly, and lowered my heavy head to kiss her roughly on the temple. "No idea 
why you put up with me, baby, but _that's_ why I love you."

"Hmm," she murmured again, a pleased little smile playing across her lips.

We reached the floor of the cavern and the army at our feet broke up, most of them heading 
off into the cavern. A handful stuck around us, and tried to lead D'Argo, and by extension 
Pirs and Lathan, in one direction, while my little buddy tried to lead Aeryn and me in 
another. 

D'Argo, of course, protested loudly, "Where the frell do you think you're taking us?"

"To heal that one," a slightly mottled lizardoid squeaked and pointed at Lathan.

"I refuse to allow us to be split up," he barked and spread his feet stubbornly. 

The lizardoid tossed his hands up in the air and wriggled his fingers in irritation. "He is 
hurt. You come with us and the healer will heal him."

"And what about John?" He asked, shaking his head in my direction.

"The other healer will heal him," the lizardoid hissed.

"Two unwell, two healers," my lizardoid spoke up, trying to calm D'Argo. He stood 
between D'Argo and I and crossed his arms patiently. "No harm, two healers."

"Makes sense D'Argo," I said, fighting back the black spots that had started dancing a jig 
across my vision. 

"No it doesn't," he spat. "It makes no sense. Why would the healers be in two different 
places? That is crazy sense."

"Unless, you know, they had two different houses, or offices, or holes in the wall, 
D'Argo," I spat back. "I've got about 10 more microts before I hit the ground, I don't want 
to spend them arguing with you."

D'Argo's immense nostrils flared. "Fine, but if you end up dinner, I don't want to hear 
about it." He hefted Lathan and followed the mottled lizardoid towards an series of stone 
structures across from the robot.

"He'll perk up," I said to nobody in particular.

"He's very large," my lizardoid noted. "And very, very loud."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Um, healer?" The black spots were quickly becoming budongs.

"This way," he said. 

I managed to stay upright long enough to get to the healer's tiny little side cave, 
unfortunately I lost it when I had to bend down to get through the opening. My knees hit 
the ground, jarring my spin and sending waves of pain through my chest and into my head. 
I felt Aeryn's hands catch my shoulders, keeping my skull from connecting with the rock 
floor, and I managed half a "frell" before I was swallowed by unconsciousness. Again. 

***

I had the strangest dream. And I don't mean strange like the line-dancing Scarrans dream or 
the Maria Shriver chasing me out of the Kennedy compound with a weed whacker and a 
bowl of goldfish dream. This was spooky, make me think, kind of strange. 

I was in the desert, red mesas and dry, blasted hills behind me. It was damn hot but I 
ignored it. I was standing on the side of one of those cracked, rocky hills, staring down a 
sandy, blood red valley to a silver river and beyond the river a flat golden plane and beyond 
that, jagged green and white peaks shot up into the painfully blue sky. And I just stood 
there. And I stood there. And I stood there. 

Everything around me was hot, dry and dead but on the other side of that river those 
mountains looked cool and alive. But I just stood there. I was scared and I don't have one 
clue why. Uncertainty held my feet like hot, sticky tar, and fear kept my eyes locked on the 
river. 

It felt like I stood there forever. I could feel the seasons change around me, I watched gold 
and red creep up the sides of the mountains like fire and then everything was frosted in 
white and then the green returned and soon it was summer again and hotter than hell. 

My pulse crashed and echoed through my skull, my body went cold as ice in the heat, and 
while I was locked in staring down the valley, my eye caught a flash of movement to my 
left. My heart stopped, my lungs seized and ten tons of fear almost crushed the life out of 
my chest. I managed to turn my head, and watched two huge bright red birds drop down 
onto the cracked earth about ten yards from me. They were bigger than D'Argo, so red it 
seared my eyes, and their wings were tipped with the same painful blue as the sky. Then 
they started to walk towards me. My heart started to beat again, though it was an agonizing 
thrashing, and my lungs greedily  sucked in the dry, scorched air. 

I was still frozen in place, my body shivering and burning, as the birds approached me. I 
was absolutely terrified and wanted to book it down the hill, through the valley that had 
been my earlier object of terror. One of the birds was old and the other young, but I'm not 
sure how I knew that, and while I struggled with myself they just kept coming. I noticed 
now that the old bird was carrying a long, sharp stick and my heart stopped again, bands of 
fire and ice mercilessly gripped my chest. 

The birds stopped about three feet in front of me and stared at me for a moment. Then the 
old bird started talking to the young bird and hefted the sharp stick. I couldn't understand 
what they were saying, but the young bird nodded and the old bird pressed the point of the 
stick to my chest. The grip on my chest loosened and my heart started beating. 

The old bird peered at me with his beady black bird eyes, "You must face the pain."

If I hadn't been scared drenless, if my brain had had any function at all, I might have given 
the mangy, feathered creep a suggestion on where he could stick his pain. As it was the 
best I could do was gasp and cough and almost fall down when my legs went weak. 

"Face the pain. Fear. Pain." The young bird stared at me, his head cocked to one side, and 
the old bird pressed the stick more firmly against my chest. My legs finally gave out and I 
hit the ground, rocks digging into my knees and cutting my hands as I struggled to keep 
my face out of the dirt. The old bird brought the stick up under my chin, lifting my head 
with the point and then dropped the point of the stick against my chest again. "Face the 
pain." And he shoved the stick into my chest. 

"GGGAAAHHHHHH!" My body jerked out of the dream. I fell off the platform I was 
laying on and collapsed on the floor, fighting for breath. The room swirled in and out of 
focus, darkness and light, while I gasped and clawed at the ground. 

Out of the hazy dark, a long, hard, claw-like hand reached for me and gripped my face. For 
a long, confused microt I battled both the dream and reality, not sure which was which or 
where exactly I was, or even who and what I was. The hand tightened, sharp nails digging 
painfully into my cheeks, squeezing until my eyes, blurred by pain and tears, popped open. 
"Hello, blue eyes."

I knocked the hand away from me and threw myself backwards with a hoarse yell. "Frell! 
God, god, god," I panted and scrambled back against the wall. 

A flash of light at the other side of the room sent spikes of pain through my eyes and I 
squeezed them shut and dropped my head down to my knees.

"Get the frell away from him." I was still wavering between nightmare and reality but I 
knew that voice, and for the first time since I passed out I was able to draw a relatively easy 
breath.

"D'Argo."

"Stay where you are, John. Don't move. You, get the frell away from him." There was an 
angry hiss, a sharp scraping against the rock floor and then silence. 

I took another deep breath, pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and tried to right 
myself. The dream clung to me like a sticky film and my stomach churned. 

D'Argo's big hand fell onto my shoulder, bracing me and I could hear the rustle of cloth 
and the creak of leather as he crouched down next to me. "John?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"Can I help you up? You should be in bed."

"I'm sick of being sick," I moaned and tried to push myself up. D'Argo's hand caught me 
under the arm and he heaved. I stumbled to my feet, swayed for a microt and almost fell 
over before D'Argo could catch me by the scruff of my neck. "And I had a crappy dream," 
I mumbled as he dragged me back over to the platform. "If I'm gonna be sick, I want a 
good dream."

"Perfectly understandable," he said quietly. 

"Aeryn in that gold Princess Leia bikini feeding me grapes on some tropical island." I 
laughed weakly. "That would be a good dream. Be even better when she loses the bikini."

"I wouldn't advise letting Aeryn in on that dream just now."

"Nah," I mumbled and grunted when D'Argo sat me on the platform and picked up my 
legs. "You don't have to do that, D'Argo."

"I'd expect you to do the same for me," he told me almost absently, while he tucked a 
blanket around my chest.

"Man, D, you weight a drenload more than me. I'll need Aeryn's help."

He breathed a soft laugh and patted my knee. "Then you'd really better not tell her that 
dream."

"Where is she?"

"She'll be in soon."

"'Kay. Thanks, D'Argo."

"You're welcome. I'm going to go get the healer."

"Wait," I said as a bit of the fog around my brain cleared. "Wait, wait. What the holy frell 
is Frau Blucher doing here?"

"Who?"

I squinted my eyes and tried to clear my head some more. I wasn't entirely sure she wasn't 
part of the nightmare. "The eye-popping bitch?"

"Oh," he replied flatly and kicked a boot against the ground. "I think you should rest for a 
bit longer, John. I'll go get the healer." He spun on his heel and strode away from me.

I tried to sit up but my muscles refused to cooperate and I flopped back on the bed like a 
landed mackerel. "D'Argo," I called weakly but he'd already disappeared. "Damn it."

I lay on the not entirely comfortable platform for probably a quarter of an arn, entertaining 
myself by running through every curse word I knew in every language I knew -- in 
alphabetical order -- and trying to decide if I could feel my knees or not. I knew I could feel 
my feet, I stubbed a toe when I bolted out of bed and it was barking at me, so I wasn't too 
panicked about not knowing where my knees were. In fact, I was starting to think that the 
right one was itching just a little bit. 

"John." A brief flash of bright light blinded me for a moment but I could hear the relief in 
Aeryn's voice as she crossed the room towards me. "How do you feel?"

"I can almost feel my knees," I offered, squinting up at her.

"Be serious," she snapped. Reaching out she grabbed my face in her hands. Unlike Frau 
Blucher's, Aeryn's hands were, well, not exactly soft, but they were gentle. No eyeball 
popping. "Look at me," she ordered. 

I tried to focus my eyes and stared up into her concerned gaze. "Hey, baby, I'm alright."

"You are now," she muttered softly and stroked her thumb across my bottom lip. "You're a 
lucky bastard, do you know that, John?"

Well, this really wasn't cool. There were, swear to god, tears in her eyes. I can count the 
number of times Aeryn has cried on one hand. God. Stick that pointy stick in my chest 
again, Buffy, it would hurt a hell of a lot less. "Hey, hey," I whispered helplessly and took 
one of her hands in my own. "You gonna tell me, or am I going to guess?"

She jerked her chin up, composing herself, and cleared her throat. "The gash on your chest 
was dangerously infected, apparently the creature that did it secretes a substance that --"

I cut her off weakly, "I don't want to hear about secreting substances"

Aeryn nodded and continued her list of damages. "Some minor infections in the dozens of 
other cuts and burns -- what were you up to? A serious concussion. Fluid in your lungs, 
most likely an after effect of the substance they used to render us unconscious on the 
station. D'Argo says it affected you badly." She pursed her lips and squeezed my hand. 
"Your heart was overworked and stopped twice before they could stabilize you."

I managed a small smile, she didn't appreciate it and scowled down at me, but I gave her 
hand a little tug, linking our fingers and drawing her closer. "Guess the little lizard guys are 
pretty good healers."

"They had help," she replied ominously. 

"Who?" I asked, feeling the ice gather in my stomach.

"I should have been here when you woke," she muttered to herself. "I meant to be. But . . 
. Salith wanted to show me a path to the surface not monitored by the robots and you were 
stabilized and resting and D'Argo was here and I wanted to get a start on finding our way 
out of here so that when you were--"

"Aeryn," I cut her off. Aeryn crying was disturbing enough, Aeryn babbling was 
downright terrifying. "Natira?"

"Yes. She helped them. She saved your life."

"Why?" The ice turned to acid and I fought back the swell of bile in my throat. 

"Well, actually, it saved her own life as well." 

"How?"

"Well . . ."

"Aeryn," I sighed wearily and dropped her hand. "Just spit it out, honey."

"Alright, fine," she said with just an edge of temper to her voice. I knew she wasn't angry 
at me, but the situation, which clearly sucked in a vacuulux sort of way. "She was here. I 
don't know why, I don't know how, I didn't ask and I don't actually care to know. When 
the healer started treating you, you went into shock. He did his best, but he was losing 
you." She stopped and pinned me with a frosty gaze. "A quarter arn, John, if we'd been a 
quarter of an arn later . . ." 

"We weren't," I said as firmly as I could but I have to admit it had to make it past a small 
hitch in my voice first. 

"We weren't," she repeated. "That . . . female, came sniffing around. D'Argo and I spent a 
few microts trying to decide which of us got to kill her. She said she could help you. Or 
rather help the healer."

"S'at so?" I asked skeptically. Clearly whatever they'd done had worked because I wasn't 
strumming a harp . . . or I guess in my case, dodging pitchforks. But still, I had more 
reason to be skeptical of that bitch than anybody else did and I figured she was more likely 
to help me into the grave rather than out of it. 

"Hmm. She remembered you. Remembered your physiology. Or at least the relevant 
aspects of it."

"Meaning what?"

Aeryn cleared her throat. "To effectively torture a being you need to know how they work, 
their vulnerable parts, how to hurt them without killing them, how to get them close and 
pull them back. She didn't get a chance to test it out on you at the shadow depository but 
she was able to use it to guide the healer enough that he was able to treat you." She got the 
words out quickly and then took a deep breath. Picking up my hand again, she stared down 
at our fingers and chewed on her lower lip. "I didn't have a choice."

I started to laugh. I couldn't help it, it just sort of bubbled up from somewhere in my gut. 
The laugh started out soft and then turned into my 'I've got to laugh or I'm going to start 
shooting and hey, how about if I start shooting,' laugh. "Damn, Aeryn," I gasped. 
"What's next? Bet there's an army of Scarrans in this cave somewhere. Hey do you 
suppose the reason it's so dark outside is that we're actually in the belly of a budong? Or, 
wait, wait, how about if none of this is real? Hot damn! Who's screwing with my head this 
time?"

When the laugh gave out, it took the last little bit of strength I had with it and I lay back on 
the bed, exhausted. Rolling my head to one side, I looked up at Aeryn and caught the 
offended and hurt look in her eyes. I sighed heavily and squeezed her fingers. "Sorry, 
baby. Long frelling day."

"You almost died," she said coldly. "Don't you dare do that to me again."

"It's not like I meant to."

"Nevertheless. Don't do that again," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am, Officer Sun."

"Hmph." She didn't appreciate my attempt at humor but she didn't snarl either, so we were 
evidently feeling a little bit better about things. 

"So," I took a deep breath and reached down to scratch my knee. Hey, my knee. Hello, 
knee, good to know you're there. "There's a way out?"

"A way out of the cave to another part of the city. Not out of the city, frell it."

"Ah well," I yawned and tucked her hand close to my side. "We'll figure it. Later."

"We will," she agreed and brushed her free hand across my forehead. "Go to sleep. You 
wore me out today and I could use the break."

I smiled and closed my eyes. "Don't let that woman near me and my blue eyes."

"As if I would."

"Well, before--"

"Don't argue with me, Crichton," she cut me off. "Go to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am." I wrestled with sleep for a few long microts. My body was exhausted but 
my mind was throwing up Hitchcockian visions of swarms of giant red birds attacking. My 
body countered with a weak but pleasant reaction to the idea of Aeryn in a gold bikini and 
my mind, suitably distracted, gave in and I drifted down into sleep. 

***

I swirled in and out of sleep for a time. It was a nice change -- sleep rather than 
unconsciousness, which I think I've mentioned before, sucks -- and when I finally drifted 
out of it, my body felt heavy and relaxed. 

Unfortunately, when I woke it wasn't to the sight I was hoping for. Could have been 
worse, sure, but still it's like when you've got a cup of something and you're expecting 
Dr. Pepper and you get a mouthful of Pepsi instead. You might like Pepsi okay, but your 
taste buds were all prepped for Dr. Pepper so you may as well have taken a swig of 
gasoline, or ranch dressing, or both together, for as well as your deked taste buds would 
take the imposter beverage. 

Anyway, I opened my eyes, blinked a few times, focused and groaned when the face I saw 
was not the face I was hoping for. "God."

"D'Argo," D'Argo corrected me cheerfully.

I shot him a dark glare then turned my head, staring back up at the rocky ceiling. "Cute."

"You say the sweetest things when you're concussed, John. But what will Aeryn think?"

I groaned again and dropped one arm over my eyes. I got a whiff of something not entirely 
pleasant and wondered when the last time I showered was. Hell, I didn't even know how 
long we'd been on this planet. My underwear could probably walk on it's own. It was 
gonna be laundry day when we got home. 

"How do you feel?"

"Okay," I sighed after a few seconds, trying to determine just how okay I was. "I had 
weird dreams."

D'Argo hummed softly, thoughtfully. "Did you dream you were wearing Chiana's bustier 
while playing --"

"Whoa. No. Stop," I said quickly. My dreams were weird enough all on their own. Hell, 
my life was weird enough all on its own. I didn't need any more visuals of D'Argo in 
skimpy clothing.

D'Argo smiled and patted my knee -- which I could, happily, still feel. "Feel well enough 
to get up?"

"Should I?"

"Probably."

"Right. Give me a microt." I closed my eyes and ran a quick system diagnostic. Nothing 
seemed to hurt, not even my head, which was novel. "I guess I feel pretty good."

"Lucky you."

"Still got both my eyes." I blinked them experimentally. 

"Very lucky you."

"No thanks to you. And the lizards didn't cook us and eat us."

"It's like the best day ever," D'Argo agreed.

"Sure." I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the platform. I closed my 
eyes again, waiting for aches or sharp stabbing pains to start. When they didn't, I 
cautiously pried open one eye, looked around, opened the other eye, sighed and slipped off 
the bed. "Not bad."

"Excellent," he said and helped me into my vest. "In spite of almost letting you die from 
shock, the healer did a fairly decent job on you."

"Yeah, I got the low-down on my dance with death from Aeryn," I grumbled, my stomach 
twisting slightly. "Don't want to talk about it."

"Want to eat?" D'Argo held out a chunk of something that might have been bread. It was 
blue-green and I found myself particularly disinclined to eat it. I shook my head at it and 
took a deep breath. "Water?"

"No, I'm good."

"When was the last time you had water?"

"I'm fine, no water." 

"You were ill, John. I think you need to drink some water." He pushed a jug at me.

"God," I growled irritably, "when did you become my mother, D'Argo?"

"When you became as stubborn as a child."

I opened my mouth to argue but saw the smile on his face and scowled instead. "You do it 
on purpose," I accused bitterly.

D'Argo chuckled and bared his teeth. "I do."

"You need a new hobby." I kept scowling at him as I pushed away from the platform and 
started towards the door on unsteady legs.

"Why? This one is so much fun." D'Argo caught me just as I was passing him, he clamped 
a massive paw on the back of my neck, stopping me. "When you complain, you're feeling 
better. When you argue, that's even better. See?"

"You're a regular Florence Nightingale. You gonna let me go?"

"Are you going to fall over?"

"No." I choked on the word, and staggered a step when D'Argo suddenly released his 
grip. I regained my footing, fended off his hand again and stomped out the door. Well, 
actually I tried to stomp out the door. I pushed aside the cloth covering the entrance and 
ducking down, to keep from cracking my already battered skull, I stumbled ungracefully 
out of the door. I did manage to stay on my feet, so all in all I was sort of pleased with the 
exit. 

"So," I said as I straightened again. "You're pretty damn chipper."

"You're not dead, Aeryn's relatively not-murderous, I don't have to carry a Peacekeeper 
anymore, and the lizards didn't cook us and eat us."

I shrugged my shoulders and scratched the bright pink, slightly raw, rope of scar tissue on 
my chest where the critter gash used to be. "Well, but we're still stuck in this city. There 
are still robots looking for us and that damn eye-popping bitch is lurking around waiting to 
snurch my peepers."

D'Argo frowned sourly. "We've discussed your pessimism before, John."

"I am not being pessimistic, I'm being realistic and for god's sake where the hell did my 
shirt go?" I rubbed at the scar again and tugged my vest close around my chest.

"You took it off back when the lizards found us, remember?"

"No. Things are sort of a blur. Headache, robots, headache, broccoli, robots, headache, 
explosions, robots, sewer, headache, lizards, headache. And like that." I made a circular 
motion with my hand and yawned. "Blurry."

"We should have the healer check you over one more time."

I shrugged and scanned the cave. Lizards scampered here and there, going about their 
merry way, doing whatever it is blue cave lizard aliens do merrily. "Nah, I'm good. No 
more ringing. D'Argo, don't you find it a little strange that Natira just happens to be here?" 
I asked abruptly, bringing up a subject that had been chewing at me since I came around.

It was D'Argo's turn to shrug and he did so in spectacular fashion. "This does seem to be a 
prison planet, and I don't find it all that unlikely that she'd end up in prison."

"I guess. Too much to ask that one of her former clients would object to being robbed and 
whack her for it, I guess." I puffed out my cheeks wearily and scratched at the stubble on 
my jaw. "How long do you figure we've been here?"

"Four days."

"That's it?" I asked incredulously. "Damn. Feels more like four weekens."

D'Argo made a noise of deep disgust. "That would really be depressing."

I nodded and absently ran my tongue over the gap in my teeth, probing at the still raw 
gums. This place was just no good for my health, mental or otherwise and adding Natira to 
the already crappy mix was bothering me something fierce. 

"You're up."

Wrapped in my unpleasant memories of being strapped prone to a giant metal ball, I didn't 
notice Aeryn and my little lizard buddy walk up. "Huh?"

"You're up," Aeryn repeated patiently and peered intently at my face, counting scars no 
doubt. 

"Hm, yep, up. Raring to go."

"You're sure? You don't need to, I don't know, lay down some more or something?"

"Nope," I assured her. "Done with laying down."

"So you're feeling better? Feeling good?"

"Right as rain."

"Wonderful. Well, let's go then." Aeryn started to walk away from me, little lizards leaping 
at her heels. 

I blinked in surprise for a second before trotting after her. "Wait, wait." 

She stopped abruptly and stared at me, her head cocked to one side. "What?"

"Uh, we're going where?"

"We're leaving. That is what we want right? Not planning to live out your days down here 
are you?"

"Er, well no," I told her.

"Great. So let's go." 

D'Argo walked up to us and I shot him a look, begging for help. He just shrugged and 
scratched his chin.

"Wait."

"You said that already. What am I waiting for?"

"Don't you think you're sort of rushing this?"

She frowned at me and pursed her lips. "Are you kidding me?"

"Well . . ." I glanced at D'Argo who was making a detailed inspection of his right hand. 
"Don't we need maps, plans, uh, supplies, er, stuff?" I was reaching towards the end, her 
cool, frank gaze was unsettling. 

"Didn't I tell you Salith had shown me a path to the surface?"

"Uh, I don't know. Did you?"

"I'm certain I did. So there's your map. As for plans, we go up, we move forward, we 
avoid robots, we get out. See? A plan."

"Er, who's Salith again?"

Aeryn's eyebrow shot up alarmingly and she jerked her thumb at my lizard buddy. 
"Salith." Salith grinned and tapped his fingers on his shoulders. 

"Hey, uh, Salith, how ya doing?"

His toothy grin got even wider and he blinked his right eye lazily. "I'm very well and 
you're healed."

"I am, it's just, um, fantastic. Thanks." 

"We'll give you many supplies for your journey and dark, secret ways to avoid the 
sentinels."

"Sounds . . . great." For whatever reason I'd sort of expected to have a couple of arns to 
process everything before we hit the road again. I was feeling decidedly off kilter. "What 
do you get from this exactly?"

"Guests. And with guests, knowledge. Our lives, we spend them here, down in the dark 
and the blue, but we listen and we like to hear what goes above us."

"Oh."

"So," Aeryn began, a frosty edge to her voice. "Are we done talking? Shall we go?"

I turned back to Aeryn and jerked in shock when I saw that Natira had slinked up next to 
her. I felt my nostrils flare and when she gave me a vicious grin; my vision started to go 
red around the edges. Sensing trouble D'Argo put a hand on my shoulder and held me in 
place. 

"I saved your life, blue eyes, in return, I want out of here."

"No," I snarled. "In return you're alive."

"John, we agreed," Aeryn told me, the frost gone from her voice, replaced with weariness. 
"When you were sick, we agreed." She shrugged and fiddled with her belt. "I really think 
it's time to move." She turned quickly and started off across the large cavern, Salith 
following with one last grin at me. 

Natira licked her lips and looked me over again, laughing huskily at my snarl. "I saved 
your life, human. Remember." She slithered away before I could say anything. 

I stood in the cavern, lizards darting here and there, trying to kick my brain into gear. I felt 
strangely unprepared, though, that probably had to do with the fact that I was shirtless and 
feeling pretty vulnerable because of it. D'Argo hovered at my shoulder, uncharacteristically 
silent. 

Aeryn paused halfway across the cavern and turned to look back at us. "Are you frelling 
coming?" She shouted. 

I muttered a soft curse and started walking. "You know, D'Argo, you weren't a hell of a 
lot of help here."

"I'm going to let your irritability pass because you don't know what Aeryn's like when 
you're unconscious, because you're unconscious. I'll record it for you some time."

"Great."

"Move!" Aeryn's voice echoed off the rock walls and had a handful of lizards jumped in 
place, startled, their shocked clicks rattled through my skull. 

"And she's all yours," D'Argo rumbled.

I sighed and gave him a token sour glare. "Shut up."

D'Argo gave a philosophical shrug. "Love is a mysterious thing."

"If you start spouting poetry, D'Argo, I will shoot you. Just so you know."

"I'm done."

"Good."

"Frelling today!" My beloved barked again.

"Wow, she's cranky."

"You were unconscious. It makes her cranky."

"It's not my fault."

"Sure it is."

I blew out a long breath, shrugged my own shrug and trudged dutifully after her. We were 
headed out of the main cavern and into darker side passages, and from there, hopefully, to 
the surface. Another long frelling day. I yawned and scratched my chest again. Long 
frelling day. 

***

"So then Qu'Shibnal, who had traveled through many hardships, came across the vast 
chamber of Toral Vanch. And what do you think, then? Yes, the sentinel of Sayrabat, 
progenitor. . ."

I'd stopped listening to Salith about an arn earlier. I made the mistake of asking how the 
huge robot had ended up in their cave. Three arns later, I still didn't know but I knew more 
about blue cave lizard mythology than any man ever wanted to know. The only time we got 
a break in his dissertation on lizardoid history was when we came to a fork in the tunnels 
and he had to decide which branch to take. 

D'Argo and I lagged behind the rest of our motley group. There wasn't really much for us 
to do. Not much worth hitting, no call for a brilliant plan, no intense strategizing or 
agonized moaning. It was boring. The worst kind of boredom where you know your 
crappy state of boredom will be interrupted by an explosion or a kick in the teeth. Didn't 
matter that we knew something was coming -- hordes of robots, vast groves of malicious 
broccoli, whatever -- we were still bored. 

"Stop throwing paper, frell it," D'Argo half-heartedly growled at me.

"Stop throwing rock," I replied just as disinterestedly. 

"I hate this game."

"Yeah, me too." 

"We should make a new game. Frag grenade, qualta blade, pulse cannon?" He looked at 
me expectantly. 

I shrugged. "Sort of loses the charm of the original."

"But it would be more exciting."

"Until somebody lost an eye."

D'Argo accepted that with a nod and a sigh. After a microt he laughed softly. "Remember 
'find the overamped chakan cartridge'?"

I grinned up at him. "That was a good one."

"Remember how pissed Aeryn was?" D'Argo giggled at the memory and darted a sly look 
at Aeryn's back.

"Aeryn nothing, that was Chiana's wrap," I snickered. 

D'Argo nodded his head vigorously, his smile growing even wider. "I remember. She tried 
to poison my grolack. She might have gotten away with it, if the poison hadn't made it 
soggy."

My snicker grew into a much louder laugh. "And she rigged the canopy of my module. I 
was unconscious for probably a quarter arn."

D'Argo snorted an especially loud snort of mirth and drew the eyes of our travelling 
companions. He grinned unrepentantly but continued in a softer tone. "Do you know she 
actually thought about selling us to slavers at the next stop after that? That planet with the 
green clouds and the weird, hopping fungus on everything?"

"Ball of teeth," I said, vividly remembering that particular planet. 

"Right, the ball of teeth. Anyway, I guess they have a lively slave trade there."

"No way," I waved him off. "Chi wouldn't sell me. It was just a frelling wrap and besides, 
I bought her a new one."

"But that one was her favorite. Anyway, Rygel told me she asked his advice on how to get 
the best price for us."

"I'm surprised the little toad didn't go in on it with her," I replied a little sourly and then 
frowned at a sudden thought. "Did he?"

"Oh, totally," D'Argo told me brightly. "Stark found out, though, walked in on them, and 
then the two of them spent the rest of the day talking the Banik out of telling Aeryn. They 
lost interest after that."

I chuckled an evil chuckle, imagining Chiana and Rygel's panicked attempts to keep Stark 
quiet. I wondered briefly what they bribed him with, Stark wasn't exactly your typical guy, 
but I didn't put too much thought into it because odds were I really didn't want to know. 
Whatever it was, it seemed to have worked. "We should play that again when we get back. 
Keeps life interesting."

"Because Durath knows we need to make our lives more interesting," D'Argo said wryly. 
"You'll need to remind Aeryn to pick up more cartridges, I think we're down to our last 
few functioning."

"Yeah, they were on the shopping list. And then, you know, big, furry, militant bugs."

D'Argo sighed again. "I hate this planet."

"Join the club. You can be treasurer."

"Do we get hats?"

"No."

"Frell that than." He frowned disdainfully. 

I shrugged yet another shrug of the 'still totally bored, man'. "So, why'd Rygel tell you 
that anyway?"

"Oh, uh . . ." D'Argo cleared his throat and looked down at his boots. "Just, uh . . . 
information exchange."

I nodded my best and most sagely nod and patted his shoulder. "Right. You blackmail him 
or he blackmails you . . . or reverse that or all together or --"

"I don't want to talk about it," the mighty Luxan grumped softly. 

On that cranky note, we lapsed back into our bored silence, Salith's monotonous lecture 
once again drifting back to us. The only bright spot seemed to be that we seemed to actually 
be getting somewhere and our path was taking a definite upward turn. Steeply in some 
places. Down right mountainous even. Climbing up one particularly nasty hill made almost 
entirely of wicked looking, sharp rock formations, our boredom was replaced by thoughts 
of imminent death or, at the very least, imminent nasty puncture wounds in unfortunate 
places. 

When I threw myself over the edge of the sharp rocks of death and dropped, breathless, to 
the floor of the cavern, Salith crouched down next to me. His high, reedy voice continued, 
echoing off the distant walls in a way that was making my left eye twitch. "When 
Qu'Shibnal found the last Mitarl Planchit --"

"Hey Salith," I groaned. 

"Yes, John?"

"How long was Koo Shibwhatever gone?"

"Gone where?"

I raised one limp arm and let it flop wearily through the damp cave air. "Gone from home. 
Gone on his quest. Gone fishing. Whatever."

"Oh. Many, many cycles." 

"Huh," I muttered weakly. "All that and all he brought home was a big damn robot."

"The Progenitor," Salith corrected. 

"Right. Still, a big damn robot. Gone all that time, comes home, big robot. I mean really, 
where do you keep it? It's not like it's a puppy or something." Salith stared at me, a 
befuddled look on his small, blue face.  

D'Argo, who had collapsed next to me, added in a sotto voce, "'Hey honey, I'm home. 
Miss me? Oh and look what I found, clean out the guestroom would you?'"

Salith tapped his thin shoulders thoughtfully and blinked his right eye a few times. "That's 
a very interesting point. It was many cycles before the Progenitor was reassembled." He 
stood up and walked away, falling mercifully silent while he thought that over. 

"Finally," D'Argo sighed in relief. "I'd thank you, John, but since you were the one who 
started that torture, I won't," D'Argo whispered and pushed himself back to his feet.

I ignored him and stayed sprawled on the cave floor until Aeryn gave us all the call to get 
moving again. I rolled over on my stomach and pushed myself to my knees. Letting out a 
long sigh, I scrubbed my hands across my face, pressed the heels into my eyes, and tried 
to picture a white sand beach, azure waters, cloudless sky and a soundtrack of crashing 
waves. Calming visualization, but ultimately frustrating -- on opening my eyes I got a 
vision full of Frau Nightmare. 

"Damn it," I hissed furiously and got hurriedly to my feet, "what the hell do you want?"

"We had a deal, Crichton, if you recall." Natira smirked.

"Wasn't my damn deal, I was unconscious." Growling, I started down the passage, 
following Aeryn and the still silent Salith. 

"Oh, I wasn't talking about that," she said lightly, slithering up next to me. "Though we 
can make that two deals, than. You promised to take me away from Scorpius at my 
depository if you recall. You weren't able to follow through on that, were you?"

I felt my nostrils flare and every muscle in my body tense with fury. "Are you frelling 
kidding me?" I spat. "You found your own way out, deal done, over, stick a fork in it."

The fingers . . . claws . . . tentacles . . . what the hell were those things, on her head 
twitched and started to lift slightly as she took a step closer to me. "Crichton --"

"Screw you. Our deal ended the microt you got away and whatever agreement you 
scammed out of Aeryn and D'Argo, you take it up with them. Stay the hell away from me." 
I shoved her away from me and picked up the pace. 

I don't know why Natira was setting me off so badly, but damn it, she gave me the creeps. 
Another few microts and I'd have pulled my pistol. Hell, I wanted to pull my pistol right 
then and not put it away until she'd found another hole to crawl down. 

I jogged ahead to walk with Aeryn and try to get my freak out under control. When I got to 
her however, I noticed she was talking to Lathan. Lathan the Peacekeeper, who it seemed, 
was walking very close to Aeryn. Extremely close. Close enough that no matter how much 
I might have liked the guy, I'd probably have to hurt him if he got too much closer. Not 
that I'm a jealous man or anything. 

I stepped up on Aeryn's other side and slid my hand down her arm to take her hand which 
I then brought up to my lips. She gave me an incredulous look, followed by an exasperated 
smile and a jab of an elbow into my ribs. 

I dropped her hand and grinned. "What're you guys chatting about? Swapping recipes? 
Lesser species fricassee? How to puree a Hynerian?"

"Not that it's any of your business, John --"

"We were talking about, um, life outside the, uh, Peacekeepers, sir" Lathan said quickly, a 
wary look at me and then a surreptitious look over his shoulder towards the still moping 
Lieutenant Pirs. 

"Really?" I said dubiously, raising my eyebrows. "Thinking of a career change?"

"Leave him alone, John." Aeryn made another go at my ribs, but I grabbed her elbow. 

"No, no, that's good. Change is good. One of my favorite people is an ex-Peacekeeper."

"I had no idea you were so fond of Crais," Aeryn smirked.

"See? She even grew a sense of humor," I pointed out to Lathan, who managed a nervous 
smile. "Though, gotta say baby, that was pretty weak."

Lathan let out a long breath and rubbed a knuckle over his lips. "I just . . . uh, just . . . 
well that is, I've been thinking and . . . frell."

"It's not an easy transition," Aeryn said. "Believe me. But there are other ex-
Peacekeepers."

"Like you," he said with a grin. A grin I thought was a little too fond. 

"Yes. And others," she said firmly. 

"Lathan." He looked up at me, a slightly worried expression on his face. "Are you serious? 
About leaving the Peacekeepers?"

"I don't know, sir. I'm serious about thinking . . . um, thinking about it," he struggled to 
force out the last two words. PK indoctrination was a hard thing to break. 

"That's enough to be dangerous," Aeryn told him soberly and he paled slightly in the blue 
light.

I watched Lathan closely for a few microts as we walked and wondered if I was really 
going to do what I was about to do. The boy looked pretty sincere and pretty damn 
miserable. But there was a sort of edgy excitement there, too -- the first taste of hope. 

I glanced over at Aeryn, trying to read her feelings about Lathan. Her mouth was set in a 
grim line, but her eyes were slightly softened by what I figured was compassion. 

"What are the odds you'll be declared irreversibly contaminated? Lot of strange critters on 
this planet."

Lathan shrugged helplessly and Aeryn's face hardened. "There'll be an inquiry at the very 
least. And containment," she said. "Containment can last cycles," she added, stopping me 
in mid-nod. 

Frell. Looked like I was going to end up doing what I thought I was going to do. Ah hell, 
at least I'm predictable. "How do you feel about that, Lathan?"

"I . . . uh, not very good, sir."

I closed my eyes, tripped over a rock, caught myself using Aeryn and pulled her closer to 
whisper a question in her ear. I meant to do it -- no really, I did. "Baby?"

She took a deep breath, held it for a long microt, and nodded her head sharply when she 
finally exhaled. "I'll do it." I let her go and took half a step away. She was tense and it was 
usually wise to give her a little space. 

It occurs to me there's a recurring Aeryn/violence theme going on. Specifically violence 
against me. But, really, when she's tense, sometimes she just likes her space. I didn't 
figure she'd deck me. She hasn't actually hit me in cycles. At least not in anger and I 
wasn't going into the other times she might have gotten a little rough, because that moment 
was just not the time to be thinking about things like that. 

When I forced my attention back to Aeryn and Lathan she'd already gone ahead and done 
it. The guy's eyes were bright with excitement and he did a funny little hop/stumble as one 
foot got in the way of the other foot when he just couldn't manage to pry his adoring gaze 
from Aeryn. I rolled my eyes and wondered if it was too late to tell that whole compassion 
thing to just frell the hell off. 

"What about Lieutenant Pirs?" Lathan asked eagerly. 

"I'm not sure," Aeryn said hesitantly, a hint of warning in her voice. "He doesn't seem 
ready for life outside Peacekeepers."

"I'll be discreet," he promised. "I'll, uh, drop some, er, subtle hints. And see how the 
Lieutenant reacts. Thank you, Ma'am, Sir. " His spine stiffened, he made a formal bow 
and dropped back to convert Pirs to the bright and shiny, running from psychopaths side of 
the force. 

"Discreet," Aeryn muttered. "Subtle."

"Not two words I generally associate with Peacekeepers," I agreed.

"Special Directorate are exceptional at it," she informed me matter-of-factly. 

"Hmm, yeah, I guess they are."

"Oh, I forgot," she said easily. So easily in fact, I found myself in the minefield before I 
even realized it was there. "You're intimately familiar with Special Directorate."

Smirking down at her, I decided to push my luck. "Jena. Hell of a woman," I said 
philosophically. "Gotta love a chick who can kill a guy with a flick of her wrist. Makes 
_things_ . . . exciting." 

She gave me a bright smile, the kind of smile that had me trembling in both fear and desire, 
and was just opening her mouth to lay some suitably cutting retort on me, when Salith 
came darting down the passage.

"John, Aeryn, we are there."

"Where?" I asked dumbly, shaking myself out of the moment and battling my 
disappointment at being interrupted. I really wanted to hear Aeryn's comeback -- that's the 
best part of the game.

"The surface," Salith explained. "We're near the entrance to these tunnels. You are closer 
to the end, the last level, though sadly the tunnels cannot take you all the way there."

When we didn't move right away, Salith moved around behind me and shoved my ass in 
the direction he'd just run from. 

"HEY!" I barked. "Hands off."

He kept his hands firmly on my ass, even when I tried to jump away, and shoved again. 
"To exit you must reach the exit, something you cannot do when standing there."

Aeryn snorted, amused, and started walking. "Come on, John, the sooner we're out of 
here, the sooner _things_ can turn exciting."

I wasn't one hundred percent certain Aeryn's definition of exciting matched my own, there 
was an edge to her voice that had my blood freezing and a stupid grin crossing my face. 
God, I'm pathetic. 

With my brain still firmly in the 'off' position and the stupid grin still plastered across my 
mug, I gave a fleeting, distant thought to big robots and various nefarious critters, and 
followed Aeryn and Salith down what was hopefully the last little bit of blue tinted tunnel 
I'd have to slog through for the rest of my natural life. 

***

Rumbling. I heard rumbling. Lots of rumbling. Rumbling that seemed to be heading 
towards my place of hiding. 

Crouching behind what was left of a massive, marble-looking column, I surveyed the wide 
also marble-looking boulevard that lay on the other side of the enormous, monumental and 
in all ways grand neighborhood our tunnel had exited out into. 

This part of the city looked a lot like what I imagine ancient Rome must have looked like if 
it was populated by giants and minus the unwashed hordes, raw sewage in the streets, and 
slaughtered slaves and Christians. There were forests of stately columns, immense 
buildings decorated with all kinds of gaudy carvings and crap, and colossal statues propped 
here and there as if the city were the living room of some tchotchke-mad old lady. Okay, 
Roman Empire circa Liberace.

Have I managed to convey just how huge everything was? Yes? No? Big. Moving on to 
what was marching down that oh so impressive boulevard. More big. Big critters in this 
case and lots of them. Legions of gorilla/crab/whatsits. Maybe five-foot tall, maybe five-
foot wide, with long arms and sloping backs, they were knuckle walkers, moving 
amazingly fast down the boulevard. With pea soup colored shells and long, thick eyestalks 
that poked out of muscular shoulders, they were as alien as alien got. And, frell me to 
tears, there were a lot of them, flowing rank upon rank across the worn marble street. 

I slipped away from my column and high-tailed it back to the safety of the building the 
column had fallen from. Pressing my back against the cool stone, I took a deep steadying 
breath. So far I didn't care for this level all that much and I'd only been here a quarter arn 
or so. 

There was a new rumbling heading towards me; a closer rumbling and I jumped when it 
resolved into a harsh, growly voice. "What the hezmana did you do?"

I set my jaw, urged my very startled internal organs to settle down, and shot a glare 
D'Argo's way. "I didn't do it."

"Do you even know what I'm talking about?" He asked haughtily. 

"Do you? I mean, since you're asking," I snided right back at him. 

"Do not try to get out of this, Crichton." Oh, he used my last name, I'm all a-tremble.

"Get out of what? I told you, I didn't do it."

"If you don't know what I'm talking about, how do you know you didn't do it?" D'Argo 
asked, crossing his arms in triumph.

"Blanket statement. Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

"I think your sudden denial when asked a question you claim you don't know the subject 
of, makes it much more likely that you either know exactly what I'm talking about and are 
guilty of doing what it is I'm talking about, or you don't know what I'm talking about but 
you did something else I don't know about but would undoubtedly be upset about if I 
knew what it was I was talking about, I mean if I knew what you were talking about, I 
mean ..." His freakish brow lowered and he mumbled to himself, trying to work out if that 
sentence made any sense. I wasn't really listening to him, so I wasn't going to be much 
help. "Well, either way, as far as I'm concerned, you're guilty of something and I am not 
happy about it."

"Dude, that's so not fair." I protested wearily. I could still hear the distant thunder of the 
gorillacrabs and D'Argo's pissy hissing wasn't holding my attention.

D'Argo growled; there was that rumble again. "A Peacekeeper, John?"

"No, but I play one on TV."

"Not you, Lathan," he snapped irritably.

"Yeah, yeah he is. Good eye, D. Those Encyclopedia Brown books are really starting to 
work for you."

"Are you even frelling paying attention to me?"

"No, actually I'm paying attention to those." I jerked my thumb towards the corner of the 
building. 

D'Argo gave me a suspicious glance and walked over to the edge of the building, peeking 
around to the boulevard beyond. "What the frell are those?" He asked when he got back to 
me.

"I have no idea," I said slowly. "But I think they could eat us."

"That would be unfortunate."

"Totally." 

"But don't change the subject."

"Oh, sorry that my concern about our possible attendance at a dinner party as the main 
course doesn't mesh with your bitching about whatever it is you're bitching about."

"They're not going to eat us," he sniffed in disdain.

"They could."

"Unlikely. Unless I pitch you out onto the street right now. We could call it a test, see if 
they really are hungry. You'd take one for the team, wouldn't you John?"

I sighed dropped my head back against the wall. "What? What did I do that you're so 
pissed about?"

"You invited that . . . Peacekeeper to come on board our ship."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. 

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you -- who else would do that?" He demanded fiercely. 

"Um, Aeryn?"

"Aeryn is not so foolish."

I rolled my eyes and stepping back to the corner, glanced back at the big, green river of 
gorillacrabs. "Here's an idea, instead of sacrificing me to the whateverthehells, ask Aeryn. 
And anyway, what's so wrong with Lathan? He's better than Crais."

"Crais died honorably."

"Which has exactly what to do with Lathan?" I shook my head when it looked like he was 
building up for a good rant. "Whatever. He's better than Scorpy."

"Sylmathrick plague is better than Scorpius," D'Argo groused sourly.

"See? Lathan's way better than that. Look, talk to Aeryn, he's her pet PK anyway."

"I don't want to talk to Aeryn."

"Than shut up."

D'Argo crossed his arms ominously over his chest and tried to tower over me in 
intimidating fashion, and considering he was about a foot taller than me he pretty much got 
the towering part down. "You did not just tell me to shut up."

The intimidation part? Meh. "Did I stutter? Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"How about if you both shut up?" Aeryn slipped across the narrow alley between gigantic 
buildings and glared balefully at the two of us. 

"Hi honey. Good hunting?"

"Not really," she sighed sourly. "Have you seen those creatures?" She nodded her head in 
the gorillacrabs' direction.

"Yeah. D'Argo wants to feed me to them."

Aeryn frowned and raised a dangerous eyebrow in D'Argo's direction. He raised his chin 
in reply and snorted derisively. Working her jaw for a long microt, she seemed to be 
battling with herself, and in the end the calmer, peaceful Aeryn won and she went back to 
the subject of critters. "There are thousands of them and they're between us and where we 
_apparently_ need to be."

D'Argo made a strange little growl deep in his throat and sneered at Aeryn. "Well, why 
don't you just gather your little friends and blast them all to hezmana? An army of these 
creatures should be no match for a trio of mighty Peacekeepers."

Aeryn gave D'Argo a quizzical and slightly hostile look. "Excuse me?"

"He's got a problem with Lathan," I said with a resigned shake of my head. 

D'Argo let out a strangled roar and slammed one massive fist against the marble wall. 
"Does anybody remember that I'm the frelling Captain? And does anybody think that 
maybe the Captain should be consulted before inviting insane, tyrannical, brutal, 
murderous, scum--"

"You'll want to stop right there," Aeryn warned dangerously. "Unless of course, you'd 
like to expand that to suggest that I am--"

"No," D'Argo interrupted quickly, with a surly growl. "I just . . . could you have at least 
told me, for frell's sake? Is it so impossible to even pretend to respect my authority as 
Captain?" He pouted, and if you've never seen a Luxan pout, we'll let me just say it's quite 
the sight to behold. 

Aeryn's irritation faded and she gave him a small, conciliatory nod. "I'm sorry, D'Argo. I 
truly am," she told him when he gave her a doubtful look. "But he's better than that life."

D'Argo accepted that with poorly feigned reluctance and a stern frown. "He practically 
bounced up to me," D'Argo said with a small bit of bemused distaste. "It was . . . 
unsettling."

"He is very energetic," Aeryn agreed with a bewildered grimace of her own. 

I grinned beatifically at both of them. It's so nice when the family makes up and 
everybody's all happy and I'm not being fed to gorillacrabs. I felt warm and tingly and then 
the moment was over and the rumble of gorillacrabs ruined any long-lasting enjoyment I 
might have had in our quiet, non-murderous, happy crew moment. 

The crumbling moment of Zen was completely obliterated by the arrival of the other three, 
seriously less welcome members of our group. I'm tempted to say that the less said about 
them the better but they skidded to a halt bearing relevant information. Or rather, Lathan 
skidded to a halt, crashing into Aeryn in a way that I'm pretty sure wasn't at all accidental 
and the only reason I didn't shoot him was because the marble did happen to be pretty slick 
and I couldn't be completely sure it was intentional. Lucky bastard. Pirs was a little more 
composed, though still clearly in one hell of a hurry, and Natira arrogantly strode across 
the alley. My fingers, with a will of their own I swear, twitched and moved towards my 
pistol. 

"Aliens, behind us," Lathan choked out between gasps. 

"What kind of aliens?" D'Argo asked, watching the buildings behind us nervously.

"Don't know," Lathan shook his head.

"Does it matter what kind? " Pirs asked angrily. "The kind with weaponry and an intent to 
kill."

"Oh, so, Peacekeepers?" I asked with a snarl. I wasn't liking Pirs' tone and his morose 
demeanor had changed into something else, leaving a touch of malice in his eyes as he 
looked at me.  

D'Argo was bristling with irritation, as well, and took his turn jerking his thumb towards 
the avenue. "Do they look like that?"

Lathan's eyes wandered over our group nervously and he took a pair of steps back before 
turning to jog to the edge of the building. When he came back, his face was pale and his 
eyes were wide. "No, not like that." 

"Well this is going to be fun," I muttered darkly and by the exasperated, weary expressions 
worn by D'Argo and Aeryn, I could tell they agreed with me. Of course by fun we meant a 
desperate scramble to not get dead. See? Fun. 

***

The best thing I could say about our current situation was that we weren't surrounded by 
robots or broccoli. Unfortunately, in just about every other way we were screwed six ways 
to Sunday. 

"I'm out," I yelled to Aeryn and threw my useless pistol at the approaching gorillacrab. The 
weapon bounced off the critter's green shell with a dull clatter and, unfazed, the gorillacrab 
marched on. 

In the handful of microts we'd stood around like idiots in that alley thinking about the two 
approaching fronts of aliens, chaos had come down on us like a hot, acid rain. Something -
- god only knows what -- tipped off the gorillacrabs and they made an about face in our 
direction, and Lathan's aliens hadn't been more than a few blocks behind him when he ran 
to us.

The second group of critters looked like long, thin shadows; the wicked looking bats they 
carried were more substantial than the wraiths seemed to be. They melted out of the walls, 
flowed around corners, dripped off roofs, and made a sound like concrete in a blender. 

Our weapons weren't particularly effective against either group of aliens. You could get a 
gorillacrab down, but only if you caught it at a joint between the shoulder and the 
eyestalks, every other point on the body seemed to be too well guarded by their armor-like 
shells. I hadn't figured out the wraiths yet, but if you could get them to disperse -- a shot 
right through the center of what little mass they had -- it could take them a few microts to 
pull together again. Not long enough to suit me, but long enough to run like hell.

"Crichton!" I turned my head in Aeryn's direction, caught the rifle she tossed to me, took a 
microt to admire her wicked aim in taking out the relentless gorillacrab, and hissed in pain 
when a wraith tagged my shoulder blade with one of the razor tipped clubs they were 
toting. 

I stumbled back, turned just enough to stick the barrel of the rifle through the wraith's gut, 
and pulled the trigger, scattering the creature across the plaza. Off balance, and struggling 
with some recoil, I landed hard on my ass, knocking the wind out of my lungs. D'Argo 
grabbed me by the collar and tugged me up and down the street. 

"Gee, like old times," I gasped and wheezed, stumbling alongside him.

"Three days ago," he muttered distractedly. 

"Good ol' days."

D'Argo grunted and let go of my coat. "Are you alright?"

I rolled my shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath. "Yeah, fine." I gritted out, squinting my 
eyes as flames ripped across my back. Taking a deep breath, I wiped a trembling hand 
across my mouth and tried to fight back the waves of pain. Frell. I'd been healthy and 
conscious for all of six arns. A new record.

Aeryn ran over to us, handed her pistol to D'Argo, grabbed my shoulders and spun me 
around. I didn't resist when she tugged at my coat but I almost hit the ground when she 
poked at my shoulder. 

"Not broken," she muttered to herself. "John, your coat is ruined," she said loudly and 
spun me to face her again.

"Frell," I comment succinctly and she gave me a tight smile. 

"We'd move more quickly," I jumped at the seductive, slithering hiss in my ear, "if you left 
your grots to act as a diversion."

"Damn woman!" I spat at Natira as she invaded my personal space and taking a quick step 
back, I hefted my rifle. "Keep the hell away from me."

Natira cocked her head and regarded me coolly. "I am correct. Officer Sun knows it. Don't 
you," she turned her hard gaze to Aeryn. "A . . . sacrifice," she drew the word out as if it 
were particularly delicious, "for the good of the team."

"If I thought it would make a difference, I might agree," Aeryn replied, her eyes flinty and 
her voice clipped. "As it is, we're sorely outnumbered and we may need them later." 

Natira bared her teeth in a gruesome smile. "If you say so, Officer."

Aeryn bristled, I could feel her tense up, but she didn't reply. Instead she turned to D'Argo 
and jerked her head towards the plaza. "Lathan and Pirs are holding the alley. We need to 
move."

"Right." D'Argo gave me a considering look and when I managed to shrug without 
whimpering too much, he nodded his head sharply and we started off again. 

We ran for a few blocks, scrambled down a wide set of marble stairs, ran a few more 
blocks and as we went, I started to get the very unfortunate suspicion that we were being 
herded. That's not a feeling I'm unfamiliar with and it's not a feeling I find all that pleasant. 
And I said as much to Aeryn. Her response was a meaningful glance at me and then a flick 
of her eyes to the side. I followed her gaze and saw a veritable river of wraiths the next 
block over. Damn.

D'Argo, on my left, nudged my injured shoulder, ignored my hiss of pain, and jerked his 
thumb to the other side of the street. I followed his thumb and saw that we had hordes to 
the left of us to go with the hordes to the right of us. Can't say I was surprised. I shrugged 
and kept running. 

We came, eventually, to an immense, circular plaza. The alien clogged streets to the right 
and left of us emptied into the plaza as well, but instead of swarming out, the gorillacrabs 
and wraiths started to ooze along the edge of the plaza towards our position. They never 
crossed out into the open plaza and don't think I didn't notice. But what I also noticed was 
that they never crossed out into the open plaza. So, we had before us a crappy choice -- 
creepy, critter spookin' plaza or death. I voted plaza and not too surprisingly, so did the 
other members of my merry band. 

Starting out across it at a cautious jog, I kept a wary eye on the critters at our backs and at 
the ground under my feet. It seemed solid enough but until I was safely to the other side I 
wasn't going to breathe easy. My paranoia once again served me well. 

Natira, slithering a few steps ahead and to my right, stepped on a loose tile. The resulting 
click probably only seemed to reverberate through the vast, open plaza. It certainly 
reverberated enough through my freaked out skull. The stone fell away under her foot, and 
though she stumbled back away from the opening, that wasn't the only surprise there. The 
opening under the stone was dark and a dank, rotting smell drifted up to great us, and not 
half a microt after the stone gave, a small creature, probably not bigger than my fist, shot 
up out of the hole and started gnawing at the air about a half a dench from Natira's face. 
She let out a terrified shriek, jumped back and landed on the ground in a blue scaley heap 
when one of the vicious heels on her "frell me" boots caught in a crack. 

I couldn't help it. I laughed. A lot. In fact I was laughing so hard I ended up bent over, 
gasping for breath and grabbing at a stitch in my side. It wasn't exactly an opportune time 
to be laughing my ass off, but, well, it felt pretty good all things considered. Aeryn glared 
at me, but I could tell she was glaring to keep from grinning, and D'Argo was with me all 
the way, making that snuffling noise he makes when he's trying not to laugh. The 
Peacekeepers just looked uncomfortable and stared at their boots. 

Natira got to her feet and gave me a slow, venomous once over that stopped my chuckles 
and made my skin crawl. I felt my lip curl into a snarl and I straightened my jacket, 
ignoring the needles of fiery agony driving through my shoulder. We moved along.

Moving along was not entirely easy, however. We'd move a dozen yards in one direction, 
only to be stopped by the pavement falling away into the piranha-critter infested chasm. 
We'd retreat a few steps, try another path and slowly, slowly, wound our way across the 
huge frelling plaza. There was a trick to setting off the pavements and not ending up 
gnawed on or plummeting; one person would take a step out onto one of the wide tiles and 
another person would anchor the first person until such time as we could be reasonably 
certain plummeting was not imminent. Damn slow work. 

D'Argo in particular, was frustrated by the extreme not-swiftness of our crossing. He 
tripped one series of falling stones, and when the beastie came flying up out of the abyss, 
he let out a hiss and took a swing at it with his rifle. He connected and it went sailing with a 
terrified squeak. D'Argo nodded in satisfaction and Aeryn's reserve finally cracked enough 
that she managed a small laugh. And we had a new game -- whack the piranha-thing. 
Unfortunately that got pretty old, pretty quickly, and Pirs didn't appreciate that D'Argo and 
I seemed to actually be aiming the piranha-things at him. We weren't. Much. 

When we were about halfway across the plaza, I took a quick look back the way we'd 
come. I was afraid we'd left a pretty clear path through what was essentially a hidden 
maze. I was happy to note that the tiles were randomly returning from the big gapping hole 
to their original places -- convenient like. Our path was now slightly obscured and growing 
more obscure by the microt, slowing down the troop of gorillacrabs who were braving the 
plaza. I was even happier to watch a gorillacrab get its eyestalk chewed on by a piranha-
thing. 

We went on like this for a good, I don't know, nine hundred years or so. Reaching the 
other side of the plaza, while nice, wasn't the huge relief you'd generally think such a thing 
would be. There was no doubt in my mind that more gorillacrabs and wraiths were making 
their way around the city towards us, even if they did have to go the scenic route. When 
our boots hit ground that was almost certainly solid, we didn't waste any time picking up 
the pace to a fast jog. 

The jog stopped abruptly at a wide, black, sluggishly flowing river.

"Of course," I muttered darkly, staring into the murky water.

"Oh for frell's sake," D'Argo growled and kicked a loose stone at the thickly running 
malice thinly disguised as a river. 

I crouched down on the bank, greasy liquid lapping at my boots, and peered morosely into 
the dark depths. "Doesn't look too deep."

"How can you tell?" D'Argo asked dubiously, glaring fiercely at our newest foe. The river 
ignored him. 

"Uh." I stood up and glanced around. "Hey, Pirs." He looked up from his own inspection 
of the river. "You go first."

"What?"

"Yeah. Head on out there." I waved a hand at the river. "We've gotta cross."

"Frell you."

"Come on. You're a brave little Peacekeeper." I pressed, D'Argo chuckled, and the river 
ran.

"No," he exclaimed. "Frell you." Pirs darted semi-panicked looks between me and the 
dark, swirly water. Geez. You'd think he was expecting to be attacked by piranha-things or 
something. Pussy.

"Pussy."

"John." Aeryn said my name with a sort of weary warning as she stepped up next to me, 
her boots squelching noisily in the muck. She contemplated the river with the rest of us and 
let out a soft snort of irritation.

"What? They don't teach Peacekeepers to swim?" I asked her.

"Frell you," Pirs repeated, his voice rising. "You go first."

"Can't. Injured. Bad idea to send a wounded man into a river filled with god knows what," 
I pointed out. 

Aeryn grabbed my coat and made a show of examining my shoulder again, all the while 
whispering in my ear. "I know that you and D'Argo are bored, and that teasing Pirs is 
amusing, but it's also something of a complete waste of time and energy and you're giving 
me a frelling headache."

"Ouch," I said mildly when she poked at my shoulder. "I don't like him, Aeryn, and I 
don't trust him and if he gets eaten by something, well, better him than us." 

"And while you stand here pointlessly antagonizing him, real threats move closer."

"You're saying you don't think he's a threat?"

"Don't be an--"

"I'll go," Lathan chirped suddenly, breaking into our whispered conversation. He stared at 
Aeryn, a worried frown on his face. We had obviously been making him a little nervous. 
Nobody likes it when mom and dad fight. 

I shrugged, Aeryn gave him a brusque nod and, squaring his shoulders, Lathan stepped 
further down the bank until the brackish water sloshed over the toes of his boots. He 
hesitated for only a microt before striding out into the river. It looked damn chilly and the 
cold, dank breeze that drifted up from the water seemed to confirm a bitter temperature. I 
wasn't looking forward to my turn.

"It's . . . uh, it's not too bad," Lathan called back to us from mid-river. The water was at 
roughly armpit level on him and he looked a little blue around the lips. Not too bad. Right. 

One by one we waded out into the icy, swiftly flowing river. The river bottom was 
alternately slick with slime and sticky with thick mud. Footing was a gamble at best.

The cold water, the ache in my shoulder, and my general fatigue were dulling my brain and 
reaction time to the point that when Lathan let out a terrified yell, my immediate reaction 
was to stop and stand in the middle of the river like an idiot. When I finally moved towards 
him, my brain still hadn't fully engaged, I had no real idea what was going on, other than 
the boy was struggling. 

By the time I'd taken my handful of sluggish and sloshing steps towards Lathan, Natira 
had him by the back of the neck and it looked a lot to me like she was holding him down. 
My water-logged pistol was in my hand and aimed at the bitch's head in a heartbeat. I was 
more than prepared to pull the trigger, but at that moment Aeryn knocked my hand away 
and pushed me back a step. The current tugged at my knees and I lost my balance on a 
slick, slimy rock and ended up taking in lungfuls of black water. 

I came up sputtering and hacking, only to be sucked down an instant later when something 
wound tightly, painfully, around my calf and tugged me under again. The more I 
struggled, the tighter it became, and a burning, searing pain shot down to my toes and up 
to my hips. Screaming underwater, I inhaled more water and grappled desperately at 
whatever it was that had me.

The world was starting to go gray, my chest was tightening as I struggled to reach air, my 
leg felt like it was being held in a red-hot vise, and I was losing my grip on everything 
when I suddenly found myself free. A strong hand wrapped itself in my coat and the thing 
around my leg released its hold on me. I was only vaguely aware of being hauled to shore 
and the next thing I knew I was on my knees in the mud, puking up half the river.

Aeryn had me in something like a headlock, holding me steady while I heaved, and when I 
managed to keep my stomach in place and open my eyes, I noticed that Pirs stood next to 
us, his eyes wide in shock and he had a white-knuckled grip on a piece of what looked like 
my coat. 

"My coat is ruined," I croaked.

"Very," Aeryn agreed.

"Liked this coat."

"So did I. We'll get you another."

I pushed away from Aeryn slightly and sat down heavily in the muck. "Lathan? D'Argo?"

"Further down the bank." She pointed past my nose and I followed her finger to see 
D'Argo pulling a coughing Lathan to his feet. Natira was still knee deep in the river pulling 
handfuls of pale, wriggling worms from the water. With each tug she let out a fierce shriek 
and a worm would pop free with a spurt of black fluid and a little shriek of its own. There 
was something disturbingly Freudian about the whole thing and I looked away with a 
queasy shudder. 

I pushed myself to my feet with a little bit of help from Aeryn, gingerly placing my weight 
on the formerly captured leg. I could feel my calf swelling where a worm had gripped it 
and I counted myself damn lucky to be wearing thick leather trousers. I didn't want to think 
about what my leg might look like had I been wearing anything else. If I'd even have any 
leg left, that is.

I coughed up another mouthful of brackish river and noticed Pirs still had the death grip on 
that bit of leather. "Uh, thanks," I said nodding at his hand.

"Um . . . quite." He stared down at his fingers, confused and slightly repulsed. He opened 
his hand and let the scrap of leather fall to the bank. 

I stared at the bit of material for a microt myself and then, pushing my fingers through my 
wet hair, I walked up the bank and away from the evil, hateful river of death and worms. 
"Yeah."

"John." D'Argo trotted up to me and slapped a big paw on the back of my neck, squeezing 
and giving me a little shake. "How are you?"

"Fine, D, fine," I said wearily. 

"You don't sound fine," he persisted. "In fact, you sound a little depressed."

"D'Argo, you're like one of my best friends ever, right?"

"Well, I like to think so."

"Good. Than I'm really hoping you don't take this the wrong way -- frell off."

"Hmph." D'Argo let go of my neck, crossed his arms petulantly and stomped away from 
me. 

"That wasn't very nice," Aeryn pointed out quietly.

"He'll get over it." I scrubbed my hand through my hair again. I didn't like the damp, 
greasy feel of the river water on me and the oily taste in my mouth was making me more 
than a little nauseated. Maybe I'm a bastard, but the placement of my internal organs was a 
bigger concern to me at that moment than D'Argo's feelings. He would just have to take 
second place to my  spleen.

We left the river and it's black stink behind. And the giant worms. God. Only my life. 
Anyway, we left that part of misery behind and entered the narrow roads of the city again. 

Wandering through the city, we kept a wary eye on the towering marble faces that squeezed 
against the narrow, cobbled streets. Anything could have been hiding in those empty, 
soulless windows and yawning, black doorways. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I still 
don't know which, the streets were quiet. Once upon a time I liked quiet, now quiet meant 
something with sharp teeth plotting behind rickety shutters, or cadaverous bastards 
mustering vast armies. Quiet was bad. 

"Sir." I jumped at the abrupt break in the quiet. Gritting my teeth, I glared at Lathan. 
Lathan, ignoring my glare, was intently watching the vast buildings arrayed around us. 
"Do you . . ."

"Do I what, Lathan?" I asked when he trailed off absently. I wondered how good a 
Peacekeeper this guy really was. He didn't seem particularly on the ball. But then it had 
been a long few days. I wasn't exactly at my sharpest either. 

"Do you think we're really going the right way?"

I scratched at my nose and glanced around. It was hard to get a good idea of direction. The 
buildings filled every open square foot, pushing oppressively against the road and blotting 
out all but a thin sliver of the flat, gray sky. "Well, Salith pointed out a direction and we 
seem to be moving pretty steadily along it. I think."

"Hm. Hard to tell."

"Yeah. Ideas?"

"No, sir."

"Right. Great."

We walked on in silence for a few more microts. Well, my walking was a little bit more 
like painfully limping. My leg was fairly swollen by that point and my toes were going a 
little cold. Yes, I was, once again, a pathetic picture. At one point I went so far as to even 
trip over a damn loose cobble. Lathan was obliging enough to catch me by what was left of 
my coat. 

As I regained my balance I noted absently that the stones looked a little damp. I took a 
microt to be mildly puzzled by it. The river was a good way behind us now, and as gray 
and still seemed to be our general weather conditions, I didn't reckon it rained overmuch. 
Especially given that I wasn't all that convinced we were actually outside anywhere for it to 
rain. From the stagnant air, to the odd diffused lighting and the pathetically rendered 
clouds, the place screamed contained environment. Maybe my belly of a budong theory 
was right.

"How's your leg, sir?"

I pulled my attention from the cobbles. "Oh, it's alright. I've had worse. How's your 
arm?"

"It's fine if I don't move it too much. My back took the worst of it and that's not too bad."

I nodded approvingly at him, completing the brief ritual of manfully discounting the 
magnitude our excruciating injuries. 

"We hear things about you, sometimes, sir," he said abruptly. 

"What sort of things?" I asked curiously. I wasn't sure how I felt about his statement. I 
mean I knew stories got around about us, some of them a lot wilder than reality, but I 
wondered what kind of stories Peacekeepers told about us.

"The command carrier. Nobody's ever destroyed a command carrier like that before."

"Yeah, that was pretty special," I replied neutrally. 

I could see Lathan watching me out of the corner of his eye, but I kept my focus on where 
my feet were going. The cobbles seemed more than just damp now and were, actually, a 
little bit slick. 

"And Officer Sun. A traitor."

He was fishing for something, but I was damned if I knew what it was. None of this stuff 
was exactly top secret. 

"She left the Peacekeepers for you."

"She left the Peacekeepers so as not to be executed," I pointed out. "Pretty practical move, 
if you think about it."

Lathan stared down at his feet. "Irreversibly contaminated."

"Crais was a jackass."

"You know, some people think you were really Peacekeeper High Command and that you 
defected."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Seriously?" 

"Yes, sir. Why else would First Command be so intent on going after one man?"

"Everybody needs a hobby."

"And you look Sebacean."

"I get that a lot."

"Is there really another species that looks exactly like us?"

I shrugged my non-injured shoulder. "A whole planet full of them. But things aren't 
exactly what they seem. Human . . . Sebacean . . . not quite what you'd think."

"Not many people believe in Humans. Some other, lesser species? Looking just like us?" 
He shook his head. "They figure you were actually a Peacekeeper and you were spying for 
the Nebari or some of the breakaway systems and Crais caught you stealing tech and you 
kidnapped Officer Sun and held her hostage in order to escape and you let out the prisoners 
on the leviathan and used them to get into the Uncharted Territories where Captain Crais 
chased you and you were still after tech and broke into the Gammack base and that's when 
High Command really went after you and Captain Crais went insane for some reason that 
nobody really knows but rumor is you killed his brother in a nasty death match." Yes, he 
got that all out in one breath.

It was a pretty good story. D'Argo was more spot on than he knew when he picked the 
name Bond. I felt strangely heroic, even if that story didn't seem to paint me in the most 
altruistic light. It's a damn better story than 'lost astronaut falls assbackwards into trouble. 
Struggles not to get dead.'

I smirked at Lathan. "S'at so?"

Lathan shot a quick look over his shoulder at Aeryn. "Though, maybe you didn't kidnap 
Officer Sun."

I glanced over at her, too, and watched as she kept one eye on Natira while making a show 
of checking the chakan cartridge in her pistol. "Yeah, probably not."

"Of course there's another story," he said slyly, a bright sort of look in his eye. "This one 
says what really happened is that you were undercover for special directorate, looking for 
traitors, and you caught somebody in High Command spying for the Scarrans and you 
were going to expose them but they were so highly placed they set out to destroy you 
instead."

I pursed my lips and nodded thoughtfully. "That's not bad."

"And that's how you turned Officer Sun and Captain Crais. They saw that you were really 
honorable and fighting for us all along, so they decided to help you, but whoever it was in 
High Command started sending all kinds of squads after you. And that's how you ended 
up on the Command Carrier and then you chased the traitor back to the Scarran territory 
and destroyed one of their bases or something and kept them from getting some sort of 
super weapon."

"Cool." That story was more heroic. I liked that one. Rogue secret agent trying to save 
civilization from some blackhearted bastard, ready to sell their people, and something with 
a big bang, to the enemy for a few shiny baubles. Yeah, that was a good one.

Lathan was staring at me expectantly. "It's not true," I told him, a bit regretfully. "I mean, 
it's sort of true in a weird kind of way. Look, Lathan, I'm a human, I'm from Earth, I've 
never been a Peacekeeper -- at least not in this reality -- and the last five cycles have been 
one struggle after another to not have my brains sucked out through my ears. Yes, I have 
information High Command wants to know. Yes, I have information the Scarrans want to 
know. But that's it. I'm not your hero."

Lathan kicked a loose stone and we watched it roll away and splash through a shallow 
puddle. "I didn't figure that was a true story, sir. I was just telling you that we hear about 
you some. That's all." 

He looked and sounded crestfallen, I thought. I'd already ruined Pirs' hopes in the 
mythical PK captain D'Argo and I created, and now Lathan was crushed by the fact that the 
super-spy John Crichton he'd heard whispers of wasn't the real deal. I just spread despair. 

"Sorry, Lathan."

"It's alright, Sir. There's nothing to apologize for. We hear other stories, too." He perked 
up slightly and gave me a tight-lipped smile. "I've heard that your species is brutal and 
you've come to our part of space to try to take over and you¼re an advance scout getting 
intelligence by pirating shipping lanes and destroying Peacekeeper outposts with some 
secret weapon. I hear you wear Sebacean skins as hats and you keep harems of Sebacean 
women captive for your depraved pleasures."

"What?" I exclaimed incredulously. "You don't believe that one, do you? Frell me, where 
the hell do they get this stuff?" I shook my head, scratched at the stubble on my chin and 
kicked my boot at a large puddle in front of us. "What a load of crap."

"Lots of stories, sir."

"You want to know the real one?"

"I think I've heard that one, too."

"I doubt it, if you're hearing dren like that. Skins as hats, Christ. Sebacean harems? Frell. 
Don't tell Aeryn that one."

"No, sir," Lathan replied, the disappointment in his voice was slowly being replaced by 
amusement.

"Alright, the real story. It's all an accident," I said sourly. "All of it. How's that? No fun 
spinning that one over a raslak, I bet."

"You were an explorer and tech from Earth," he recited slowly. "You ended up at the edge 
of our space and you were brought on board the rogue leviathan with its prisoners. You 
were pursued by Captain Crais and then by High Command for some weapon. There's 
always a secret weapon in the stories, so I figure that part is true."

"Yeah. That part is true. Well hell, Lathan, it looks like you're coming with us for a while, 
I'm sure you'll get all kinds of stories from the rest of the crew. God only knows what 
they'll come up with. Frell."

"Is life . . . what's it like outside of Peacekeepers?"

"I've never been in Peacekeepers so I don't have anything to compare to. Life's life." I 
shrugged and frowned down at the now more than a little damp ground. We were sloshing 
through puddles with every other step and there was a strange, almost propane smell 
tickling my nose. "It's got its good days and its crappy days."

"Like today?"

"Like the past weeken, yeah. Nobody's going to order your execution, though -- at least 
nobody on our crew will. Okay, actually Rygel might try it, he's done it to each of us, but 
just ignore him. Nobody's going to beat you bloody for disagreeing with them. That's 
what they've got me for. You'll be your own man, Lathan. It'll be a hell of an adjustment. 
Aeryn was a damn lot of work. Of course you want to leave and she didn't so I think 
you've got one up on the adjustment scale. Thank god."

"Do you . . . that is, are you happy, sir?"

"Happy?" I frowned at Lathan. That was a pretty personal question and a strange one for 
the Peacekeeper to be contemplating. "Yeah, I'd say mostly I'm happy. When I'm not 
getting gnawed on by some strange critter and when I don't have to walk around with a 
bomb strapped to my chest, I'm a pretty frelling happy guy." I paused, realizing I'd been 
more flippant than I'd meant to be. It was a weightier question than I think Lathan knew. 
Closing my eyes, I tried to give him a more serious answer to a complicated question. "I've 
got what I want. What I need."

"And . . . and life is good?"

Opening my eyes, I squinted at him, examining the open, almost desperate curiosity on the 
boy's face. "What are you after, Lathan?"

"I just don't know anything," he growled, exasperated. Pressing a fist to his forehead, he 
gritted out, "I feel like some stupid tresnark. Peacekeepers, it's all I know, sir. I'm not 
happy, I know that, too, I guess. I don't want to be there anymore but it's all I know. 
Seems like there's so much out here to see, but I don't know how not to be a 
Peacekeeper."

I sighed and moved to slap him on the back, but I checked my hand when I remembered 
that he'd been worm attacked and a slap on the back might not be as comforting as I'd 
intended. "Well, Moya's not exactly a pleasure cruise. But we do okay. Aeryn'll help you 
out. God knows Chiana will probably make it her duty to make sure you're comfortable in 
just about every way. That'll piss off D'Argo, but what can you do?"

"Yes, sir."

I smiled at him, and said more seriously, "You'll be fine, Lathan."

"Thank you, sir."

"And you can stop calling me 'sir'."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, you can work on not calling me 'sir'."

"Yes  . . . um, right." 

"Good. In a few weekens you'll be yelling my name over comms like a pro. Not a 'sir' to 
be heard."

"Why am I yelling your name, sir?"

"Who the frell knows?" I asked with a philosophical shrug. "It's how things are done on 
Moya. Something breaks, everybody yells my name. Aliens invade, everybody yells my 
name. Gramma's cooking catches fire again, everybody yells my name."

"Crichton!" D'Argo bellowed from across the street.

I turned to Lathan and nodded. "See?"

"Yes, sir." Lathan nodded back gravely.

"Crichton," D'Argo bellowed again, more insistent this time. 

"What?"

He glared at me for a microt and then swept his hand out at the street. "Tell me even your 
pathetic senses can smell that."

"He's a little pissed at me," I informed Lathan. "Yes, D'Argo," bellowing back, I started to 
slosh across the street towards him. "I can smell it. And I can see it. What is it?"

"I don't know but it's frelling awful." D'Argo sneezed and rubbed furiously at his nose. "It 
is killing my sinuses."

"It smells like Yerr oil," Aeryn observed, wrinkling her nose against the musky stench. 

"Smells like propane," I observed with a wrinkled nose of my own.

"What's propane?" Aeryn asked perfunctorily, she already obviously had a good suspicion 
about propane, just like I had my own suspicions about Yerr oil.

"Usually a liquid fuel," I informed her.

"Flammable?"

"Oh yeah."

Aeryn nodded, a resigned sort of frown on her face. "Yerr oil. We are frelled."

D'Argo sneezed again, tankas and tentacles flailing madly. "You're saying we're standing 
in a river of flammable fuel?"

"Well, it could be something else," I said equitably. "Want I should shoot at it and we can 
find out?"

"Shut up, Crichton," D'Argo barked at me.

"Should we be walking through this?" Pirs asked, casting doubtful glances at the wet 
street.

"You gonna grow wings?" I asked him. 

Pirs shot me a dark, venomous look, but before he could reply, Natira turned to us, her 
eyes wide with horror. "Fire," she whispered.

"Yes, we're all worried that this will catch fire," D'Argo said with exaggerated patience and 
a roll of his eyes.

"No, you stupid Luxan," she hissed viciously and pointed behind us. "Fire." She pushed 
past Aeryn and scrambled up the steps of the nearest building. 

We all turned the direction the slithery bitch had been pointing and watched as an almost 
feathery wall of flame raced towards us, dancing along the surface of the street. Moving, 
almost as one, we darted up the steps after Natira.

"Up. Go inside and go up," Aeryn shouted. "Find stairs. Up. Up."

Dashing through the dark, empty, dusty rooms of the building, we found a stairway and 
from there were raced up, floor after floor, until we hit the roof. 

From some five stories above, we watched the fire flow down the streets, licking at the 
cold marble. It was an impressive sight, but we were pretty effectively trapped. For all we 
knew the fire had an unlimited fuel source. And after we'd stared at it for a quarter of an 
arn, it certainly didn't seem to be burning down.

"So . . ., " I mused. "That's . . . inconvenient."

"Very," D'Argo rumbled at my side. 

"For frell's sake," Aeryn spat, perturbed. 

"Does this sort of thing happen to you often?" Lathan asked. 

"Idiots," Natira hissed.

Pirs just glared sullenly and silently at the river of flames. 

I glanced around our rooftop and tried to think of some sort of plan. "I guess we could 
Spider-man it. I mean, minus the web shooters, because I left mine at home. You didn't 
happen to bring yours, did you D'Argo?"

"Shut up, Crichton," he replied wearily. 

"Roof top to roof top," I explained. "The buildings are close enough. Or they look like they 
are. We could jump it. Probably. Maybe."

"You know," Lathan said suddenly as he peered down at the fiery river below us. "This is 
sort of good."

"How?" Pirs asked harshly. 

"Well, those other aliens aren't going to be able to come after us," he pointed out lightly. 
"Not the floaty ones or the armored ones."

"Great," the Lieutenant replied bitterly. 

Lathan narrowed his eyes at Pirs and looked almost like he wanted to tell the other 
Peacekeeper where to shove his attitude. Sadly PK indoctrination won out and Lathan bit 
his tongue and turned away from the Lieutenant. He was getting there, though. The desire 
to tell Pirs to frell off, was clearly present. Couple more days and Lathan would be 
tormenting Pirs just like D'Argo and I were. It was a proud moment for me. 

The Brady Bunch took that moment to turn on each other and they wasted another quarter 
arn wrangling and arguing over what to do, before finally deciding that my plan was the 
only plan that might possibly work. I'd known it all along, so Lathan and I watched the 
flames roll down the lane while the others duked it out. 

"Kinda pretty." 

"Yes, sir. Hot, though, and it doesn't smell very good."

"Yeah, probably not very good for our health. We should get a move on."

"Yes, sir. If they're done arguing."

Lathan didn't sound very optimistic. I don't know what he was worried about, the arguing 
was over and the disgruntled glaring had begun. And though the disgruntled glaring 
continued, they silently -- relatively -- went through with the hopping rooftop to rooftop 
plan. 

While hopping, I discovered something kind of important -- it's not as easy as they make it 
look in comic books. Misjudging the distance on the third jump, I clipped a low wall, my 
foot slipped off the edge, shins knocking painfully against the top, and I hit the roof on my 
stomach. I lay sprawled across the cold marble for a long microt, trying to get breath back 
in my lungs.

"John? Are you alright?" Aeryn crouched down next to my head and tapped my back. "Are 
you going to get up?"

"Can you get up?" D'Argo chimed in. 

Groaning, I pushed myself to my knees, wincing at the new bruises. "Frell."

"Is that a 'yes'?" Asked the falsely solicitous voice of the snarly Luxan. "I don't want to 
have to carry you again."

"Yes, frell it," I groaned again and pushed myself to my feet. Standing, wavering slightly, 
hissing at the cacophony of new injuries calling out, I brushed dust and grit off the stubble 
on my chin and spat out a mouthful of blood. Pushing my tongue against my teeth, I made 
a quick dental check and was pleased to find all remaining teeth present, and a split lip the 
only real damage to the area. 

I backed up to sit against the low wall that had just tried to kill me. Propping my elbows on 
my knees, I dangled my head down between my arms. Nothing felt right, nothing was 
going in any direction even resembling right, and I was so damn tired all of the sudden. 
Keep going, push on, don't give up. That's what my dad would say. Too bad Jack was a 
million light years away while I was ready to collapse. Frell it, I wasn't giving up, but the 
urge to just lay down for a while was getting stronger with every nick and bruise and drop 
of my blood that hit the dusty ground of this hell hole. 

I felt a rough, callused hand come to rest on the back of my neck, and the tips of long, cool 
fingers caressing my cheek. Leaning forward, I propped my forehead against Aeryn's 
stomach and I brought my arms up around her waist. I took a few minutes to fight back the 
tears of exhaustion and frustration and compose myself. Wouldn't do to look weepy in 
front of the Peacekeepers or that bitch, or even D'Argo for that matter. 

"Sorry," I whispered into the fabric of Aeryn's shirt.

"Are you alright?"

"No."

Her hand tightened on my neck, rubbing slightly and her fingers brushed across the side of 
my head, tracing a soothing pattern. "Are you seriously injured?"

I pulled back from her, propped my elbows on my knees again, and pressed the heels of 
my hands into my eyes. "No. Just tired of getting the shit kicked out of me."

"I know."

I choked out a soft, scornful laugh. "I doubt it."

"Really?" Came her surprisingly gentle reply. "Do you suppose I enjoy watching you hurt? 
Do you suppose it doesn't hurt me as well?"

Shamed, I looked up at her. Her pain had always knifed itself deeply into me, I was 
embarrassed to realize I'd never given much thought to how my pain might affect her. For 
somebody who supposedly had more experience with interpersonal relationships, I was a 
self-centered ass sometimes. 

My misery increased at the hurt in her open gaze, my self-loathing climbed to new heights, 
and I pulled my eyes from hers. "Sorry," I muttered again.

"Don't be sorry," she chastised lightly. After a microt she let out an explosive breath and 
continued on, exasperated, "You jabber on about partnership to me so frelling often, you 
need a reminder yourself."

Biting back on another apology, I pressed my cheek against her midriff again and took 
another handful of deep breaths before standing up. My pity party, and that's what it was, 
was mercifully over. _I_ can't even stand me when I get like that. Yeah, I hurt, yeah I was 
tired, but nobody here was having a good time, and the shit kicking was being distributed 
pretty evenly among all of us, if in different ways. Couldn't be much fun for D'Argo 
having to carry somebody all the time. Hell, Lathan seemed to be inheriting my penchant 
for physical damage. Poor bastard. 

"We will get out of here," Aeryn whispered to me, fiercely. "And we will frelling doing it 
today."

"You can't know that," I said.

Her eyes narrowed and her gaze took on a wicked chill. "Don't argue with me, Crichton."

"Yes, ma'am." I was feeling a little bit better. I still hurt, my leg was barking like a 
sumbitch, but, frell, what was I going to do? I hate this damn city. If ever there was a time 
to have a nuke in my pocket . . . 

Aeryn, continuing on her oddly supportive track, straightened my vest and tugged the 
remnants of my coat into place, patting the collar down slightly. It was bizarre. I gave her a 
quizzical look, but she ignored me and stepping back, hooked her fingers in her belt, 
looking almost uncomfortable. 

"Crichton," D'Argo, who was about three feet from me, yelled.

"D'Argo," I said with a weary sigh. Now what?

"John," he tried again, more conciliatory. 

"D?"

"Can you move on?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." I gave him a tiny smile, the best I could manage and rolled my 
head on my shoulders, trying to work out a new kink. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Unfortunately, the popsicle stand didn't get blown just then, because the city wasn't done 
with us yet. Of course not, I mean we were standing on top of a huge building, a flood of 
fire filling the streets, and gorillacrabs and wraiths lying in wait for us. That just couldn't 
be it, could it? That was almost too easy, right? Thank god there were pterodactyls 
screaming down out of the sky towards us, because, seriously, I'd hate for this to be 
something even slightly resembling easy.

Yes, pterodactyls. A whole mess of the ugly, leathery bastards. And, standing, slack 
shouldered, bewildered, and otherwise confounded, on top of that building, I laughed my 
fool head off. Lathan, showing a surprising sort of -- what would you call it? Loyalty? 
Concern? Idiocy? -- grabbed my collar and pulled me down to the roof. Aeryn shoved my 
pistol into my hand and pointed pointedly at the sky. 

"Stop laughing, shoot them," she ordered. 

Smothering my chortling, I took aim, fired, missed, hit a huge piece of masonry on the 
next building over and ducked as it exploded into tiny marble shards that winged their way 
to our roof. 

"Hezmana, Crichton," D'Argo hissed, wiping blood off of his head. It was just a nick, the 
big baby.

"It's not like I meant to do it, D'Argo," I told him shortly, my earlier hysterical humor 
fading as the pterodactyls swooped down on us again. The buggers had sharp frelling 
claws . . . or are they talons? Whatever. They were sharp and they were going for our 
eyes. 

"Aim better," he advised angrily.

"Frell off," I advised back. 

There were, oh, two dozen or so pterodactyls attacking us, and no shelter or escape from 
them on our rooftop. Not that it really mattered. A remarkable change had taken place in 
our little squad. Gone was the tired, defeated, frustrated group of surly souls. They were 
frelling pissed. 

Natira was still on her critter killing roll. She'd made a bare-handed grab of a pterodactyl 
and had its throat in her claws, her teeth bared in triumph. I wouldn't have been all that 
surprised to see the thing dangling from those fangs of hers. That is one creepy chick.  

Pirs was taking his frustrations out on the beasts as well, aiming for their wings and 
watching them plummet into the fiery streets with a twisted, snarly smile on his lips. Cruel 
bastard. I almost felt sorry for the leathery, murderous little creatures. And then I felt a 
long, sharp talon brush across my already damaged shoulder and compassion took a flying 
leap. I aimed, fired and this time hit my mark.  

Lathan, D'Argo, Aeryn and I made up our own less freaky squad, our backs pressed to the 
low wall, our pistols firing ceaselessly, and the smell of propane, chakan oil and burning 
pterodactyl thick around us. It was strangely satisfying. Kind of like giving one back to the 
city. A big ol' "F You".  And when the last pterodactyl flopped to the roof in a puff of dust 
and a last pathetic screech, I was laughing again. 

I honestly can't say what it was I found so funny -- beyond the general situation, about 
which I've already gone on at length, that is. It was all just . . . funny. I was finding things 
pretty amusing since waking up in the blue cave. Maybe it was that dream. Buffy the bird 
told me to face the pain and shoved a big damn stick into my chest, and now the world was 
a shinier, happier place. Except for the pity party a little earlier, which I was willing to 
figure was just an aberration. 

I could get behind the dream theory, though. It was disturbing to be so lost in that dream 
world. And then to be set free by freaky, stick wielding birds and a sucking chest wound. 
Pain. Face it. Face it and it wasn't much at all, was it? Just a pain. More irritating than 
anything else. Fuck it. 

My arms braced against my knees, my pistol dangling limply from my hand, my forehead 
resting on my forearms, my shoulders shaking (painfully), I sat on the roof and laughed. 
The others were kind enough to stand back and watch me laugh without interrupting. When 
I finally stopped laughing, I stood up, brushed the tears off my face, grinned at everybody, 
holstered my pistol and kicked a downed 'dactyl. I felt a hell of a lot better. 

"So, let's try that blowing this popsicle stand thing again, huh?"

"Maybe you should stop saying that, John," D'Argo said nervously, one eye on the sky. 

"I only said it once," I protested.

He huffed and puffed and let out a big sigh. "And look what happened?"

I waved my hand at him, but cast my own cautious glance to the flat, gray pseudo-heavens. 
Not a flying terror in sight. Though, the clouds did seem to be a little thicker. I pondered 
them for a moment, wondered if I should be worried, then decided it didn't really matter 
because the city would throw at us what it wanted to throw at us and there wasn't a whole 
lot I could do about it other than get the frell out of that place. I nodded my head, resolved 
and stepped up onto the short wall, ready to jump to the next building. 

"John?" D'Argo called.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw everybody was staring at me, a little like I was a leper 
at the Miss America pageant. "Oh for frell's sake. What?"

D'Argo and Aeryn exchanged a look, Lathan shifted tensely, and Pirs and Natira stood 
with their arms crossed, giving me undisguised looks of loathing. I glared at them all, but I 
was damned if I was going to step down off that wall. Every time we stopped, something 
bad happened and I got hurt. Keeping moving was a good survival tactic, as far as I was 
concerned. 

D'Argo cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and coughed. "Um, 
never mind."

"Right." Turning back to my jump, I swayed a bit in a sudden breeze. I stopped and 
sniffed the air. This breeze wasn't the updraft from the fire we'd been battling since we 
started jumping, this breeze was cooler, almost fresher. Well, as fresh as the air in the city 
ever got, that is. 

The breeze turned to a gust as I jumped, catching at and twisting the tattered remains of my 
coat. I stumbled a bit on landing, but managed to keep my feet this time. Lathan was next, 
a gust caught him too, but he wasn't as lucky in his landing, and it was his turn to end up 
sprawled across the roof.

"I'm sorry you seem to have caught the 'dren-luck' virus, Lathan," I told him as I helped 
him to his feet. "If I'd known it was contagious, I'd have stayed home from school today."

He winced and poked at his fattening lip. "Yes, sir."

"The prognosis isn't very good, sad to say. Doesn't seem to go away. I've had it for 
years," I continued absently, watching Aeryn closely as she made her jump. She landed 
safely and I turned back to Lathan, giving him a grin and a slap on the shoulder. When he 
hunched into his coat and pulled away, I remembered he'd been injured. No wonder 
D'Argo was always pounding on my injured parts, it wasn't always easy to keep track of 
who was hurt where. "Sorry."

"It's alright, sir," he gasped, eyes watering. 

"Just deck me next time I do that, okay?"

"Yes, sir. What's deck?"

"Hit me."

"Oh, right. Yes, sir. I will, sir."

"Good."

Natira was next to jump and the wind caught her too, sending her stumbling into Aeryn on 
the landing. Aeryn looked like she'd just been showered in something incredibly foul. She 
automatically steadied Natira, but once she'd done that she backed up quickly, wiping the 
palms of her hands on her pants, her lips tightening in disgust. I was glad to know it 
wasn't just me who found that 'woman' repellant. 

We moved on immediately this time, waiting only long enough for everybody else to jump 
over before heading towards the next building. As we went, the wind picked up, gusting 
more and more frequently on the jumps, though once it turned into an almost steady gale, 
the jumping was a little easier to calculate again. 

The wind also served to kick up the flames below and set them to licking higher up on the 
buildings. This created an interesting dilemma when we were stopped at a series of shorter 
buildings. Sure it was almost impossible to jump from smaller buildings to taller buildings, 
and we'd been taking a winding path, following structures of a certain height, but these 
shorter buildings seemed to go on for about as far as we could see and seemed to be the 
most direct way to where we were wanting to be. The unfortunate part was that the flames 
were almost at roof level and I was damned if I was going to jump down into that. I had the 
sinking feeling we were going to have to backtrack a good long way to get around the 
neighborhood of short.

It was at this point that the city gave us our first break. A big, fat, wet snowflake hit my 
cheek. Staring up at the sky, bemused and a little amused, I shook my head and cheerfully 
cursed the city for being so goddamned psychotic. It was frelling snowing. The unnaturally 
ashy gray sky, the Super Mario Brothers clouds, and the still stale air were giving way to a 
freak storm. It was glorious, though I did hesitate celebrating when the dark corner of my 
mind wondered if these might be poison snowflakes or something. I told the dark corner to 
shut up. 

We took shelter in the top floor as a blizzard of Nor'easter proportions slammed into the 
flames below. The flakes and the fire swirled and danced and hissed and smoked and 
steamed. Their battle raged on for arns. 

Sitting huddled against an inside wall, Aeryn close at my side and D'Argo sitting in front of 
us, an effective windbreak, we watched the snow drift in through the glassless windows 
and skitter across the floor. 

"I hate blizzards," Aeryn murmured, drawing her coat closer around herself. 

"If this one puts out the fires and clears out that smoke, my sinuses and I will revere it for 
the rest of our life," D'Argo rumbled wearily, rubbing ferociously at his nose. 

Lathan, looking uncomfortable around the sulking Pirs and the stalking Natira, came over 
and sat down on Aeryn's other side, a little closer than I liked. We were getting on pretty 
well, but we'd have to do something about that crush before our relationship would ever 
progress to one where I wouldn't throw him out an airlock for stuff like that. I gave him a 
flat look and was pleased when he shifted away from Aeryn a dench or two. 

Nodding in satisfaction, I put an arm behind Aeryn's back and pulled her a little closer to 
me. She pulled back and gave me a wary look. "It's cold, just sharing some body heat. I 
don't have a shirt if you haven't noticed." I pointed to my bare chest, then tugged at the 
vest to have it give me what cover it would. 

"And your coat is ruined," she said with a small smile. Relaxing a bit, she let herself lean 
into me. "You're certainly frelling warm enough. I don't know how you humans survive 
being this hot all the time."

"You don't complain when it gets a little chilly on Moya," I leered.

"Oh please, most nights it's like sleeping next to a furnace. And you never frelling keep to 
your side of the bed," she groused lightly. I snickered and she dug a knuckle into my side.  

"You're just too comfortable, baby," I teased.  

D'Argo chuckled and grinned at us both and I gave him a sort of perplexed smile. 
"D'Argo, why is it that sometimes you're kind of squeamish about this sort of stuff," I 
waved a hand at Aeryn and I, "and other times you seem to get a huge kick out of it?"

D'Argo kept on grinning. "I've always been happy for you both, you know that, John," he 
pointed out earnestly and then shrugged his massive shoulders. "Sometimes I find you 
irritating, other times I don't."

"Right." I nodded my head slowly, then gave him a huge grin of my own. 

We settled down and waited out the blizzard. I couldn't really complain, it was the first real 
chance I'd had to rest that didn't include unconsciousness. And when the flakes finally did 
clear, the streets below were considerably less on fire and I was feeling almost refreshed. 
Stiff as hell from sitting on cold marble for arns, but otherwise refreshed. 

We contemplated the blackened streets below us for a long microt and then slowly, with 
tremendous hesitation, descended through our building to ground level. The streets were 
thick with vile smelling slush, though it was draining off somewhere. That probably 
accounted for the greasy, sickening nature of the river. This town sure as hell wasn't eco-
friendly. 

Venturing cautiously out onto the road, we got back on our way, proceeding tensely, and 
expecting . . .  whatever to bound out at us from hiding places in the massive marble 
structures. Not much did. The most terrifying moment came with a lone gorillacrab who 
seemed to be the harbinger of swarms until Lathan shot it and no more boiled out of the 
surrounding streets. After a group sigh we kept moving. 

The forest of buildings eventually ended and a forest of massive stone columns that could 
have swallowed Karnak without burping, rose up as the next obstacle in our endlessly 
fraught with peril journey. 

"This doesn't look good," D'Argo observed almost jovially. 

"I see a wall on the other side and possibly a gate," Aeryn commented, leaning forward 
into the forest, peering into the deep, dusky gloom.

Nervously, I caught at her coat to keep her from wandering in. I didn't trust these columns, 
anything could have been hiding in their murky shadows and hell, the things would 
probably come down on us like a poorly built house of cards anyway. 

"See?" D'Argo hissed in my ear.

"See, what?" I asked absently.

"See," he pointed at my hand wrapped in the fabric of Aeryn's coat. "You, robots. Aeryn, 
dark, creepy places."

I gave D'Argo my whatever face and Aeryn stepped back to my side, swatting my hand 
away. "It's not very far," she reported. "We can probably run it in a couple hundred 
microts or so."

"Do we recommend running?" I asked, still suspicious of even entering the stone forest. 

"Would you prefer strolling through?" Aeryn asked scornfully.

I gave her a sour look then pointedly stared elsewhere. This is when I noticed that the 
tension between Pirs and Lathan had gone from uncomfortable uncertainty to dangerous 
and potentially violent animosity. 

Lathan was turned away from Pirs, staring fixedly into the columns, his jaw muscle 
twitching as he ground his teeth. Pirs was right up next to him, bumping his shoulder, 
leaning into his personal space. The Lieutenant's face was twisted in disgust and turning a 
pretty spectacular shade of purple. He hissed something in the younger man's ear and 
Lathan jerked and tried to step away. Pirs grabbed Lathan's shoulder and Lathan rounded 
on him, violently shoving him away.  

"They're filth. Criminals. Your true character, is it?" Pirs spat snidely.

"Maybe it is," Lathan shot back. "Maybe I'm sick of the dren high command passes off as 
reality. Maybe I want to see it for myself."

"You'll betray your comrades, your race, for these depraved _beasts_? Traitor. Scum."

"Mindless . . . " Lathan sputtered and quivered with fury and finally came up with the 
epithet that suited. "Mindless robot," he shouted. 

I don't think that Pirs could have looked more shocked if Lathan had kicked him in the 
boys and told him to go kiss a Wookie. Or a Luxan. Fortunately the Luxan kissed him 
first. Just as Pirs was rearing back to flatten Lathan, I heard the familiar sound of a whip 
crack and watched the Lieutenant drop to the ground like a dirty sock. 

Lathan stared at the fallen Peacekeeper, wide-eyed. "What happened?"

"D'Argo tongued him," I said. 

"Weren't you aware Luxans could do that?" Aeryn asked, sounded peeved by the gap in 
Lathan's education.

"Yes, ma'am, but I've never seen it. Amazing." He nudged Pirs with his boot and turned 
to give D'Argo a big smile. "Thank you, sir."

D'Argo shuffled his feet, mildly embarrassed. "You're, uh, welcome. We should keep 
moving." He cleared his throat and clomped over to pick Pirs up and sling him across his 
shoulder. Not a very comfortable ride for Pirs, it looked like he'd be lucky if he didn't get 
bloodied by a tentacle or two. My heart just ached for him. Ached. 

I agreed to the sprint through the columns, reluctantly. While my new philosophy for our 
trip through the city was a very simple take-things-as-they-come-and-be-prepared-to-duck-
a-whole-lot one, accepting that the city could and would throw literally anything at us and 
the only way to get to the end was to go put up with all that, I still wasn't willing to dive 
into any dark, scary places with what had to be literally tons of stone hanging around over 
my delicate human skull. Call me a coward. And Aeryn did. Which I really didn't think 
was particularly fair. I'd frelling do it. I just didn't have to be happy about it and you'd 
better bet your ass I'd voice my concerns. Stone. A lot of it. All around us. 

Turns out Nostradamus had nothing on me. Aeryn picked what she figured was the best, 
most direct path to the wall and gate on the other side of the columns and then, without 
much more debate, we ran. About a quarter of the way through the forest of massive stone, 
the ground started to shake and sway and roll under our feet.

"I knew it!" I shouted over the creaking, rumbling stone. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!" 

Running was out of the question -- the columns were bending and twisting like saplings in 
a gale and if you've ever tried to run across a water bed you've got a good idea what the 
ground was like. We staggered drunkenly, bouncing off the stone spires like pin balls, 
stumbling, spines jamming painfully when the ground would rise up suddenly, or falling 
flat when the ground moved away. Uncle Freaky's funhouse of agony. I could almost hear 
the carnival music, I swear it. 

What was most amazing about the whole thing, though, was that we weren't being crushed 
by falling stone. Sure they creaked and cracked, and we were pelted by tiny shards of rock 
while showers of pulverized mortar drifted down on us in choking clouds, but the columns 
themselves remained standing. I appreciated this even more when we finally lurched out of 
the forest and for a good hundred more microts  I watched as the pillars pitched about 
angrily, groaning and howling. And then they settled. I could almost imagine that we'd 
woken sleeping giants, earning their fury, and now having driven us out, they drifted back 
into stony dreams.  

I was shaken out of my reverie by a terrified wail and Pirs backing up against me, nearly 
knocking me back into the columns. I hadn't even known the guy was awake yet.

"Damn it, Pirs," I hissed, grabbing the Lieutenant roughly by the collar. He was mostly 
ignoring me though, only paying enough attention to me to try to desperately pry my hands 
free of his coat. I felt a cold finger drift down my spine. Only one thing in this city got this 
sort of reaction from the Peacekeeper. Filled with queasy dread, I turned my head and 
looked behind me. 

I'm not entirely certain how we'd missed them on our survey from the other side of the 
column forest. Could be they hadn't been there yet. Could be they'd been there all along 
and the city had played an optical trick on us. Could be it didn't really matter. There were 
dozens of robots between us and the gate. The jumbo sized version. Thirty feet tall if they 
were an inch. All lined up against the wall as far as I could see in either direction. 

Pirs continued to holler and fight me, his eyes locked on the robots. Yeah, they were 
creepy but Pirs was just a little too traumatized. It was getting absurd. I hoped the PKs had 
a good mental health plan.

"D'Argo," I called. "A little help here."

D'Argo turned from his own stunned contemplation of the robots and distractedly threw his 
head back, shooting his tongue out of his mouth, and whapping the Lieutenant into 
unconsciousness again. 

"Robots," Lathan said softly, his eyes wide and his jaw slack with both fear and 
amazement.

"Frell," Aeryn snarled.

Natira sidled along behind D'Argo and Aeryn, her head bobbing about as she no doubt 
looked for someway to ditch us should the robots attack. I could see it in her eyes. Any 
excuse to feed us to the robots and slip back into the city. Bitch. 

I left the Lieutenant where he'd collapsed and moved to stand between Aeryn and D'Argo. 
There was no real place to run to, despite Natira's desperate scheming. We could have 
probably made a go at the gate, but to do that we'd have to run at the robots and there was 
no way to know if that door would even open. 

Interestingly enough, the robots weren't moving and their red-eyed gaze seemed to be 
focused off into the columns. Maybe we could make it to the gate after all. I felt a little 
chilled at the thought of trying to sneak past the giant metal monstrosities right under those 
fiery, demon glares. I could picture myself getting right up to the gate, ready to try to open 
it, and a huge metal foot would squash me flat. It was funny on Monty Python, probably 
not so much fun in real life.

Standing not more than a dozen yards from the giants was a little nerve-wracking. I was 
almost afraid to move and I was certainly wary about speaking in anything more than a 
whisper. 

"So . . ." I muttered.

"So . . ." D'Argo rumbled softly. "I think you should see if you can open that gate, John."

"I think you should see if _you_ can open that gate, D'Argo," I told him just as softly, 
never taking my eyes off the robots.

"You're smaller and you'll fit past the legs more easily. We don't want to get caught," he 
told me reasonably.

"Even if I fit past the legs, you'll still have to get past the legs yourself and we don't want 
to get caught," I informed him just as reasonably.

"Yes, but when I have to get through the legs, you'll already have the gate open and I don't 
think they can get through the gate," D'Argo speculated. 

"I think you're both giving me a frelling headache," Aeryn told us quietly. 

"Hmm," I mused. "I think Aeryn should do it."

"I think that's a fantastic idea, John," D'Argo agreed happily.

"Well, if it will shut you both up," she said brusquely, stomping -- stealthily -- off towards 
the gate.

"Where's she going," Lathan whispered in my ear, an edge of panic in his voice.

"To open the gate," I told him.

"By herself?" 

"She's a big girl, Lathan. Besides, D'Argo's too chicken to do it."

"Yes, and we all saw you run right over there, Crichton," D'Argo's low growl drifted to 
my ears. 

"Maybe I was about to."

"Maybe in some alternate universe."

"It could happen."

"Right."

"Sir," Lathan interrupted our conversation.

"What?"

"The robots, sir. They're . . . humming."

And so they were. It was quiet at first, a low hum that I couldn't hear so much as feel, 
however it was growing in volume and within a few microts it was enough that I had to 
jam a finger in each ear. 

Aeryn had reached the gate at about the same time the humming had reached the peak. She 
looked terrifyingly tiny next to the massive robots, only coming up to about mid-shin. I 
watched the robots closely, ready to run at them like an idiot the second it even looked like 
they might move at Aeryn. She didn't need my help, though, the robots didn't seem 
interested in us. 

"This is getting annoying," I shouted at D'Argo.

"What?" D'Argo shouted back.

"This humming," I yelled, "it's annoying."

"This what?"

"Humming."

"Rumming?"

"Humming." I nodded my head at the robots.

He nodded his head slowly and then gave me an odd look, shaking his head.

"What?" I asked.

"Why talk when we can't hear?"

"What?"

D'Argo's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he pressed them firmly together. I gathered 
we weren't talking any more. I shrugged my shoulders and saw that Aeryn had managed to 
get the door open. That was fast. And easy. Too easy? God. Who knew?

Natira shoved D'Argo, Lathan and I out of her way as she made a mad dash to the 
doorway. Ducking under Aeryn's arm, she dove through the gate and into whatever was 
on the other side. All things considered, that was pretty reckless and not something I 
figured her for. Whatever. The flesh eating gnats on the other side would get her first. 

The three of us started slowly making our way to Aeryn, still wary of the metal giants, and 
we'd just made it to the tip of the nearest robots foot when I remembered Pirs. I tapped 
D'Argo on the shoulder and pointed at Pirs. Giving me a puzzled frown, D'Argo followed 
my finger and I could see his shoulders rise and fall with a tremendous sigh. He shot me a 
plaintive look, puppy dog eyes pleading with me not to make him go back to pick up the 
Peacekeeper. I chewed on my lip and looked back at the still unconscious Lieutenant. He 
looked so pathetic lying in the dust and I did promise to take him out. I shook my head at 
D'Argo and jerked my thumb at Pirs again. Damn my screwy sense of honor. D'Argo let 
loose another long sigh, blowing out his mustache, and jogged back to the Lieutenant.

While D'Argo went for Pirs, I motioned Lathan to make for the gate, and then I took a 
moment to stare up and up and up at the robot above me. From this close up, I was able to 
get a good look at some of the external workings. The joints of the legs, and hands and 
fingers as they hung still above my head. The workmanship was magnificent. And now 
that I was this close up to the big ones, I could see that they had glyphs and patterns etched 
into their metal skin. The little ones didn't have that that I could remember. Of course the 
little ones were mean bastards and I wasn't inclined to look too closely at them when last 
we'd met. 

I reached my hand out to run a finger over an almost familiar looking glyph when Aeryn 
jerked at my coat. D'Argo and Pirs were just passing through the gate and Aeryn was 
tugging at me to follow. I gave one last look at the big bot and followed her.

***

FINALE 

The other side of the gate opened into a small courtyard. High walls and windowless 
buildings surrounded us on all sides and the only exit seemed to be the extremely large gate 
in the wall opposite the one we'd just come through. 

We loitered around the edge of the courtyard and stared at the enormous creature in the 
unflattering gray suit and cap, jammed into a guard box near the gate. The box was roughly 
the size of a drive-thru photomat. A small drive-thru photomat. A few tentacles hung 
listlessly out the narrow windows, twitching in an almost nonexistent breeze, and the 
creature, who had eagerly watched us approach, eventually got bored with our staring and 
turned his dozen or so eyes to a black box on his right. 

I sat down on a chilly block of marble and stared at the booth and considered the tall, 
narrow door beyond it. The creature was smashed in there pretty good, it probably wasn't 
going to spring out at us all fast like if we made a dash for the door. But then, of course, 
the door itself was probably problem enough -- it being of the extremely large and 
extremely solid looking variety of door. I chewed on my lip, my brain working sluggishly.

A handful of microts later, the box shifted with the creature and the few tentacles hanging 
outside the door stiffened, getting a good grip on the side. The creature poked the top part 
of its head, and a couple of eyes, out the side window. "OY! Are you lot going to present 
yourselves today, or what?"

"For, uh, what?" I called back.

"For egress," he shouted, sounding exasperated. He crammed himself back into his booth. 
"Moron. Human. Idiots," he grumbled, not bothering to lower his voice. 

I licked my lips nervously. Nothing about this place had been entirely what I expected. 
Granted I didn't expect to end up here, but, well, things here tended to bite and I was 
turning damn skittery. 

I looked at Aeryn, who was looking back at me, eyebrow raised. I looked at D'Argo who 
was looking at his boots, and tapping his fingers on his belt. Lathan and Pirs were too 
busy glaring at each other and probably wouldn't have been much help anyway. And 
Natira was eyeing the exit, an evil, considering gleam in her eye. Once again, I figured she 
was trying to come up with a way to feed us to the critter and secure her own escape. I 
snarled at her.

I took a deep breath and a few steps towards the glass and metal box. "Can I ask you a 
question first?"

"No."

"No? Just one," I promised.

"No," he heaved a sigh, and his small little shack trembled. "I've got better things to do, 
you know. I've got to reset this whole damn level now you and your friends have traipsed 
through the thing. Did you really have to set off every snare?" He glared at me balefully. 

"How do you know I'm human?"

"Everybody knows you're human," the bored, gray suited creature said with a roll of his 
second and fourth eyes, which were conveniently located one on top of the other and 
whose movement made my stomach roll with them. 

"No, no," I persisted through a clenched jaw, "they said 'human', not 'John Crichton; 
human.'"

"John Crichton," the creature mumbled to itself and turned half its eyes towards a large 
book on its tiny, quivering desk. He jabbed the fat point of one tentacle at a page. 
"Crichton. How do you spell that?" 

My jaw instantly went slack in shock. "Huh?"

"Never mind," he said with satisfaction and slapped a stamp on the page next to a group of 
symbols I supposed were my name. "John Crichton. Human. Next!"

I kept staring at him, I couldn't rip myself away. Human, he said. I was human. Totally 
human. Born human, always would be human. Doomed to humanity. From Earth even. 
"Huh?" 

The creature frowned and started slowly turning all of his eyes back towards me. When I 
still didn't move, he reached out and shoved me back with a sharp jab in the chest. "Oy, I 
said next. Move along already."

I stumbled back, my slack jaw coming to life, and my mouth opening and closing 
helplessly while I tried to think of something to say. He made another jab at me, but I 
stepped away from the tentacle and shook my head, trying to clear out the strange buzzing. 

One by one my companions cautiously stepped up to the booth and gave their names. The 
creature gleefully embraced his duty, slapping stamps on his book and sending his box 
shuddering with booming calls of 'Next!'. 

I pressed my fingertips to my eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths. Did it even 
matter anymore? How they knew? The whos, the whys, the wheres? I just frelling wanted 
to go home. If giving my name to a mountain of creature in a bad rent-a-cop suit got me 
home, fine. The alternative was curling up on the cold marble ground and whimpering. 

"Crichton. Crichton," D'Argo clapped me firmly on the back. "Door's open. Let's go."

Glancing up, I saw the tall gate open soundlessly. I cocked my head around D'Argo to get 
a good look at the other side. Another bored looking alien slouched against what I guessed 
was a shuttle. It scratched its head with a claw, knocking its cap sideways. 

"Oh, what the hell," I mumbled and started towards the opening. Our egress awaited.

"Could . . . could be a trap," Pirs muttered, coming up on my shoulder. 

"Hey, look who's awake," I mumbled. "Trap huh? How 'bout you go first than?" I told 
him with a tight grin and gave him a shove.

I took a step after Pirs but didn't get far before the guard called my name and snaked a 
tentacle around my arm. Aeryn and D'Argo immediately tensed and wheeled on the 
creature. 

"Oy, almost forgot to tell you. Make sure you collect your effects from Neil."

"Neil," I said flatly, a little dazed.

"Yeah. He should be waiting for you when you get off your transport. You've got a couple 
forms to fill out to get 'em back, but that'll only take a few arns. Anyway, make sure 
Neil's there. Won't get your things without him. He's got the only key, you know. 
Unfortunately, the sorry bastard likes his raslak, too much, you ask me. He goes missing, 
some. Told Art, I did. Told him. I said, 'Art, Neil's a bit too in the drink, you know?' Art, 
well, Art tries to care but he's a Carpacious Synthoid and they're never much good at 
interpersonal affairs, if you know what I mean. So Art says to me, 'I think you're right, 
Tim. We should do something. My brother rips the esophaguses out of Torba Beasts in the 
rec cycle cages, that stops them drinking right quick. Shall I ask him?' I says to Art, 'Art, 
that's a bit extreme. Maybe we should just tell the union counselor.' Art agreed with me in 
the end. But as that was just this morning, odds are Neil might still be sloshed. If he's not 
there, take a seat. He'll turn up in a day or so." Tim blinked his eyes, nodded his massive 
head, and having imparted his message to us, let go of my arm and squeezed himself back 
into his box, returning to ignoring us.

I rubbed my hand across my forehead, trying to will away the headache that was beginning 
to rumble around the edge of my gray matter. Aeryn put her hand on my shoulder, a 
worried frown on her face. 

"After you," I held my arm out at the gate, bowing down to let her go first.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile and after a gentle squeeze of my shoulder, she 
stepped through the exit.  

The creature manning the shuttle came to attention as we approached. "Up to the station, 
eh? Congratulations. I hope you served your time well," he chirped brightly. 

"So would this be the station we were taken prisoner on?" D'Argo asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, 'course it is," the creature said, giving D'Argo a look that clearly said that was a 
stupid question. "Now, please step on board, find a seat, and do make sure your fastenings 
are properly fastened. It's a bumpy ride to the up above." 

It was a hell of a bumpy ride and at one point I could swear we'd smacked into something. 
The engines whined loudly, there was an alarming screech of metal on metal, a few horrific 
pops, a clanging that sounded like tire-iron wielding monkeys were loose on the hull, and 
we were thrown against our restraints. I was going to have bruises for days from those 
damn things. And then silence. The trip from that point on was relatively quick and our 
docking with the station was not only gentle but nearly silent. 

The creature stepped back into the cabin, nodded its head at us and then opened the hatch, 
motioning us to follow.  

"You wouldn't happen to be Art, would you?" I asked the creature as we stepped off the 
shuttle.

"Do I look like a Carpacious Synthoid to you, mister?" He asked, incredulously. 

I stared at it for a minute, considering. "Er . . . is that a trick question?"

The creature snorted and tipped his cap back with a shiny claw. "Name's Xarsthalian. 
What do you want Art for?"

"Uh, nothing. I'm supposed to find Neil actually."

Xarsthalian clicked his claw and made a sound I guess might have been a laugh. "Good 
luck. Neil's likely under a table somewhere, stinking of raslak and talu paste. Poor, 
drunken sot."

"Um, yeah."

"His female left him for a Ralshaw dancer," the creature informed me in a loud whisper.

"Bummer?"

Xarsthalian gave me a sharp look. "You'd probably get yourself a bit drunk if your female 
left you."

I scratched my eyebrow and coughed. "Well, yeah, actually, she did and I did."

"Oh, sorry, mate," he said sincerely.

"She came back."

"That's nice."

The conversation stuttered to an end and we stared at each other for a few microts. The 
creature clicked a claw again and pointed to the corridor on our right. "If you're quick, you 
might catch Neil still sober."

"Oh, right, thanks. Which way?"

"Down that hall, then take the second corridor on your left, follow it down until it starts to 
curve up a bit and it's the big green door on the right. Can't miss it," he directed cheerfully.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Have a nice day."

We followed Xarsthalian's directions and found the big, neon green door. The vast, dim 
and musty warehouse space beyond the door, however, was sadly devoid of intelligent life 
and we did not find Neil. After about three arns of hanging around, poking through various 
crates and containers to assuage our boredom, we finally met Art. 

The Synthoid came in to offer us refreshments and the news that Neil had been found and was in
detox. Art promised the Neil would be with us within the next twelve arns. 

"Can't you get our things for us?" I asked.

"Oh no," Art replied. "It's against union regulations to perform a task not assigned to you. 
I could be censured or excused."

"Oh, well, right. Censure. Wouldn't want that."

"Certainly not. Would you care to come down into the station proper? There's Garq 
wresting in the main chamber tonight. Should be dreadfully exciting."

"No," Aeryn said quickly. "Thank you. We'll wait here."

"Of course. If you require anything, you may comm me. Union regulations for Synthoids 
allow me to be at your service for upwards of 72 arns."

"How wonderful. Thank you, Art," Aeryn told him, a gracious smile on her face. 

"Aw, honey, why can't we watch the Garq wrestling?"  I laughed after Art left.

"We are not going out on that station because the last time we were on the station we were 
arrested for what I do not know. We will sit here. Quietly. And we will not end up down 
on that frelling planet again."

I held up my hands and smiled. "Just checking."

Neil showed up about five arns later. A tall, thin, pale, faintly purple skinned being. He 
shuffled in, dropping wearily into a chair behind a long, low desk, his knees bumping, and 
he looked up at us with bleary eyes. 

"Names?" He asked dully.

"John Crichton."

He heaved a sigh and tapped at the console to his right. There was a whir of machinery in 
the background and a soft yelp from Pirs as a small -- not more than 4 feet tall -- robot 
dashed out of the vast maze of crates to deposit a sack on the desk next to Neil. Neil gave 
Pirs a watery glare and the Lieutenant had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. 

Neil up-ended the bag and poked at the items. "One pulse pistol," he muttered glancing at 
his computer screen and then checking inventory on the bag's contents. "Seven bits of 
metal I'm assuming are some sort of currency. We accept no claims on missing or altered 
currency. If you feel some of your currency has gone missing, you'll need to address that 
with station management through form 14.5b97," he recited gloomily. "One ring, gold. 
Are these your belongings as you remember them?"

"Yeah, they seem to be."

"Sign here," he said, pushing a tablet at me. I signed and he waved a hand over my things. 
"You're free to take them. Any discovered damage to items must be reported within two 
arns."

"Okay," I said slowly. I pocketed the change, slipped on my ring, pulled the temporary 
pulse pistol from my holster and replaced it, with a happy sigh, with Winona. "Want a 
pulse pistol?" I asked, hefting the extra.

"There's a waste receptacle near the door," Neil told me flatly. 

"Keep it, John," Aeryn said. "We can always use the spare."

"And you are?" Neil asked, bored.

"Aeryn Sun."

"Right." He turned to his console and tapped away at it again.

Seven arns of waiting for a procedure that took all of a quarter arn and we finally all had 
our belongings again. Natira, surprisingly enough, was the one who ended up with the 
most stuff. Two crates of dren just waiting to be lugged away. 

Neil stood up and gave us all a morose glare. "You're all free to leave the station. Let that 
be a lesson to you. May you never do whatever it is you did again. Have a nice day." He 
walked around his desk and out the door without another word.

"So," I said, staring at the door.

"So," D'Argo said. 

"That's it?" I asked nobody in particular.

"It does seem to be," D'Argo replied.

"Pirs? You staying here?" I asked the surly, snarly Peacekeeper.

"I'll get the next Peacekeeper vessel through."

"Your endless quarantine," I shrugged. 

He growled, shot Lathan a dark look, which the boy returned, and slammed out the door. 

"And the bitch," I murmured to D'Argo.

"We agreed we'd set her someplace else," he said resignedly.

"Jesus. Here's a thought, never make deals while I'm unconscious. Okay?"

"Here's a thought, how about if you remember I am the Captain."

"You're just going to bring that up all the damn time aren't you?" I groused.

"Would you two, please shut up?" Aeryn told us wearily. 

"Yes, dear."

"Can we go home now?" She asked pointedly.

"Sorry."

She shook her head, grabbed me by the coat and propelled me out the door. 

I pulled her around to my side and slipped my arm around her shoulders. "Home?" I asked 
with a grin.

She gave me a brilliant smile and slapped me on the ass. "Home."

"Thank frelling god."