Farscape fic: Left Behind, chapter 17
Left Behind, chapter 17
Timeline placement: earlyish season 3, spoilers for “Eat Me”
Rating: PG-13
Words: 3,854
Disclaimer: The Farscape universe, and all that is in it, is not mine, but rather belongs to the Jim Henson Company. This is a work of fiction based in that universe. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has been or will be collected. No betas were harmed in the writing of this fic. Previous chapter links at the end of the post.
--------------------------
Reyna finished transcribing her notes regarding John’s insomnia into Rohvu’s medical computer. She wished she could’ve used the Leviathan’s more powerful scanners during her examination of the Human, but Rohvu’s energy levels were too low to allow for it, so, at least for now, she had to be satisfied with the limitations of her hand-held unit and her own notes. John had used the sleeping powder she had given him only once, so far, and all seemed to be well, but even so she suspected that he had exceeded the prescribed dosage. She’d have to keep an eye on that, since there was no baseline she could use in his treatment and no way of knowing how his Human body would react to the powder over time.
Reading back through her hand-written notes, Reyna compared them to the viewer. Once she was certain she hadn’t missed anything, she’d shut things down here and head up to Command, where she would remain, monitoring Rohvu’s systems, while the others went over to Kala to obtain more supplies and initiate the transfusion process. She would prefer to be there herself, rather than trusting Tokar or Chiana to obtain the necessary items from Kala’s med bay, but someone had to stay here on Rohvu. It didn’t necessarily have to be her, since monitoring the transfusion of fluids could be done as safely by an amateur mechanic as a trained med tech, but they had drawn straws and Reyna had drawn the short straw.
“Reyna?”
Reyna swiveled her chair toward the open doorway. “Yes, Furlow?” she responded, dark brows drawing into a concerned frown at the sight of the woman standing there, cradling one arm to her jumpsuit clad chest, her nearly colorless eyes watering from pain.
As Furlow entered the med bay, Reyna moved quickly over to her and led her to the chair she had just abandoned. Without a word, she gently pushed her into the chair and bent over her, reaching back without looking to pull the desk lamp closer to the edge where it could better illuminate the injury.
Gently, Reyna took Furlow’s hand, purple and a bit swollen, and turned it, in the process both straightening the arm and eliciting a hiss of pain from her patient. “I’m sorry, Furlow…” She bent in closer to look at the swelling under the light.
“That’s all right, Reyna.” Her arm and hand relaxed a bit as Furlow settled back into the chair. “I think it’s broken.”
“Well, it certainly appears to be broken…” The med tech stood, carefully resting Furlow’s arm, wrist and palm facing upward, on the arm of the chair. Reaching toward the other end of the desk, Reyna took hold of her portable medical scanner - the only piece of equipment she’d been able to rescue from her clinic on Relkor Station. She flicked it on with a practiced movement and ran it over Furlow’s hand and wrist, but the results of the scan were inconclusive.
“How did this happen?” Reyna asked. The hand, with its swelling and bruising, looked to be broken, but the scanner detected no serious injury. Broken blood vessels and strained muscles, yes, but no break or fracture of any kind in the bone, nothing that could account for the level of swelling or the somewhat elevated temperature of the skin. She hadn’t been able to fully recharge her scanner since they had arrived on Rohvu, though, so perhaps that might account for the readings.
“Oh, I was just dropping off to sleep a few arns ago, when Pilot commed me and pulled me out of it. Guess he startled me. I…” she sounded a bit sheepish. “I hit it on the bulkhead next to my bed. I didn’t think anything of it ‘til I woke up.”
Reyna shook her head, dark hair swaying slightly with the movement. “That must have been some hit.” She took the swollen hand in hers, then ran a finger down the knuckles, where the worst of the bruising appeared to be. Furlow pulled her hand back with another hiss. “Sorry.” Reyna stood and leaned back against the desk. “Well, Furlow, my scanner doesn’t indicate any broken bones.”
“Maybe it’s broken, maybe it isn’t, but it hurts like hezmana,” Furlow offered.
“I can give you something for the pain and wrap it, for now. You probably shouldn’t use it until we have access to a fully functioning medical facility where I can repair the damage.”
Furlow sighed dramatically. “Well, frell. If I can’t use it, I can’t fly us from here to that other Leviathan.” She held her hand up to Reyna. “Go ahead and wrap it and I’ll take whatever you have for the pain.”
Reyna gently pushed Furlow’s hand back down. “I’ll be right back.” There was some clean toweling in one of the cabinets near the wash basin that should be adequate as a wrap…
“Reyna? Since I can’t use this hand, why don’t I take your watch? I’m sure Johnny can fly my ship easily enough; you can go over in my place. I won’t be much use to them over there, anyway.”
“Even one-handed, Furlow, you could still be useful on Kala. You certainly seem to know Leviathan mechanical systems…”
“That’s true, but so does Johnny, probably better than me. And I don’t know flitz about medical stuff. Leave acquisition of product and supplies to the experts, that’s my motto.”
Returning a few microts later with the clean toweling, Reyna tore it into strips and began to wrap Furlow’s hand tightly enough for support, but loosely enough to avoid any further constriction of blood flow. “All right, Furlow, I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you.”
***
“Dammit, where the hell is Furlow?” John asked, irritated by her absence probably more than he should be. He had thought he’d be the last one to the hangar, after falling asleep face down in his bunk, still wearing the EVA suit he had donned to help Tokar hook up the transfusion umbilical to Rohvu’s underside. He’d awakened after who knew how long, disoriented, sure he had dreamed again, but with no memory of those dreams.
“Why the rush, Old Man?” Chiana cocked her head and turned those space black eyes on him, abandoning her conversation with Belima.
“Ah, never mind, Pip. I just thought I was late.”
She laughed, the sound for once untainted by any of their recent unpleasant experiences. “It’s not like we’re on a schedule, Crichton.”
“You’re right. I should chill. I just…” don’t trust Furlow, he thought, but said aloud, “I guess I’m anxious to get this over with.”
Tokar came up behind him and slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to cause John an involuntary step forward. “Don’t worry, John. Pilot assured me again, not an arn ago, that Kala’s pilot actually wants us to do this. He thinks it’ll help her to move on, if she feels that she’s helping another Leviathan to live.” The ex-Peacekeeper chuckled when John massaged his shoulder in mock pain.
John turned back to Chiana and Belima as Tokar disappeared up the ramp into Furlow’s ship. “You got Reyna’s grocery list, Chi?”
“Quit fussing, Old Man. I didn’t forget it.” She hit him with a patented Chiana smirk as she reached into the neckline of her tunic and, with deliberately teasing movements, pulled out Reyna’s list. John tried to ignore the slight jump in his heart rate at the sight of her gloved hand reaching slowly between her breasts.
Laughing again, Chiana tucked the list back into its hiding place, turned, and, with a bounce in her step, boarded the Marauder knock-off. Belima, looking bewildered at the exchange, shrugged and followed the Nebari girl.
Shaking his head, John followed suit. On the one hand, it was good to see Pip acting less on edge, more like her old self for the first time in weeks. On the other, he thought he’d better broach the subject of that kiss with her soon…
“Coward,” Harvey whispered in his ear before pushing past him. “Why don’t you just take her up on her offer?” The neural clone plopped down onto the empty seat in the crew area, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. Ignoring him, John made his way to the front and sat in the co-pilot’s seat. As he looked over the controls, labeled in standard Sebacean, he heard running footsteps pound up the ramp.
John swiveled the seat around, prepared to give Furlow crap not only for making them wait, but because he was in that kind of a mood, when the late arrival appeared at the top of the ramp. “You’re not Furlow,” he stated.
Reyna smiled as she drew to a stop next to her mate, yellow skirt swirling around Tokar’s knees before settling into place below her own. She carried what appeared to be an empty sack slung over her shoulder, which she allowed to slip to the floor as she took the more-or-less vacant seat next to Tokar - after all, John was the only one who could see Harvey as he patted his lap in invitation, just before disappearing in a swirl of yellow smoke as Reyna sat.
“Well, no, I’m not,” Reyna replied, strapping herself into her seat, completely unaware of the display John had just seen. “Furlow injured her hand. She shouldn’t use it until I can properly see to it, so she offered to stay aboard Rohvu and take my turn at watch.” When John just stared at her, her smile faded. “Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Harvey snickering. “I hope not.” He switched to the pilot’s seat, buckled himself in, and prepared for take off.
***
It would take maybe five minutes, tops, to basically jump the distance from Rohvu’s hangar to Kala’s. It would only take that long because John had to be careful not to disturb the umbilical. The thought of the makeshift umbilical cord prompted him to flick on the aft viewscreen to make sure that it was playing out behind them. Once docked, he and Tokar would take another space-walk and get it connected to Kala.
As the distance shrank between the ancient Leviathan and the small ship he piloted, John thought about what Furlow’s change in their plans might mean. Unfortunately, he was the only one on board who had any prior experience of her and she had been nothing but helpful, if occasionally lazy, since she had joined their little group, even pulling their asses out of the fire back on the commerce station. She had never really done anything to harm him, either, but he just couldn’t shake the gut feeling that she was up to something.
Without thinking about what he was doing, John brought the knock-off in line with Kala’s hangar, growing ever larger in the forward viewscreen. The murmur of two conversations going on between the four people seated behind him drifted up to him, but he wasn’t paying attention.
Something just didn’t add up, and that worried him, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. He’d mention it to Pip - she might not understand why he didn’t trust Furlow, but she would still back him up if there was a problem when they got back to Rohvu. Reyna and Tokar were themselves still a bit of an unknown. They’d want to know why John didn’t trust someone who, as far as they were concerned, was part of Rohvu’s crew because of him and he really couldn’t give them an answer.
As for Belima, she’d probably do whatever he or Chiana asked her to. This was her first time away from Rohvu in who knew how long. Chiana was to keep Belima under her wing while aboard Kala. He didn’t think there’d be a problem with her, given that there wouldn’t be any interaction with other people, but again, who knew? Bel was starting to come out of her shell, though, exploring more of her surroundings and expanding her vocabulary every day. It might be entertaining to talk to her without the filter of the translator microbes, he thought. With everyone on Rohvu teaching her new words and phrases, it had to be some weird mix of Nebari, Sebacean, and English. Nebaceanish?
Grinning to himself, John flipped a switch on the console. “Good morning, Kala’s pilot. This is John Crichton, requesting permission to land.”
“Greetings, John Crichton.” The old pilot’s voice was deep, resonant. “Permission granted. Would you like me to deploy Kala’s docking web?”
“Yeah, Pilot, that’d be great. Thanks.”
A few seconds later, John felt the ship slow as the docking web caught them and pulled them gradually into the ancient Leviathan.
***
Belima was the last to leave the small ship. She made her way cautiously down the ramp and gingerly set one foot on the deck of the strange/familiar ship - Chiana had explained to her in a mixture of gestures and old and new words that the one they called Rohvu was a ship and not the world, as Belima had come to believe. This new world - ship - was called Kala and was of the same type as Rohvu.
Placing her other foot deliberately on the deck, Belima looked around, drinking in her surroundings, the warm golden walls, the welcoming lights, the gentle touch of air moving lightly against her skin.
John and Tokar, in their black EVA suits, had moved to the back of the little ship in which they had all come here and were gathering together long tube things. Chiana said that they would be taking the tubes outside, where the EVA suits would keep the two men alive while they attached the ends of the tubes to this Kala. Somehow this was supposed to make Rohvu stop being sick. Belima didn’t understand how this would work, but she trusted that Chiana was telling her the truth.
Reyna in her pretty yellow skirt was walking backwards, saying something to the others that Belima didn’t catch. When she finished speaking, she turned and disappeared through a door that opened with a wave of her hand and remained open behind her.
“’Scuse me, Bel.” Chiana startled her as she slipped past her and headed back up the ramp into the ship. Belima could hear her moving in the ship, but she quickly reappeared with a box of tools in her gloved hands, which she ran over to Tokar. Apparently, he had forgotten the things he needed to attach that tubing to Kala.
Taking several steps out into the enormous room, Belima spun around, trying to take in everything at once. It looked the same here as on Rohvu, but different. Cleaner and no scars or gouges. She watched as a small creature whirred its way through the still open door and headed toward her. She took an involuntary step back as it rapidly approached, its glowing eyes waving at her.
“John!” Belima shouted, frightened. She turned and started to bolt back into the relative safety of the small ship, but John grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Hey, ho, hey! It’s okay, Bel. It’s just a DRD.”
She looked down at the little yellow creature and then back up into John’s blue eyes. Blue eyes that were smiling, not unkindly. “DRD?”
“Diagnostic and repair drone. They help fix things.”
Seeing that no one else was at all concerned by the appearance of the creature, Belima relaxed a bit. John released her arm. “You okay?” he asked.
“I…yes, I am okay.” Her heart still thumping in her chest, Belima forced herself to crouch down and inspect the creature John called a DRD more closely. Realizing that it was a machine, rather than a creature, she relaxed further, accepting that there was nothing to be frightened of, after all.
“You be okay here with Pip while Tokar and I go out for a little walk?”
“Pip?” Belima looked up at him, puzzled at the word. She had heard him use it before, but she didn’t know what it meant.
John smiled at her. “Chiana. ‘Pip’ is a nickname - just a name I call her.”
Belima returned her attention to the DRD, patiently waiting in front of her. “Pip is Chiana,” she repeated, reaching toward the DRD’s arm, which appeared to be, in part, a spanner. “I will be okay here with Pip.” She looked up and smiled back at him.
“Cool. Be back in a few.” He jogged over to Tokar, who handed him an object that covered his head when he fastened it to his EVA suit, before the two of them disappeared past a hatch which closed behind them. Belima again looked at the DRD.
It waggled its eyestalks at her when she touched the spanner-arm. As she touched the tool, a memory hit her, so intense that it rocked her back on her heels. She abruptly sat down on the deck and just stared at the DRD, allowing the memory to wash over her.
“Hey, Belima!” her friend Davi shouted as he ran over to her. Davi was a communications tech and rarely ever seen in the more hands-on areas of the Leviathan, such as the maintenance bay. Surprised to hear his voice here, she looked up from the DRD she had been repairing - its spanner-arm had been broken off when the new prisoner had been brought on board earlier that day. Someone had tripped over the little mechanoid trying to avoid an inadvertent contact with the creature they were transporting to a maximum-security facility for the criminally insane. Belima knew it was just a DRD, but she had seen it happen and had felt sorry for it, so…
Davi’s voice interrupted her reflections. “I thought we were on for a game of linnet?” He stopped next to the workbench and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Or have you changed your mind?”
“Oh, Davi, I’m sorry! I completely forgot!” Full of contrition, cursing herself internally for being a colossal fool, she asked, “Am I too late?” She had been trying to gain the attention of the handsome comms tech for almost two monens, now, and she’d never forgive herself if she had just allowed a DRD to get in her way.
“Of course you’re not too late. Finish up that repair later.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Much later.”
“Belima?” She came back to the present when Chiana, all gray angles and curiosity, filled her vision, blotting out the memory as the Nebari crouched above the DRD, head cocked, looking at Belima.
“Chiana, I-” She didn’t know the words for what had just happened, so she stopped talking and shrugged.
The Nebari girl grinned. “Who’s your friend?” she asked as she surged to her feet and offered Belima a hand.
“It is…a DRD.” She took the hand offered, allowing herself to be pulled back to her feet. “I do not know why it is here.”
“Hey, Pilot?” Chiana asked, looking up. Belima couldn’t see anything that Chiana might be talking to, but an image flickered into existence in response, confined to a frame that hung above a control console. It quickly resolved into the ghostly image of Pilot. But the voice, when he answered, was much deeper than Belima was used to.
“Yes, gentle guest? With what may I help you?”
Chiana grinned. “My name’s Chiana, Pilot, and this is Belima.” She waved a hand in Belima’s general direction as she walked over closer to Pilot’s image.
“I give you good greeting, Chiana and Belima.”
“What’s with the DRD?”
“Kala and I no longer have a full complement of drones, Chiana, but we have sent one of those that are available to assist you, if you find it necessary.”
“Thanks, Pilot.” She turned to Belima. “I don’t…don’t think we’ll need any help until Crichton and Tokar get back. You wanna help me look around here, Bel?”
***
Tokar Rhee and John Crichton both stared at the red light in front of them, indicating that the airlock through which they would disembark for their spacewalk was still cycling. Crichton rocked impatiently - forward, back, toe, heel - and Tokar could hear the faint sound of a whistled tune through the open comms.
“What is that song, Crichton?”
“Hmm?” The Human stopped rocking. “It’s called the ‘Ride of the Valkyries.’”
The red light before them turned to green before he had a chance to expand on his answer. Almost simultaneously, both men turned to check again that their lifelines were secured to the rings installed in the bulkhead for just that purpose.
“Good to go?” Crichton queried.
Tokar nodded and Crichton opened the hatch, pushing out into space. Tokar watched for a microt as the Human turned toward the opening to the hangar deck to retrieve the ends of the umbilicals they had earlier tethered there.
As Crichton swam toward the umbilicals, which trailed out from the hangar deck toward Rohvu, Tokar used the handgrips on the outer surface of Kala’s hull to “walk” his way to the connection point, where he would wait. Even though the area was considered to be the underside of the Leviathan, there was no true up or down in space, and so he sat “down” on the hull to watch Crichton, apparently upside down, swim toward him with the ends of the umbilicals.
“Gotta love zero grav, man,” Crichton observed when he spotted the ex-Peacekeeper. Though his companion couldn’t see it from that distance or through the faceplates of their helmets, Tokar grinned in agreement. He was rarely called upon for zero-gravity work for his unit, being primarily their weapons expert, but he always enjoyed the illusion of freedom that floating through space gave. There was an immediacy to it that was only rivaled by close combat and by sex.
A couple hundred microts later, he was working in tandem with Crichton to hook up four umbilicals to the appropriate ports underneath Kala. As had been demonstrated to him several times over the past few weekens, he and Crichton worked well together. Had they not been working in zero-gravity, the work would have gone much more quickly, as both were good with their hands, even with the interference of gloves. As it was, somewhat hampered by the slowed movements and the EVA suits, it took them almost half an arn to hook up and tighten all four umbilicals.
The work completed, they pulled themselves hand-over-hand up their lifelines toward the airlock and a reversal of the procedure followed earlier, this time sealing the airlock and pumping breathable air back into the small room. The green light indicating that atmosphere had been successfully restored came to life and Crichton opened the hatch back into the hangar.
Tokar stepped through the hatch, removing his helmet as he did so and ruffling his fingers through his hair. Crichton did much the same thing, causing his brown hair to stand on end.
“Pilot, if you and Kala are ready,” Crichton said into the comms, “you can start that transfusion.”
Left Behind, chapter 16
Left Behind, chapter 18
Timeline placement: earlyish season 3, spoilers for “Eat Me”
Rating: PG-13
Words: 3,854
Disclaimer: The Farscape universe, and all that is in it, is not mine, but rather belongs to the Jim Henson Company. This is a work of fiction based in that universe. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has been or will be collected. No betas were harmed in the writing of this fic. Previous chapter links at the end of the post.
--------------------------
Reyna finished transcribing her notes regarding John’s insomnia into Rohvu’s medical computer. She wished she could’ve used the Leviathan’s more powerful scanners during her examination of the Human, but Rohvu’s energy levels were too low to allow for it, so, at least for now, she had to be satisfied with the limitations of her hand-held unit and her own notes. John had used the sleeping powder she had given him only once, so far, and all seemed to be well, but even so she suspected that he had exceeded the prescribed dosage. She’d have to keep an eye on that, since there was no baseline she could use in his treatment and no way of knowing how his Human body would react to the powder over time.
Reading back through her hand-written notes, Reyna compared them to the viewer. Once she was certain she hadn’t missed anything, she’d shut things down here and head up to Command, where she would remain, monitoring Rohvu’s systems, while the others went over to Kala to obtain more supplies and initiate the transfusion process. She would prefer to be there herself, rather than trusting Tokar or Chiana to obtain the necessary items from Kala’s med bay, but someone had to stay here on Rohvu. It didn’t necessarily have to be her, since monitoring the transfusion of fluids could be done as safely by an amateur mechanic as a trained med tech, but they had drawn straws and Reyna had drawn the short straw.
“Reyna?”
Reyna swiveled her chair toward the open doorway. “Yes, Furlow?” she responded, dark brows drawing into a concerned frown at the sight of the woman standing there, cradling one arm to her jumpsuit clad chest, her nearly colorless eyes watering from pain.
As Furlow entered the med bay, Reyna moved quickly over to her and led her to the chair she had just abandoned. Without a word, she gently pushed her into the chair and bent over her, reaching back without looking to pull the desk lamp closer to the edge where it could better illuminate the injury.
Gently, Reyna took Furlow’s hand, purple and a bit swollen, and turned it, in the process both straightening the arm and eliciting a hiss of pain from her patient. “I’m sorry, Furlow…” She bent in closer to look at the swelling under the light.
“That’s all right, Reyna.” Her arm and hand relaxed a bit as Furlow settled back into the chair. “I think it’s broken.”
“Well, it certainly appears to be broken…” The med tech stood, carefully resting Furlow’s arm, wrist and palm facing upward, on the arm of the chair. Reaching toward the other end of the desk, Reyna took hold of her portable medical scanner - the only piece of equipment she’d been able to rescue from her clinic on Relkor Station. She flicked it on with a practiced movement and ran it over Furlow’s hand and wrist, but the results of the scan were inconclusive.
“How did this happen?” Reyna asked. The hand, with its swelling and bruising, looked to be broken, but the scanner detected no serious injury. Broken blood vessels and strained muscles, yes, but no break or fracture of any kind in the bone, nothing that could account for the level of swelling or the somewhat elevated temperature of the skin. She hadn’t been able to fully recharge her scanner since they had arrived on Rohvu, though, so perhaps that might account for the readings.
“Oh, I was just dropping off to sleep a few arns ago, when Pilot commed me and pulled me out of it. Guess he startled me. I…” she sounded a bit sheepish. “I hit it on the bulkhead next to my bed. I didn’t think anything of it ‘til I woke up.”
Reyna shook her head, dark hair swaying slightly with the movement. “That must have been some hit.” She took the swollen hand in hers, then ran a finger down the knuckles, where the worst of the bruising appeared to be. Furlow pulled her hand back with another hiss. “Sorry.” Reyna stood and leaned back against the desk. “Well, Furlow, my scanner doesn’t indicate any broken bones.”
“Maybe it’s broken, maybe it isn’t, but it hurts like hezmana,” Furlow offered.
“I can give you something for the pain and wrap it, for now. You probably shouldn’t use it until we have access to a fully functioning medical facility where I can repair the damage.”
Furlow sighed dramatically. “Well, frell. If I can’t use it, I can’t fly us from here to that other Leviathan.” She held her hand up to Reyna. “Go ahead and wrap it and I’ll take whatever you have for the pain.”
Reyna gently pushed Furlow’s hand back down. “I’ll be right back.” There was some clean toweling in one of the cabinets near the wash basin that should be adequate as a wrap…
“Reyna? Since I can’t use this hand, why don’t I take your watch? I’m sure Johnny can fly my ship easily enough; you can go over in my place. I won’t be much use to them over there, anyway.”
“Even one-handed, Furlow, you could still be useful on Kala. You certainly seem to know Leviathan mechanical systems…”
“That’s true, but so does Johnny, probably better than me. And I don’t know flitz about medical stuff. Leave acquisition of product and supplies to the experts, that’s my motto.”
Returning a few microts later with the clean toweling, Reyna tore it into strips and began to wrap Furlow’s hand tightly enough for support, but loosely enough to avoid any further constriction of blood flow. “All right, Furlow, I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you.”
***
“Dammit, where the hell is Furlow?” John asked, irritated by her absence probably more than he should be. He had thought he’d be the last one to the hangar, after falling asleep face down in his bunk, still wearing the EVA suit he had donned to help Tokar hook up the transfusion umbilical to Rohvu’s underside. He’d awakened after who knew how long, disoriented, sure he had dreamed again, but with no memory of those dreams.
“Why the rush, Old Man?” Chiana cocked her head and turned those space black eyes on him, abandoning her conversation with Belima.
“Ah, never mind, Pip. I just thought I was late.”
She laughed, the sound for once untainted by any of their recent unpleasant experiences. “It’s not like we’re on a schedule, Crichton.”
“You’re right. I should chill. I just…” don’t trust Furlow, he thought, but said aloud, “I guess I’m anxious to get this over with.”
Tokar came up behind him and slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to cause John an involuntary step forward. “Don’t worry, John. Pilot assured me again, not an arn ago, that Kala’s pilot actually wants us to do this. He thinks it’ll help her to move on, if she feels that she’s helping another Leviathan to live.” The ex-Peacekeeper chuckled when John massaged his shoulder in mock pain.
John turned back to Chiana and Belima as Tokar disappeared up the ramp into Furlow’s ship. “You got Reyna’s grocery list, Chi?”
“Quit fussing, Old Man. I didn’t forget it.” She hit him with a patented Chiana smirk as she reached into the neckline of her tunic and, with deliberately teasing movements, pulled out Reyna’s list. John tried to ignore the slight jump in his heart rate at the sight of her gloved hand reaching slowly between her breasts.
Laughing again, Chiana tucked the list back into its hiding place, turned, and, with a bounce in her step, boarded the Marauder knock-off. Belima, looking bewildered at the exchange, shrugged and followed the Nebari girl.
Shaking his head, John followed suit. On the one hand, it was good to see Pip acting less on edge, more like her old self for the first time in weeks. On the other, he thought he’d better broach the subject of that kiss with her soon…
“Coward,” Harvey whispered in his ear before pushing past him. “Why don’t you just take her up on her offer?” The neural clone plopped down onto the empty seat in the crew area, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. Ignoring him, John made his way to the front and sat in the co-pilot’s seat. As he looked over the controls, labeled in standard Sebacean, he heard running footsteps pound up the ramp.
John swiveled the seat around, prepared to give Furlow crap not only for making them wait, but because he was in that kind of a mood, when the late arrival appeared at the top of the ramp. “You’re not Furlow,” he stated.
Reyna smiled as she drew to a stop next to her mate, yellow skirt swirling around Tokar’s knees before settling into place below her own. She carried what appeared to be an empty sack slung over her shoulder, which she allowed to slip to the floor as she took the more-or-less vacant seat next to Tokar - after all, John was the only one who could see Harvey as he patted his lap in invitation, just before disappearing in a swirl of yellow smoke as Reyna sat.
“Well, no, I’m not,” Reyna replied, strapping herself into her seat, completely unaware of the display John had just seen. “Furlow injured her hand. She shouldn’t use it until I can properly see to it, so she offered to stay aboard Rohvu and take my turn at watch.” When John just stared at her, her smile faded. “Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Harvey snickering. “I hope not.” He switched to the pilot’s seat, buckled himself in, and prepared for take off.
***
It would take maybe five minutes, tops, to basically jump the distance from Rohvu’s hangar to Kala’s. It would only take that long because John had to be careful not to disturb the umbilical. The thought of the makeshift umbilical cord prompted him to flick on the aft viewscreen to make sure that it was playing out behind them. Once docked, he and Tokar would take another space-walk and get it connected to Kala.
As the distance shrank between the ancient Leviathan and the small ship he piloted, John thought about what Furlow’s change in their plans might mean. Unfortunately, he was the only one on board who had any prior experience of her and she had been nothing but helpful, if occasionally lazy, since she had joined their little group, even pulling their asses out of the fire back on the commerce station. She had never really done anything to harm him, either, but he just couldn’t shake the gut feeling that she was up to something.
Without thinking about what he was doing, John brought the knock-off in line with Kala’s hangar, growing ever larger in the forward viewscreen. The murmur of two conversations going on between the four people seated behind him drifted up to him, but he wasn’t paying attention.
Something just didn’t add up, and that worried him, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. He’d mention it to Pip - she might not understand why he didn’t trust Furlow, but she would still back him up if there was a problem when they got back to Rohvu. Reyna and Tokar were themselves still a bit of an unknown. They’d want to know why John didn’t trust someone who, as far as they were concerned, was part of Rohvu’s crew because of him and he really couldn’t give them an answer.
As for Belima, she’d probably do whatever he or Chiana asked her to. This was her first time away from Rohvu in who knew how long. Chiana was to keep Belima under her wing while aboard Kala. He didn’t think there’d be a problem with her, given that there wouldn’t be any interaction with other people, but again, who knew? Bel was starting to come out of her shell, though, exploring more of her surroundings and expanding her vocabulary every day. It might be entertaining to talk to her without the filter of the translator microbes, he thought. With everyone on Rohvu teaching her new words and phrases, it had to be some weird mix of Nebari, Sebacean, and English. Nebaceanish?
Grinning to himself, John flipped a switch on the console. “Good morning, Kala’s pilot. This is John Crichton, requesting permission to land.”
“Greetings, John Crichton.” The old pilot’s voice was deep, resonant. “Permission granted. Would you like me to deploy Kala’s docking web?”
“Yeah, Pilot, that’d be great. Thanks.”
A few seconds later, John felt the ship slow as the docking web caught them and pulled them gradually into the ancient Leviathan.
***
Belima was the last to leave the small ship. She made her way cautiously down the ramp and gingerly set one foot on the deck of the strange/familiar ship - Chiana had explained to her in a mixture of gestures and old and new words that the one they called Rohvu was a ship and not the world, as Belima had come to believe. This new world - ship - was called Kala and was of the same type as Rohvu.
Placing her other foot deliberately on the deck, Belima looked around, drinking in her surroundings, the warm golden walls, the welcoming lights, the gentle touch of air moving lightly against her skin.
John and Tokar, in their black EVA suits, had moved to the back of the little ship in which they had all come here and were gathering together long tube things. Chiana said that they would be taking the tubes outside, where the EVA suits would keep the two men alive while they attached the ends of the tubes to this Kala. Somehow this was supposed to make Rohvu stop being sick. Belima didn’t understand how this would work, but she trusted that Chiana was telling her the truth.
Reyna in her pretty yellow skirt was walking backwards, saying something to the others that Belima didn’t catch. When she finished speaking, she turned and disappeared through a door that opened with a wave of her hand and remained open behind her.
“’Scuse me, Bel.” Chiana startled her as she slipped past her and headed back up the ramp into the ship. Belima could hear her moving in the ship, but she quickly reappeared with a box of tools in her gloved hands, which she ran over to Tokar. Apparently, he had forgotten the things he needed to attach that tubing to Kala.
Taking several steps out into the enormous room, Belima spun around, trying to take in everything at once. It looked the same here as on Rohvu, but different. Cleaner and no scars or gouges. She watched as a small creature whirred its way through the still open door and headed toward her. She took an involuntary step back as it rapidly approached, its glowing eyes waving at her.
“John!” Belima shouted, frightened. She turned and started to bolt back into the relative safety of the small ship, but John grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Hey, ho, hey! It’s okay, Bel. It’s just a DRD.”
She looked down at the little yellow creature and then back up into John’s blue eyes. Blue eyes that were smiling, not unkindly. “DRD?”
“Diagnostic and repair drone. They help fix things.”
Seeing that no one else was at all concerned by the appearance of the creature, Belima relaxed a bit. John released her arm. “You okay?” he asked.
“I…yes, I am okay.” Her heart still thumping in her chest, Belima forced herself to crouch down and inspect the creature John called a DRD more closely. Realizing that it was a machine, rather than a creature, she relaxed further, accepting that there was nothing to be frightened of, after all.
“You be okay here with Pip while Tokar and I go out for a little walk?”
“Pip?” Belima looked up at him, puzzled at the word. She had heard him use it before, but she didn’t know what it meant.
John smiled at her. “Chiana. ‘Pip’ is a nickname - just a name I call her.”
Belima returned her attention to the DRD, patiently waiting in front of her. “Pip is Chiana,” she repeated, reaching toward the DRD’s arm, which appeared to be, in part, a spanner. “I will be okay here with Pip.” She looked up and smiled back at him.
“Cool. Be back in a few.” He jogged over to Tokar, who handed him an object that covered his head when he fastened it to his EVA suit, before the two of them disappeared past a hatch which closed behind them. Belima again looked at the DRD.
It waggled its eyestalks at her when she touched the spanner-arm. As she touched the tool, a memory hit her, so intense that it rocked her back on her heels. She abruptly sat down on the deck and just stared at the DRD, allowing the memory to wash over her.
“Hey, Belima!” her friend Davi shouted as he ran over to her. Davi was a communications tech and rarely ever seen in the more hands-on areas of the Leviathan, such as the maintenance bay. Surprised to hear his voice here, she looked up from the DRD she had been repairing - its spanner-arm had been broken off when the new prisoner had been brought on board earlier that day. Someone had tripped over the little mechanoid trying to avoid an inadvertent contact with the creature they were transporting to a maximum-security facility for the criminally insane. Belima knew it was just a DRD, but she had seen it happen and had felt sorry for it, so…
Davi’s voice interrupted her reflections. “I thought we were on for a game of linnet?” He stopped next to the workbench and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Or have you changed your mind?”
“Oh, Davi, I’m sorry! I completely forgot!” Full of contrition, cursing herself internally for being a colossal fool, she asked, “Am I too late?” She had been trying to gain the attention of the handsome comms tech for almost two monens, now, and she’d never forgive herself if she had just allowed a DRD to get in her way.
“Of course you’re not too late. Finish up that repair later.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Much later.”
“Belima?” She came back to the present when Chiana, all gray angles and curiosity, filled her vision, blotting out the memory as the Nebari crouched above the DRD, head cocked, looking at Belima.
“Chiana, I-” She didn’t know the words for what had just happened, so she stopped talking and shrugged.
The Nebari girl grinned. “Who’s your friend?” she asked as she surged to her feet and offered Belima a hand.
“It is…a DRD.” She took the hand offered, allowing herself to be pulled back to her feet. “I do not know why it is here.”
“Hey, Pilot?” Chiana asked, looking up. Belima couldn’t see anything that Chiana might be talking to, but an image flickered into existence in response, confined to a frame that hung above a control console. It quickly resolved into the ghostly image of Pilot. But the voice, when he answered, was much deeper than Belima was used to.
“Yes, gentle guest? With what may I help you?”
Chiana grinned. “My name’s Chiana, Pilot, and this is Belima.” She waved a hand in Belima’s general direction as she walked over closer to Pilot’s image.
“I give you good greeting, Chiana and Belima.”
“What’s with the DRD?”
“Kala and I no longer have a full complement of drones, Chiana, but we have sent one of those that are available to assist you, if you find it necessary.”
“Thanks, Pilot.” She turned to Belima. “I don’t…don’t think we’ll need any help until Crichton and Tokar get back. You wanna help me look around here, Bel?”
***
Tokar Rhee and John Crichton both stared at the red light in front of them, indicating that the airlock through which they would disembark for their spacewalk was still cycling. Crichton rocked impatiently - forward, back, toe, heel - and Tokar could hear the faint sound of a whistled tune through the open comms.
“What is that song, Crichton?”
“Hmm?” The Human stopped rocking. “It’s called the ‘Ride of the Valkyries.’”
The red light before them turned to green before he had a chance to expand on his answer. Almost simultaneously, both men turned to check again that their lifelines were secured to the rings installed in the bulkhead for just that purpose.
“Good to go?” Crichton queried.
Tokar nodded and Crichton opened the hatch, pushing out into space. Tokar watched for a microt as the Human turned toward the opening to the hangar deck to retrieve the ends of the umbilicals they had earlier tethered there.
As Crichton swam toward the umbilicals, which trailed out from the hangar deck toward Rohvu, Tokar used the handgrips on the outer surface of Kala’s hull to “walk” his way to the connection point, where he would wait. Even though the area was considered to be the underside of the Leviathan, there was no true up or down in space, and so he sat “down” on the hull to watch Crichton, apparently upside down, swim toward him with the ends of the umbilicals.
“Gotta love zero grav, man,” Crichton observed when he spotted the ex-Peacekeeper. Though his companion couldn’t see it from that distance or through the faceplates of their helmets, Tokar grinned in agreement. He was rarely called upon for zero-gravity work for his unit, being primarily their weapons expert, but he always enjoyed the illusion of freedom that floating through space gave. There was an immediacy to it that was only rivaled by close combat and by sex.
A couple hundred microts later, he was working in tandem with Crichton to hook up four umbilicals to the appropriate ports underneath Kala. As had been demonstrated to him several times over the past few weekens, he and Crichton worked well together. Had they not been working in zero-gravity, the work would have gone much more quickly, as both were good with their hands, even with the interference of gloves. As it was, somewhat hampered by the slowed movements and the EVA suits, it took them almost half an arn to hook up and tighten all four umbilicals.
The work completed, they pulled themselves hand-over-hand up their lifelines toward the airlock and a reversal of the procedure followed earlier, this time sealing the airlock and pumping breathable air back into the small room. The green light indicating that atmosphere had been successfully restored came to life and Crichton opened the hatch back into the hangar.
Tokar stepped through the hatch, removing his helmet as he did so and ruffling his fingers through his hair. Crichton did much the same thing, causing his brown hair to stand on end.
“Pilot, if you and Kala are ready,” Crichton said into the comms, “you can start that transfusion.”
Left Behind, chapter 16
Left Behind, chapter 18