Voices Of Reason
Chapter 14
Chiana was the last to stop by Crichton’s quarters that evening. She rapped lightly on the wall outside the cell
door, but the doors were open so she continued in without waiting for a response. Aeryn was sitting cross-
legged on the edge of the bed, facing the door, stripping and cleaning Wynona. John was stretched out beside
her, back turned, sleeping.
“How is he?” Chiana whispered.
“Fine. He finally ate a good meal, and he fell asleep a couple of arns ago right in the middle of chatting with
D’Argo. Didn’t he stop up and talk with you earlier?” Aeryn’s low voice wasn’t a whisper; it was just a steady
muted hum. Aeryn already knew the answer to her question. She found herself making idle talk to give Chiana
a reason for staying a little longer. Everyone else on board had already dropped by to see how Crichton was
doing, and she had been wondering when Chiana would appear.
“Yeah, I just wanted to check one more time for the night. You know, it’s kind of funny …” She stopped,
looking uncomfortable with whatever she had been about to say.
Aeryn stopped what she was doing, leaving the dissembled parts of the pistol alone for a moment to look
directly at Chiana. “What was funny?”
“Well, the whole time I was talking to Crichton this afternoon, I found myself thinking I had to wait before he
answered. Every time he answered right away I was surprised.” Aeryn’s inquiring look urged her on. “I didn’t
think we had adjusted to Crichton’s not understanding us as much as we did.”
Aeryn nodded and went back to her task. “I know what you mean.” Her words were simple, but she had kept to
herself the thought that they had all adjusted to John in more ways than simply adapting to his temporary loss
of translator microbes.
“Did he get a chance to thank Crais?” Chiana eased a little further into the chamber to watch Crichton for a few
microts. She lowered her voice a little more as she drew closer.
“Yes. I think it might have been the toughest conversation he’s had to complete in the last few days, but he
wanted to thank him before we all starburst out of there.” Aeryn set aside some of the cleaning tools and
looked at the parts arrayed beside her.
“I wish I could have seen their faces for that conversation,” Chiana laughed quietly.
“So do I.” Aeryn’s agile fingers began assembling the weapon even as she glanced up at Chiana. The practice
of cycles allowed her to work without pause even though she wasn’t looking at the weapon’s components.
“You weren’t there?” Chiana sounded a little incredulous.
“No, I thought John would prefer to talk to Crais in private for that, so I was up talking to Pilot about where we
might head next.” The quiet clink and snap of pieces continued. She didn’t like the way a piece slid in and
pulled a portion of the weapon apart again.
“So Talyn is gone and you never got to talk to either of them.” Chiana found herself slightly mesmerized by
Aeryn’s steady manipulation of the components.
Aeryn nodded, and carefully finished assembling the pulse pistol, checking it over one more time before she
inserted the chakan oil cartridge. John had mentioned that it had jammed in the maintenance bay. She wanted
to make sure that it didn’t do it again. “Crais was concerned about the other Peacekeeper ships that might be
around here, so they starburst just before Moya did.”
“You look pretty drechted out too Aeryn. Why don’t you go get some rest?” Chiana found that the concern for
Aeryn she had set loose during Crichton’s illness was still very much alive within her.
“I will. I’m going to sit here a little longer and make sure he’s sleeping all right before I go to my quarters.” She
turned and looked at him for a moment, started to touch him, then pulled her hand back to avoid waking him.
Her hand dropped back onto the pulse pistol in her lap, and she continued to watch the slow rise and fall of his
chest.
John had been drifting on the edge of sleep ever since D’Argo and Aeryn had thought he had finally dropped
off and was still vaguely aware of the quiet exchange between the two women. The voices drifted somewhere
almost out of reach, within his hearing but untouchable. Every word was clear in his mind but the dialogue
blurred in and out as he hung on to the thin edge of consciousness. He had listened to the quietly spoken
words as Rygel, Stark, Jool and Pilot had all checked in to see if everything was all right, content to let the
hushed conversations wash over him.
When the jubilant celebrating had died down in Jool’s lab, he had gone first to see Pilot and had found a gift
waiting for him.
“Hey hey, Pilot. Good to hear from you again!” As Pilot answered him, he found himself missing the melodic
intricacies of his speech. A quick pang of remorse tapped his chest. He found himself wishing he could have it
both ways -- hear the music and the meaning.
“I am very glad that your microbes have been restored, Commander. I have missed our conversations.” The
fondness was clear in Pilot’s voice and John realized that he could still hear at least a portion of the melody.
“So have I Pilot, so have I.” He clambered over Pilot’s console and stood beside the large creature, something
that Pilot enjoyed, but which most of the others did seldom. Officer Sun was the only other person would come
close enough to touch him on a regular basis, but they shared common DNA. Crichton seemed to enjoy being
in physical contact with Pilot solely for the bond it created. Pilot gently placed a huge arm around Crichton and
drew him closer.
“I have a gift, for you.” Another arm drew a sealed container from where it rested behind him and gave it to
Crichton.
John opened it, carefully sniffed the contents, and then rubbed some of the liquid between his fingers. “Pilot,
this is hydraulic fluid, the same type my module uses.” When the huge head nodded, he ducked for safety’s
sake and continued. “Where did you find this stuff?”
“When the DRD’s cleaned up the spill around your module several days ago, I had them retain a small sample
and did an analysis of its components. Moya and I discovered that with very little modification to the fluid
production cells in her amnexus system, she can produce this in whatever quantity you need.”
John laid his head against the arching cranial shell. “You guys are ace. Thank you, Pilot, and thank Moya for
me also.”
He had done the rounds next, just sticking his head in on each person aboard Moya, and chatting for a few
minutes. He had saved Aeryn for last, finding her in the Central Chamber, laying out food.
“Hey good looking! What ya got cooking?” He bounded across the chamber and vaulted over the table. He
flopped down onto a seat and rested his chin on his hand, watching her as she took a tray out of the warmer.
“I’m making myself something for Last Meal. You need to eat something too, John. Why don’t you come have
some of this?” She was careful to make it just an invitation, not a demand. She was surprised he hadn’t given
in to hunger yet, but upon reflection she realized that he was still consumed by being able to understand
everyone again.
“Just one more little thing to take care of first.” When she placed a plate of food in front of him, he began to
pick at it slowly. “We started a conversation that we never got a chance to finish.” He moved the food around
on his plate, not really feeling hungry. He waited to see if she would pick up wherever she had been forced to
leave off.
“Have you checked with Jool to see if the microbes are going to hold up?” Aeryn changed the subject to give
herself more time to consider what she had been about to say to him earlier.
“Yes, and the little monsters are doing just fine. Thank heavens.” He didn’t want to have to go through being
reinjected with the modified versions again any time soon. He watched her take another tray out of the warmer,
her head turned slightly away from him. She was trying not to look at him, which meant she was avoiding
whatever she had brought up earlier.
Whatever it had been, he thought it was something important enough that Aeryn would have wanted to finish
the discussion. He was confused now. He hadn’t thought he could misread her that badly after the past few
days.
“You don’t want to … ” She shook her head. “I thought …” he stopped, puzzled. Then, instead of trying to get
her to talk about it, he looked at her instead, and saw all he needed to know. He saw the pain that she had
inflicted on herself when she had hurt him so very few days ago. He saw her emotional pain that had been
caused by his physical discomfort. And he saw the outward manifestations of the internal ties that would bind
her to him, and him to her for as long as they were both alive, without regard for any temporary hurts they
inflicted on each other.
“Tell you what, just pass me something to drink.” She looked directly at him then, and her smile reappeared.
He didn’t need to talk about anything with her right then, just being together was enough.
What had started out as just picking at his food had turned into a small feast. Aeryn had lingered in the Central
Chamber with him, slowly eating her own meal as he began to make up for the calories he had missed over the
past days. His stomach had finally protested the unaccustomed burden, and when he stretched and dropped
his utensil, he was surprised to view the litter of so many plates and dishes around him on the table. Aeryn
looked at him, one eyebrow cocked a little higher than the other, just the trace of a know-it-all smirk on her
face. All he could do was grin back at her, silently outmatched and in complete understanding.
Now he lay, comfortably full, the warmth of Aeryn radiating from where she sat near the small of his back, the
steady rhythmic sounds of a healthy Moya around him, and the end of the whispered conversation with Chiana
washing over him.
And he slept.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chapter 14
Chiana was the last to stop by Crichton’s quarters that evening. She rapped lightly on the wall outside the cell
door, but the doors were open so she continued in without waiting for a response. Aeryn was sitting cross-
legged on the edge of the bed, facing the door, stripping and cleaning Wynona. John was stretched out beside
her, back turned, sleeping.
“How is he?” Chiana whispered.
“Fine. He finally ate a good meal, and he fell asleep a couple of arns ago right in the middle of chatting with
D’Argo. Didn’t he stop up and talk with you earlier?” Aeryn’s low voice wasn’t a whisper; it was just a steady
muted hum. Aeryn already knew the answer to her question. She found herself making idle talk to give Chiana
a reason for staying a little longer. Everyone else on board had already dropped by to see how Crichton was
doing, and she had been wondering when Chiana would appear.
“Yeah, I just wanted to check one more time for the night. You know, it’s kind of funny …” She stopped,
looking uncomfortable with whatever she had been about to say.
Aeryn stopped what she was doing, leaving the dissembled parts of the pistol alone for a moment to look
directly at Chiana. “What was funny?”
“Well, the whole time I was talking to Crichton this afternoon, I found myself thinking I had to wait before he
answered. Every time he answered right away I was surprised.” Aeryn’s inquiring look urged her on. “I didn’t
think we had adjusted to Crichton’s not understanding us as much as we did.”
Aeryn nodded and went back to her task. “I know what you mean.” Her words were simple, but she had kept to
herself the thought that they had all adjusted to John in more ways than simply adapting to his temporary loss
of translator microbes.
“Did he get a chance to thank Crais?” Chiana eased a little further into the chamber to watch Crichton for a few
microts. She lowered her voice a little more as she drew closer.
“Yes. I think it might have been the toughest conversation he’s had to complete in the last few days, but he
wanted to thank him before we all starburst out of there.” Aeryn set aside some of the cleaning tools and
looked at the parts arrayed beside her.
“I wish I could have seen their faces for that conversation,” Chiana laughed quietly.
“So do I.” Aeryn’s agile fingers began assembling the weapon even as she glanced up at Chiana. The practice
of cycles allowed her to work without pause even though she wasn’t looking at the weapon’s components.
“You weren’t there?” Chiana sounded a little incredulous.
“No, I thought John would prefer to talk to Crais in private for that, so I was up talking to Pilot about where we
might head next.” The quiet clink and snap of pieces continued. She didn’t like the way a piece slid in and
pulled a portion of the weapon apart again.
“So Talyn is gone and you never got to talk to either of them.” Chiana found herself slightly mesmerized by
Aeryn’s steady manipulation of the components.
Aeryn nodded, and carefully finished assembling the pulse pistol, checking it over one more time before she
inserted the chakan oil cartridge. John had mentioned that it had jammed in the maintenance bay. She wanted
to make sure that it didn’t do it again. “Crais was concerned about the other Peacekeeper ships that might be
around here, so they starburst just before Moya did.”
“You look pretty drechted out too Aeryn. Why don’t you go get some rest?” Chiana found that the concern for
Aeryn she had set loose during Crichton’s illness was still very much alive within her.
“I will. I’m going to sit here a little longer and make sure he’s sleeping all right before I go to my quarters.” She
turned and looked at him for a moment, started to touch him, then pulled her hand back to avoid waking him.
Her hand dropped back onto the pulse pistol in her lap, and she continued to watch the slow rise and fall of his
chest.
John had been drifting on the edge of sleep ever since D’Argo and Aeryn had thought he had finally dropped
off and was still vaguely aware of the quiet exchange between the two women. The voices drifted somewhere
almost out of reach, within his hearing but untouchable. Every word was clear in his mind but the dialogue
blurred in and out as he hung on to the thin edge of consciousness. He had listened to the quietly spoken
words as Rygel, Stark, Jool and Pilot had all checked in to see if everything was all right, content to let the
hushed conversations wash over him.
When the jubilant celebrating had died down in Jool’s lab, he had gone first to see Pilot and had found a gift
waiting for him.
“Hey hey, Pilot. Good to hear from you again!” As Pilot answered him, he found himself missing the melodic
intricacies of his speech. A quick pang of remorse tapped his chest. He found himself wishing he could have it
both ways -- hear the music and the meaning.
“I am very glad that your microbes have been restored, Commander. I have missed our conversations.” The
fondness was clear in Pilot’s voice and John realized that he could still hear at least a portion of the melody.
“So have I Pilot, so have I.” He clambered over Pilot’s console and stood beside the large creature, something
that Pilot enjoyed, but which most of the others did seldom. Officer Sun was the only other person would come
close enough to touch him on a regular basis, but they shared common DNA. Crichton seemed to enjoy being
in physical contact with Pilot solely for the bond it created. Pilot gently placed a huge arm around Crichton and
drew him closer.
“I have a gift, for you.” Another arm drew a sealed container from where it rested behind him and gave it to
Crichton.
John opened it, carefully sniffed the contents, and then rubbed some of the liquid between his fingers. “Pilot,
this is hydraulic fluid, the same type my module uses.” When the huge head nodded, he ducked for safety’s
sake and continued. “Where did you find this stuff?”
“When the DRD’s cleaned up the spill around your module several days ago, I had them retain a small sample
and did an analysis of its components. Moya and I discovered that with very little modification to the fluid
production cells in her amnexus system, she can produce this in whatever quantity you need.”
John laid his head against the arching cranial shell. “You guys are ace. Thank you, Pilot, and thank Moya for
me also.”
He had done the rounds next, just sticking his head in on each person aboard Moya, and chatting for a few
minutes. He had saved Aeryn for last, finding her in the Central Chamber, laying out food.
“Hey good looking! What ya got cooking?” He bounded across the chamber and vaulted over the table. He
flopped down onto a seat and rested his chin on his hand, watching her as she took a tray out of the warmer.
“I’m making myself something for Last Meal. You need to eat something too, John. Why don’t you come have
some of this?” She was careful to make it just an invitation, not a demand. She was surprised he hadn’t given
in to hunger yet, but upon reflection she realized that he was still consumed by being able to understand
everyone again.
“Just one more little thing to take care of first.” When she placed a plate of food in front of him, he began to
pick at it slowly. “We started a conversation that we never got a chance to finish.” He moved the food around
on his plate, not really feeling hungry. He waited to see if she would pick up wherever she had been forced to
leave off.
“Have you checked with Jool to see if the microbes are going to hold up?” Aeryn changed the subject to give
herself more time to consider what she had been about to say to him earlier.
“Yes, and the little monsters are doing just fine. Thank heavens.” He didn’t want to have to go through being
reinjected with the modified versions again any time soon. He watched her take another tray out of the warmer,
her head turned slightly away from him. She was trying not to look at him, which meant she was avoiding
whatever she had brought up earlier.
Whatever it had been, he thought it was something important enough that Aeryn would have wanted to finish
the discussion. He was confused now. He hadn’t thought he could misread her that badly after the past few
days.
“You don’t want to … ” She shook her head. “I thought …” he stopped, puzzled. Then, instead of trying to get
her to talk about it, he looked at her instead, and saw all he needed to know. He saw the pain that she had
inflicted on herself when she had hurt him so very few days ago. He saw her emotional pain that had been
caused by his physical discomfort. And he saw the outward manifestations of the internal ties that would bind
her to him, and him to her for as long as they were both alive, without regard for any temporary hurts they
inflicted on each other.
“Tell you what, just pass me something to drink.” She looked directly at him then, and her smile reappeared.
He didn’t need to talk about anything with her right then, just being together was enough.
What had started out as just picking at his food had turned into a small feast. Aeryn had lingered in the Central
Chamber with him, slowly eating her own meal as he began to make up for the calories he had missed over the
past days. His stomach had finally protested the unaccustomed burden, and when he stretched and dropped
his utensil, he was surprised to view the litter of so many plates and dishes around him on the table. Aeryn
looked at him, one eyebrow cocked a little higher than the other, just the trace of a know-it-all smirk on her
face. All he could do was grin back at her, silently outmatched and in complete understanding.
Now he lay, comfortably full, the warmth of Aeryn radiating from where she sat near the small of his back, the
steady rhythmic sounds of a healthy Moya around him, and the end of the whispered conversation with Chiana
washing over him.
And he slept.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
