The entire chamber convulsed.  Bottles rattled, light fixtures flickered, bits of food jitterbugged
their way down the table.  

Scrambling to his feet, Crichton bolted toward the bulkhead and imitated Aeryn’s stance:  Jammed
into a niche between the wall and a rib, feet braced for maximum stability.  

Aeryn nodded her approval.  “Second one in … four, three, two, …”  Another seizure swept
through the Center Chamber.  

John didn’t move.  “Always in threes.” They waited through the third upheaval and then resumed
their meal.  “Five entire cycles aboard Moya, and you never mentioned this.”

“Until yesterday, I didn’t know leviathans could catch a cold!”    


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