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CHAPTER
TWO
A huge, red
planet, its gaseous skin rippling and bubbling as it slowly rotates
around the giant dying star at the centre of the system. Beyond
them, a gallery of stars, like grains of silver on a black bed,
and against these, the gently curving sweep of a living ship,
a Leviathan. Moya.
Inwards, through
vast empty hangars, down corridors, arched and alive. DRD's scuttle
here and there as if celebrating the emptiness of the ship and
the freedom it brings. Into the bowels of the ship, the heart,
where it's noble Pilot sits. The sounds a laughter, uninhibited
and tinged with a hint of insanity, drift like mists towards
us as we draw closer, and into the den....
desert island
discs, big boxes and kirk douglas
"What
the frell is a desert island?" D'Argo complained.
Rygel raised
one of his prominent eyebrows. "Did someone say dessert?"
"Desert,
toady!" corrected Chiana.
"Look,"
John interrupted, taking a sizeable gulp from the beaker of Koolan
juice in front of him. "Forget the desert island, lets say
its somewhere remote, somewhere where you're all by yourself,
alone."
"Rygel's
fan club?" offered Chiana, earning one of many disgruntled
gazes from the offended Hynerian.
"Look,
girlie," he trumpeted. "I've been fairly generous with
you so far, but I swear, I am a Dominar and can only be pushed
so far!"
"Take
it easy, Rygel!" yelled John.
"What,
am I to be only a figure of fun?" responded Rygel. "Is
that my designated role in this farce of ours. You forget what
I am?" He dropped his head. "What I was?"
"We're
sorry," spoke Zhaan, always first to appease. "We mean
you no offence. It's just a way of saying how much we like you?"
"Yes,
Rygel," followed Pilot. "you are a valued member of
this crew, and well liked by all."
Rygel harrumphed.
"You're a bad pilot, but a worse liar, Pilot."
"Hey,
Sparky," offered John. "On my planet, its a way of
showing what good friends you are. If you can yank someones chain,
it means your pretty close. I don't talk this way to strangers!"
"You do!"
burst Aeryn. "All the frelling time!"
"You do,"
confirmed D'Argo matter-of-factly.
John look around
him. All heads were nodding, even Pilots.
"You do,
John," repeated Stark, "when I first met you, you were
very rude."
John laughed.
"You're kidding me, right!? Starky you were crazier than
a coyote with mittens, and I think you're all just jealous cos
the way I can open up to strangers."
"John,"
started Aeryn, placing her empty beaker back onto the table.
"Do you remember the Plokavoids?" John frowned, as
if about to refute the implied insult, but he thought better
of it, and remained silent. "What about the Frevvits? You
kept calling their Divine Leader, Spartacus."
"He looked
like Kirk Douglas!" John replied with exasperation.
"Yes,
and he nearly had us all killed," Aeryn finished.
"Yeah,
but..." John began, then realising he was beat, gave up
and filled everyone's glasses.
"I know
a lonely place," said D'Argo. "On my planet, there
is punishment known as Exile. It is an ancient law that states
any warrior who weeps during battle, shall be cast into Exile,
so that he can fully contemplate his failure. We don't follow
that law much any more."
"Cool,"
said John. "Is it like an island?"
"No, John.
It is a big box."
"Is that
not a little inelegant?" offered Zhaan.
D'Argo shrugged.
"It serves it's purpose. They called it Ran Spit."
"Ran Spit
Island discs it is then," flourished John. "You know
the rules. Three items you would take if you marooned on a des-,
no, a Ran Spit Island. Right, Chi, you first."
Chiana giggled.
"Well, first item would definitely be a full-size picture
of John Crichton!"
D'Argo growled.
John flushed.
"No, just
kidding! It'd just be a small one!" giggled Chiana, slowly
recovering, and finally adding,"I would definitely have
to take my Shuriki."
"Your
what?" John asked.
"It's
a kind of diary," Chiana explained.
"Sure,
good, diaires are good," John said, nodding enthusiastically.
"Okay, and two?"
"I would
take my Qualta Blade so that I could blast my way out!"
interrupted D'Argo, nearly jumping out of his seat with excitement.
John frowned.
"You been thinking about that one for a while, havent you,
big guy?" John paused and took another gulp of his Koolan
juice. "You heard the rules. Its not your turn."
"Johns
right," followed Aeryn earnestly. "Its Chiana, then
Pilot, then Rygel, Zhaan, Stark, you, me and John."
John sighed.
"Thank you, Aeryn the Obvious. D'Argo, you can't take a
weapon in there because its not only stupid, its not the game.
No guns, no grenades, no keys or any dren like that. You understand?"
"That
is stupid, John. I would want to get out of the box. Why
would I take my diary?" He sneered at Chiana.
"That's
not the point!" John reiterated. "You're in, but you
can't get out! No way, no sir!"
"Can't
get out? Then I would require only my sacrificial blade with
which to slit my throat," conferred D'Argo with admirable
resolve.
John glared.
D'Argo smiled.
Everyone laughed.
"I had you going there, didn't I?" beamed D'Argo with
school boyish verve.
"Yeah,
okay, you got me," John agreed reluctantly. "Look at
me! The big dumb human. I suppose there's no such thing as Exile."
"No, John,"
confirmed D'Argo, still struggling to contain his evident mirth.
John nodded.
"Okay, but the point stands. Just three things, non-weapon
related. Chiana, what's your next Ran Spit Island thingy?"
D'Argo roared
with laghter.
"What!?"
"John,"
began D'Argo, tears streaming down his face, barely able to speak
the words "Ran Spit is a manufacturer of warriors undergarments
on my planet!"
John glowered.
And then spoke through gritted teeth, "I don't care what
they are, lets just hear the damn answer!"
"A potolong!"
interjected Chiana, attempting to ease the tension. "There
little furry animals on Nebari Prime. Very friendly, loyal, and
they can sing too. You can teach 'em loads of songs and they
sing them back to you when you want."
"Right
on!" called John. "We gotta Sony potolong, and what
else?"
Before Chiana
could speak, Aeryn interrupted, "This is a little dull,
John."
"Yes,
John," confirmed Zhaan. "The more we play, the more
I feel the urge to drink."
"Yes,"
piped Pilot. "I have to agree John. For a being like myself,
with my multitude of multitasking skills, this is not very enthralling."
"Okay,
fine," John conceded grumpily, "How about you guys
then? Who made me entertainments manager anyway? Why don't you
think of game!"
"There
is always strip Bentak!" offered Rygel, grinning toothily.
"Why you
dirty little toad!" shouted Chiana.
"That's
it! i warned you, girlie. Now you're going to feel the full force
of my most Serene anger! I'm going to make sure..........".
More laughter.
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