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Chapter Three


Pilot watched and worked. He couldn't really say he was enjoying himself, but it was nice to see the crew not at eachothers throats, and happy for once. He was surprised to discover just how much he liked all of them. They were a little loud, and in many cases very drunk, but he didn't mind too much. As long as they didn't make it a regular occurrence. Over the arns since they had made there escape from the Peacekeepers, he had come to understand these strange beings. His species were not social creatures by nature, and pilots in particular were familiar with isolation. Apart form Moya, he had never had anyone he could relate to. Now, virtually all around the table shared a bond with him. It felt nice to be part of something. Friendship, Commander Crichton had once told him, that it is the greatest gift any person can ever have. 'Forget currency, forget love, forget fame. If you haven't got friends you can rely on, trust and share the horrors of your life with, then life can be very traumatic indeed.' Crichton was often a wise being, and often a complete mystery, and more often than that, just plain odd. The others often missed the Commanders wisdom. Aeryn knew.

At that moment though, Pilot would have happily had Commander Crichton elsewhere. He was singing. Or attempting too. An old earp song. It was awful!


jammin', jumba's and jepsalas...

"Is this Bob Marley very popular on your planet, John," Zhaan asked, a hint of amusement twinkling in her eyes.

"We're jammin'....I wanna jam it with you...." John continued, lost in the moment.

"Please stop," Aeryn grimaced. "I think I'd prefer half an arn in the Aurora chair."

"No!" yelped Stark. "That isn't very nice, I'm afraid. Not very nice, at all."
John nodded, still singing.

"Yes, but this is torture in itself," Aeryn continued.

John ignored them. "We're jammin'....jammin'....and i hope you like jammin' too..."

"Why don't we play that other game, John," offered D'Argo, smiling and grimacing.

John halted. "Oh, so you want to play now?"

"Yes, John." blurted Chiana. "Anything but this." She smiled sweetly.

"Truth or dare," confirmed D'Argo. "Sounds a promising game to me."

"Okay, I get your point." John acquiesced.

"Is there anymore food?" Rygel interjected.

"All gone," revealed Stark.

"Are all your stomachs not full enough?" asked Aeryn.

"Gone!" Rygel snorted, turning his gaze to Chiana. "On my world, it is considered very bad etiquette to leave your guests hungry."

Chiana smiled. "And on my world slugs are considered vermin!"

Rygel glowered, but said nothing.

John leapt to his feet. "Alright them, as games co-ordinator elect, lets get this show on the road. Yo, Pilot! You first."

Pilot, head down, pretended to not hear the human.


Pilots large golden eyes rolled upwards. "Yes, Commander."

"It's your turn, big guy. And call me John, will ya!"

"Yes...John. Do I have to participate?"

"Yes, Pilot," Zhaan added, looking better as the evening passed. "It would be unfair of us not to let you participate."

Pilot sighed. "Very well, then. I choose truth."

Chiana clapped her hands. D'Argo bellowed with laughter.

"Truth it is. Any one got a question?" John said, smiling broadly.

"I have," came the reply from Rygel.

Pilot sighed.

"Okay, Sparky, you're up."

Rygel cleared his throat. "On Hyneria, it is customary for a Dominar to be crowned at TheVestern, but what three offerings must the Dominar-elect make before he is allowed to enter?"

"Say what?" John blurted.

"I don't think its supposed to be that kind of question, Rygel," Aeryn offered.

"Why not?' came Rygel's disgruntled reply. "Just because you don't know the answer. Does that mean I win?"

"No!" John muttered. "Ignore that, Pilot. Anyone else got a question?"

Pilot coughed. "But I know the answer, Com-. John."

"That's beside the point, Pilot."

"Why is it?" Rygel grumbled.

"These Earp games do seem a little strange, John," Zhaan offered.

"I think we've been through this already," John said, his cheeks reddening.

"The answer is," began Pilot anyway. "A lock of hair from the Hynerians brow. A vial of his blood. And his Jumba."

"He's right," muttered Rygel. "How'd you know that?"

"I know a lot of things, Dominar," Pilot responded, feeling very pleased with himself.

"Okay, stupid human here. But what's a Jumba?"

"A Jumba is a kind of house pet each Hynerian is given on their birth. The higher your status, the bigger your Jumba," Pilot continued haughtily.

"So you killed your dog?" John asked, turning to Rygel.

"Not a dog," Rygel corrected. "A Jumba."

"But why?"

"Because it is a offering."

"To who?"

"I don't know," Rygel shrugged. "It's just they way we do things."

"So this Jumba, how big was yours?"

Rygel smiled. "My family were very prominent. My Jumba second in size only to Rygel I's."

"What," John continued. "We talking as big as you?"

Rygel harrumphed. "Only the lowliest of my subjects were unfortunate to have such a small Jumba."

"So?" urged Chiana.

Rygel paused, enjoying his captive audience. "Well, you know how big Moya is? Times that by three and you might have an idea."

Everyone sat in stunned silence.

John was the first to speak. "You kept it in your house?"

Rygel nodded.

"And you killed it? Or offered it?" John continued.

Rygel nodded and smiled.

"By yourself?" Aeryn said, finally finding her voice.

Rygel laughed. "I have never had to do anything for myself."

"What the hezmana with?" John asked.

"Mostly we poison them,' Rygel informed. "Too messy to do it the old way."

"The old way?" Aeryn followed, feeling strangely queazy.

"Yes," continued Rygel. "Terrible mess it used to make. I remember as a boy when Hezzat IX was crowned, it was the last time they used the old ways. Smell was awful. Lasted for monens."

Aeryn gulped. "Does that not seem a little wasteful?"

Rygel harrumphed. "Nothing is wasted. The meat is trimmed and given out to the masses, as a sign of the Dominar's generosity." He smiled serenely.

"That seems fair," Aeryn continued. "But I bet you keep the choice cuts!"

"Never!" Rygel blustered. "I wouldn't touch Jumba meat. Frelling awful stuff! Yeuuchhh!"

"Lucky masses," said D'Argo.

"They're happy enough," Rygel replied.

John, who had spent much of the last thirty microts staring into space, suddenly snapped out back into focus. "Yeah! Great, okay. We'll take Pilot as have being done already, so that means it's you next D'Argo."

"Why me!?" responded the Luxan.

"It just is!"

"That does not seem fair," D'Argo insisted. "Surely as Stark is closest he should be next."

"Is it my turn?" piped Stark.

"No!" John groaned.

"Your turn?" Stark followed, his face perplexed.

"No! No! No!" John repeated, his hands balled. "It is D'Argo next. Okay?"

"Fine by me," smiled Rygel.

"Go, D'Argo," chimed Chiana, her gaze unwavering under the withering ocular assault that followed from the Luxan.

"Yes, dear D'Argo," Zhaan offered, "I await your turn with much anticipation."
D'Argo raised an eyebrow. "Very well, it is my turn."

John clapped. Rygel chortled.

"I've got a question," Chiana followed instantaneously.

"No!" D'Argo responded vehemently. "Not her!"

"What you scared or something?" Chiana retorted, smiling and cocking her head.
D'Argo fumed, but said nothing.

"Look," John placated. "Big guy. Pip. Lets just try to have some fun here, okay."

Both parties reluctantly nodded.

"Now, Chiana," John continued. "Nothing saucy, okay."

Aeryn smiled crookedly. "Saucy? What does that mean?"

John sighed. "It means of a delicate sexual nature."

"Like me!" heralded Chiana.

"You were never delicate," D'Argo grumbled.

Aeryn burst out laughing. The others were either smiling, or keeping their heads down.

"I was too!" responded Chiana.

D'Argo smiled humourlessly. "I still have the bruises. I can show them to everyone here, if you'd like. Oh, and lets not forget about the bite marks."

Chiana smiled. "Alright, you've got me. I admit it. I'm a big, saucy tralk!"

"Amen to that," said John, lifting his glass.

"But we do have an objective witness here," Chiana continued, turning her had and smiling at Pilot.

Pilot looked back. His prominent brows dropping.

"Well?" Chiana urged.

Pilot paused, gathering his thoughts together. "I would like to state for the record, once again, that I have no point used the DRD's to spy on another member of this crew."

"Yeah right!" laughed Chiana.

"We believe ya, President Clinton," John followed.

Pilot looked positively insulted. "What possible reason could I have for wanting to observe your murky private practices!?'

"Murky?" Aeryn replied, smiling. "That's one way of putting it."

"So, what?" Chiana said. "How do they do it Pilot World, then?"
Why, and how, did I get involved in this? though Pilot. "I have no wish to discuss such matters."

"Come on, Pilot!" called John.

"The, um, 'goings-on' of my species are no concern for any of you," Pilot continued, unmoved.

"I bet it's very odd to look at," spoke Stark. "What with Pilots being so large and all."

"It is not odd!" insisted Pilot.

"Tell us, then Pilot," Zhaan said. "Are you ashamed of your method of precreation?"

"I am not ashamed!" Pilot responded. "It is just private. I have not asked any of you to explain yours. So why me?"

"I could tell you a few things if you want Pilot," Rygel replied, grinning salaciously.

"Everyone leave Pilot alone," said Aeryn. "He doesn't want to talk about it, then that's his choice."

"Thank you, Officer Sun," responded Pilot.

"The question is answered, now lets move on!' Aeryn continued.

"Good, now that's all cleared up," John interjected. "D'Argo? Truth or dare?"

D'Argo glanced at Chiana. "Truth!"

Chiana smiled. "Okay, baby. If you had to kiss anyone here, who would it be?"

D'Argo growled menacingly.

"Better not be frelling me!" Aeryn called, bursting into another fit of giggles.

"Nor me!" laughed the Hynerian.

Pilot shook his head. What a strange collection of beings they were. Fancy asking him about his species' method of procreation! Those days were long behind him. In a way, he missed them. Oh well, the life of a Pilot is a lonely one. But some days he longed to be back in the pools at Yressia Komor. Perhaps, Jepsalas would still be there for him. The things she could do with her claws.........



DISCLAIMER: (Don't sue us, we're pathetic) This is so made up. We mean absolutely no offence. We all love Farscape, and the actors and crew involved in making our favourite show. This should be seen for what it is, a tribute. If by some bizarre, and frankly disturbing coincidence Mr. Browder does indeed enjoy the company of voles, then we apologise unreservedly.

Farscape and all it's subsidiary bits are owned by some other people and not us. Anything illegal we do is purely by accident and that includes the credit card scam and Bob's marijuana farm.