THE
FARSCAPE COOKIE MONSTER
By Minh
and Kat (well, her toaster-oven, anyway)
SUMMARY: It's just an ordinary day on Moya no, really. D'Argo's
always had an easy-bake oven, didn't you know? And all Leviathan
pilots LOVE cookies!
RATING: PG. And what is known in the trade as 'sillyfic'.
DISCLAIMER:
We do not own them. We do, however, unfortunately, own this We
also own D'Argo's recipe and his cookie-cutters J
AUTHORS' NOTES: Midnight insanity. Don't ya just love it!? This
started out innocently enough and then surrealism set in. It
was an AIM conversation, now it's a fic. Go figure. Think of
this as a light relief from the angst-fest that is the end of
season 3 (haven't seen it yet, have just heard rumours)
SETTING/SPOILERS: No spoilers. Set somewhere Season 2ish. Whenever
it was Stark appeared again Probably just before "Liars
Guns and Money Part 1"
MESSAGE FROM THE UTSPCL (Uncharted Territories Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Leviathans): No Leviathans were harmed
in the making of this fic.This fic © T'eyla Minh 2001
It was an ordinary
day in the Uncharted Territories. Moya, the immense, regal, bronze
Leviathan, drifted peacefully through an uneventful crimson-coloured
sky, tinged by cloud. Within her walls, her small crew went about
their usual business.
Sebacean Officer
Aeryn Sun, ex-Peacekeeper, was training in her make-shift gym,
beating serious dren out of her punch-bag and making interesting
dents in the workmat. As she spun around and planted a hefty
Pantak jab into the leather surface, a figure in the doorway
caught her attention. She stopped for a second.
"What
do you want, Crichton?"
Commander John
Crichton grinned. "Nothin' Just watching you."
She huffed.
"Well don't. It's irritating." She hoped her tone was
domineering. He grinned again, but made no attempt to move. "I
mean it, get out!"
When she approached
him menacingly, fists clenched, he finally backed off. "Okay,
I'm going," he said, raising his hands in apology. "Just
don't stay there all day, okay? I think Pilot wants to see you
for something."
With that,
he walked off as Aeryn resumed her training, muttering something
about a 'frelling human' before kicking her punch bag hard.
Crichton ambled
casually down the corridor, whistling something tuneless that
made sense to him two cycles ago, but was now just a random ditty.
He passed Zhaan, meditating in her quarters. Stark, the Bannick
slave, was in there with her, having an intellectual argument
with a DRD.
"My side,
your side, my side, your side, my side, your side! Understand?"
The DRD bleeped, blinked, and rolled forwards to finish cleaning
the floor. "No! MY SIDE! YOUR SIDE!" yelled Stark,
and shoved it out of the way with his foot. There was an ominous
pause before it shot him neatly in the ankle.
John smirked,
and carried on walking, making his way towards Command.
As he rounded
a corner, he crashed immediately into the young Nebari, Chiana.
She picked herself up and glowered at him.
"Watch
where you're going!" she grunted, and flounced off, a whirl
of grey and white.
"Sorry,
Pip!" he called, but she was already gone. "What's
her problem?" he said to himself, heading towards Command
again.
When he got
there, he was instantly aware that something was very, very wrong.
For starters, D'Argo was in there. This in itself wasn't that
strange, it was just that he had left his Q'alta blade unattended
behind him on a table. D'Argo never did that. D'Argo slept with
his Q'alta blade.
The second thing John noticed was that he was singing a remarkably
tuneful and jolly little song, swinging his hips in time with
himself, and occasionally tapping his feet. Then, he embellished
the dancewith a graceful twirl, turning one hundred and eighty
degrees and stopping when he saw John. They looked at each other.
The human blinked.
"D'Argo
um what the frell?" was all he could coherently manage to
say, gesturing madly with one hand to encompass the Luxan's appearance.
D'Argo cocked his head to the side and regarded his friend with
the same incredulity. After a pause, he looked down at himself.
"Oh, this?"
he said, referring to the pale pink apron, dotted liberally with
embroidered flowers and the occasional chocolate stain, which
he was wearing without any sign of embarrassment. "I'm cooking."
John blinked
again, took a step back, then closed his eyes for five full seconds.
When he opened them again, D'Argo was approximately two centimetres
away from him. He leapt back even further, hitting a wall. "Geez,
big guy, don't do that!" he said, removing himself from
D'Argo's immediate vicinity. He processed the situation in his
rapidly panicking brain. D'Argo. Cooking. A pink apron Something
didn't gel. And where was-
Suddenly, Crichton
began searching about the room frantically, checking inside small
spaces.
"What
are you doing, John?"
Ignoring him,
John looked up, scanning the high ceiling. "Rygel? Yo! Rygel?
Spanky?" he called, then whistled. He wouldn't put it past
D'Argo to throw the annoying Hynerian into a pot for saying the
wrong thing.
"Don't
be silly," said D'Argo. "I haven't seen him either"
Something pinged, and D'Argo merrily trotted over to a strange
device on a shelf. He flung open the door and pulled out a tray.
John approached cautiously, and was nearly shoved off-balance
when D'Argo spun around again and thrust the tray at him. The
smooth metal surface was covered by neat rows of perfectly round
cookies. Double choc.
Crichton backed
away again, fending off the apparently insane Luxan with his
hands.
"Okay,
Scorpy, what the hell did you do with D'Argo!?"
D'Argo rolled
his eyes impatiently, and set the tray of cookies down to cool.
"It's me, John. Why are you acting so strange?"
John laughed
in spite of himself. "Why am I acting strange?! You're the
one who's gone all Martha-Stewart-of-Lux on me! Did I miss something?"
"Bartha
who?"
"Martha
never mind" He looked past D'Argo to the device he had been
using to cook with. "Is that an easy-bake oven?"
"A what?"
asked D'Argo, adopting an expression very similar to Aeryn's
patented 'human-nonsense' face. "I found it in the cargo
hold. It's a Luxan device. We use it in case of emergencies or
power loss onour ships. I was just testing it."
"And where
did you get the recipe for the cookies?"
"Kuk eez?"
"Cookies.
Cookies!" he reiterated, picking up one of the brown discs.
"These things!" He dropped it again when he realised
it was still hot, and shook his hand, cursing.
"That's
an old Luxan speciality, they're called-"
"Forget
it, I don't want to know!"
At that point,
Aeryn wandered into Command, looking for Crichton. When he saw
her, he ran over and promptly hid himself behind her. Wherever
she moved to evade him, he followed her, and eventually stopped
her moving any further by placing his hands firmly on her waist.
She had two options: enjoy the moment, or yell at him. She chose
yelling.
"What
the hezmana are you doing, Crichton?"
He spoke close
to her ear, while D'Argo watched the pair with interest. "Gimme
your pulse rifle, Aeryn."
"Why?"
John lowered
his voice. "I think D'Argo's possessed. If I can get him
to Zhaan, she can tell us but I'm not takin' any chances."
Unfortunately,
D'Argo heard him. Or rather, he heard Aeryn's rather loud and
puzzled cry of "Possessed?!", accompanied by an underlying,
unspoken "have you gone completely mad?"
"I'm not
possessed!" he said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "Now
tell everyone to meet in Pilot's chamber, because I'm not going
to let these all go to waste!" He indicated the slowly cooling
cookies, which were starting to smell delicious and very tempting.
Not so tempting, however, that John was going to be crazy or
stupid enough to eat them. Knowing D'Argo, there was probably
something disgusting in them or poisonous or both.
Aeryn was convinced
of D'Argo's insanity by now. She had spotted the Q'alta blade.
Backing a little further away, she lowered her own voice and
said, "It'll probably be easier to keep him here and get
Zhaan to come up to have a look."
John nodded.
"Agreed." They looked at D'Argo. He smiled a warm smile,
and began to untie his apron. John and Aeryn looked at each other,
and simultaneously spoke into her comms.
"Zhaan?!"
There was no
reply.
John spoke
into his own comms. "Chiana! What the frell did you do to
D'Argo?!"
There was a
crashing sound, followed by a very bewildered and immensely guilty-sounding
voice. "Nothing! I didn't do anything to D'Argo! Why?! Who
told you?!"
"Calm
down, Chi! I'm just askin'. He's acting kinda weird, is all."
"Well
it's nothing to do with me! I haven't seen him all day! And I'm
nowhere near his sleeping quarters"
John decided it was safer not to ask. "Sure, whatever. Thanks."
Aeryn shouted
into her comms. "ZHAAN!" There was still no reply.
"Stark?" No reply. "What are they doing?"
she asked, impatiently, then realised she'd answered her own
question.
"Well,
when I walked past her earlier, she was doin' the whole meditation
thing, and he was yelling at a DRD"
Aeryn thought
for a few microts, stole a glance at D'Argo - he was taste-testing
one of his creations - and pushed John lightly in his direction.
"Keep him talking"
Crichton nodded,
swallowed, and walked as casually as he could towards the Luxan.
"Hey Regan!"
Meanwhile,
Aeryn used all her Peacekeeper finesse to attract Zhaan's attention:
"Zhaan! Stop playing with your pet Bannick, get your blue
backside off the floor and get up to Command!"
The Delvian's
calm, lilting voice sifted through the comms. "Aeryn what's
the matter?"
"D'Argo's
gone completely farbot!"
Zhaan seemed
to understand what she meant. "Fear not, my child. I told
D'Argo to focus his hyper-rage into something productive. He's
doing something unusual for him?"
"Yes.
He's 'cooking'."
"Ah, wonderful!
I'm glad to see he followed my advice." There was a pause,
a muffled crunch, then she said aside, "No, Stark. Stark,
leave it. Leave it!"
Aeryn looked
across to see how John was faring. He was attempting to fend
off seven feet of Luxan and trying to avoid getting any of the
mysterious brown discs shoved into his mouth. He was only partially
successful, and brown crumbs flew everywhere as he spat one of
them out.
"Zhaan,
I really think you should get up here. He seems to have taken
it a little far-" She was promptly cut off mid-sentence
by D'Argo's hand appearing over her mouth.
"Don't
listen to them, Zhaan."
"Sweet
D'Argo. How are you?"
"I've
never felt better. If you meet us in Pilot's den, I'll show you
what I made."
"Of course,"
she said.
He wandered
back over to test the texture of the cookies with a sharp knife,
whistling as he did so. John looked at Aeryn.
"You think
maybe he hit his head?"
"I don't
know. It's certainly a possibility."
"Hmm,"
he pondered. "Well, I guess there's only one way to find
out." Off Aeryn's curious expression, he added, "I'll
smack him over the head with something, see if he goes back to
normal."
She stared,
open mouthed. "And when were you planning on running? Before
or after he wakes up?" She smirked. "I think you're
the one who hit his head"
John ignored
her and walked quietly up to the table where D'Argo had lain
his blade - see, it was a bad idea, Big Guy! - and picked it
up. Approaching the Luxan, he beckoned Aeryn to join him. She
sighed and followed.
He raised the
weapon high above his friend's head, and said, "I'm sorry,
dude, this is for your own good!"
He was about
to bring the blade smashing neatly down onto D'Argo's head, when
he turned around. Panicking, John gave the blade to Aeryn, who
threw it behind her, and they grinned equally guiltily.
"What
are you doing?"
"Nothing!"
they chorused. D'Argo rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever it
was, stop it and come and join the rest of us in Pilot's den."
Microts later,
D'Argo had gone, and taken his tray with him, leaving a bewildered
Aeryn and a terrified Crichton in his wake. There was a brief
stunned silence, then John snapped out of it.
"I guess
we'd better go save Pilot from death-by-chocolate" he said,
and made his way to Pilot's chamber. Aeryn frowned, then followed
him, her 'human-nonsense' face set on 'kill'.
Several minutes
later, everyone was assembled in Pilot's chamber. Crichton was
standing as far from D'Argo as possible, which was proving to
be difficult as he had been chosen to try the cookies first and
D'Argo kept following him.
Aeryn was positioned
near Pilot, slouched in front of him watching the scene with
interest. Zhaan was standing close by keeping an eye on her Luxan
friend, eagerly anticipating the interesting delicacy he had
been working on.
Chiana and
Rygel had also made an appearance. The Nebari girl sat on the
floor, fidgeting, while Rygel hovered annoyingly in his throne-sled.
"Come
on, Luxan. I have things to do, food cubes to count-"
"Possessions
to swipe?" interrupted John. Rygel frowned and went to hover
somewhere else. Pilot, constantly moving his huge, four-armed
body to control Moya, lifted his great head.
"Ka D'Argo"
"Yes,
Pilot?"
"Moya
wishes to know why you are all assembled here. She is curious."
"Well,
tell Moya she's about to find out."
"That
would be ineffective, as you have just told her yourself, Ka
D'Argo."
D'Argo shrugged.
"Okay, everyone, I know you're all a little worried about
me, but Zhaan will inform you I'm perfectly healthy. In fact
I've never felt better."
The Delvian
Pa'u nodded sagely. "Yes. D'Argo is fine."
Aeryn smirked.
"Physically yes it's his mental state we're worried about."
D'Argo rolled
his eyes impatiently, then proceeded to walk to each person in
turn, handing them a cookie each. "One for you and you and
you and you don't give me that look, Chiana and you, John, you
get the biggest one."
"Why?"
he asked, sniffing it. "So I get to die quicker?" D'Argo
ignored him and moved to the centre of the group.
"Come
closer, everyone."
"Oh. Fantastic.
D'Argo thinks he's a boy scout leader" said John, staying
exactly where he was. Everyone else moved cautiously forwards,
with the exception of Pilot, who merely craned his neck a little
closer. While they exchanged nervous glances (all except Zhaan,
who appeared at peace with the universe), D'Argo looked pointedly
at John.
"Do not
make me go over there"
Somewhat reluctantly,
he dragged himself to sit next to Aeryn. When everyone was assembled,
the Luxan warrior positioned himself, cross-legged, at the head
of the circle, and placed the tray on the floor in front of him.
"Well?
Eat," he commanded. Everyone watched as Zhaan calmly took
a small bite out of her cookie, chewed it slowly, swallowed and
smiled.
"Very
good, D'Argo. You have surpassed yourself."
The rest of
Moya's crew breathed out. Rygel, now convinced that he wasn't
being poisoned, gobbled his entire cookie in two bites, burped
loudly, and gave D'Argo his usual unimpressed look.
"Hmm.
They're edible."
Stark stared
at his cookie as though it were some ethereal being, holding
it gently between his fingers. "I feel its pain" he
said mysteriously. Then he put it out of its misery.
Chiana and
Pilot were next. Chiana ate hers carefully, nibbling around the
edges and working her way to the centre in ever decreasing circles.
Pilot sniffed his cookie and took a bite. After he swallowed
it, he said:
"Moya
and I like your cookies, Ka D'Argo. Are there any more?"
"Plenty,"
he said, and handed Pilot the tray. The purple alien grabbed
three handfuls (literally) and shovelled cookies into his mouth
at a speed never witnessed before, until D'Argo yanked the tray
off him again. "Save some for the rest."
Through a mouth
filled with chocolate, Pilot said, "Moya finds my behaviour
most disturbing however, these are quite delicious." With
that, he stuffed three more into his mouth and chewed loudly.
While D'Argo
watched in disbelief, and some pride, Chiana snuck up to him,
quickly snatched two more cookies off the tray, hid them about
her person, and went to hide somewhere in order to eat them.
Nobody was going to eat her share. Rygel had already lost interest
and had hovered off somewhere.
John and Aeryn
were busy sharing nervous glances as they observed their fellow
ex-prisoners. Neither of them had eaten their cookies, and some
of the chocolate chips were starting to melt. Aeryn prodded him.
"You go
first."
"No, you.
"You!"
"Okay,
fine," conceded John. "We'll do it together."
"That's
fair." Aeryn swapped her cookie to the opposite hand and
examined the chocolaty mess left behind. She shrugged and licked
all the chocolate off, a split second before John managed to
wrench her hand away.
"No!"
"What?"
she asked irritably, swallowing the chocolate. John paled, adamant
she was going to die painfully of instant-acting food poisoning.
He put the back of his hand to her head.
"You feel
okay?"
She moved her
head out of the way and frowned at him. "I'm fine, what
are you-?"
"God,
never do that again!"
"I didn't
do anything."
"We don't
know what's in these things! Remember, Zhaan said he was 'focussing
his hyper rage'? Who knows what that means. If one of us pissed
him off, he might be trying to poison us all."
"Well,
there doesn't appear to be anything in this, whatever it is."
"It's
chocolate."
She tested
the word. "Chok-lut It's nice. A bit sweet, but" Crichton
made himself a mental note. Buy Aeryn chocolates oh, sure, I'll
just ask at the next commerce planet She swapped hands again,
destroyed the evidence on her fingers, and frowned at him. "Look,
can I eat this thing? It seems to be dissolving."
"It's
melting. It doesn't handle heat well, kinda like you." She
gave him her best "hurry up" stare. "Okay, we
can eat them, but first I have to say something."
"Make
it quick."
"Right"
He closed his eyes to think, then opened them again. "Well,
obviously the chocolate chips are safe, but God only knows what
he's put in the cookie dough In all likelihood, neither of us
will survive this, and just in case I want you to know I have
to tell you." He took a deep breath. "Aeryn, I-"
His sentence
was cut off by a crunch as Aeryn bit into the cookie. Chewing,
she said, "Yes? You what?"
"I"
Aeryn swallowed. She didn't die. "Ah, screw it," he
said, and ate his cookie. He smiled. "D'Argo! Dude, these
are really good!"
"And you
were so worried," said D'Argo, tutting at him.
Within microts,
all of the cookies were gone, and everyone had returned to their
quarters. Zhaan and Stark were indulging in a deep conversation
about the spirituality of cookies, and how Stark believed D'Argo
had killed something to put in them. Chiana and Rygel were blowing
stuff up in D'Argo's easy-bake oven, snickering gleefully every
time it made a mess. Pilot had given himself a stomach ache,
which in turn had given Moya a stomach ache, and every few minutes
the ship would lurch, and groan, and her amnexus fluid would
bubble ominously.
John was busy
explaining the chocolate-coated joys of Earth candy to Aeryn,
who vowed that if she ever went back, she'd spend her life in
an ize krim parlour which sold chok-lut sprinkles
And D'Argo?
D'Argo had been locked in the cargo hold because his hyper rage
had returned. He kicked something violently, enjoying the bang
it made, as Zhaan spoke to him over the comms.
"D'Argo?"
"Zhaan!"
he yelled, hacking something in two with his Q'alta blade. "Shouldn't
you be frelling Stark or something?!" A container flew across
the room and hit a far wall, where it shattered. "And when
are you going to LET ME THE FRELL OUT!?!"
Zhaan merely
laughed. "Sweet D'Argo"
"Don't
call me that."
"I apologise
I will let you out when you promise to control yourself. I've
told you what you can do to focus your rage."
"No. No
way in hezmana will you get me to-!"
"Fine.
You can stay in there for another weeken, or until you calm down,
whichever comes first."
There was sudden
quietude. D'Argo sighed heavily, his impatience showing through.
"Fine," he said. "Fine, I'll do it." A pause.
"What do you want me to sing?"
The End
|
