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SUMMARY: A prequel to 'That's MY Underwear!'. Moya and Pilot have gone simultaneously insane, and the crew turn to the Peacekeepers for help. In which we discover a hitherto hidden side of everyone's favourite lieutenant and John has some (or more) explaining to do.
RATING: PG-13 at this stage, probably throughout unless I get very adventurous.
DISCLAIMER: Characters are not mine. Apologies for everything I inflict on them.
SETTING: AU, a few days previous to 'That's MY Underwear!' with the everyone-who-ever-was cast.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was born out of many and clamorous demands for an explanation to 'the Braca thing' when the insanity that was 'That's MY Underwear!' reached the world at large. Inject an idea had at some point on the same weekend of madness that birthed that horror, and you have this.
Till the Leviathan Sings
The fic © Cyril the Sixteen Goldfish
"No! No, I don't know what's going on! Why does everyone always assume I know?"
"Because normally when something goes wrong with this ship it's because of some leftover piece of Peacekeeper dren!"
"That is not true!"
"Yes, it is! They stuck their frelling technology all through her and look what it's done so far!
"Will you stop being so childish? Whatever it is, someone's got to go down and find out how to..."
"No. Ohhhhhh no. Why's everyone looking at me? You think I am ever going through that again? Send her!"
"Me? Why me? It's their fault this is happening!"
"Why are you always so unwilling to work for the good of this ship?"
"Wonderful! Why don't you try it, O calm one? Have you ever been down there? It's disgusting!"
"You just don't want to! Nobody wants to! Nobody cares for Moya! Poor Moya..."
"Pilot? Pilot! Where the hezmana are you?"
"Where is Pilot? I thought the DRDs were supposed the clean the thing out before this happened."
Nobody seemed to have noticed John as yet, and he thought it might be wise to get a little background information before joining in, so he sidled over to Crais, who was the only other occupant of the room not screaming their lungs out. He was, instead, leaning against the wall and watching the proceedings with an expression of mixed despair and condescension.
"Crais?"
"Yes?
"What the frell is going on?"
"Apparently, the chamber full of bat dren has overflowed. Why any ship should carry such a thing is beyond me, although I'm sure that someone will give me a perfectly reasonable and enlightening explanation very soon."
"Oh god…okay, um. Everyone! Calm down!"
The noise level, if anything, increased.
"Will you shut the frell UP?!"
The argument subsided, the entertainment value of turning one's iciest gaze on the human having superseded it.
"Ah yes, John," said Aeryn, smiling sweetly. "This would be so that you can tell us all about your brilliant plan, of course. Well, go on, then."
"I...well...um..."
"Yes? Carry on, please do."
"Well, have you spoken to Pilot?"
"We tried to, but he isn't responding," D'argo cut in, slightly more civilly, gesturing to the blank clamshell.
"And the DRDs?"
Aeryn looked round. "Has anyone...? No? No sign of the DRDs either."
"Then don't you think that maybe we should go and look for them? Come on." He marched out of the door. Aeryn glared at his back for a moment then shrugged and followed, the others behind her.
By the time they arrived at Pilot's den the argument as to whose fault this was had started again, but one glance around the door shocked them into open-mouthed silence.
All the ship's DRDs had assembled in the den and were arranged in rows on the floor, looking up expectantly at Pilot, who was watching them with the air of a benevolent dictator. John started forward, apparently intending to talk to pilot, but Aeryn grabbed a shoulder and dragged him back.
"Might be wise to find out what's going on first, don't you think?" she hissed.
"Well...okay, yeah." He turned his attention back to the den and the DRDs.
Whatever they were doing, John was quite sure it wasn't anything he'd seen them do before. As he watched, the little yellow creature on the left-hand end of the row nearest Pilot broke ranks and approached the console. As it skittered nearer, Pilot appeared to descend from his cloud, glanced down and nodded to the robot. He lowered one clawed arm and tapped out a simple rhythm on the surface of the console, which the DRD quickly emulated, tapping its antennae together.
"Hey! I never knew they could..."
"Shhh!"
Pilot gestured to the DRD, which moved to the side of the room, away from the others. It waited for a moment and then, bringing its antennae together again, began to tap the rhythm over and over.
Pilot listened for a few seconds, satisfying himself that the beat was correct. Then, gazing at the ranks of the DRDs, he raised all four arms, paused for a moment, and brought them down in a sweep that was clearly intended to encompass the entire room. Immediately, the DRDs began to move. The rows broke up and for a while the floor was apparently chaotic, but soon resolved itself into a pattern of three circles. And then, as the beat began again, the circles began to move.
First the outermost circle started to rotate clockwise, quite slowly, moving in a series of jerks in time with the beat, the antennae of its occupants twitching rhythmically, first one way and then the other. Then, also keeping perfect time, the second ring began to move in the opposite direction. And, finally, the innermost ring closed in until the six DRDs which had formed it were clustered together at the centre, just touching, and they too began to rotate, their antennae thrust forward to form a peak at the centre of the group.
Pilot had still apparently not noticed the group of assorted creatures occupying the doorway, wearing a selection of different-coloured expressions, which all, nevertheless, conveyed the same sense of complete and utter bemusement.
All except John's, that is. John's would probably have registered as 'wide-mouthed, side-splitting laughter' had Aeryn not got him in an inescapable headlock, one hand firmly clamped over his mouth. Those areas that could still be seen of his face were going an increasingly impressive shade of magenta and emitting occasional snorts.
Unaware of this, Pilot surveyed his minions and found them to be good. His moment was at hand. He reached down to the console, adjusting the lighting so that multicoloured beams played over the backs of the DRDs, highlighting their pleasing curves and glinting off the ends of their antennae, and a single ray of white light illuminated the console. He flicked a switch that would broadcast his big moment to the entire ship and drew a breath, preparing himself. This was it.
When it came, the sound made the walls of the ship vibrate. It boomed through corridors and invaded quarters, channelled through every available conduit to every part of the ship.
"AT FIRST I WAS AFRAID, I WAS PETRIFIED..."
…in Rygel's quarters, a rare Hynerian vase filled with rare Hynerian mud jittered its way off a shelf and landed on the floor, with something between a tinkle and a squelch...
"...KEPT THINKING I COULD NEVER LIVE WITHOUT YOU BY MY SIDE..."
...in the cargo bays, a towering stack of crates came crashing down, bursting open and carpeting the room with food cubes...
"...BUT THEN I SPENT SO MANY NIGHTS THINKING HOW YOU DID ME WRONG..."
...and in the den, eight aliens cowered and wondered, terrified, what was going on, and one human lay on his back and giggled helplessly.
