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SETTING/SPOILERS: At this point, trying to set this becomes somewhat complicated. So. It's AU, as mentioned before: specifically, apart from the character reinstations, I'm carefully ignoring the end of season 3, Fractures onwards. Nothing whatsoever to do with stealing plot devices in any way at all. Sort of spoilerish, due to aforementioned devices, for IYYY - ITLD2. Kindly remember that this is sillyfic; treat it as such and don't expect too much of the plot…
Till the Leviathan Sings - Part 2
The fic © Cyril the Sixteen Goldfish
Normality, of course, is relative.
Zhaan, as was usual in those times of crisis when the Uncharted Territories were simply too weird and utterly inexplicable for anyone else to cope with, had assumed command. She sat cross-legged on the floor, serenely interrogating the hysterical crew, starting with the obvious exception.
"John…Aeryn, let him go, he has to be able to speak…John, what exactly is so funny?"
"Funny!" spat Jool. "The Human thinks this is funny. Great. Really amusing, right until the point where we actually have to go somewhere."
John grinned at her and caught his breath.
"Funny? This is…better'n funny…wow…" he collapsed back into fits of laughter.
"John!" Zhaan snapped. "Jool is right. As long as Pilot is ignoring us, we have no way to control the ship. You seem to know something about it?"
"Know something about it? Well, I recognise the songs, if that's what you mean…disco classics of Earth, and I have no idea how Pilot got hold of them. Or why he's singing them instead of flying the ship, before you ask."
"Dis-kow?"
John waved his hands expansively and got as far as "it's from Earth…um…" before Zhaan silenced him with a glare.
"I think we can do without the explanation. Does anyone else have anything to contribute?"
"I…I can't…Moya…everywhere…"
It was Stark. He had, through most of the conversation, been slumped against the wall antisocially wearing his normal expression of mild panic. This appeared to have graduated to extreme panic - he was coiled into a ball, rocking back and forth and muttering incoherently, punctuated with the occasional sob.
"Stark? What's wrong?"
"Moya! Inside…inside everyone. Can't you feel it?"
"Inside…?"
"Yes!" he snarled. "Inside. All of us…creeping…she was never…"
At this point, the conversation might have been interrupted by a break in the incessant singing still reverberating through the ship. Or, indeed, it might have been interrupted by Moya suddenly lurching sideways, throwing everyone onto their backs in a large and disorganised heap. However, these paled in comparison to the level of interruption achieved by the pile of crates which chose precisely this moment to fall over on top of the assembled aliens, distracting them very effectively.
"Oh, jesus."
"Jee-zuz?"
"Forget it. Is everyone alive?"
"What kind of a stupid…?"
"Shut up, Chiana. Is anyone not alive?"
"Oh, well, that's even better, isn't it? What do you want them to do? Wave? Shout?"
There was a quieter, slightly more controlled crash from a short way away and Aeryn sat up in the middle of the wreckage.
"Ow. What was that?"
"Something fell on us."
"Helpful. Very helpful. Well, at least John's stopped laughing."
"Hey! Just because you didn't get the joke…"
Another few crashes. A blue arm appeared from the pile and cleared a path for the rest of Zhaan. She shook her head dazedly.
"What…what happened?"
"We've been through this…"
Zhaan gave up, pulled herself out of the wreckage and began heaving crates off the pile, looking for the members of the crew who had not yet made an appearance. Those who had gave up on the conversation as a dead loss and scrambled up to help her.
Jool was fairly easy to find, as she woke up and, finding herself in a dark and pointy place, screamed vigorously until someone followed the noise, unearthed and kicked her. This led to the discovery of Crais, who had, apparently, attempted to leap to her rescue and instead ended up being buried lying on his face a little way away, unable to shout due to his mouth being squashed against the floor. After searching for a while, Aeryn noticed several tentacles protruding from under the heap. Removing a few crates revealed D'argo, out cold but apparently alive. Stark was more or less uninjured, having been protected by being curled into a ball, but was no longer even slightly coherent.
Nobody could find Rygel. The crew were about to give up the search with badly-disguised relief when he appeared from behind a bulkhead. As usual in times of crisis, he had, with his normal skill, removed himself from the line of fire.
"That does it! This is intolerable. Not only has this ship, which is insane at the best of times, now gone completely mad, it is attempting to kill us! If we ever succeed in wresting control of this object from the lunatic driving it, you will oblige me by dropping me off at the nearest planet with some respect for monarchy."
"Fine, whatever. Could we concentrate on the immediate problem now?"
"What is the immediate problem? Does anyone have any idea what caused that?"
"Nope."
"You wouldn't…"
"Do you?"
"Um."
"Well, whatever it was, it seems to have shut Pilot…"
"AH, AH, AH, AH, STAYIN' ALIVE, STAYIN' ALIVE…"
"…spoke too soon."
"What?"
"SPOKE TOO SOON!"
"WHAT?!"
"SPOKE TOO...ah, frell, never mind."
Aeryn shook her head and turned to leave the room, managing two firm and assertive strides before she was felled by a second resounding crash. This was closely followed by a third, this one hard enough to fling everyone in the room against the wall at high speed, ending in a large heap consisting of more or less every crate in the room, from which protruded a variety of limbs. The pile shifted and a hand made one or two half-hearted movements then, defeated, lay still.
There was silence. Nobody was conscious enough to appreciate it but, nevertheless, it was there.
It didn't last long
