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John listened as the voice of the Snits echoed through Command. He looked from Aeryn to D’Argo and asked, “Do we still have the ‘Don’t Shoot We’re Pathetic’ sign?”
Aeryn began tapping instructions into the main console. “Pilot, get us the frell out of here!”
On the clamshell, Pilot’s image looked harried. “I can’t! The Snit ship is projecting some kind of field that’s interfering with Moya’s engines! Even starburst is not functioning!”
“Get the P’kem’n on the horn, Pilot.” John studied the console and shook his head. “What is it about us that attracts people like this?”
“It’s you,” Aeryn said. “You’re a magnet for bad luck.”
“Thank you. When do I start getting blamed for bad weather?” As the P’kem’n appeared on the screen, John said, “Pikachu, quick! What did your people do to repel the Snits?”
“It’s too late! The Snits are here! It’s time to prepare to make peace with your god!”
John held up a hand, trying to calm the P’kem’n down. “Whoa! Pikachu! Calm down! It’s never too late! What did your people do?”
“There’s no time!”
“Time? There’s always time! What did you do?”
The P’kem’n closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. “We told them about…”
The screen went blank, cutting off the P’kem’n, as the voice of the Snits blared from the speakers. “We are…the Snits. You will surrender your ship to our control and prepare yourselves for immediate termination.”
“You will comply,” John muttered. “Pilot, let’s talk to them.”
Aeryn looked skeptical. “You have a plan?”
“Just trying to gather some intelligence, Aeryn. Pilot?”
“Go ahead, Commander.”
John cleared his throat. “Hello, is there something we can do for you?”
“We are…the Snits. You will surrender your ship to our control and prepare yourselves immediate termination.”
“Ah, yes. There’s a problem with that. We’ve grown accustomed to breathing. Maybe we can talk about this?”
For a long few microts, the speakers remained silent. The seven of them looked around Command, each expecting the worst. From the back of the chamber, Jool moaned in despair. “We are going to die.” She flinched at the acid look Chiana turned on her.
“God loves an optimist,” John said. He glanced at the screen and frowned. “Pilot, are we still connected?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Then why the frell aren’t they answering? Hello! Snits! There’s no need to destroy us. We’re only a danger to ourselves.”
The image on the screen changed. Now, what looked like a huge pair of eyes, bloodshot and nearly black in color, set against a background of hair or fur appeared.
“My, what big eyes you have, grandma. Hi there!”
“We are…the Snits! I am Viterana, Preceptor of the Snits. Who are you?”
“Me? John Crichton, Duke of Earl. Maybe we can talk about this?”
“Talk? What is there to talk about? We are…the Snits! We shall grind the universe beneath our thumb! Resistance is useless!”
“So I’ve heard.”
“You will surrender your ship to our control and prepare for termination.”
Think, John, think! “That’s not a real good idea. Because if we’re destroyed, you’ll be destroyed, too.”
The anger faded slightly from the eyes. “What do you mean? Your Leviathan is unarmed, and the P’kem’n armament is beneath notice. In any fight, you will lose.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw confusion and disbelief on D’Argo’s face. Rygel was muttering something about him having a death wish.
Aeryn leaned close. “John?”
“Don’t worry, Aeryn. I have a plan!”
“The four most dangerous words in the universe: John Crichton saying ‘I have a plan.”
Behind them, Jool moaned again. “So this is it! We’re going to die!”
“What do you mean,” Viterana asked, “that we will be destroyed as well?”
“Good question,” Chiana whispered.
“The information I’m about to give you is highly classified. It’s top secret, one of the Peacekeeper’s most closely guarded secrets. This Leviathan is equipped with an explosive device powered by a substance known as corbomite. If you fire on us, the resulting explosion will be so powerful that not only will we be destroyed, but so will the Pokeman ship out there. So will you, by the way. The explosion will be so powerful that this entire sector will be rendered uninhabitable for at least one hundred cycles.”
“You’re bluffing, Crichton.”
“Am I?”
The Snit’s eyes looked to one side. “We’re being scanned,” Pilot said. “They’re accessing Moya’s data stores.”
Rygel drifted close to John. “Crichton, have you gone completely fahrbot?”
“Trust me, Buckwheat. It worked for Kirk.” John could hear Stark begin to pray.
“We have scanned your Leviathan, Crichton. There is no sign of an explosive device, and no information about it in the data stores.”
“Really? Do the words ‘classified,’ ‘most closely guarded secret’ and ‘top secret’ mean anything to you? Do you really think we’d leave information about the corbomite device where anyone could find it? Besides, it’s shielded from sensors; you probably looked right past it. So, the question you should be asking yourself is, do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”
The eyes stared at them for another microt. “We’ll get back to you.”
Chiana patted John on the back. “You’re getting suicidal in your old age, right?”
“Look, just trust me. Bullies usually back down when confronted.” John put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
He tried not to react when he heard Harvey’s voice in the back of his mind. “A desperate ruse, John. As Aeryn pointed out, these Snits are unknown to the Peacekeepers. Therefore, I cannot advise you. You are on your own.”
John’s mouth twitched into a brief smile. What a frellin’ change of pace, he thought.
Viterana’s voice blasted from the speakers again. “We are…the Snits! We require two representatives to come to our ship for…negotiation.”
The seven of them sighed in relief simultaneously.
“Thank you for being reasonable,” John said. “Give us a few microts to decide who’ll go over and…”
“It will be you, Crichton, and your Sebacean female.”
Aeryn’s eyes grew dark, and John could almost hear her teeth grind together. “His…female…?”
John cut her off with a glance. “Okay. Look, would you mind if some of our crew went over to the Pokeman ship?”
“Why?”
“Well, we’ve never encountered them, either. Call us curious.”
“No, that will not be a problem. You have thirty microts.”
“Thirty microts. Right. See you then.” John leaned on the console and sighed again. “Well, that bought us some time.”
“While you and Aeryn are with the Snits,” D’Argo said, “I’ll try to find out what the P’kem’n did to repel them.”
“Good, D. We’ll get out of this yet. Pilot, analyze the field that’s interfering with Moya’s engines. See if you can come up with some way to negate it.” John looked at Aeryn, who looked somewhat less than pleased. “Shall we go?”
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“It’s the end of the world as we know it,” John sang. “I feel fine!”
Aeryn growled loudly and roughly clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Will you please stop singing?”
John glanced at her and saw the irritation on her face. “What’s the matter? Don’t like my singing?” He set the transport pod down in the hanger of the Snit ship. Like the ship itself, the hanger was massive; it looked large enough for both Moya and Talyn to maneuver without getting in each other’s way. Unlike the strictly utilitarian exterior, however, there was an almost surreal feel to the interior of the hanger. Its color scheme was wild; apparently, the Snits decided to use every color in existence to decorate the interior of their ship.
“Either move on to a different line or stop entirely!” Aeryn checked her pulse pistol, then returned it to its holster.
“Sorry, Aeryn, that’s all I remember.” John shut down the engines and lowered the ramp. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
As they walked down the ramp, the scale of the hanger began to weigh on them. John began to feel like he was standing at the bottom of a Technicolor canyon. “Now, this is imposing,” he said. He looked around and frowned. “Welcoming committee?”
Aeryn looked into the distance. “There’s something coming our way. It’s flying, about shoulder height.”
“Where?” Aeryn pointed. John looked in the indicated direction, squinted a bit and shook his head. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s right there. If your eyes weren’t so deficient…”
“Look, we’ve been over this. My eyes are better’n 20-20 and they’re blue.” He continued to stare. After a few microts, the object Aeryn had spotted became clear.
It looked like a flying hand or glove, with the index finger pointing, an eye where the thumbnail should have been, and a grinning mouthful of teeth between the second and third finger. It flew up to them and stopped, staring at them.
“Hey, I saw this movie,” John said. “Where’re the Blue Meanies?”
The flying hand stared at them, then turned and started away. Aeryn and John exchanged looks. The hand stopped, turned and stared at them. “Well, let’s not keep Glove waiting.”
As they started walking, John ignored the threatening look Aeryn turned on him as he started singing again.
“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea…and he told us of his life in the land of submarines…”
After what seemed like an arn of walking, Glove turned again and stopped them. Aeryn looked around. “Are we going to be picked up?”
Glove’s smile grew…and the floor disappeared from under them.
After a microt, John and Aeryn caught up with the descending floor. “Send a signal up to the transport pod,” John said. “I think my stomach’s still up there.”
Aeryn continued to stare upward, watching the hanger disappear. “At the very least, there should be a warning sign.”
As abruptly as it started, the lift platform stopped. John and Aeryn looked around at the darkness. “Hello? Anybody there?”
A loud, but high-pitched voice came from in front of them. “If you do not follow our instructions, you will be destroyed!”
Both of them immediately drew their pulse pistols and scanned the darkness. “Okay, enough with the threats. Where are you?”
“I am Viterana, Preceptor of the Snits.”
“Come on out where we can see you.”
“I’m right in front of you.”
John squinted and tried to look into the darkness. “Aeryn?”
“I can’t see anything. Unless…are you cloaked?”
“No! Can’t you see me? I’m here! Down here, you stupid Sebaceans!”
John looked at Aeryn again, then they both looked down. By their feet was what looked like a ball of fur, with two large, angry looking eyes, a tiny mouth that was twisted into a scowl, and two wiry arms that ended in two fingers.
“You’re…you’re…”
“I am Viterana, Preceptor of the Snits! If you begin laughing, it will be the last thing you do!”
John continued to stare. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”
