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“Why do we always end up in a bar?” Jool asked rhetorically, knowing neither John nor Aeryn would answer her. They were too busy sizing up the room, looking out for their contact, and seeing how close to each other they could stand without her noticing….
Jool shook her head. Frellnik. That’s what they were. Aeryn might still be mourning the other Crichton, but she and THIS John were never far from each other even so.
John leaned his head towards Aeryn and said, “What do you think?”
“It looks all right,” she told him. “The usual weapons detectors at the doors, not that they seem to be taking anyone’s weapons away.”
“Uh-huh. Presumably they just want to know who’s packing what.”
Aeryn looked down at her pulse pistol as discreetly as she could. “No dampening field,” she said, showing him the light on the butt.
Jool left them to it. They were speaking in their own incomprehensible language again. The others seemed to be able to follow the cryptic sentences mixed with Crichton’s human sayings, but she didn’t seem to have been around long enough to have figured it out. Or maybe it was just that, as often as not, especially lately, they seemed to be talking about weapons, battles, and killing Scorpius, none of which interested her in the slightest.
Jool scrutinized the establishment with an eye towards sanitation, not self-defense. It certainly wasn’t up to the standards of her home world, but it seemed clean enough. Well, if she was stuck in a bar, she decided she might as well get a drink. She stepped up to the brightly lit counter and tried to attract the attention of the bartender.
Failing miserably, she leaned forward and grabbed the man by the sleeve. He looked at her with a scowl on his blue-green features, and she forgot what she’d intended to order. Glancing at the drinks sitting in front of her fellow patrons, she picked out a nice orange-colored concoction and said timidly, “I’ll have one of those.”
Without a word the bartender put a glass down in front of her, and she hurriedly fished some credits out of her bag and paid him. He took it as if he didn’t quite trust her, and walked down the counter to serve another customer. She was beginning to get used to that reaction, after nearly a cycle with this lot of escaped prisoners.
With a shake of her head, spilling brilliant orange curls down her back, Jool glanced over at John and Aeryn. Still standing in each other’s space, talking seriously and looking around the room. John’s hand rested lightly in the small of Aeryn’s back, and she had the backs of two fingers almost imperceptibly touching his leg. Jool sighed. They’d get her when they needed her.
Feeling a little sorry for herself, Jool leaned back against the bar and started to sip her drink. It was surprisingly tart, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Still, there wasn’t anything else to do until they met their contact and she and Crichton got the chance to examine the modulator.
Jool lifted her glass again and took several gulps, resulting in the peculiar gurgling sound Interions made when they drank. Considering the noises some of the other patrons were making, no one should have noticed. But the being next to her appeared to take exception to being disturbed.
“Stop that noise,” he growled.
Jool assessed the situation. He appeared to be Sebacean, ill-groomed, and very drunk. Not a Peacekeeper for sure, she thought. Never mind the grease, he didn’t carry himself the way Aeryn and Crais did, or even Crichton, for that matter. She glanced towards John and Aeryn, who were still deep in conversation, then looked back at the drunk. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, on the theory that it was better to pacify a drunk than to argue with him.
That seemed to do the trick, and he turned away. Jool took a few more gulps of her drink, trying to drink quietly, only to find him glaring at her again. This time she was annoyed and snapped, “Look, it’s the way my ingestive system is built, all right? When I drink the air passes through—” She cut off abruptly as his hand reached out and grabbed her neck, tangling in her hair.
Before Jool could do or say anything, Crichton and Aeryn were there, pulse pistols drawn and pointed at her assailant.
“Let her go,” John said quietly, moving in between her and the Sebacean.
The man glanced back and forth between John and Aeryn and apparently even in his inebriated state, he didn’t like what he saw in their eyes. He attempted to untangle his fingers from Jool’s hair. More than a few hairs came out with his hand and hung in a hank from his fingers as he spread his arms out in a gesture of goodwill.
Jool hurriedly backed away from him, leaving her drink on the bar.
John and Aeryn lowered their weapons, and Aeryn spared her a glance. “You all right?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” she said, rubbing her neck and her scalp. She knew they were attracting too much attention, and if they didn’t get the modulator they’d come for, she expected she was going to get the blame.
The Sebacean, apparently more relaxed now that the weapons were no longer pointed at him, took a closer look at John and Aeryn. His eyes narrowed, and he said sharply, “Well, if it isn’t Officer Sun.”
John looked at Aeryn, Aeryn looked at John, and Jool tried to blend into the background.
“I think you must have me mixed up with someone else,” Aeryn told him.
“No, no, I remember you, we were in Prowler training together. Remember me? Cotter Jerad?” He was getting louder and more belligerent, if that was possible.
Aeryn’s mouth twitched in recognition. “Oh, I do remember you. You never did know when to keep your mouth shut when you were drunk, which was rather often as I recall.”
John rolled his eyes. “Don’t piss him off,” he mouthed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Jerad. “Shouldn’t you be with your unit?”
Drunk or not, he answered the question with a question, avoiding giving her any information. “Shouldn’t you?”
Aeryn merely glared at him, apparently hoping that he would leave, pass out, or otherwise let them get on with their business. He didn’t seem to have heard she was irretrievably contaminated.
But, his eyes grew canny, and he said, “Could it be the great Aeryn Sun is a deserter?” He pronounced her name with both venom and distinction.
Aeryn glanced at John, who flicked his eyes in the general direction of Wynona. Shaking her head just barely, she took Jerad on. “What do you want?” she asked, leaving him to decide whether or not she was a deserter.
“Drink with me,” he roared, holding up a blue bottle. “Match me, drink for drink, of natchka!” He held her eyes and made it very clear the choice was either that, or he’d call enough attention to the group to make sure they wouldn’t be able to do whatever it was they were there to do….
Inwardly fuming, Aeryn gave him a strained smile and was about to say, “Fine,” when John interrupted.
“Could you give us a minute?” he asked Jerad, not waiting for an answer before taking Aeryn by the arm and steering her a short distance away from him. They walked right past Jool and she scurried to keep up with them.
“He always was unimaginative,” Aeryn said to John. “He wants to be able to say he bested me in a drinking contest.”
John gave her a private little smile. “I take it Mom always liked you best.”
“It wasn’t hard. He wasn’t very good. I was,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Oooh,” John winced dramatically, glancing back at Jerad, “that’s a little tough on the old male ego.” Before Aeryn could react, he continued, “So he wants revenge for some schoolyard slights….”
“Not a problem, John, I’ll deal with it,” Aeryn said.
“Look, Aeryn, I don’t think this is such a good idea. You’re in charge of this party, and if you’re busy getting plastered, I don’t think we’re going to be able to do what we have to do.”
Aeryn’s eyes narrowed and she said darkly, “You think I can’t handle him?”
“That’s not what I said. I said we need you to hook up with Mercutio.”
“Morcato,” Aeryn corrected.
“Morcato,” he amended. “You’re the one he’s expecting.” He tried a winning smile.
Watching from the sidelines, Jool could see Aeryn soften, but guessed she wasn’t likely to give in before Jerad ran out of patience. To get things moving, Jool decided to interrupt.
She edged into their space, and looking at Crichton, she began, “It’s a good thing he doesn’t know you’re the great Joh—” only to be jabbed in the side by Aeryn’s elbow. After a petulant look at Aeryn she finished, “He’d be challenging YOU.”
John’s eyes lit up, and he said, “That’s a great idea!”
Aeryn threw Jool a look of annoyance and Jool backed away, trying hard to keep the smug expression off her face.
“Aeryn,” John enthused, “this guy’s already three sheets to the wind, I should be able to outlast him with no problem. While I’m keeping him busy, you and Jool can find Morcato, get the modulator, and get out of here.” He looked at Jool. “You can tell if it’s what we need, right?”
“I don’t know, Crichton. You’re supposed to be the expert in these things. I’m only here because I took a few applied physics courses and I can tell a nanocircuit from a femtocircuit.”
“Well,” he told her, “that’s what I need you to do. We’ll have to trust him for the rest of it.”
“You’re forgetting, John,” Aeryn interrupted. “He challenged ME. Why should he accept you instead?”
“Well,” Jool suggested, “if you tell him you’re pregnant….” She trailed off meaningfully, thinking it was a rather good idea. The ensuing silence was deafening.
John looked at Aeryn, hurt in his eyes.
Aeryn gave John a wide-eyed *Honestly, I have no idea what she’s talking about* look, then turned on Jool. “What?”
There was more menace in that one word than there would have been in a pulse pistol aimed her direction. Oops. Obviously, they WEREN’T recreating, and Jool’s suggestion had brought up the ghost between them again. Well, that wasn’t HER problem.
Jool held her ground. “Look, I didn’t mean to suggest anything about your personal lives,” she said. “Avoiding damage to a fetus is the most obvious reason besides sheer good sense that any female might have for NOT wanting to drink some bunko under the table,” she told them, privately thinking, *and any NORMAL person would have seen that.*
The strategy apparently wasn’t remotely obvious to Aeryn, and she continued to radiate distress. Trying to smooth things over with Jool, John muttered, “You’re right, it was a good dodge. Don’t think it’s going to fly, though.”
All the while, he was looking into Aeryn’s eyes, and she slowly calmed down. Silent apologies passed between the two, and then they simultaneously looked back at Aeryn’s challenger. Jerad was getting antsy.
“I repeat,” Aeryn said, firmly nixing the pregnancy ruse, “how do we get him to take you on instead of me?”
“I don’t think he likes being beaten by a girl….” John mused.
“Peacekeepers don’t make sexual distinctions, you know that. Both sexes are bred and trained equally, and—”
“Yeah, well, my gut still says that’s part of what’s eating this guy….” John interrupted. “Look, as much as this pisses you off personally, I think if I act like I’m trying to protect you, he’ll go for it. ‘The great Aeryn Sun hiding behind a man…’ He’ll eat it up.”
Aeryn glared at him, but simply said, “I’m warning you, that stuff’s nasty.”
“As long as it doesn’t kill me, I’ll manage.”
“Don’t be a hero,” she said softly.
John looked like he could have kicked himself. He reached out and touched her briefly on the arm, and she smiled ruefully. “Come on,” he said, starting back to the bar. “And try to look like I’m protecting you!”
***********
John tossed back the first glass and nearly retched. After three cycles of trying intoxicants in some of the least appealing parts of the Uncharted Territories, he’d been prepared for nearly anything. But this…. “Oh, man,” he gasped, making a terrible face, “That stuff tastes like creamed spinach!”
Jerad just smirked, and Aeryn laughed in spite of herself. “I told you it was horrible,” she said.
John shook his head at her, and got back to business. He slapped his glass down in front of Jerad. “Hit me,” he said.
The ex-Peacekeeper carefully refilled two small bar glasses then shoved one over in front of Crichton.
“Down the hatch,” John said glibly, as he saluted Jerad. He waited until his opponent had his own glass in hand before braving the taste again. This time wasn’t quite as bad, probably because he was prepared for it. Ugh.
Jerad swallowed his without batting an eye. Bastard.
“Come on, Buddy, let’s have another one” John said loudly, hoping to attract a crowd, “I think I’m starting to like this horsepiss!”
The next two rounds went similarly, with John getting louder and just a bit more unsteady on his feet. Aeryn was afraid he wasn’t entirely faking intoxication, but she’d seen him hold his share of spirits before. He could handle it.
He WAS managing to draw an audience, and Jerad’s attention was totally on him. Aeryn knew John was aware when she took Jool and faded into the far corner of the establishment, but Jerad never noticed. Hmph. Some nemesis.
She settled herself and Jool into a table with a clear view of the room. The crowd around the bar kept them from observing how the contest was going, but from time to time they heard John’s voice calling for another round. Once he asked the barkeep for a bottle of vectra, apparently to replace the now-empty bottle of natchka.
“Oh, he likes that,” Jool commented, regarding the change in alcohol. “What?” she asked, when she realized Aeryn was staring at her.
“Nothing,” Aeryn replied quickly.
It didn’t look like *nothing* to Jool. Taking a stab, she said, “We were all down on this pleasure planet while you were gone, and we were trying out drinks. He said that one tasted like, um, something from Earth.”
Aeryn smiled at the faint emphasis on the word, “all,” and said, “Burr-bon. We came across it when Talyn stopped at a commerce planet. He bought a bottle….” Her eyes searched the room and her thoughts seemed elsewhere.
Uh-oh. If this was about the dead Crichton, Jool was definitely not going there, even in the unlikely event that AERYN was planning to talk about it. Not stuck on some nasty planet with all sorts of unsavory looking people around them and the living Crichton drinking himself into a coma on their behalf.
Fortunately, Jool didn’t have to think of a way to change the subject, because just then a tall Betan dressed in a voluminous off-white robe approached. He settled down at the table, apparently surprising Aeryn not at all. “Morcato, I presume,” she said. “Did you bring it?”
Morcato responded by bringing a small circuit module out of one of his many pockets.
“Give it to her,” Aeryn said, nodding at Jool.
The smuggler complied, wordlessly handing the piece to Jool.
Jool took the part and looked it over. She opened up the case and tried to trace the wires and components. Finally she looked at Aeryn.
“Will it do?” Aeryn demanded.
“Well, it’s hard to be sure, but, I think Cri—” She broke off again as Aeryn glared. “I think WE can use it,” she finished. She hoped so. It was a crucial part in creating a detector for wormhole emanations. She’d only gotten roped into the project because she was the only one who had the academic knowledge that Crichton did. But he had so much more practical experience…. but if she was wrong, Aeryn wouldn’t want excuses. Jool sighed. “Yes. It will do.”
“Good.” Aeryn paid their contact while Jool stashed the modulator in her bag – and not a moment too soon, either. There was a roar from the crowd gathered around Crichton and Jerad, followed shortly by a loud thump as someone landed on the floor.
Morcado vanished out a side door, as Aeryn sprinted across the room, pushing the wrong way through the crowd of spectators that was now dispersing. Jool followed more slowly.
When Aeryn reached the bar itself, she was greeted by a disheveled but triumphant Crichton. “Hey, baby,” he said, “He won’t bother you any more!” He pointed at Jerad, sprawled on the floor, and wobbled more than a little himself.
Aeryn swooped in and got her shoulder under his arm, holding him steady. “You’d better still be sober enough to be playing a part,” she hissed, but her eyes glittered with amusement.
John wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leaned his head into hers, and said, “Sober enough. Did you get it?”
“Jool says it will do.”
“Good job, Princess,” John said to Jool, adding, “We’d better get out of here before I puke.”
As Aeryn rotated John around so he was pointed at the door, the bartender came over demanding payment for the half-finished bottle of vectra. Aeryn took a little pleasure in kicking the unconscious Jerad. “He’ll pay for it,” she said.
Jool was sure that if SHE had tried that, the bartender would have argued, but he only nodded and walked away.
They headed out the door and into the street. Aeryn didn’t ask for help with John, and he didn’t look for additional support, either. Jool followed quietly behind, watching them. Even when they stopped to let John throw up, Aeryn stayed beside him.
“I warned you about that stuff,” she said.
“It’s twice as nasty coming back up,” he grumbled. “Especially mixed with the vectra.” He spit several times, and then looked around for something to rinse his mouth out with. There was a water outlet just a few metras down the alley, and he went over and turned it on, fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar valve.
“It was a good plan, though,” Aeryn said, when he came back and put his arm around her shoulder again, even though Jool didn’t think he needed the support.
“It worked, anyway, which I guess makes it a good plan. I think YOU better fly, though,” he laughed.
“Right,” she said.
They walked along in silence for a while until Aeryn said, “John liked vectra, too.”
“The man had good taste,” John said.
“Umm-hmmmm,” Aeryn replied.
John slid his arm off her shoulder and took her hand. They walked that way to the ship without another word, ignoring Jool’s presence.
Frellnik. That’s what they were. Or maybe they were in love. Either way, Jool couldn’t wait to get back to Moya where people noticed HER for a change.
