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Disclaimer; just borrowing them.
Time; somewhere around the middle of Season 2
Spoilers; none
AERYN'S YULE LOG
It should have been a straightforward re-supply trip. We had chosen the backward rock, VaHaal, because we usually found that our meagre wealth bought more on rustic planets - and there would be fewer baubles to distract the more frivolous members of our crew. Also, it was the only commerce world we had found in many days. I should know by now things are never that simple.
We started well enough, picking up basic supplies fairly quickly. D'Argo and Chiana took the first load back to the transport pod without a fuss. Glad of a quiet place where nobody paid us any attention John and I lingered over the stalls. Before we knew it the sky had grown dark and torches were lit.
"I don't get it Aeryn," John said. "Torches?"
"Meaning?"
"Primitive."
"Perhaps they like the effect - - " Who cared?
He just looked at me and laughed. "Yeah! It is kinda pretty."
With the sudden dark a cold wind blew up, whipping up the deep snow that covered everything. John shivered, and I dredged up a phrase from a cycle ago - "Colder than a frog's arse . . ."
He gave me that little boy grin. "It'd freeze poor froggy's ass right off. Good job he's not here."
The market had been transformed by the night. The others returned to us and Chiana was entranced by the light and renewed bustle. But trading was clearly over. D'Argo and I were ready to call a halt but John and Chiana were caught up in the drift of the crowd. People were moving down towards the water's edge. I caught D'Argo's eye and he nodded.
"We will take these last stores back to the transport. Don't be long." I said.
They were barely listening, but I thought Chiana said, "Yes, Mom".
* * * * *
It was almost an arn later that Crichton called us up and said they were not returning. "You should see what's happening . . ."
"Crichton . . .!"
"Sorry - you're breaking up Aeryn," he lied. "Don't wait up honey."
"Pilot - we are going to be a while longer. Crichton's discovered a fascination for primitive cultures," I commed Moya.
"Thank you Officer Sun. I will tell the others."
"More likely an attractive female," D'Argo muttered. He shouldered the Qualta blade and I followed. Out into the cold again.
The action had moved down to the shore. A scrawny warrior stopped us at a checkpoint. "No guns past here," he said.
I could see firearms of all kinds locked in the rack behind him.
"No guns?" D'Argo repeated.
"That's what I said."
I shrugged and handed over the pulse pistol.
D'Argo innocently hefted his blade over his shoulder and we passed through.
Many fires had been lit. Booths were set up, and food and drink were available in quantity. We soon found our shipmates. They were watching a spit-roast over a fire. John gestured at one of the roasting animals, "Look familiar?" he asked.
"Hmmmmmm. . ." It did look a little Hynerian.
"Tastes damn fine - try some?" John offered. I refused the treat.
"Apparently," he went on, licking the grease off his fingers, "what we have stumbled on here is the celebration of the turning of the year. Shortest day yesterday - longest night tonight". He gave me what I can only call a leer - which I ignored. His face fell a little. I almost felt guilty.
"And this concerns us how?" I asked.
"General truce. Peace reigns while we celebrate the return of the sun. You had to check your gun right?"
I nodded.
"So we can relax. Party!"
Relax! Well, we could try. This could be the shore-leave John so badly needed. Maybe we all did.
The males in the crowd were mostly warriors. Their long hair and beards were in plaits and braids. For once D'Argo fitted right in. That is, until he stumbled over one of the brats who were darting around under everyone's feet. He barged into a drunken warrior who fell into a fire pit and burned himself just enough to make him fighting mad.
These warriors were big. Many of them made D'Argo look dainty. They all carried some sort of bladed weapon. So much for a sacred truce.
The burned yotz swung a war axe at D'Argo, but the qualta blade was out in a flash. I grabbed a spear from someone who was too surprised to stop me, and took a few swipes at his friends. We had ourselves a stand off; me and D'Argo back to back, jabbing and swinging at a loose circle of armed louts. Frell!
"Remember the truce guys - don't kill anyone. We don't know what the penalty might be," John was saying unhelpfully from outside the circle.
At last the angry fighter made his lunge, and D'Argo tongued him before he was in blade range. He dropped like a rock. A stunned silence, then everyone was roaring with laughter, clapping D'Argo on the back, and carrying him off shoulder high.
A volatile crowd - typical primitives - but for once I was thankful for primitives.
They carried D'Argo towards a huge, log-built hall. We followed. It was covered with carvings in ornate, writhing patterns. The ridge ends had huge, long-snouted beasts as decorations. "Dragons," John breathed, gazing up at them.
He was beginning to look puzzled. "Pilot; we haven't done a time slip have we?" he commed.
"There is nothing to suggest that, Crichton," Pilot's voice came through.
"You're not standing where I am."
"Commander. . . "
"No, no, no. Forget it Pilot. Thank you."
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
"It's like some B movie epic. Where's Kirk Douglas?"
I must have looked blank - for a change.
"Don't worry about it." He put an arm round my shoulders and we went inside.
The heat and noise hit us at the door. Long tables and benches, more food of all sorts, flagons of drink; jugglers and tumblers; a high-spirited chaos.
D'Argo was riding astride a massive log that was being towed through the hall by horned beasts of burden. He sprang off and helped roll it to a central fire pit. They strewed green branches on it, poured on alcohol of some kind, and at last a young female, wreathed in evergreens, set a brand to the log until it began to burn. A satisfied roar of approval went up.
"Let's join the feast," John grinned.
People were hoisting bundles of greenery into the rafters for no apparent reason. John said that the green branches in the middle of winter symbolised the triumph of life - or something. "And the fires everywhere - they drive back the Dark."
"Thank you," I said. "I had managed to work that bit out!"
I headed for a quiet, ill-lit corner. No point being conspicuous - D'Argo was taking care of that role - but John made for the centre of activity. I had no choice but to follow.
D'Argo was being feted like some sort of hero. At one time we could see him arm wrestling. Later he tried to teach them John's rock-paper-scissors game. Occasionally we would hear his attempts to join in the drunken singing. D'Argo was not in good voice that night.
But I realised I could not see Chiana - again.
"She's over there," John pointed towards D'Argo's now-blazing log. "It's OK. Quit fussing."
It didn't look OK. The tumblers were performing all around the fire-pit, and Chiana was in the thick of it. Then one lad sprang right across the log, from side to side, through the flames. Others copied him.
Even from where we sat I could see the glint in Chiana's eye. I started up; but John caught at my arm. "It's OK. . ."
How could it be?
"Trust me. Watch."
It was too late anyway. Chiana, from a standing start, cleared the full length of the log, flames and pit. She was in more danger from the low rafters than the fire. I had no idea she could do that - but John evidently had!
"See," he grinned. "Pip's OK. Now relax."
That's our Chiana - playing with fire! Alright then. They could watch their own backs tonight.
And then, somehow, I found myself in a drinking contest with a boastful off-worlder. I don't know what it was - the dren he was spouting - the pointed way he passed the flagon to John every time, bypassing me - but soon I found I was matching him mug for mug. He realised it too and glared a challenge. John gave me a quizzical look, but I just smiled and he kept out of it.
It was a strong brew - but I was once on a bleak rock of a place for half a cycle with the Special Commando - and a brew like this was the only alcohol available. A soldier should never be incapable - but we had plenty of practice in learning to deal with the effects. . .
John began to egg the big oaf on to more and more outlandish tales. The idiot was enjoying this, instead of helping me to get out of it gracefully. But I did see him speak into his comms and both D'Argo and Chiana drifted over. I don't know what sort of trouble John was expecting, but it was good to have them at our backs.
It ended suddenly. The big yotz suddenly forgot what he was saying, looked very puzzled, drained his mug, and slid heavily to the floor. I drained mine too and nearly choked as John clapped me on the shoulder. I allowed myself a satisfied grin. The honour of the Icarian company was intact.
"Come on," he said. "The guy might have friends."
He was suggesting we go?! "John - you don't seriously think I can WALK right now?!" I said.
D'Argo let out a roar of a laugh and dragged my opponent out of the way. He sat in the empty place. "We'll just sit here for a while, while our invincible Peacekeeper recovers!" he laughed.
So we did. We ate a little more. They drank a little more. And we watched the festivities. I could feel my body dealing with the alcohol until the urge to vomit subsided and it ceased to be a struggle to sit upright.
* * * * *
The jugglers were leaving. Chiana somersaulted by our table as she left. A head band of plaited gold wire fell from her hair as she did so. "Frell," she muttered, and snatching it up dumped it on my head instead. "Didn't suit me anyway," she said with a grin.
I doubted that it suited me either, but John straightened it up so I let it stay. Chiana was on great form. We followed her out.
At the door John grabbed my arm and pulled me back inside. I kicked myself for missing a threat that he had seen. But he was pointing up at the roof where another bundle of greenery hung. It was nothing special - it had waxy leaves and little white fruits. "Wait," he said. "You know what that is?"
Obviously, I didn't.
"THAT is Mizl - toe," he said. "Kinda. . ." Which meant nothing to me.
"This is a very important part of the tradition." He stood me right under the Mizl - toe, and kissed me. It felt right. So I kissed him back. He grinned with surprise. He straightened the gold circlet that I had already forgotten I was wearing. "Suits you," he smiled, "that gold in your dark hair. You don't have royal blood, do you?" It was a John question. It didn't need an answer.
"Let's find Chi."
She was now with a crowd of young people down by the shore.
There was a ship by the water's edge; long and low, with a high sweeping prow and stern; beautiful lines. A single square sail hung from the mast. The breeze was already tugging at it. And the young people were splashing about in the shallows launching it on its way. I was surprised to see torches tossed aboard. Flames began to crackle on the deck.
Chiana was following into the shallows. "Chiana!" I called. She did not appear to hear. I had to catch her by the hand. "Chiana - let it go." I said.
She turned those big dark eyes on me, uncomprehending at first, then she nodded. "Yeah . . ." She flashed me her bright smile. "Thanks, Aeryn."
The few revellers who were still aboard were diving off now and swimming ashore. The fire took hold, licking along the edge of the sail.
John had snurched a thick cloak from somewhere. Standing in the swirling snow I was glad to share it. And Chiana had almost disappeared, wrapped as she was in D'Argo's arms and another thick cloak.
As the ship drifted to the horizon people were singing. Not the drinking songs of the hall - more like a hymn, soft and wistful. Sentimental stuff. But John was humming along softly - I could tell it had transported him back to his Earth again.
And so we saw the dawn after the longest night - at the turn of the year. The sun rose exactly where the bright dot of the fireship vanished. It struggled weakly above the horizon, through grey cloud. And then it broke free with a glorious flash of bright orange light, warming the whole sky. I could see how, for a planet-bound culture, this could be a moving moment. Frell - it WAS beautiful. I couldn't say as much to John though, because he chose that moment to kiss me again. "The sun returns, and Life goes on . . ." he said.
Well, maybe he is right.
* * * * *
Dec 2001
W
keeper of Aeryn's ignorant warrior
