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"Snow, Aeryn - look! It's snow!"
"I know snow, John," she said quietly. Whatever boyish memories it conjured up for Crichton, Aeryn remembered only a blizzard and a frozen lake.
He jumped down from the transport pod and found himself hip deep. "Among the trees," he pointed. "It won't have drifted so deep there."
"No," she countered. "We overflew a building. We will go there. We need shelter if we are to survive this. Come on. We can't stay here."
"Let's move guys!" Crichton called back into the pod.
Chiana and Jool tumbled out, coughing and spluttering. "How the frell did that leak happen?" Jool demanded. "Transport full of poisonous gas. Does anything you people own actually work?"
Patiently D'Argo said - " It needs *time* for proper maintenance and repair, just like everything on Moya."
"Including Moya's crew," Aeryn finished for him, under her breath.
"Well, we have time now - we can't board until the scrubbers have cleared it - that gives us about a solar day to be safe." John said.
Aeryn had already moved off, pulse rifle in the crook of her arm.
"Hey, you don't think Crais will run out on us?" Aeryn heard John wonder.
"With that crew?" D'Argo said. "A Boolite - or most of a Boolite - and an injured Scarran."
Besides, "Pilot will wait," she said.
Gathering all they could carry they set out after her. The girls were all in spacesuits. They kept the bitter cold at bay, but dragged in the deep snow too, slowing them. John and D'Argo trudged along gamely, taking turns to force a path through the deeper drifts. Rygel floated regally, and rather smugly, above it all.
Once or twice John looked about to question Aeryn's pathfinding, but she kept her expression set and refused to meet his eyes. Just as even Jool was running out of breath to complain they sighted the building. A sturdy, log-built place, with steep roof, small windows and, miraculously, a smoking chimney! "We did it. You did it!" John whooped, and Aeryn, in the lead just then, allowed herself a small smile.
They pushed through the door, only Aeryn & D'Argo cautious enough to have weapons at the ready. But a quick sweep of the place showed it was empty. A fire had been banked in the central fireplace. "They'll be back," Aeryn advised. "We must keep a watch."
They were in a big open room, with a wide half-floor above reached by a steep stair. The furnishings were all biggish, and rustic. Chiana spotted a table, laid for three, with platters of an unappetising gruel. She was chilled enough to try any sustenance at this point. But even Chiana, the great survivor, could not stomach the first which was horribly tart! She spat it out and passed on to the next. Rygel astonished her by wolfing down the one she had just rejected, and Jool beat her to the next, which was too sweet anyway, so Chi settled for the third, which was much tastier than it looked.
"Were you going to save any for the rest of us?" Aeryn demanded.
Chiana had the grace to look sheepish. "Oops! Sorry. There's some left in the pot."
"Well make sure it stays there", Aeryn said. She, Crichton and D'Argo pushed outside, through the even deeper snow, to search for fuel.
John found it first, stacked neatly in a lean-to beside the building. They dragged some in, and while D'Argo helped Aeryn to stoke the fire John scurried outside again. He was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore now. He had stopped trying to get her attention and apparently accepted her distance, but she wondered if he had finally cracked up - he was behaving today like an irresponsible child. He returned now with branches, green despite the winter, spiky and berry laden. "Look - holly, and ivy, well, sorta!" he grinned, and proceeded to drape them round the doorway, and the hood above the fire. "Deck the halls with boughs of . . . something," he warbled to himself. "And this," he grinned, stringing a sprig of something else from the rafters. He looked disappointed that no-one else recognised the significance of this little plant, but that didn't stop him grabbing Chiana and planting an enthusiastic kiss on her upturned face. "How did I earn that?" she grinned.
Jool had climbed the stair to roll herself in blankets on one of the beds. Warmth suffused the room from the fire below. She snored melodiously. Refusing the grey gruel cooling now in the pot D'Argo went up to claim another of the beds. He flung himself down on it, and it collapsed beneath him. With a grunt of disgust he stayed where he was, hunched the blanket round him, and dozed.
John began the hunt for more eatables, but Rygel was there first. "Nothing. . ." the Dominar grumbled. "We'll starve."
"Never mind Sparky," John grinned, "We'll go and shoot you something if we're stuck here long.
If something doesn't shoot us, Aeryn thought to herself. She resumed her restless patrolling of the windows.
Crichton came to peer over her shoulder. "Give it up. Come and sit by the fire. You can't see squat out there anyway."
"Someone left this fire burning. They will be back. I want to see them first." It was a pretty long sentence by today's standards. She went back to worrying about the mess of tracks they had left outside.
Still, she didn't see it coming. There was a tremendous crash against the roof, a slithering as something slid into the snow, and a howl as something else came down the chimney. The last something rolled swiftly out of harm's way and came up to his feet patting out flames.
John started awake with a cry of "How!? How did he know I was here?" Aeryn came within a dench of reaching to reassure him. She went with her first instinct instead, and pulled her pistol on the newcomer. "A few too many Minzp eyes with fire wine," he was muttering inexplicably. D'Argo came crashing down the stairway with Qualta blade at the ready, tripped over a chair, which disintegrated, and righted himself, growling.
"No need for alarm," the newcomer beamed, eyes sparkling above a thick white growth of facial hair. John was open-mouthed. Don't tell me, your name's Klaws? Santa? Come on . . .Tell me . . ."
He stretched out a big gloved hand "St'nik at your service," he beamed.
John shook his hand. "It's OK guys, he's harmless. So, where's the sleigh?"
"Sleigh?"
"Yeah you know, sleigh, Donner and Blitzen. How did you get here?"
"My transport is outside. I am afraid the rangifers had one too many. We, erm, we crashed. Most ignominious."
"You got goodies aboard?"
They all followed outside. Aeryn cautiously still held her gun, but the others helped St'nik rescue his load and drag sacks inside. The inebriated rangifers they stabled in the lean-to, where they dozed happily.
Crichton fell on the sacks with glee. "Woohoohoo! You got food in there, bud?"
Aeryn couldn't resist a smile at the bewilderment on the old guy's face - translator microbes meet John Crichton! Moya's crew all remembered the effect only too well. But now they were falling on the packages.
"Is this the lot?" John was asking.
"I was on the home run," St'nik said. "These sacks are my spares."
Disappointingly, what was emerging from the sacks was mostly inedible. Toys, baubles, knitted footwear. Chiana had found a large disc, or maybe a smallish target, marked out with rings and segments. It came with two packs of small, arrow-like missiles. She tossed a couple of them at the door, where they made tiny neat holes before falling to the floor. John looked up from his foraging long enough to say - "It's a GAME Pip! You take it in turns." He propped the target up for her.
Aeryn watched Chiana spear first a light sconce, then the wall until, with a shrug, she thought she should intervene for all their sakes. She gently prised the little missiles from Chiana's hand. "Like this!" Three throws; two 25s as she got her eye in, and a bullseye!
"Neat!" Chi said. Copying Aeryn's stance, with Nebari variations, she tried again, and got all three on the board. "Like that?" she beamed. "Give me a game?"
Soon Jool joined them, with a promise not to melt the fine metal points of the darts.
Enough food, and intoxicating drink, emerged from St'nik's load to feed them all, and to make one or two a little too happy. John was humming under his breath as he watched the snow continue to fall in huge white flakes outside. Where Aeryn stood on the far side of the room she could see his face and the bright fire reflected in the same window. When she moved closer she cold hear, "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas, Jus' like . . .." He turned. "Sorry honey, that's a bit cliched. It's the snow, and the fire and all. White Christmas; you know." She did know. He had told her all about his year-end festivals cycles ago. It beat his usual dreams she thought, smiling at his boyish absorption.
And then the door opened, and three huge fur covered beings entered. "Vorlags? Jool breathed in disbelief?
"No no no no," John beamed. "It had to be! It's the three bears! Hey guys! I guess you're gonna be kinda upset we ate your porridge? Oh, and the bed. . . it was never built for the big guy's weight. . . "
Aeryn couldn't help thinking he'd had rather too much of the spirits, but the newcomers looked nonplussed. At least they hadn't attacked yet!
"My chair," wailed the youngest, noticing the shards on the woodpile.
John was in full manic-Crichton mode by now though. "Oh this is perfect . . .! Look guys, this is your place right? We'll be out of you hair at sun up - just let us stay for now?"
D'Argo was on his knees talking to the youngster. Aeryn watched the tears stop as D'Argo clowned about trying to mend the chair. They ended with a three-legged stool, serviceable if the creature sat VERY still. It did not survive when D'Argo started to demonstrate rock, paper, scissors.
John had switched to his puppy-dog pleading. "There's stuff on our ship. Food - we can replace what we've eaten. And we'll tidy up before we go - we'll make it real nice & clean." He looked around at the crew for confirmation - getting little. "Please? Guys?"
Never mind how the three bears felt - Aeryn found John hard to resist in this mode. Peace was restored, and everyone began to gather round the central fire – passing round the last few Minzp eyes and fire-wine.
As John settled down in the warm glow from the fire again, she crossed the room and sat down by him; stiffly. He reached across and dragged a great cushion up behind her, subtly shifting closer so that, as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, he could leave his arm there too. Gradually she allowed herself to relax against the familiar warmth of the human. He nuzzled her hair - "Merry Christmas, baby. . ." he ventured, glancing up to where the sprig of rich green leaves and waxy white berries hung above them.
