Straight from an "The Outers Limits" episode?

Zhaan

"You know, the one . . . you ran into?" I add, smiling my most winning smile. "Us inadvertent stowaways shall keep our peace until then. Promise!"

"A . . . very enlightened suggestion," I say after what I believe Crichton would call a pregnant pause.

Sad to say there are many out there who are less than enlightened.

Indeed and to be fair until I took up the Delvian Seek I myself could hardly be called enlightened. If not for that, I would still be a savage, capable of anything.

It remains to be seen what and who these strangers are, but for the moment they do not appear to me to be savages.

Savages would have cut us down where we stood. We would not have known until it was too late.

Under other circumstances I might have . . . detected their presence (maybe), but my attention had been more on the collision than anyone coming out of nowhere to surprise us . . .

"Uh . . . Zhaan," one of the two young grey females puts in before I leave. "About D'Argo . . . a-and Aeryn! I mean, don't we need to let him know . . "

I blink, surprised. Imagine, I had totally forgotten about D'Argo and Aeryn! So young and quick to action, dear young D'Argo! Aeryn, so fiery . . . If he should come across this "village" these strangers talk of and . . .

"Get on the ground and . . ." I hear Aeryn shouting, followed by echoed orders by D'Argo. . .

Interrupted by the scream of what I fear is an energy weapon and the thump of two bodies hitting the ground!

"Zhora! Leon!!" the short, sharp eared male shouts into what I take as a communicator. "Sitrep!! Tell me you didn't change the weapons setting! Sitrep now, damnit!"

"Aeryn?" John coms, not waiting for an answer . "D'Argo? Aeryn? Aeryyynnn!!"

Leon

Nodding slightly in satisfaction, putting up one down (THIS time) for implanted skills (which us Replicants get) winning against skills honed by years of use (as I feel the woman and this strange tentacled male warrior have, I saw it in their moves).

That and a dollop of luck! Luck plays a part in things, you know . . .

Bakc earlier today (in another universe) I'd seen learned skills trump implanted skills, in of all areas the heart!

. . .

My, didn't Pris look pissed off that Aeryn Pip got (and kept) R.J. Sebastian's attention vice her! Then again, even though Pris is . . . good at her job, having been created on Vallantine's Day as a "basic pleasure unit" for the regulars. In passing I hear that Aeryn Pip's been doing that . . . stuff for a lot longer than Pris EVER would have been alive to do. Combine that with the fact that she had a . . . knack in the first place and..

Ah, nevermind!!

I and Zhora drop down from the high spots in the hallway area (strange walls, these, within this spaceship). One of these . . . these beastmen had said someone had coming from a direction opposite the way the elves and others had gone.

We'd played it safe, hiding in the rafters (as it were) to get a jump on the newcomers in case they were hostile (and they'd BEEN that).

. . .

Or at least LOUD while both armed manimals and they faced off with weapons drawn. One wrong move (pros or not ) could be because . . .

"B'Elanna!!" Elrondir shouts over my combadge (hey, useful for not only communicating over distance but a built in translation circuit, nice!) "Sitrep!! Tell me they didn't change the weapons setting OFF stun! Sitrep now, damnit!"

To add to the confusion, some guy's yelling over their combadge (or whatever), making Zhora having to yell to be heard!

"Some of the guys you handed the phasors to fiddled with the buttons," Zhora says. "But no casualties! NONE! Only two hostiles suffering from . . .heavy phasor stun!"

Nervous habbits, I'd read, for those new to handling guns. Back in the early twentieth century I read tales of how new recruits had accidentally shot themselves or their friends while f*cking around. We'd started to shout at the furry fre . . . uh . . . Best not to be calling these manimals freaks. Not nice AND rather dumb, really.

Just . . . these are the first sets of actual NON-humans I (or anyone) of my reality to meet aliens and all that. Who am I to be name calling and all that. Shit, I hate it when "normal" born humans call my kind "skinjobs".

Better watch that budding stupidity before it gets me in trouble, anyway.

The blond elf confirms Zhora's report and that same male voice is now whooping for joy, and then . . .

B'Elanna

"Thank Go . . . what?" I hear Crichton ask. "PHASOR stun?! But phasors are from Star Trek! What next, the Voyager?!"

. . .

Glad that he's not here because I feel like giving him a good swat to the head right now . . . He's so VERY into those pop culture refs.

I resemble that remark . . . given my odd origin....

"The truth is more difficult to believe now quickly enough, John." I sigh, tapping the com unit that the still unconsious Aeryn Sun wears. "The truth's out there but it's weirder than any Outer Limits episode you'd care to name.

"But you DO have that ship with a rather massive energy weapon to greet," I add, noting the readings I see from the tricorder I consult.

Yep, more than just powerful enough for it to show despite Moya's lifesigns all about.

Well, of COURSE Zhaan and the others up in Control have to first at least see for themselves (tend to any wounds) of the fallen. THEN it's down to the Maintenance Bay (some of our numbers join the natives to add enough numbers for a greeting party). We decide to trust them (gut feeling) and they decide (since we DO actually rather outnumber them but haven't tried anything hostil) to trust us.

. . .

We're going to need all the help we can give each other if we're not lucky . . .

Of course, one small crewmember of Moya had been too busy stuffing his face to make note of what has been going on so hasn't show his small, slimy butt . . . yet.

"My, what a bit gun you have there!" I say softly to the one eye huamn looking man who's awaiting in front of the Nebari transport vessel. "Do be a dear and stop there."

The last part is more order than request.

"Powered right down," the one eyed man says calmly. "That is, for the moment. Is that not evidence of our peaceful intentions?"

"There are more on your ship," Crichton says, more statement than question.

He has a look of . . . anticipation on his face. Maybe even dread?

"Two others, also...unarmed," the one eyed man reveals, slowly and calmly. "May I inform them that is is safe for them to emerge?"

"Sure, go and do that," Crichton mutters. "Uh . . . before you do that mind if I ask ya your handle?"

"Your name," I clarify, seeing the blank look that the man gives. "He's asking your name."

"It is Durka," he replies, after the clarification. He's in the middle, then, of calling back to someone named Salis

"WHAT?" a male voice (a floating slug's voice) shouts from off the side.

Damn, it looks like our hand might have just been tipped early here by THIS reality's Rygel who the girls in gray had tried to delay each in their own special way . . .

1. He's overheard us . . .and has flown over Chiana's and Aeryn Pip's heads and into the bay, seeing for himself that Durka is ALIVE!

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