And that's how Commander John Robert Crichton, Jr, human scientist and astronaut formerly of Earth but now lost in space with a motley crew of fugitives, found himself sitting in the cockpit of the Peacekeeper Prowler with ex-Peacekeeper officer Aeryn Sun at the flight controls, flying into the mouth of a probe which harbored the most advanced supercomputer think tank he had ever thought to encounter and wondering how a good day had faded away so fast.

"Somethin's gone wrong with the universe when a machine starts giving orders," John remarked. The argument on Moya had been that Crichton was the scientist and should be allowed to be one of the two to go because in this rare case ‘he would be needed in repairing the maintenance bots of the probe.’ He had interjected at this point into the discussion "or disabling the probe" and received from D'argo a humoring look and from Zhaan the comment, "It's good to be optimistic, John," which was almost as bad as the outright laughter of Rygel. Chiana, skipped through the discussion lightly, trying to add a tidbit to it here and there but being rapidly silenced every time.

John's thought was to take one of the transport pods over but then Aeryn for the first time entered into the group's discussion. It had been taken for granted that her involvement in today's mission would be minimal for she was still recovering from a recent wound and none of them would have asked her to expend herself again so soon. "Unacceptable," she killed John's idea with one word. Then, she explained, "If the Peacekeeper force is alerted, a transport pod would not be able outrun them or even return to Moya before it became necessary to starburst. We cannot afford to lose the pod and Crichton is still learning how to fly it."

"Fine," John replied, a little resentful of the implication that he couldn't handle a transport pod. He'd roped Aeryn into giving him lessons on flying the Prowler and felt he wasn't half bad at it. Granted, the Prowler wasn't biomechanoid technology like the transport pod. Still, after that embarrassing incident in this morn--well earlier today--he balked at the memory. Guess I owe her one. He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the Sebacean. "What's your plan, Aeryn?"

"Only the Prowler would have a fighting chance and I could help Crichton with any equipment he may be unfamiliar with using," Aeryn had told the group, sedately. Her reasoning seemed sensible and had been accepted by the rest. Aeryn and John would be the two sent over to the probe.

"What about a back-up plan?" John had suggested, but no one seemed to be willing to hear him out as the arn allotted for their decision rapidly dwindled away. Still, he wasn't discouraged. Here was another chance to show himself to be a useful rather than ignorant human being.

Aeryn's landing on the platform was the flawless performance of a skilled and experienced pilot. John waited while she went through the shut-down sequence and checked the pressure outside of the probe's interior. Evidently, an invisible force field had been erected after their passage through the mouth of the probe, keeping the vacuum of space outside.

John and Aeryn exited the Prowler. They were both wearing environmental suits (John having a new helmet since the incident with the flax) and John held up a hand held scanner to test the air. Pilot and Moya hadn't been able to determine the environment inside the probe...all their attempted scans of the interior's atmosphere had been blocked.

"Breathable," said John, interpreting the readings on the scanner. The different-colored lights on this particular technology had proven puzzling to both Aeryn and D'argo but John was pleased he had a knack for reading it.

Aeryn removed her helmet and set it near the Prowler. "Then, let's get to work, shall we?" she suggested, keeping her pulse rifle in readiness for the faintest hint of danger.

"Yeah," John took his helmet off and set it next to Aeryn's on the cold floor of the landing platform. He looked around the room they had entered. It was square with high walls. Above their heads, he could see there were other levels that could be reached by climbing ladders. "Let's unload the barrel."

"What barrel?" Aeryn asked.

"I brought along a few extra things, just in case. I was in the landing bay while you were getting those spare weapons, remember?"

"Yes." Aeryn looked like she thought this was a total waste of time. "What extra things?"

"Handy stuff," John smiled and went to get it. "Aw, c'mon, Aeryn. It's heavy."

"You should have thought of that before you packed it. I thought you said we wouldn't need a lot of tools. Why don't we do what we came to do and get out of here?" Although she would never have admitted it and she hid it well from the others, including Crichton, she hadn't exactly been feeling herself lately.

While she was speaking, John rolled the barrel out of Prowler to the ground and sat it upright. Standing upright, the barrel just reached his chest. He looked at Aeryn with a strange expression on his face. She wasn't afraid of a little heavy duty work. He'd have to ask her about this later...when they were back on Moya.

"What?" she asked.

John shook himself from his observations and said, instead, "Don't you think it's strange the computer hasn't talked to us once since we got in here?" He looked up again and began to pace in a small circle. Cupping his mouth with his hands he cried, "Yo! We're here. Now what?"

BANG! Darkness engulfed them and the floor shifted beneath their feet. Then, there was a flicker as the lighting returned. Able to see again, John and Aeryn noted the landing platform they stood upon had been retracted inward further and the opening to space closed. They were now shut within the interior of the prism-like alien probe.

Aeryn was on full alert. "I don't like the looks of this," she said. Her eyes darted back and forth searching for movement.

"Well, I guess it knows we're here," John gulped. He deliberately raised his voice and jerked his head, putting on a false bravado that Aeryn recognized from the time they had dealt with the dog-like bounty hunting blood trackers planetside. "I said, 'we're here!' So hurry up and show us to the maintenance bots already!"

The lights above the landing platform dimmed to illuminate a single ladder which led upwards.

"Guess that's our invitation," John said, blue eyes peering at the shining ladder through half-closed eyelids.

They both shed the suits for the clothes they wore underneath which were more suitable for climbing. White shirts and black pants. Aeryn retained the rifle, but needing her hands and legs free for scaling the ladder it was now slung over her back. John went up first, Aeryn came from behind him. The rungs of the ladder were slippery beneath their palms. John glanced at one of his hands and saw a sticky green mess had adhered to it. Yuck. He attempted to quell his disgust and kept on climbing.

It was obvious that no beings of flesh and blood had been here in a long time. The atmosphere was that of neglect and disrepair reminiscent of the few arns they had spent aboard the Zelbinion when they had come upon the PK tech girl. The air held the same kind of eerie silence. It gave John the creeps.

"Alright enough of this," John grunted as he reached what he was sure was the sixth platform. He stepped off of the ladder to alight on the floor of the level, wiping his hands on the leg of his trousers. "Super technology and they don't equip it with an elevator," he spoke to no one in particular, trying only to break this foreboding silence. He glanced around the level upon which he now stood and caught sight of something. "Bingo!"

Aeryn climbed up after him and stepped from the ladder as well. "Bingo?" she repeated, seriously. "Crichton?" she asked, anxiously. Her eyes searched his face. He had that glimmer in his eye. The one she knew too well. The one that meant: I-have-a-plan.

John was already kneeling and examining what had caught his eye a greying (or should he say, greening panel.) It was located beneath a dusty computer screen. There was a small jagged crack running through the panel. He tried to slip his fingers underneath the crack and get a grip on it but the slime kept causing it to slip from his grasp.

"What are you doing?" Aeryn asked, painfully aware they still had to ascend the ladder to reach wherever this machine was guiding them in order to accomplish their task. Normally, the climb wouldn't have bothered her...she had a reserve of stamina and strength built from years of training. But the fact this recent exertion had bothered her concerned her. She made a mental note of it then pushed the worry away. The sooner they finished this and got back to Moya the better.

"You know," John drawled. "A dog never pays any attention to its fleas...until the fleas bite!"

Aeryn raised an eyebrow. Not because of something he had said or done wrong but because she had actually understood what this human was trying to say. "Move away from that panel!" she ordered, undoing her rifle strap from her shoulder and, slime or no slime on her hands, taking a solid grip on her rifle. She was pleased that Crichton did not have to be told twice.

John took one look at Aeryn and scrambled promptly out of the way, taking up a position behind her. He had read the look in her eye. The same look she had given him right before applying a pantack jab to his person. She had an idea.

There was a hum as the rifle's chamber powered up. She took aim, pinpointed the target with deadly accuracy and pulled the trigger.

BLAST! Lightning leapt from the gun. The cracked panel broke from the wall, clattered to the floor, and skittered harmlessly across its surface before coming to rest. The panel directly next to it creaked from the extra stress, tottered, then also fell heavily to the floor missing Aeryn's boot toes by mere centras.

"Did I bite hard enough?" Aeryn asked with a smile twisting around the edges of her mouth.

"Yeah and then some," John whispered, rubbing his chin and sniffing. The scent of charred metal now hung in the damp air. He pushed by Aeryn again and studied the exposed connections the panels had guarded. He found the connection he wanted and fingered it. "Alright now, Iydkwdg," John said. "Talk to me." He yanked the connection cord with all his might.

"Idickwidig?" Aeryn repeated, looking very puzzled indeed. "Are my translator microbes malfunctioning? Did you just call it that?"

"Iydkwdg. Just a little play on Coca-Cola." Sparks flew out of the end of the disconnected cord and John backed away from it slightly, releasing his hold upon it.

Well, so much for understanding his human expressions, Aeryn thought. "Coke aco--what?"

"It's a drink." He looked down at the fried panel he had backed up onto and then stepped off of it, kicking it aside.

"You're naming a highly advanced probe after a drink?"

"No," John smiled. He wondered if translator microbes could fully give the meaning what he was trying to convey in English. It was doubtful, but he moved closer to her and tried to explain it anyway. "Iydkwdg. Each letter stands for a word. Spelled out it's, If You Don't Know We Don't Go. Maybe this baby knows a thing or two 'bout wormholes and Earth." He patted the undisturbed portion of the probe's wall. "But if it don't know, we don't go."

Aeryn said, "Quite accurate. It's...it's interesting,"

Crichton gave her a look.

Aeryn quickly cleared her throat. "The expression I mean." She stepped away from him and moved towards the ladder but stopped as a loud clicking noise reverberated through the air.

The voice resonated throughout the structure. "UNAUTHORIZED ACTION!"

"That got your attention!" John shouted back at it. "Listen, Know-It-All, if you want us to repair your bots then we need to communicate. No more of this silent treatment. You get my drift?"

"You are a carbon-based life form which requires oxygen. You can be deleted," replied the imperious voice of the machine so matter-of-factly that John could feel his stomach start to coil.

He looked sharply at Aeryn. Had a hint of fear crossed her face? Nah, couldn't have been. More than likely, she had been calculating how fast they could descend and get into their environmental suits should the threat be carried out. The thought brought him a sense of calm. If she could handle this, he could handle this. The thought calmed him and the coiling feeling subsided. "You delete me and then who's going to repair your maintenance bots?" John challenged. "You need me." He looked at Aeryn and drummed his fingers across his comlink. "You need us. So let's talk. Okay?"

There were three loud clicking noises and one huge whirring wail that sounded almost like a sigh and then, "Affirmative. Communication initiated. Proceed upward to next horizon."

John grinned at Aeryn. Now they were getting somewhere.

5.

Chiana was thinking better of this little scheme. Being confined in such a small space was not her idea of a good time and she wondered why she had actually let the human talk her into this plot. She hadn't bought his speech about becoming part of a team...but she had agreed to follow the rules when she saw the others follow them. Sure, it wasn't always fun but something amusing was always bound to happen hanging around this crew. And when she got bored, she could always pester Rygel.

How had she gotten from that to this?

John Crichton had pulled her aside and remarked he'd heard her mention she was good at cracking computer codes. Would she join today's mission? She had been on the verge of saying no, but then he had mentioned casually that the others would know nothing about it...that she would be a secret back-up plan. The covertness and sneakiness of the idea had appealed to her. Especially after the others had refused to let her in on today's deliberation. He had told her she might become a heroine and save the day...(she could care less about that) but he had added that she might earn their gratitude. The crew? Feel grateful? To her? When they barely even bothered to listen to a word she had to say. She'd almost laughed. Still, she was curious about what sorts of useful information the probe had to offer. It was so tempting, she couldn't refuse.

Only the human had neglected to tell her everything, Chiana puffed. Being curled up in this position was uncomfortable and Crichton had set the barrel down none to gently. At least that Sebacean female could have helped him a little with the barrel so she could avoid bruising. Besides...it was getting stuffy in here. Had Crichton punched enough airholes in the lid?

Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tappity, tap. The sound came through her comlink. Her ears perked. The signal. All of Chiana's reflections vanished as she contemplated a new game. The lid flew off of the barrel and the petite Nebari emerged in an instant. In the next instant, only an empty barrel was left forsaken on the platform next to the silent Prowler.