THE FARSCAPE COOKIE MONSTER
By Minh and Kat (well, her toaster-oven, anyway)
SUMMARY:It's just an ordinary day on Moya… no, really. D'Argo's always had an easy-bake oven, didn't you know? And all Leviathan pilots LOVE cookies!
RATING:PG. And what is known in the trade as 'sillyfic'.
DISCLAIMER:We do not own them. We do, however, unfortunately, own this… We also own D'Argo's recipe and his cookie-cutters J
AUTHORS' NOTES:Midnight insanity. Don't ya just love it!? This started out innocently enough… and then surrealism set in. It was an AIM conversation, now it's a fic. Go figure. Think of this as a light relief from the angst-fest that is the end of season 3 (haven't seen it yet, have just heard rumours…)
SETTING/SPOILERS:No spoilers. Set somewhere Season 2ish. Whenever it was Stark appeared again… Probably just before "Liars Guns and Money Part 1"…
MESSAGE FROM THE UTSPCL (Uncharted Territories Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Leviathans):No Leviathans were harmed in the making of this fic.
This fic © T'eyla Minh 2001
It was an ordinary day in the Uncharted Territories. Moya, the immense, regal, bronze Leviathan, drifted peacefully through an uneventful crimson-coloured sky, tinged by cloud. Within her walls, her small crew went about their usual business.
Sebacean Officer Aeryn Sun, ex-Peacekeeper, was training in her make-shift gym, beating serious dren out of her punch-bag and making interesting dents in the workmat. As she spun around and planted a hefty Pantak jab into the leather surface, a figure in the doorway caught her attention. She stopped for a second.
"What do you want, Crichton?"
Commander John Crichton grinned. "Nothin' Just watching you."
She huffed. "Well don't. It's irritating." She hoped her tone was domineering. He grinned again, but made no attempt to move. "I mean it, get out!"
When she approached him menacingly, fists clenched, he finally backed off. "Okay, I'm going," he said, raising his hands in apology. "Just don't stay there all day, okay? I think Pilot wants to see you for… something."
With that, he walked off as Aeryn resumed her training, muttering something about a 'frelling human' before kicking her punch bag hard.
Crichton ambled casually down the corridor, whistling something tuneless that made sense to him two cycles ago, but was now just a random ditty. He passed Zhaan, meditating in her quarters. Stark, the Bannick slave, was in there with her, having an intellectual argument with a DRD.
"My side, your side, my side, your side, my side, your side! Understand?" The DRD bleeped, blinked, and rolled forwards to finish cleaning the floor. "No! MY SIDE! YOUR SIDE!" yelled Stark, and shoved it out of the way with his foot. There was an ominous pause before it shot him neatly in the ankle.
John smirked, and carried on walking, making his way towards Command.
As he rounded a corner, he crashed immediately into the young Nebari, Chiana. She picked herself up and glowered at him.
"Watch where you're going!" she grunted, and flounced off, a whirl of grey and white.
"Sorry, Pip!" he called, but she was already gone. "What's her problem?" he said to himself, heading towards Command again.
When he got there, he was instantly aware that something was very, very wrong. For starters, D'Argo was in there. This in itself wasn't that strange, it was just that he had left his Q'alta blade unattended behind him on a table. D'Argo never did that. D'Argo slept with his Q'alta blade.
The second thing John noticed was that he was singing a remarkably tuneful and jolly little song, swinging his hips in time with himself, and occasionally tapping his feet. Then, he embellished the dance with a graceful twirl, turning one hundred and eighty degrees and stopping when he saw John. They looked at each other. The human blinked.
"D'Argo… um… what the frell?" was all he could coherently manage to say, gesturing madly with one hand to encompass the Luxan's appearance. D'Argo cocked his head to the side and regarded his friend with the same incredulity. After a pause, he looked down at himself.
"Oh, this?" he said, referring to the pale pink apron, dotted liberally with embroidered flowers and the occasional chocolate stain, which he was wearing without any sign of embarrassment. "I'm cooking."
John blinked again, took a step back, then closed his eyes for five full seconds. When he opened them again, D'Argo was approximately two centimetres away from him. He leapt back even further, hitting a wall. "Geez, big guy, don't do that!" he said, removing himself from D'Argo's immediate vicinity. He processed the situation in his rapidly panicking brain. D'Argo. Cooking. A pink apron… Something didn't gel. And where was-
Suddenly, Crichton began searching about the room frantically, checking inside small spaces.
"What are you doing, John?"
Ignoring him, John looked up, scanning the high ceiling. "Rygel? Yo! Rygel? Spanky?" he called, then whistled. He wouldn't put it past D'Argo to throw the annoying Hynerian into a pot for saying the wrong thing.
"Don't be silly," said D'Argo. "I haven't seen him either…" Something pinged, and D'Argo merrily trotted over to a strange device on a shelf. He flung open the door and pulled out a tray. John approached cautiously, and was nearly shoved off-balance when D'Argo spun around again and thrust the tray at him. The smooth metal surface was covered by neat rows of perfectly round cookies. Double choc.
Crichton backed away again, fending off the apparently insane Luxan with his hands.
"Okay, Scorpy, what the hell did you do with D'Argo!?"
D'Argo rolled his eyes impatiently, and set the tray of cookies down to cool. "It's me, John. Why are you acting so strange?"
John laughed in spite of himself. "Why am I acting strange?! You're the one who's gone all Martha-Stewart-of-Lux on me! Did I miss something?"
"Martha… never mind…" He looked past D'Argo to the device he had been using to cook with. "Is that… an easy-bake oven?"
"A what?" asked D'Argo, adopting an expression very similar to Aeryn's patented 'human-nonsense' face. "I found it in the cargo hold. It's a Luxan device. We use it in case of emergencies or power loss on our ships. I was just testing it."
"And where did you get the recipe for the cookies?"
"Cookies. Cookies!" he reiterated, picking up one of the brown discs. "These things!" He dropped it again when he realised it was still hot, and shook his hand, cursing.
"That's an old Luxan speciality, they're called-"
"Forget it, I don't want to know!"
At that point, Aeryn wandered into Command, looking for Crichton. When he saw her, he ran over and promptly hid himself behind her. Wherever she moved to evade him, he followed her, and eventually stopped her moving any further by placing his hands firmly on her waist. She had two options: enjoy the moment, or yell at him. She chose yelling.
"What the hezmana are you doing, Crichton?"
He spoke close to her ear, while D'Argo watched the pair with interest. "Gimme your pulse rifle, Aeryn."
John lowered his voice. "I think D'Argo's possessed. If I can get him to Zhaan, she can tell us… but I'm not takin' any chances."
Unfortunately, D'Argo heard him. Or rather, he heard Aeryn's rather loud and puzzled cry of "Possessed?!", accompanied by an underlying, unspoken "have you gone completely mad?"
"I'm not possessed!" he said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "Now tell everyone to meet in Pilot's chamber, because I'm not going to let these all go to waste!" He indicated the slowly cooling cookies, which were starting to smell delicious and very tempting. Not so tempting, however, that John was going to be crazy or stupid enough to eat them. Knowing D'Argo, there was probably something disgusting in them… or poisonous… or both.
Aeryn was convinced of D'Argo's insanity by now. She had spotted the Q'alta blade. Backing a little further away, she lowered her own voice and said, "It'll probably be easier to keep him here and get Zhaan to come up to have a look."
John nodded. "Agreed." They looked at D'Argo. He smiled a warm smile, and began to untie his apron. John and Aeryn looked at each other, and simultaneously spoke into her comms.
There was no reply.
John spoke into his own comms. "Chiana! What the frell did you do to D'Argo?!"
There was a crashing sound, followed by a very bewildered and immensely guilty-sounding voice. "Nothing! I didn't do anything to D'Argo! Why?! Who told you?!"
"Calm down, Chi! I'm just askin'. He's acting kinda weird, is all."
"Well it's nothing to do with me! I haven't seen him all day! And I'm nowhere near his sleeping quarters…"
John decided it was safer not to ask. "Sure, whatever. Thanks."
Aeryn shouted into her comms. "ZHAAN!" There was still no reply. "Stark?" No reply. "What are they doing?" she asked, impatiently, then realised she'd answered her own question.
"Well, when I walked past her earlier, she was doin' the whole meditation thing, and he was yelling at a DRD…"
Aeryn thought for a few microts, stole a glance at D'Argo - he was taste-testing one of his creations - and pushed John lightly in his direction. "Keep him talking…"
Crichton nodded, swallowed, and walked as casually as he could towards the Luxan. "Hey… Regan!"
Meanwhile, Aeryn used all her Peacekeeper finesse to attract Zhaan's attention: "Zhaan! Stop playing with your pet Bannick, get your blue backside off the floor and get up to Command!"
The Delvian's calm, lilting voice sifted through the comms. "Aeryn… what's the matter?"
"D'Argo's gone completely farbot!"
Zhaan seemed to understand what she meant. "Fear not, my child. I told D'Argo to focus his hyper-rage into something productive. He's doing something unusual for him?"
"Yes. He's 'cooking'."
"Ah, wonderful! I'm glad to see he followed my advice." There was a pause, a muffled crunch, then she said aside, "No, Stark. Stark, leave it. Leave it!"
Aeryn looked across to see how John was faring. He was attempting to fend off seven feet of Luxan and trying to avoid getting any of the mysterious brown discs shoved into his mouth. He was only partially successful, and brown crumbs flew everywhere as he spat one of them out.
"Zhaan, I really think you should get up here. He seems to have taken it a little far-" She was promptly cut off mid-sentence by D'Argo's hand appearing over her mouth.
"Don't listen to them, Zhaan."
"Sweet D'Argo. How are you?"
"I've never felt better. If you meet us in Pilot's den, I'll show you what I made."
"Of course," she said.
He wandered back over to test the texture of the cookies with a sharp knife, whistling as he did so. John looked at Aeryn.
"You think maybe he hit his head?"
"I don't know. It's certainly a possibility."
"Hmm," he pondered. "Well, I guess there's only one way to find out." Off Aeryn's curious expression, he added, "I'll smack him over the head with something, see if he goes back to normal."
She stared, open mouthed. "And when were you planning on running? Before or after he wakes up?" She smirked. "I think you're the one who hit his head…"
John ignored her and walked quietly up to the table where D'Argo had lain his blade - see, it was a bad idea, Big Guy! - and picked it up. Approaching the Luxan, he beckoned Aeryn to join him. She sighed and followed.
He raised the weapon high above his friend's head, and said, "I'm sorry, dude, this is for your own good!"
He was about to bring the blade smashing neatly down onto D'Argo's head, when he turned around. Panicking, John gave the blade to Aeryn, who threw it behind her, and they grinned equally guiltily.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing!" they chorused. D'Argo rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever it was, stop it and come and join the rest of us in Pilot's den."
Microts later, D'Argo had gone, and taken his tray with him, leaving a bewildered Aeryn and a terrified Crichton in his wake. There was a brief stunned silence, then John snapped out of it.
"I guess we'd better go save Pilot from death-by-chocolate…" he said, and made his way to Pilot's chamber. Aeryn frowned, then followed him, her 'human-nonsense' face set on 'kill'.
Several minutes later, everyone was assembled in Pilot's chamber. Crichton was standing as far from D'Argo as possible, which was proving to be difficult as he had been chosen to try the cookies first and D'Argo kept following him.
Aeryn was positioned near Pilot, slouched in front of him watching the scene with interest. Zhaan was standing close by keeping an eye on her Luxan friend, eagerly anticipating the interesting delicacy he had been working on.
Chiana and Rygel had also made an appearance. The Nebari girl sat on the floor, fidgeting, while Rygel hovered annoyingly in his throne-sled.
"Come on, Luxan. I have things to do, food cubes to count-"
"Possessions to swipe?" interrupted John. Rygel frowned and went to hover somewhere else. Pilot, constantly moving his huge, four-armed body to control Moya, lifted his great head.
"Moya wishes to know why you are all assembled here. She is curious."
"Well, tell Moya she's about to find out."
"That would be ineffective, as you have just told her yourself, Ka D'Argo."
D'Argo shrugged. "Okay, everyone, I know you're all a little worried about me, but Zhaan will inform you I'm perfectly healthy. In fact I've never felt better."
The Delvian Pa'u nodded sagely. "Yes. D'Argo is fine."
Aeryn smirked. "Physically yes… it's his mental state we're worried about."
D'Argo rolled his eyes impatiently, then proceeded to walk to each person in turn, handing them a cookie each. "One for you… and you… and you… and you… don't give me that look, Chiana… and you, John, you get the biggest one."
"Why?" he asked, sniffing it. "So I get to die quicker?" D'Argo ignored him and moved to the centre of the group.
"Come closer, everyone."
"Oh. Fantastic. D'Argo thinks he's a boy scout leader…" said John, staying exactly where he was. Everyone else moved cautiously forwards, with the exception of Pilot, who merely craned his neck a little closer. While they exchanged nervous glances (all except Zhaan, who appeared at peace with the universe), D'Argo looked pointedly at John.
"Do not make me go over there…"
Somewhat reluctantly, he dragged himself to sit next to Aeryn. When everyone was assembled, the Luxan warrior positioned himself, cross-legged, at the head of the circle, and placed the tray on the floor in front of him.
"Well? Eat," he commanded. Everyone watched as Zhaan calmly took a small bite out of her cookie, chewed it slowly, swallowed… and smiled.
"Very good, D'Argo. You have surpassed yourself."
The rest of Moya's crew breathed out. Rygel, now convinced that he wasn't being poisoned, gobbled his entire cookie in two bites, burped loudly, and gave D'Argo his usual unimpressed look.
"Hmm. They're edible."
Stark stared at his cookie as though it were some ethereal being, holding it gently between his fingers. "I feel its pain…" he said mysteriously. Then he put it out of its misery.
Chiana and Pilot were next. Chiana ate hers carefully, nibbling around the edges and working her way to the centre in ever decreasing circles. Pilot sniffed his cookie and took a bite. After he swallowed it, he said:
"Moya and I like your cookies, Ka D'Argo. Are there any more?"
"Plenty," he said, and handed Pilot the tray. The purple alien grabbed three handfuls (literally) and shovelled cookies into his mouth at a speed never witnessed before, until D'Argo yanked the tray off him again. "Save some for the rest."
Through a mouth filled with chocolate, Pilot said, "Moya finds my behaviour most disturbing… however, these are quite delicious." With that, he stuffed three more into his mouth and chewed loudly.
While D'Argo watched in disbelief, and some pride, Chiana snuck up to him, quickly snatched two more cookies off the tray, hid them about her person, and went to hide somewhere in order to eat them. Nobody was going to eat her share. Rygel had already lost interest and had hovered off somewhere.
John and Aeryn were busy sharing nervous glances as they observed their fellow ex-prisoners. Neither of them had eaten their cookies, and some of the chocolate chips were starting to melt. Aeryn prodded him.
"You go first."
"Okay, fine," conceded John. "We'll do it together."
"That's fair." Aeryn swapped her cookie to the opposite hand and examined the chocolaty mess left behind. She shrugged and licked all the chocolate off, a split second before John managed to wrench her hand away.
"What?" she asked irritably, swallowing the chocolate. John paled, adamant she was going to die painfully of instant-acting food poisoning. He put the back of his hand to her head.
"You feel okay?"
She moved her head out of the way and frowned at him. "I'm fine, what are you-?"
"God, never do that again!"
"I didn't do anything."
"We don't know what's in these things! Remember, Zhaan said he was 'focussing his hyper rage'? Who knows what that means. If one of us pissed him off, he might be trying to poison us all."
"Well, there doesn't appear to be anything in… this, whatever it is."
She tested the word. "Chok-lut… It's nice. A bit sweet, but…" Crichton made himself a mental note. Buy Aeryn chocolates… oh, sure, I'll just ask at the next commerce planet… She swapped hands again, destroyed the evidence on her fingers, and frowned at him. "Look, can I eat this thing? It seems to be dissolving."
"It's melting. It doesn't handle heat well, kinda like you." She gave him her best "hurry up" stare. "Okay, we can eat them, but first… I have to say something."
"Make it quick."
"Right…" He closed his eyes to think, then opened them again. "Well, obviously the chocolate chips are safe, but God only knows what he's put in the cookie dough… In all likelihood, neither of us will survive this, and just in case… I want you to know… I have to tell you." He took a deep breath. "Aeryn, I-"
His sentence was cut off by a crunch as Aeryn bit into the cookie. Chewing, she said, "Yes? You what?"
"I…" Aeryn swallowed. She didn't die. "Ah, screw it," he said, and ate his cookie. He smiled. "D'Argo! Dude, these are really good!"
"And you were so worried," said D'Argo, tutting at him.
Within microts, all of the cookies were gone, and everyone had returned to their quarters. Zhaan and Stark were indulging in a deep conversation about the spirituality of cookies, and how Stark believed D'Argo had killed something to put in them. Chiana and Rygel were blowing stuff up in D'Argo's easy-bake oven, snickering gleefully every time it made a mess. Pilot had given himself a stomach ache, which in turn had given Moya a stomach ache, and every few minutes the ship would lurch, and groan, and her amnexus fluid would bubble ominously.
John was busy explaining the chocolate-coated joys of Earth candy to Aeryn, who vowed that if she ever went back, she'd spend her life in an ize krim parlour which sold chok-lut sprinkles…
And D'Argo? D'Argo had been locked in the cargo hold because his hyper rage had returned. He kicked something violently, enjoying the bang it made, as Zhaan spoke to him over the comms.
"Zhaan!" he yelled, hacking something in two with his Q'alta blade. "Shouldn't you be frelling Stark or something?!" A container flew across the room and hit a far wall, where it shattered. "And when are you going to LET ME THE FRELL OUT!?!"
Zhaan merely laughed. "Sweet D'Argo…"
"Don't call me that."
"I apologise… I will let you out when you promise to control yourself. I've told you what you can do to focus your rage."
"No. No way in hezmana will you get me to-!"
"Fine. You can stay in there for another weeken, or until you calm down, whichever comes first."
There was sudden quietude. D'Argo sighed heavily, his impatience showing through. "Fine," he said. "Fine, I'll do it." A pause. "What do you want me to sing…?"