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sg1 poke

Another snippet

I thought I would post as I go along. Here's another snippet.

Chiana sighed as she leaned back to rest her head on her Luxan lover’s strong chest. His arms circled her slim waist as his fingers absent-mindedly played with her fingers where they nestled in his. The past weeken was harrowing in the extreme. She was just a narl herself and there she had almost become a mother. Disease, kidnapping, puke, intoxicating beverages, filth, darkness, and then rescue…all in a day’s work on Moya. Chiana sighed again.

“What is on your mind, Chiana?” D’Argo rumbled from where her ear nestled.

“It-it’s such a life we have, D’Argo. Here we are safe on Moya but I can’t stop thinking of how close we were again to loosing it. Our luck is dren, isn’t it?”

“Well, we just have to make the best of the time we have and leave the future to the oricans and wild Nebari females,” D’Argo smiled down on her white hair which as usual flew every which way after their loving.

She leaned her head back and to the side to catch of glimpse of his smile through his beard and smiling in response, she buried her cheek in D’Argo’s shoulder and sighed again. D’Argo wasn’t sure whether her sighs were those of contentment or reflections of his own exhausted worry over his friends and their beleaguered relationships. He shook his tenkas back over his shoulder, brushing Chiana’s face in the process startling her with the vehemence of his action. She blinked and shook herself to shed herself of all of the dren roiling around the ship.

“He-hey D’Argo, Moya is due for some refreshment time before we leave on Crichton’s totally farbout adventure. How ‘bout you and I have some fun down there? What do ya say?”

“Chiana, we don’t need your kind of fun at the moment. I want us just to drop down, grab supplies and that new filter for Moya and get the hezmana out of Drodge, as John would say.”

“Awwww, D, I wanna see some action. I’ve been kidnapped, drugged, almost been pregnant, and then almost died from Noranti’s dren. Don’t we deserve some time off? I’ll just go and find Crichton. He needs some time away from all this dren.”

“Chiana…” D’Argo called, but the Nebari had already lifted herself off his lap and was out the door with his call echoing in the suddenly empty cell.

Chiana skittered down Moya’s golden corridors her thoughts on raslaks, bodies, and new sights and smells to be had. She suddenly found strong hands grasping her shoulders and she instinctively whipped out her knees and stuck out. John howled in angry pain and collapsed into himself grasping his privates and staring at the now startled girl.

“Chiana, what the f—frell! Oh my god that hurts! What did you go and do that for? Sheesh!” he gasped as he tried to dim the sharp shock to his system.

“Sorr-sorry Crichton. You were suddenly there and I guess I just did what I do. You know me, kick, kiss, or cry… Wanna come down and play?”

John sucked in a huge gulp of air and slowly straightened up. He adjusted himself and grinned at Chiana. “You know the “boys” could have done without the surprise, but yeah, I was just coming to look for you.”

“Drad. I’ll just get my traveling things and meet you down at the transport pod. This’ll be so bletz.” Chiana continued her glide down the hall as John looked on with a bemused smile and serepticiously rubbed himself.

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he whispered.


“Mud and mud and more mud,” John muttered as he tried to scrape the clinging stuff from his boots on the scrapper that rested just outside the door of the bar Chiana had located. It was a non-descript stucco-like structure with weathered grey walls covered in chipped paint that looked like it once upon a time featured some sort of green-skinned slit-nosed froggy critters coupling in impossible positions in the ubiquitous sludge. John shrugged at the erotic fresco with its missing pieces. The story of his life. As long as the place served some sort of rot-gut, he would be happy. Chiana skipped on ahead, for once her wary looks were replaced by the old slyly sensual glances of old. John smiled and shrugged.

John leaned his chair so that its back rested on the grubby peeling wall and blinked bleary-eyed at the scene before him. The various concoctions bought by Chiana were mixing sluggishly in his stomach and the bottles, twisted containers, and metallic cups lay discarded on the slick table.

Chiana leaned on the counter of the bar and glanced at the green-skinned native beside her. “You-you really are 400 cycles old! You don’t look like you are even old enough to drink intoxicants safely. That is so drad. Is that natural?” She asked slightly slurring her words as she leaned her face closer into the creature’s personal space. She could smell either a scam or a wonderful opportunity blossom here.

The obviously intoxicated creature grasped its goblet of thick greenish-brown liquid with its webbed three-fingered fist and tilted its slight body towards the Nebari. “Confidentially, my age is a gift of our gods. I’m not supposed to divulge state secrets to those who have not been initiated, but … for you, my dear,” His wide-mouth puckered as they stretched out to touch her grey lips.

Chiana squelched a shudder and let him kiss her hungrily. She purred after recovering from the wet sliminess of his touch, “Tell me more, I love secrets. How do you stay so young at your age?”

The alien giggled drunkenly and whispered in her ear. Chiana’s eyes widened as she grasped the most blek news she had heard in cycles.

John rubbed his aching eyes seeking to correct his double-vision. That last drink of greenish-brown milkshake really packed a punch. He glanced blearily over to where Chiana was conversing with the gollom-looking critter and waved. She smiled and picked herself off her stool. She obviously was doing way better than he was at the moment. John jumped as Chiana seemed to reappear at his side. “Do-don’t do that little girl. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Hey, old man,” Chiana giggled in his ear as she pushed her chair closer to where he sat. “I just learned the draddest thing. Would you believe that the Kotesh I was speaking to is over 400 cycles old?”

“Chi, I wouldn’t know what a Kotex looks like at 4 cycles old,” John grumbled.

“They-they have some sort of bath that takes off the years and gives you at least a hundred cycles of time. More time. Think about it, Crichton.”

John swayed in his seat and grinned at the two Chiana’s as they rolled in and out of his vision. “Sure, Pip, whatever,” he slurred and then jerked upward as she pulled him up by his outstretched arm where it lay on the table. “What the frell!”

“Come on Crichton. It’ll be the blekest. Let’s get you some youth, old man.”

John shrugged and figured if he went with Chiana he could keep her from getting in over her head, or his head, or somebody’s head. How did he get into these situations anyway?

John and Chiana followed the Koteshi as he moved rapidly in and out of the crowds of his fellow amphibians. The mud squelched under both the alien’s webbed feet and sloshed and bubbled over the Moyan’s as they ducked to avoid low-hanging signs and the arms and legs of passer byes and sought to keep up with their quickly moving guide. The Koteshi gestured frantically as he quickly ducked into another brown-grey stuccoed abode almost completely indistinguishable from all of the others on the street. “Quick, before we are seen,” he stuttered.


Steely Dan - In Good Company - Reelin' In the Years

Comments

Oh my...ixchup

You have done this piece proud. Evie is sitting at my computer with her cotton tail down, her little plot bunny mouth open. Keep it coming. The stick is close by. *reaching over to test point on pointy stick* Och! Yeah it is still sharp....
I've got a bad feeling about this....