DISCLAIMER: The DRDs are the property of Tim Ferrier. Everybody else belongs to Rockne O'Bannon, Brian Henson, and lots of other people. :)

 

ARCHIVING/FEEDBACK: Yes, please, to both! (author1@comcast.net)

 

NOTES: Sillyfic. Rated G. Set anytime after "Home on the Remains." Decent-sized spoiler for HotR, very tiny implied spoilers to "Durka Returns" and various early first season episodes.

 

"The DRDs Strike Back!"
by Icepixie, that-which-is-laughingly-called-a-story copyright 2000

 

* * * * *

 

Late one night cycle on Moya, Pilot was tapping away at his console with all four arms, humming softly to himself. He noticed that a rather large amount of DRDs were populating his chamber that night, but thought nothing of it, at least at first.

 

Eventually, though, Pilot couldn't ignore the gathering horde of mechanical yellow bodies anymore. The one that Crichton had repaired with blue "electrical tape," as he called it, rolled up on to the console and tapped one of Pilot's appendages with an eyestalk.

 

Pilot looked up, noticing with confusion and a bit of apprehension that his chamber was covered wall to wall in DRDs. "What do you want?" he addressed Little Blue, Crichton's nickname for the little machine.

 

Even Pilot's multi-tasking brain was somewhat overwhelmed with the response of *all* the DRDs in the room, which apparently were all the DRDs on Moya.

 

"You've formed a union?" Pilot asked in complete puzzlement. "What is that?"

 

Little Blue explained what the alien term meant.

 

"Why would you want an association like that? DRDs are not paid, you don't get sick..." Pilot was completely bewildered, and he had a feeling that at the root, it was all somehow Crichton's fault.

 

Little Blue chittered angrily, along with many of its fellows.

 

Pilot tracked the demands out loud. "You want protection against being pulled into space because of depressurization...protection from D'Argo...three weekens vacation per cycle?! This is becoming absurd." Definitely Crichton at the bottom of this. "What started this? One of your friends got sucked into space when we depressurized to let out Zhaan's pollen? Well, I'm very sorry, but..." Pilot was interrupted by angry squealing from several of the little yellow guys. He took a new tack. "We shall discuss this," he promised the DRDs, "as soon as I have a...talk...with Crichton."

 

Seeming to agree to this, Little Blue and its cronies rolled off of Pilot's console, and the rest of the DRDs went back to whatever task they had left to be present at this meeting.

 

Pilot pressed the comm control, uncaring that the Human was probably asleep. "JohnCrichton. Your presence is requested and required in my chamber."

 

There was a long pause before John's voice, husky with sleep, said, "What is it, Pilot?"

 

"I am in need of your...unique perspective."

 

"All right, all right. I'll be right there."

 

It was a few moments before John arrived in the chamber, T-shirt and pants looking rather rumpled and hair flying all over the place. Still blinking the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes, John asked, "All right, Pilot, what is it?"

 

Pilot cocked his head at the human. "The DRDs--all of them--just now approached me with the news that they have formed a 'union,' and that Moya and I must strictly adhere to the guidelines this union comes up with. Since I had to have the DRDs explain the term to me, I assume that you have something to do with this."

 

A smile was growing on John's face. "They actually did it," he murmured wonderingly to himself. He abruptly noticed Pilot's gaze boring into his head, and said, louder, "I didn't think they'd really try to form their own union. I just told Little Blue that they should start one, and Aeryn overheard and asked what that was, so of course I had to explain..." He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, the picture of innocence.

 

"Well, they want one now," Pilot said irritably. "They're demanding protection against unannounced decompression and Ka D'Argo--how am I supposed to do *that*?--and vacation time!"

 

Even John was stunned by that one. "What would a DRD need with a vacation?"

 

Pilot groaned. "I don't know." He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to see the unwanted sight of hundreds of DRDs pouring into his chamber, evidently thinking that they had a better chance of being heard when their sympathizer was around. Little Blue was already reiterating the DRD union's demands into one part of Pilot's consciousness.

 

Pilot looked helplessly at John. "What will they do if the demands aren't met?"

 

"Go on strike."

 

Pilot didn't have a clue what that meant.

 

"It can get...complicated, but basically they won't do any work until you and Moya meet their demands, or you work out a compromise," John explained.

 

Aghast, Pilot exclaimed, "They can't!"

 

Little Blue informed him that, indeed, they could. Starting right now, in fact.

 

John chuckled when Pilot appealed for help. "You're on your own for this one, Pilot. I'm rootin' for the little guys." With that, the human picked his way through the sea of DRDs to return to his interrupted slumber, unconcerned by Pilot's inarticulate protests. "You'll get it straightened out. Eventually. Don't worry," he tossed over his shoulder in an entirely too cheery manner.

 

Once John disappeared behind the door, Pilot let out a sigh and faced the now rather malevolent-looking mass of DRDs. At their collective returned stare, he sighed again.

 

"How much vacation time were you wanting?"

 

The End

 

 

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