TITLE: Pit Stop
AUTHOR: Michael J. Gallagher aka "MikeJoe" ( mikejoe@odyssey.net )
SYNOPSIS: Scene missing from "Slipfighters: The Dogs of War"
DISCLAIMER: I own neither DROM nor the other SF series I am referring to. (Anyone care to guess which one?)
WARNING: Nope, you don't want to be eating or drinking
====
"Are we there yet?" Dylan asked, sandwiched between Tyr and Trance in the rear of Beka's slipfighter.
"NO!" Beka, Tyr, and Trance shot back.
"My captain would not be asking that question repeatedly out of some suicidal impulse, would he?" Tyr asked.
"Actually, a hunger impulse," Dylan said sheepishly.
"Feelin' a little peckish myself," Beka said.
"As do I," Tyr said. "Unfortunately, this appears to be the one fighter without emergency rations."
"So'm I -- Wait," Trance said, rummaging around in her fanny pack, "I have something." She pulled out a little pouch with a drawstring on it.
"What is it?" Dylan said. He took a whiff. "Smells good."
"I don't remember the name," Trance said, opening the bag and passing out portions to everyone. "But my granny said it was a 'cleansing restorative.'"
Dylan wolfed down his portion and smiled. "Let's hear it for Trance's granny."
Trance beamed as she chewed her portion; Beka chewed on hers as she flew the ship. Tyr watched his companions for ill effects before finally, cautiously, eating his.
****
The planet was only two jumps short of the *Andromeda,* but they couldn't wait any longer.
The slipfighter touched -- more liked *thumped* -- down in a wooded area. Beka was out first, barely making it to some bushes before upchucking. Tyr somehow composed himself, maintaning an air of dignity as he found a spot, whereupon he brought up everything but his shoes and his lungs.
Trance was next out of the fighter, an odd look on her face. Dylan got to the ground last, and tapped Trance's shoulder; she nodded. Then bent over and vomited. Dylan held it until he'd made it a pace or two past Tyr.
Then Trance straightened, looking drained, and fell to the ground, completely still.
****
"Trance?" Dylan said. "Trance?"
"Still no pulse," Tyr said, his fingers on her neck. "Perhaps we should consider a burial?"
"Not likely. Trance?" Dylan tugged on one of her dreadlocks. "Trance!?"
"YIPE!" Trance sat up with a start. "The *hair.*"
"C'mon, we gotta get going." Dylan got to his feet and headed back for the slipfighter.
"So," Tyr said, helping Trance up, "when were you going to tell us what the 'cleansing restorative' cleansed and in what manner?"
"I didn't know it would do that," Trance said sheepishly, "although now that I think about it, I think I know why she said some of her friends didn't like it ..... "