Crichton was singing again. "I can't get no satisfaction... I can't get no..."

"Frell," Aeryn muttered. The human music wasn't bad, exactly-- although the scale was odd, the rhythm was quite like that of children's marching songs-- but the lyrics were absolute dren. Of course the yotz can't get any satisfaction, there aren't any females of his species here. And what's this business about _trying_?

She'd go look over her Prowler. After all, something might have gone wrong in the past two arns.

She nearly wept with disappointment when the diagnostics showed all systems at one hundred percent. Microts crawled by like arns as she tried to think of something else to do. She'd already reread every book in her possession at least three times, even the Uniform Code of Peacekeeper Justice and the dreadful One-Hundred-and-One Things to Do with Food Cubes, and... Wait! The survival kit has a manual.

She pulled the slim case from the cockpit and sat down on the deck to open it. She removed the folded exposure suit, and set the hunting weapon and its three magazines of tiny darts carefully on top. Next would be the sleeping bag, and then...

"Why did I leave this in here?" It was a cloth replica of a bamuut, a homeworld animal, covered in synthetic fur and stuffed with soft material. Her first wingmate had given it to her, at the end of the weeken of planetary leave their class had received on graduating flight school. It had been the fashion to give each other silly gifts, the sort of mild indulgence the High Command permitted pilots and other elite personnel.

Such a odd little thing. It was called a "stuffed animal," or a "toy," which last in Peacekeeper dialect meant a low powered primary training weapon. Supposedly it was something made for civilian children to "play" with. Play... what did that really mean? She thought sometimes that civilians were as strange as any alien. Perhaps even as strange as the human.

Perhaps they were used to hit each other with? Not likely; far too soft. As markers in some sort of incomprehensible contest? She held the little bamuut up and looked at its black button eyes. Odd... it's almost as if something were looking back. She shivered; old superstitions never entirely rooted out told of things that came alive.

An impulse took her, and she grasped the furry thing in her arms. Microts later a a small smile crossed her face. It was almost like holding a close comrade during recreation, but without the urgency. Who had held her that way, and when?

Her eyes began to water. "Dren." It would be horribly embarrassing if someone wandered in and saw her like this. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"Hey, Sunshine."

"Frell," she muttered, and quickly laid the stuffed bamuut on the deck beside her. Why did the human keep calling her "Stellar Radiation"? "What is it, Crichton?"

"Just thought I'd take a look at my module. So, what're you up to?"

"I'm not 'up' to anything. Just checking my emergency supplies."

"Oh. Is that your teddy bear? I always knew you had a soft spot."

"I have no idea what a 'tehdi-bare' is, and if you mean to say that I have a point-of- weakness..."

"Hey, relax. Didn't mean to get you riled up, babe. I'm just curious, is all. So, little Peacekeepers do have stuffed animals, after all."

"No."

"Umm, Aeryn... if it's not from when you were a kid, why d'you have it?"

"Deveyla."

"Hmm?"

"My first wingmate. When we finished flight school, everyone gave each other silly presents. This is something for civilian children; she bought it in a shop on our first leave after graduation."

"So it's your good luck charm?"

"No. We don't believe in charms."

"Ah, so you just carry it around in your Prowler for no reason."

"Exactly."

"Right. It's a cute little thing. Hmm, looks almost like something I've seen somewhere. Mind if I take a look?"

"No." If I don't let him, he'll never stop bugging me about it. Insane excuse for a sentient being.

He sat down cross-legged, the "toy" between them. He picked it up with a gentleness that reminded her of... Don't think about her. Or _him_, either.

He turned it around in his hands, looking at the shaggy coat, the curving tusks. "Huh. This looks like a mammoth. Or maybe a mastodon, I never could remember which was what."

"Bamuut."

"Huh?"

"It's a Homeworld animal. They're herded for milk and fur, and they run wild on the plains. In ancient times, they were ridden in battle."

"They did that with elephants in India."

"Endia? I thought your planet was called Erp."

"Earth. India is a country, a piece of land on the planet. Sure is funny how much this thing looks like a mammoth."

"A mammoth?"

"Yeah. An extinct critter. Like a big furry elephant. Or this."

"I don't know what an elli fant is. I don't know why you find a chance resemblance amusing. And I don't know why you're so frelling curious."

"Human nature, Sunshine, human nature. I've just been sort of wondering why it is that we look so much alike. Any chance you've got a map of Sebacea?"

"Homeworld."

"Whatever. Do you?"

This was annoying. She ought to simply put away her gear and leave. But if she did that, she'd never have a moment's peace from him. At last, she reached into the kit and opened up the planetary survival manual. "Here. Satisfied?"

He whistled through his teeth. "Jesus. Sunshine... that's Earth."

"Impossible."

"Doesn't make sense to me, either, but I'd know those continents anywhere. Hmm, there's glaciers down into... looks like somewhere in Ohio, and the continental shelves are land... hot damn. Wish I'd paid more attention in that geology course, but my best guess is that it's... say, more than thirty thousand years-- cycles-- before my time. Could be a lot more, depending which glaciation it is."

"Nonsense. You've got to be mistaken."

"Credit me with _some_ intelligence, Aeryn. Happen to know if your 'Homeworld' is warming up?"

"Well... there was some talk. I'm a soldier, and spaceborn. Why would I care?"

"Talk?"

"Yes. Something about entire continents becoming unhabitable in the next few thousand cycles. All right?"

"Hmm... Sort of funny that we humans don't get Heat Delirium the way you do."

"Chance. Even the worst species must have some advantage."

"Fascinating." He raised his eyebrow in a remarkably silly gesture which looked to be the result of much practice. "I don't know why we've found nothing that looks like a spacefaring civilisation back then, but... most of your technology biodegrades, doesn't it?"

"Spare me, Crichton."

"How many planets in the system?"

"Nine."

"Same as ours."

"There must be hundreds of systems with nine planets."

"And the fifth planet is the biggest. And then there's an asteroid belt, and the fourth planet's red, and the third one is 'Homeworld.' Right?"

"Dren. Frelling dren."

"Ah, Aeryn?"

"What?"

"Maybe you should stop beating your head against the deck?"

**********
Well, this is an idea I've had knocking around in my head for a few years, actually. Yes, I know it's scientifically impossible; I have a BA in anthropology, most of an MA, and a fair bit of experience as a professional archaeologist.

I still think it's a fun idea, and makes about as much sense as any other pseudoscientific explanation (particularly the various fanfics which have suggested that Crichton was chucked into the far future and Sebaceans are descendents of homo sapiens sapiens.

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