"We've been warned away from this planet." D'Argo shoved away from the
table. "Warned by some of the most vile and disgusting beings it has
ever been my misfortune to encounter. It cannot be wise to go to it." 

"Normally, that would be true. But our supply of irriscentent fluid has
once again fallen to dangerously low levels. It is difficult enough with
the pregnancy for Moya to maintain a reasonable rate of speed; it is
impossible without more fluid." Pilot's voice was emphatic and strained.

"Big guy, you were the one the Kuhnari told to avoid this planet. What
exactly did they say?" John scratched his nose and wondered what sort of
horrors there could be, if the shrew-like aliens advised the Luxan in
full General and Grand destroyer mode to avoid it. 

"They did not elaborate. They merely said that someone as intimidating
as I, in my physical condition, would not last long there." 

Chiana, who had been performing some intricate fingerplay, stopped her
hands and cocked her head. "What, what did you say this planet was
called?" 

John tilted his head to an angle matching hers. "Elimshir." 

"Oh," said Chiana, with a little smile that reminded John of a cat. "No,
D'Argo would not last long there." Then she leaned forward and narrowed
her eyes. "John and Aeryn wouldn't either." 

"Why?" asked Aeryn. 

"You don't have the right ... attitude." She smirked openly now.
"Although, if D'Argo weren't marked as basju, he would be a marvelous
raktedi." She made a little trilling noise deep in her throat. "Better
than Rygel will be, even." 

John's answering glare was the icy, disdainful one he reserved for
Chiana's brattier moments. "Explain those terms, Chiana. If we have to
go to this planet, I'd prefer that we all leave there alive." 

"Raktedum own basjuli. But, it's not ... slavery, exactly. For
elimshirim, being rakted or basju is truly about being oneself,
completely. And they insist that all visitors to their planet adopt one
of the roles, and act accordingly." 

"You're saying we have to be slaves." John's voice was hoarse. 

"Oh no, not at all." Chiana giggled. "No one but D'Argo *has* to be
basju, and at least one of us must be rakted." She smacked her lips, and
wriggled her eyebrows, then whispered sotto voice, "Otherwise, we'll all
be sold." 

D'Argo got up, walked to a viewport. "So you must all pretend to
ownership of me." 

Chiana shrugged, smiled, nodded. "No one would believe that a person
with chain attachments wasn't basju. Zhaan and I are probably better
suited to it, temperamentally." 

Rygel tipped his throne chair forward at a dangerous angle. "Why are you
so frelling pleased we have to go to this grot-less planet?" 

"I really liked being a basmolju. I might have stayed if my second
raktedi had sold me to someone not quite so ready with a whip. Had to
get out of that."

"Chiana," said Aeryn.  "Will the elimshirim authorities want to detain
you once we arrive?"

"Not if I've got a raktedi keeping me in line. Might have to demonstrate
ownership in public, but as long as it's not Rygel, that's not a
problem for me."  She smiled and licked her lips, eyes focused on first
Aeryn and then John.

"Chiana, I don't understand," said Zhaan.  "What is the danger for
D'Argo in this planet?"

"Oh, didn't I say?" Chiana's gaze shifted to D'Argo's back.  "If someone
plays rakted when they should be basju, their status is reversed and
they're sold.  If someone plays basju when they are truly rakted," she
gulped, lifted an eyebrow, "they're executed for treason."

**********************************************************************

John and D'Argo were going through the marketplace.  D'Argo walked two
steps behind his raktedi-for-the-day, growling at anyone who glanced at
the thin piece of leather which John held in his hand.  "I should have
remained on the ship, Crichton."

"You're the one who said Chiana was emphatically not basjul. Don't bitch
at me because you got the job. I didn't think I needed a babysitter, and
I know I don't need a slave. I would have been happy to let Rygel be my
raktedi, while I looked for parts for my module." John's pace was rapid,
and he did not leave much slack in the rope.

"It is not a question of needing someone to protect you.  Someone must
be raktedi and someone must be basmojul on this planet.  You know that.
The Peacekeepers have marked me basjul forever, so it might as well be
me.  You could not be basjul and direct the search for your parts."

John stopped, turned around, pointed at the ground.  With a frustrated
glare, D'Argo got down on one knee.  "If you know all that, why are you
complaining to me?  Is it the rope?  Because I told you, you didn't have
to wear the rope."

D'Argo looked down, suddenly remembering that it was forbidden to look
his raktedi in the face without permission.  "Chiana, who is the only
one of us to know anything of Elishirim, said that someone who has been
fitted for a lead will always wear that lead in public."