Morrock shakes her head kindly. "Not so foolish. I had the same dreams." Beat. "Is it his? Is it Crichton's child?" Aeryn gestures her closer. "Come here." She leans in; Aeryn caresses her face sadly. "Did you really have a child?" she whispers. Morrock cocks her head a bit. "I told you, I had six pregnancies." Aeryn nods, continues to stroke her. "Only three of them survived." Aeryn takes her by the throat. "I want the truth from you. I know that these pills won't kill me. I know that you're their spy." My side, your side. Sometimes 25 percent is just too small; and sometimes hope isn't enough. Sometimes your most awful thoughts are true. It's innocence gone. "So I want to know the truth: Have you even had one child?" Morrock gasps, squeezes tears out. "Have you even given birth to one child? The truth." Aeryn squeezes, tighter and tighter. "No," Morrock gasps. Aeryn snaps Morrock's neck with a loud crack. It's the sound of hope gone. It's the sound of John pointing a gun. "Good," Aeryn hisses, dropping dead Morrock to the floor. "Then I orphan no one." Her arms are free. She throws the pills across the room, spits them out furiously. As far away from her holy body as she can manage.
The module's leaking fire. John comms to Pilot, voice near dying: "We're back. Open the hangar doors. And we know where that Scarran base is." D'Argo comms that there's no time: "There's a Command Carrier on the way. We've got you in the docking web and we're about to starburst." It's a Barn Swallow! It's the exact same thing! You're safe; we've got you. It's okay, this close to home, to finally start crying. John ten-fours and D'Argo tells him to buckle in. As Moya begins to starburst, Scorpius sighs. "Why is nothing ever easy with you?" "Wish I knew." They starburst together.
Captain Jenek: "We've set a course for Katratzi." Nurse informs Aeryn, back in her cell, that Katratzi's been informed of her condition. "There is a surgeon on hand." The cell door closes behind them as they leave.
The Prisoner's Dilemma is also known as "Pascal's Gamble." He was a mathematician and amateur philosopher, and his thought was that you can apply the logic of the Prisoner's Dilemma not only to love, like you do with the Turing Test every day of your life, but also to God, and it goes like this. They put you in Room 101 and says God's got you. You can sell Him out or you can be just as useless as he begs you not to be. So the possibilities are as follows: 1) You keep the faith, assuming they're lying. 2) You sell him out, and he loses his children one by one. 3) You stay true, and there's nothing there; you're all alone, making wishes on stars that don't care. 4) Or you rely on yourself, and since there's no God, you win because you were the only one playing. Those are the possibilities. And the conventional wisdom is that you do this thing, believe without proof, because the opportunity cost is so heavily leveraged. There's only a 25 percent chance that you'll save yourself, but the rewards are so much better on the other 75 percent, where God loves you, and you have the option of loving Her back. When the whole universe is against you, hope is actually the smartest alternative. Not wash-eyed cult talk but the cold facts: 1) Everybody wins. 2) You're fucked. 3) You're fucked. 4) This game is stupid. The conventional wisdom I stress says it's easy: might as well choose God; might as well give in. Or, if you're Aeryn, an unthinkable alternative that contains hope and hatred in equal amounts. Harvey's Lovely Daughter.