Season 2, Episode 11 — Look at the Princess, part 1: A Kiss is but a Kiss
John and Aeryn’s on-again-off-again relationship boils over just as the crew arrives at a planet where the chief means of entertainment at the moment seems to be determining a couple’s sexual compatibility. Compatibility (genetic, romantic, or otherwise) immediately becomes a major plot point as the culture and politics of the planet shape the way each crew member understands what it means to love and to be loved.
Aeryn’s objection to John’s advances, as she storms out of the cargo bay in the episode’s opening scene, is that he’s being driven by hormones. He’s being irrational and there’s no lasting connection. Her frustration is in stark opposition to her previous approach toward relationships when she was a Peacekeeper, when love was simply recreational. Presumably she is starting to want more certainty and more reliability from her romantic encounters. She wants love to be something you can see, something you can verify. And, immediately, the solution arrives. Fleeing from Scorpius, Moya arrives in the orbit of a rogue Sebacean settlement outside of Peacekeeper jurisdiction. Currently the residents of the planet are engaged in some sort of mating ritual involving a certain liquid which is placed on the tongue before a kiss to determine “compatibility.” The process turns courtship into an experimental procedure. But of course, this is not really what Aeryn wants either.
John and Aeryn are both beset on all sides by potential suitors, and John’s acquiescence to the still-mysterious advances upsets Aeryn further. John drifts through the crowd to be kissed by more random women while Aeryn remains alone to brood. Meanwhile, high above the bacchanalian bar scene, political intrigue abounds. It turns out that the Scarrans (a hitherto unmentioned but apparently quite powerful and warlike race who control vast portions of the Uncharted Territories and who are on the brink of open warfare with the Peacekeepers) are pulling some strings to manipulate the line of succession of the planet’s royal family. The compatibility test is the crux of their scheme: through manipulation of her DNA they’ve rendered the the princess (and presumptive heir to the throne) incapable of reproduction. As such she has failed to find a compatible mate and soon the succession will pass to her younger brother who is of course in the pocket of the Scarrans. John is a bit of a curve ball, however, since he isn’t Sebacean, and when he stumbles into the princess the two find that they are, miraculously, compatible. Unlike Aeryn, the princess does not worry about her own feelings, the results of the test are enough to convince her of the value of the union. After all, for the princess (and the rest of the royal family) love is just a tool. As he is quite literally her only option, John is hurried into (protective?) custody — they are to be wed at once.
Each character reacts to this situation differently. John objects on emotional grounds. He says he “doesn’t love her,” which for him is sufficient reason not to marry. The queen is characteristically unmoved by such quibbles, though it does seem like John’s stubbornness will eventually win the day. He’s not interested in marrying a stranger, no matter how much help it would be to her and her family. The arrival of Scorpius complicates matters. The queen mother senses John’s terror of the half-Sebacean-half-Scarran villain and forces him to either marry her daughter or be handed over to “that abomination.” John, now acting more out of fear than out of but-I-don’t-love-her “chivalry,” acquiesces.
John’s chivalry returns when he is shown a projection of a potential child the marriage could produce, and he’s soon torn between two competing versions of morality. He’s immediately taken by the thought, and it’s additionally revealed that the princess is already pregnant, through some sort of techno-babble-strewn process. He will have a child, and now his stubbornness prevents him from not marrying. He doesn’t want to leave his child without a father. Earlier his moral code prevented him from marrying, now it forces him to. Still, John is unsure of himself, so he seeks the counsel of his shipmates. They are, predictably, not so helpful.
Rygel throws himself into the part of politician, something he’s been dying to do for seemingly some time now. He’s totally at home amid the schemes and the intrigue, and he offers to remain on the planet to oversee John’s reign. His willingness to abandon his quest to return home perhaps encourages John to do the same. They both previously thought they’d stop at nothing to get back to where they belong but they both admit they’ve stumbled on something pretty good here (and the food is good). Rygel essentially suggests that “compatibility” isn’t about DNA, it’s about where you feel at home. He feels at home amid royalty, and the planet is full of people that look just like humans — John could feel at home here too.
Chiana just wants everyone to be happy, and tells John as much. Why worry about what other people think? She and D’Argo take the compatibility test and even though it turns out negative she doesn’t care. No one else can tell you if you’re compatible, says Chiana, you have to decide for yourself. She thinks John should be able to make up his mind one way or the other and not worry about what other people want him to do. That’s what she does, after all. She even fights for John’s right to his own choice, confronting the Scarrans in a questionable but characteristically reckless move. Despite her passion for free will John isn’t quite convinced but he does demonstrate quite a bit of chaotic behavior throughout the three-part episode, perhaps as a consequence of Chiana’s influence (and, probably more strongly, Scorpius’s).
D’Argo, in a zen-like mood from his burgeoning relationship with Chiana, basically tells John to go with the flow. “Whatever will be will be” and all that. This is certainly some of Chiana “rubbing off” on him, but D’Argo takes her philosophy in a slightly different direction. For D’Argo compatibility isn’t about what you want or what you can prove, it’s either going to happen or it isn’t. And you have to be ready to grab hold of it when it arrives, however unexpected it might be. He wasn’t exactly expecting to form a relationship with Chiana, and he’s not sure how long it will last, but his advice to John is the same as his outlook for himself: why turn down a good thing? (Of course this now turns the question back to “is this marriage a good thing or not?” which is not quite resolved at this point.)
And of course Aeryn is furious but she won’t admit it’s because of her interest in John. She thinks the whole situation is ridiculous and that they should just leave, Scorpius be damned. Aeryn sees compatibility as an immutable truth. There is a destiny and a purpose for everyone, and she’s never certain if she’s found it or not. She feels strongly that John is making the wrong decision, partially because she believes that there is a single right decision to make. He’s deviating from the path she wants him to follow, the one that includes her and the rest of the crew.
Since she’s taken such a hard line, though, she doesn’t have much ability to persuade John or to even witness the beginning of “the end.” She storms off (again), and buries her head in the sand. Logic didn’t work on John so what can she do?
So with no real resistance and every reason not to surrender to Scorpius, John assents to be wed. Just as he has resigned himself to his fate, as he has done before on numerous occasions (Jeremiah Crichton springs to mind…), he’s met with an unexpected interruption. Whether he wants to marry or not is entirely out of his hands — assassins storm his quarters and attempt to murder him before he gets the chance. There is clearly something much more complicated afoot.
Unrealized Realities 