TUELLER: “The way I see it we’ve got an alien race to help in indefinable ways for indefinable ends. We have a widow who wants us to track down her attacked ship and rescue my ex-girlfriend’s embryos. To do that we need to figure out where the ship is, by either asking the right person, or hacking the right system.”
TUELLER: “And we also need to figure out if we’re going to help out that widow or shoot her in the face, as requested by my beloved sister at odds with the desires of my dead ex-girlfriend.”
TUELLER: “That about cover it?”
ALEJO: “More or less.” Alejo says this more seriously than he’s been since telling Tueller that he made a dumbass deal.
TUELLER: “You got feelings about the shooting-in-the-face part?”
ALEJO: “I’ve got feelings about getting pulled back into Family stuff that I thought was probably well behind me.”
TUELLER: “You travel with me, there’s always Family stuff.”
ALEJO: “You travel with me and that’s the stuff that I intended to move beyond.”
STORY: Millie, you’re in the hallway of the radio station, standing on one side of the glass doors. On the other, a number of businessmen peer anxiously through at you and the three aliens currently standing the place up.
STORY: The hallway is brightly lit, with glass-walled rooms on either side. Most are unoccupied and dark. One, at the end of the hallway, has a light on. It’s roughly a dozen yards away.
STORY: What do you do?
MILLICENT: https://www.taylorguitars.com/sites/default/files/styles/hero_rotator/public/hero-big-baby-series-2250×762.jpg?itok=4wUdr9pr
MILLICENT: Millie walks with the brave and terrifying bandits down the hallway
STORY: The alien standing behind you smells rancid, like someone who has been living on the street.
STORY: He pushes you forward with one hand, somewhat gently but dismissively. “Go. Find the speaker man. Get us talk.”
MILLICENT: “Speaker man? Sorry, I’m not quite understanding.”
STORY: He points at the illuminated booth down the hallway. “We talk to –” he gestures above and around him, looking up. “We get help. We talk to the speaker man.”
STORY: “You help us.”
MILLICENT: “Ah, yes. You want to get on the air? To speak to the whole Ark?”
STORY: He shakes his head. “Everyone.”
MILLICENT: Millie looks for a square red lit sign over a door that says ON AIR because that is how we have been trained
STORY: You see a red bulb on the wall outside of the room at the end of the hallway. It is lit.
MILLICENT: “Ah!” Millie strides confidently forward toward the door. How are these aliens armed?
MILLICENT: And where are the others?
STORY: The three of them all have identical rifles – you’re not an expert in alien weaponry, but they look like they can shoot a lot of bullets very quickly and fairly accurately.
STORY: One of the aliens is by the glass entry door, covering it and trying to shout off the gawkers on the other side.
STORY: The second, who has not spoke, is walking a few paces behind the third, who has made the demands. They’re both a few paces behind you. They all look anxiously toward the back room with its red bulb and closed door.
MILLICENT: Is there a window into a booth?
MILLICENT: Can I see the DJ?
STORY: The walls are glass, so yes
STORY: He’s sitting with his back to you, leaned over some equipment. You recognize his race, which is non-human. He’s blue, portly, and bald, with a ridge running the center line down his head.
STORY: What race is he? Why is this race so prosperous on the Ark?
MILLICENT: Millie walks in front of the glass wall, peering in at the DJ and knocks on the window with a big, friendly smile that says “everything’s fine!” a second or two before the alien with the rifle lurches behind her.
MILLICENT: The DJ is an Odh. Their home world was destroyed in an unexpected gravitational anomaly. Fortunately most of the Odh made it out in the evacuation two hundred years ago. They live now primarily as interstellar traders and make up about 8% of the Ark’s permanent population.
STORY: The DJ does not turn around, instead waving an arm behind him to shoo you away and continuing to speak into the mic. He points urgently up to the corner where the red light is turned on.
MILLICENT: To the alien with the gun. “I think he’s busy, dear. We should give him a minute.”
STORY: The one who is standing with you is the second-in-command, who has not yet spoken. He looks very upset when you cannot get inside and grabs you by the back of the neck, pushing your face up against the glass and shouting, again in a language your translator isn’t picking up.
MILLICENT: With her face pressed into the glass Millie knocks on the window again.
MILLICENT: Same smile
STORY: The lead alien checks his companion and knocks him away from you, shouting, pointing, and putting himself between you two. The DJ glances back, agitated, ready to tell you off, then his expression falls blank and he slowly rises. He stands there for a few seconds, dumbstruck, then shakes himself back to reality, turning uickly back to the mic, saying something, and pushing a few buttons. The red light flicks off and you head a magnetic door lock disengage. He waves you in.
MILLICENT: Millie walks cheerfully in.
MILLICENT: “Good afternoon! These gentlemen would like to use your broadcast equipment, I believe.”
STORY: The leader follows you in, closing the door behind the two of you and barking an order to his second. He stands near the door, looking shaky, gripping his rifle tightly, then points to you and to an empty chair. “You sit. Speak us.”
MILLICENT: Millie sits across from the DJ.
STORY: The Odh DJ looks a little dumbstruck. He has his headphones on, with one ear exposed. He gestures meekly to the empty pair in front of you.
MILLICENT: Looks up politely. “Unfortunately, my translator isn’t getting most of what you’re saying. I’m afraid I don’t know what you want me to say.”
MILLICENT: Millie puts on some headphones and fiddles with them until they’re comfortable.
STORY: He shakes his head. “Try to enunciate,” he mutters before pushing a button on his console. “Aaaaand that was Bee Martin with ‘Don’t You Ever Ever Ever Come This Way Again,’ Folks, I’ve got a special guest here that’s literally -dying- to speak with y’all, her name is–”
MILLICENT: “Dr. Millicent Breedlove. So pleased to meet you, Mr.?”
STORY: “This is K-Billy, comin at ya with nonstop country here on Ark Country 102.5 DDP. Dr. Breedlove, who has brought a guest, is so interested in getting her message to you, Bill-heads, that she’s brought an armed companion into my booth! So, Millicent, why don’t you let us know what’s so darn important?”
STORY: …
STORY: let’s cut back to the boys.
STORY: STORY: “Tueller, I had some trouble securing the armaments you had requested, but was able to pull some strings to get it done. The boarding armor will be delivered to the Peregrine when we arrive tomorrow to begin the refits. Now, if I may be so bold, I have done you a favor, and I’d like to ask one of you.”
STORY: TUELLER: “I am in your debt.”
STORY: TUELLER: He says that in a formal sort of way.
STORY: STORY: “Glad you understand. I’d like, Mr. Ya’Makasi, for you to help me become pregnant.”
STORY: —
STORY: — do we have Stu?
TUELLER: Sorry. Yes.
TUELLER: …
TUELLER: “Hmmmm. Now?”
ALEJO: Alejo tries very hard to stay completely impassive. A little too hard.
ALEJO: He smiles and looks down for a brief second.
STORY: Ruma laughs. “Nandini said you always were a joker, Tueller. I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to get to know each other better.”
TUELLER: Tueller is just looking at Ruma, not giving anything away.
STORY: She gestures to her bodyguard, who steps away to stand guard at the entryway to your section.
TUELLER: He gives a slight noncommital nod.
STORY: She leans in conspiritorially.
TUELLER: Tueller mirrors the lean in.
STORY: “Someone is trying to kill me.”
STORY: “Unsurprisingly, I know. This is space, I’m a diplomat. Nevertheless.”
STORY: She juts a chin toward Alejo. “We can trust your crew?”
TUELLER: Tueller looks towards Alejo to let him answer this.
STORY: Jenny is also sitting back, sipping her water out of a straw.
ALEJO: Alejo smiles warmly. “As much as pirates can be trusted, I suppose. I trust them all with my life.”
ALEJO: “But, then again, no one’s trying to kill me, at the moment. Do you know who? Why?”
STORY: She shakes her head. “We were in transit here, somewhere in the Chelob system. Between two jump points, a rather significant detour, if my navigator has explained herself correctly. She said we were there to avoid notice, and yet.”
STORY: “Our ship was attacked, without warning. We never saw the attackers. She broke apart in the black. Some of us were able to get to escape pods, and were rescued three days later.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks intent and intrigued.
TUELLER: “An attack on you, or on the Families?”
ALEJO: “Or just a random — now I’m wishing I’d not called us pirates but . . . just a random bunch of pirates?”
STORY: “After we were brought here, the cleaners came for us. They debriefed us, then reassigned the six members of my crew who survived off-base. I’m here alone. It has been…” she grits her teeth. “Explained to me that this is for the best, and that the details of our journey must remain classified for my own safety. A-Sec has been worse than useless. The family does not want to cause trouble while humans are still so negatively viewed in the larger community. So I am without allies.”
STORY: “And, most importantly, I am without the package I was transporting.”
TUELLER: “Which was?”
STORY: “Nandini and I wanted to have children, quickly. We met with the family’s doctors; arranged for an implantation. She was going in the week after…”
STORY: She looks at you meaningfully.
TUELLER: “Hmmmph.’
STORY: “The embryos are viable, and ready. I intended to carry the child myself. But when we abandoned ship… they were left behind.”
STORY: “Tueller, please be certain, this information is very dangerous for you to have. I turn to you because I have no one else. Please – can you find out what happened to them? I want my children back.”
STORY: “I -need- them.”
TUELLER: “Who is the Station Chief here?”
STORY: — you answer that!
TUELLER: “Is it still Sergio Ndrangheta?”
TUELLER: “I must admit I was surprised to see you as the representative of the Families here. Not only because of our…well. Whatever.”
STORY: “My suspicion is that the Families don’t take inter-species diplomacy seriously enough to invest heavily in it. Indeed, most of my time spent here has been hosting or attending parties.”
TUELLER: “Ndrangheta always was a fuck-up.”
STORY: “He is.”
STORY: She smiles, just a little.
ALEJO: “Surely, given the events, your family must be anxious to get you home, yes?”
TUELLER: …
TUELLER: “Alejo. She’s not Bhattacharya.”
STORY: Ruma raises an eyebrow at you, Alejo. “Not enough, anyway.”
STORY: “But with a child, perhaps.”
TUELLER: “The Families…you can marry into them, but…well, you can’t Become them.”
ALEJO: Alejo nods once. “I see.”
TUELLER: Tueller nods in agreement at “With a child.”
TUELLER: “Her child would be Bhattacharya. Not even a bastard. Full family.”
STORY: Ruma nods.
TUELLER: “And Ruma would be as well. Enough, at least.”
STORY: “Until she is of age, then, I suppose I go out with the trash.”
STORY: “But twenty years of safety will allow me to build up my own resources.”
TUELLER: “You have 18 years to move up in the ranks.”
STORY: She nods. “Precisely.”
STORY: “With your help, I hope.”
TUELLER: “If you deserve to be in the Families, you will make that count.”
ALEJO: Alejo looks at Tueller curiously for a long moment.
TUELLER: Tueller’s, btw, speaking like he’s already agreed to help.
STORY: She has noticed and is grateful!
TUELLER: I’m not sure Tueller has realized that yet.
TUELLER: “Ejo, The Families are opaque as hell, but for all our aristocratic trappings, we’re a meritocracy.”
TUELLER: “IF! you can get in the door.”
TUELLER: “You got in the door the hard way. Ruma’s…well, I guess this is a different hard way.”
ALEJO: “Aren’t all aristocracies ultimately meritocracies.” He says this easily and then almost immediately regrets it.
TUELLER: ’Not remotely. Not remotely.”
TUELLER: “Ruma. Where are the kids?”
TUELLER: —Hello?
STORY: — sorry!
STORY: — wait what kids?
STORY: — oh the embryos duh
TUELLER: The embroyos.
STORY: “I don’t know. Details of the attack are locked away. But–”
STORY: “I said before about parties.”
TUELLER: “Shit.”
STORY: She stands, gesturing to her bodyguard, who takes a large card out of his pocket. She hands it to you. “I’ve been invited to a fundraising gala. A-Sec’s yearly tradition, trying to milk the diplomats to buy them new body cameras.”
STORY: “But I’ve been feeling rather ill. Would you mind terribly to attend as my delegate?” She stands straight, not looking ill at all. “Perhaps you can meet someone there who is able to help you file an information request for details on the attack.”
TUELLER: “You want me to charm the information out of someone.”
STORY: She takes a step towards you both. “Or perhaps you can simply extract that information from the chief’s terminal.” She shrugs. “Up to you, of course.”
TUELLER: “Hrmph.”
TUELLER: “One last question, of course.”
TUELLER: “What’s in it for us?”
STORY: “A Debt from the Family, naturally. I may be consigned to the farthest reaches of CJH’s interests, but I’m not without power. I can relieve you of a standing debt to us, or do you a favor at some point in the future. Business is business, everywhere.”
TUELLER: “Well said. You may be One of Us yet.”
ALEJO: “I’m sorry for your losses.” Alejo dips his head graciously. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” Alejo steps back, continuing to face the two of them before turning to Jenny.
TUELLER: …
TUELLER: “Okay. Send over the details of the ship. The condition it was in. How far out from the Ark is it. Where can we find what we’re looking for. Is there any other cargo of note on the ship? Anything you know about the attackers. And who, if anyone, you think could have a vendetta against you in the system or against the Families.
TUELLER: “Send over the briefing when it’s ready, from someone you trust. Are you staying on station?”
STORY: She nods. “It’s home, for now.”
TUELLER: “Who do you trust, who would you space if you could?”
TUELLER: Tueller winces.
TUELLER: “Sorry.”
TUELLER: “I truly am. Sorry.”
STORY: She flinches and nods again. “I’ll include everything that might be of help. Now. I need discretion, for this. You should engage boarding elsewhere.”
TUELLER: “When’s this fucking party?”
STORY: “Tomorrow night.”
TUELLER: “And how useless is Ndrangheta these days?’
TUELLER: “He ever upgrade that claw of his?”
TUELLER: To Alejo: “He lost his left hand in college. Had it replaced with a crude prosethetic. I think as an affectation. He’s a fuckhead.”
TUELLER: “Sword accident.”
STORY: “Still has it.”
TUELLER: Under his breath. “Fuckhead.”
ALEJO: — Alejo has extricated himself from the conversation and is close by but talking with Jenny. Laughing, at the moment and chatting playfully.
TUELLER: “Anything else you want to tell me?”
STORY: The three of you get the picture that it’s about time to make yourselves scarce, and find somewhere else on the Ark to be.
TUELLER: Tueller keeps that openly ambiguous.
STORY: Ruma shakes her head. “I’ll get you the information you need.”
STORY: “Thank you, Tueller.”
TUELLER: “I’ll get you what you need.”
STORY: She shakes your hand.
TUELLER: Tueller bows formally as he does so.
STORY: She bows back, turning to her bodyguard, who makes a space for you. The three of you get the picture that it’s about time to make yourselves scarce, and find somewhere else on the Ark to be.
TUELLER: Tueller takes the hint.
TUELLER: “Let’s find the doc.”
ALEJO: …
ALEJO: “Gods, I forgot how insufferably pretentious Family bullshit is. We need to talk. Somewhere else. I know who wants her dead.” Alejo says this flatly and very quietly, as close to Tueller as he can get without seeming strange. He then turns without more and gestures to Jenny. “Come on, rookie. Time to go.”
TUELLER: “Oh. Right.” Hitting the place behind his ear. “Doc?”
TUELLER: —What, you don’t like the formality of my family traditions?
ALEJO: –It’s fabulously stuffy. Love it. And hate it. All at once.
TUELLER: —I read a New Yorker article about the Ndrangheta today and so I’ve got criminal societies in my head right now.
STORY: MILLIE: Millie leans forward and addresses the DJ into the mic. “Well, K-Billy, that’s a fine question. I’d really like to know why I too am being held at gunpoint by these fine gentlemen who have taken over your studio. I believe they have a message they want to get across, but so far my translator hasn’t proved up to the task.”
STORY: STORY: The alien shakes his head, annoyed. “No… no words machine! Too long. You talk for us.”
STORY: STORY: “We need… we need.” He looks frustrated, and shouts in the language you don’t understand again. “We are too same. He, she, me. We all are one of three.”
STORY: STORY: “We need to be million.”
STORY: STORY: “Help is there.” He gestures wildly, out a porthole.
STORY: STORY: “We need help, we need to go to help.”
STORY: MILLIE: Millie nods.
STORY: MILLIE: “What?”
STORY: MILLIE: Do I recognize the species of these aliens? Are they all the same race?
STORY: STORY: They all appear to be different races, and you don’t recognize any of them.
STORY: MILLIE: Millie looks out the porthole. Anything interesting?
STORY: STORY: Space.
STORY: STORY: Black, empty, cold.
STORY: STORY: Some stars. Distantly, the Ring.
STORY: STORY: He probably just meant “space”
STORY: MILLIE: Did any of them repeat any word Millie thinks she can phonetically search the sectornet for to try and figure out a language or race?
STORY: STORY: Why don’t you give me an Assessment + Expertise for that
STORY: MILLIE: !2d6
STORY: MILLIE: Is that how we – no
STORY: MILLIE: /roll 2d6
STORY: STORY: @josh rolled *10*
STORY: MILLIE: 12
STORY: STORY: dang!
STORY: STORY: You do, you pick up an entire phrase, in fact. You hang-gesture it to Noma to search for you, and moments later she comes on in your monitor.
STORY: STORY: “Millie, he’s a Kith. Little is known about his race, but what I was able to find is that they recently arrived on the Ark from deep space in a barely operable ship, began the protocols for integrating their language into the interstellar database, and stopped after three sessions with the linguistic-bot.” (edited)
STORY: STORY: “He’s not speaking his own language – he’s speaking English. Poorly, I should note.”
STORY: MILLIE: To Noma, “How could he possibly be doing that?”
STORY: STORY: “I don’t know, but I can verify he is indeed speaking English.”
STORY: MILLIE: To Noma, “What about the others?”
STORY: STORY: “They have only spoken Kith.”
STORY: MILLIE: Into the mic. “I do have a theory, K-Billy.”
STORY: MILLIE: “I think these gentlemen may be Kith. They arrived here on the Ark a few days ago and began going through the bureaucratic process of registering.”
STORY: MILLIE: “But by their behavior, I think they may have come here looking for some emergency aid for their people. What do you think, K-Billy?”
STORY: STORY: You are interrupted as a shower of blue splashes on the window behind the Kith and his companion falls to the ground.
STORY: K-Billy hears the dull thud of the Kith falling outside, then closes his eyes without looking. “Well, this has been grand, Millicent, but I think we’re out of time! Folks, let’s take it home with Grenada’s ‘Why Did You Take This From Me’ off last year’s album, Green Grass On the Other Side.” He pushes a button and takes off his headphones.
STORY: The Kith inside the booth turns, seeing what has happened to his second in command, and screams, anguished. K-Billy cooly reaches back, gently, putting a hand on the rifle. “You got about five seconds, my friend, to drop this, or you’ll be as dead as your pal there.”
STORY: STORY: What do you do?
STORY: MILLIE: Millie looks up at the alien and nods, smiles reassuringly.
STORY: MILLIE: “Put it down. dear.”
STORY: STORY: He does. K-Billy takes the rifle, places it gently on his desk, then looks confused and lifts it again.
STORY: STORY: “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
STORY: STORY: He tosses it to you, Millie.
STORY: STORY: It weighs about three pounds.
STORY: STORY: You turn it over in your hands and it sloshes. It’s a water gun.
STORY: STORY: K-Billy shakes his head sadly as he unlocks the door and A-Sec storms in, tackling the Kith and cuffing him, pointing weapons at you.
STORY: As you walk out of the club and back to the promenade, the lighting gets better – the CJH club is intentionally dark at all hours, and the presidium is always bright and peaceful. You see T’chololl there, arguing with the CJH security guard at the entrance. She towers over him.
TUELLER: —I picture the DJ as Steven Wright now. It’s weird to think of Steven Wright trying to shoot a dude.
TUELLER: “Loll!” Tueller waves.
TUELLER: Both at her, and then at security to let her in.
STORY: She looks up at you and abruptly pushes the security guard out of the way, walking in a hurry towards you, still not exactly striding with great strength but, you know, seven and a half feet tall.
TUELLER: Tueller gives a welcoming nod as she comes over.
TUELLER: “Where’s the doc?”
STORY: The security guard chases after her fairly ineffectively, trying to grab her hand. She snatches it back up from him. “The mechanic is in trouble, captain.”
STORY: “Come with me.”
ALEJO: “What kind of trouble?”
TUELLER: “Off of her, sir.”
TUELLER: –to the guard.
STORY: She turns on her heel and begins to move with great speed toward the turbolifts, pausing only once the four of you are inside, being brought to a different section.
TUELLER: Tueller likes a woman of action!
STORY: “We went to a junkyard and three armed aliens pushed her into a glass hallway.”
TUELLER: An insect of action!
STORY: “She allowed it. I do not understand why.”
STORY: “They are inside now, or were when I left.”
TUELLER: “Shit. Okay. Let’s go.”
TUELLER: “Lead on.”
ALEJO: “Always making friends, that one.” Alejo stays right behind them, though its much more work with much shorter legs. He makes sure Jenny is with them too.
TUELLER: Tueller’s going as fast as Loll will lead him, counting on Alejo to be able to keep up.
STORY: Jenny’s all right. She looks, as usual, a little overwhelmed but into it.
TUELLER: —Wow, Iron and Wine is so not the appropriate music for this.
STORY: You reach the radio station as A-Sec swarms the area. Two bodies lay on the ground, with a few cops standing around each, and police tape has been set up. An alien is led into an A-Sec vehicle. Two more cops are standing over Millie, who is seated and looking up at them, talking.
TUELLER: —bah! I was hoping to be the one to splatter blue blood on the wall!
MILLICENT: —can I be accessing the requests the Kith made while I’m talking to the cops? Or at least asking Noma to do so and fill me in?
TUELLER: Tueller discreetly taps his ear. “Doc. We’re on the perimeter. You need help?”
STORY: Millie, the cops are mostly making you wait for a detective to be ready to talk to you.
STORY: “You need anything, ma’am?”
STORY: Noma is doing her best.
TUELLER: “Extraction is difficult here but not impossible.”
TUELLER: —It’s probably very very difficult.
ALEJO: Alejo circles around the perimeter casually assessing the scene and looking for extraction points, if one is needed.
MILLICENT: “Oh, yes, thank you, officer. Would you pull me the registration records for new arrivals to the Ark for the previous 72 hours and send it along to my datapad?”
TUELLER: Any indication that Millie is able to hear the repeated questions from the thing she put in my head?
MILLICENT: Millie smiles brightly up at the cop.
STORY: He looks confused. “I meant like a water, ma’am.”
STORY: Noma comes back. “No public records beyond what I already shared, Millie, I’m sorry.”
MILLICENT: “Well, sir, if you didn’t mean to offer to _help me pull the registration records for species arriving on the Ark for the previous 72 hours and send it to my datapad_, then you could have said so.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles up at him.
STORY: The cop looks annoyed and walks off.
STORY: A detective comes by, looks at you wearily. “Sign, please.”
STORY: He holds out a pad with some writing above.
MILLICENT: Millie opens her comms. “Gentlemen!” Closes them immediately.
MILLICENT: Millie takes the pad and reads it.
STORY: It’s a police report about how you were brought in against your will and the evil alien did it all and you were terrified for your life and so on.
STORY: He’s helpfully filled it out for you.
MILLICENT: “Thank you, officer, this is a real page turner, but I’m afraid it’s not my official statement.”
TUELLER: Tueller’s pacing on the edge, trying to figure out which cop would be the biggest threat that he should take down first if necessary.
STORY: The detective looks exasperated. “Come on, lady, don’t make this hard.”
MILLICENT: Hand sign, “Noma, what do we know about the Kith and their area of space?”
STORY: Alejo, no good exits from what you can see if you don’t want to kill 10 A-Sec officers. Tueller, definitely the biggest threat is the guy covering the tape line. He’s the biggest, and looks the best trained.
STORY: He’s also some kind of alien race you don’t recognize, and that’s easier to take you by surprise..
ALEJO: Alejo watches this scene, not able to hear from where he’s at, but noting the cop’s body language. He starts to edge in closer.
MILLICENT: “I’m afraid I _must_ consult my legal team before I sign anything.”
MILLICENT: Millie points.
STORY: Noma: “Nothing, Millie, I’m sorry. Only what you were able to speak to him about. They aren’t a known Ark partner.”
ALEJO: Alejo sees Millie point and steps forward, waiving large and hastily, like an excited family member greeting someone arriving at an airport.
STORY: The detective looks over, sees Tueller and Alejo, and looks skeptical. “Those guys?”
TUELLER: Tueller is dressed in a nice suit.
MILLICENT: “Best legal minds in the sector!”
TUELLER: Tueller dresses like he’s in Reservoir Dogs.
STORY: He’s also a billion feet tall and this guy knows a bruiser when he sees one
STORY: The detective waves you over.
MILLICENT: Tueller acts like he’s in Reservoir Dogs
STORY: “Two of you, not all four.”
STORY: T’chololl and Jenny hang back.
TUELLER: Tueller comes over.
TUELLER: Holding a hand out to Loll and Jen to stay put.
STORY: “You’re a lawyer.” He’s not convinced.
ALEJO: Alejo moves over, taking on a very different walk and persona. “Best legal mind in the galaxy,” Alejo says, nodding to Tueller.
TUELLER: “You’re a detective. Have you pressured my…client to make statements before she’s spoken to us?”
STORY: Ok, who’s taking the lead here?
TUELLER: Sure!
STORY: I mean on Being Lawyers
STORY: Tueller or Alejo?
TUELLER: Me!
ALEJO: –Tueller is the lawyer, sure.
STORY: Ok! Tueller, give me Face Adversity + Influence, please
TUELLER: Tueller has the unearned confidence of a white man!
STORY: he sure does!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6
STORY: @chris.stuart rolled 4
TUELLER: Ooooooooooof.
ALEJO: Is there an assist I can offer?
TUELLER: When I rolled that, one of my lightbulbs literally popped and stopped working at the same moment.
STORY: You can Get Involved!
STORY: But first
STORY: tell me what you do to do so
ALEJO: Well, perhaps I should let Tueller crash a bit so that I know what I might do to help the situation.
STORY: The detective looks at you skeptically. “Nice suit. Let’s see some credentials.”
TUELLER: “I’m sorry, my credentials are all authorized on Sol. We are all new to the system and they have not caught up to us here. All I have here is an invitation for me to attend the A-Sec gala to vouch for my credentials.”
TUELLER: Tueller pulls out the gala invite.
TUELLER: —It’s a shame that my roll was so bad, because I feel like that could have worked.
ALEJO: “Listen, officer?” Alejo asks, buying a bit of time and seeing things going south fast.
STORY: He looks down at it, then up at Alejo, a very, very unimpressed look on his face.
ALEJO: /roll 2d6
STORY: @ablair01 rolled 7
ALEJO: + 2
ALEJO: So 9
STORY: “Hmm?”
ALEJO: “Your name, officer?”
STORY: “Stalas.”
STORY: “Detective Stalas.”
ALEJO: “Of course. Detective Stalas. Has Millie here done anything? Seems like she was a victim, or are we missing something?”
STORY: “I’m just asking the lady to sign the report so she can go. You’re not a lawyer, son. You want time with her, make it worth it for me.”
ALEJO: Alejo smiles broadly. “Time is valuable, Detective. I completely understand. Seems like this is a pretty big scene, though. Seems like you’d like this to go away quickly. Yes?”
STORY: “Yes. Like I said. Have your girl sign the papers and you can all leave and I can get to cleaning up.”
MILLICENT: Millie bristles at “your girl”
ALEJO: “Doctor. She’s a doctor, Detective. But I think you and I and Doctor Breedlove and my very tall friend here all want something similar, so why don’t you give us all a couple of minutes.”
STORY: He stands there, licking his teeth inside his closed mouth. Waiting for something.
STORY: Hand not in his pocket, not exactly holding out towards you, but not -not- that.
TUELLER: …
TUELLER: “I have not yet had a chance to talk to Mr. Ndrangheta, so we have not been briefed on the customs here, but what is the going rate here for this?”
STORY: He clears his throat, a little shocked.
STORY: “Divines. Just give me something and I’ll get you some privacy.”
TUELLER: “You get us some privacy and on my word as a bonded member of Consolidated Jovan Holdings you will be satisfied.”
TUELLER: Tueller turns up his right wrist to show his tattoo.
STORY: His eyebrows raise. He gestures to one of the empty booths. “You can meet with your client there, sirs.”
TUELLER: —PLEASE DON’T ASK ME WHAT THAT TATTOO IS YET I AM NOT YET READY TO FIGURE THAT OUT.
MILLICENT: —haha nice
TUELLER: “Thank you, detective.”
TUELLER: “You will not be disappointed.”
ALEJO: Alejo walks to the booth and slides in.
MILLICENT: Millie steps into the booth. Breathlessly, “Three aliens with water guns took me hostage and I think they did it to save some of their own because the bureaucracy here was getting in the way of them getting help and now the police wish me to sign spurious statements and I. Don’t want to do that to them.” Defiantly. “They died trying to get help.”
TUELLER: “All of them?”
MILLICENT: “Two of them.”
ALEJO: “Good God, Doc. What a time to grow a conscience.”
TUELLER: “Third is in custody, I assume.”
TUELLER: “Is there a percentage in it for us, or are you looking into this out of kindness or curiousity?”
STORY: — it IS a good time to grow a conscience, now that you mention it
MILLICENT: Millie straightens. “I am not without compassion, Mr. Soto.”
MILLICENT: To Tueller, “If you must know, I am a little curious as well.”
MILLICENT: Millie faces them both, earnestly.
ALEJO: Alejo raises his eyebrows.
ALEJO: “There it is.”
TUELLER: “It’s as good a reason to do anything on this planet.”
MILLICENT: “They came here to get help and they were killed and ignored. Their words weren’t even considered important enough _to translate_. Can’t you see some of yourself in them?”
TUELLER: “Not the unimportant part, no.”
MILLICENT: Millie slumps. “They were so sad, with their water guns.”
ALEJO: Alejo is expressionless but looks directly at intently at Millie.
TUELLER: “Okay. You’re curious. You’re compassionate. You want us to work this. We also got a job. A paying one, as well. Just mentioning that as well.”
TUELLER: “I owe a Debt.”
ALEJO: Alejo looks over to Tueller suddenly. Irritated.
ALEJO: “Yeah, a dumb-ass debt. We need to talk.”
TUELLER: …
TUELLER: “In brief, my ex-girlfriend’s widow is here, someone wants Alejo to kill her, and the widow wants me to pick up my ex-girlfriend’s unborn kids somewhere in space.”
TUELLER: “My debt is not dumbass.”
MILLICENT: Millie blinks.
MILLICENT: “That’s a lot.”
ALEJO: Alejo sits back and smiles at this. “Alright. More perceptive than I was giving you credit. Touche.”
ALEJO: “It’s your sister, by the way.” His mood is suddenly much brighter.
STORY: Noma: “This is very exciting!”
STORY: That’s just into Millie’s ear.
MILLICENT: “This is very confusing!”
TUELLER: Tueller blinks. “Which one?”
TUELLER: “That makes a difference.”
TUELLER: “Is it fucking Esi?”
TUELLER: Tueller is a little heated now.
ALEJO: “No.”
TUELLER: “Thank fuck.”
TUELLER: “We are not ready to go up against or with Esi.”
TUELLER: “Definitely want to stay off her lidar for awhile.”
ALEJO: “Not the fuck. It’s Akilah. She says to give you her love, by the way.”
MILLICENT: Millie turns her head, regarding the two, trying to figure this out.
TUELLER: “Let’s…just take a moment. A lot just happened.”
TUELLER: “I’m going to take a moment to catch up. Mentally.”
TUELLER: Tueller sits.
MILLICENT: “Your ex-sexual partner’s widow is your sibling?”
ALEJO: “So Doc, what did these squirt gun aliens want, exactly?”
MILLICENT: “I’m going to need a chart.”
ALEJO: Alejo is moving on. Content that Tueller is now on the same page as him, at least provisionally.
TUELLER: —I’ve got one!
TUELLER: “There’s some pronoun confusion there, I admit.”
TUELLER: “My ex Nandini’s widow, Ruma is here. My sister, Lah, is also here, apparently. Lah wants Ruma dead?”
ALEJO: “Yup.”
TUELLER: “Is it Ya’Makasi business?”
TUELLER: To Millie. “Ruma married into the Bhattacharya family, one of the three Families of CJH. The Families don’t always get along.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods, still confused, but along for the ride.
ALEJO: Alejo takes an intentional beat here, letting that question linger. “No. At least not overtly.”
TUELLER: “Personal? For Nandini? For me? I…I don’t know what grudge Lah would have against Ruma.”
TUELLER: —It was dumb of me to name all the families something incredibly difficult to spell.
MILLICENT: —I mean, it’s space opera. There’s bound to be a ton of weird names.
ALEJO: “Been a while since you were plugged into the inner workings of Family dynamics. I don’t know, either, but it was a serious and solemn . . .” Alejo stumbles a bit here, “request.”
TUELLER: “Shit.”
TUELLER: “Complicates the job.”
ALEJO: Alejo nods.
ALEJO: “I agreed to do it. Which complicates them more.”
TUELLER: “Also, Nandini would be pissed at me.”
TUELLER: “Okay. I’m just gonna lay it out. We’ve got three jobs. Each of…dubious risk and rewards.”
ALEJO: “I love it when he gets all business.” Alejo says this with a big smile to Mille.
TUELLER: “The way I see it we’ve got an alien race to help in indefinable ways for indefinable ends. We have a widow who wants us to track down her attacked ship and rescue my ex-girlfriend’s embryos. To do that we need to figure out where the ship is, by either asking the right person, or hacking the right system.”
TUELLER: “And we also need to figure out if we’re going to help out that widow or shoot her in the face, as requested by my beloved sister at odds with the desires of my dead ex-girlfriend.”
TUELLER: “That about cover it?”
ALEJO: “More or less.” Alejo says this more seriously than he’s been since telling Tueller that he made a dumbass deal.
TUELLER: “You got feelings about the shooting-in-the-face part?”
ALEJO: “I’ve got feelings about getting pulled back into Family stuff that I thought was probably well behind me.”
TUELLER: “You travel with me, there’s always Family stuff.”
ALEJO: “You travel with me and that’s the stuff that I intended to move beyond.”
TUELLER: “We can, of course, always take off and leave the Ark behind. But I owe a Debt.”
TUELLER: “A debt that’s getting us a well-equipped ship.”
MILLICENT: Millie pipes in. “So, we’re doing one or the other to help or the other of you?”
ALEJO: “A debt that should disappear if Ruma has no more face.”
TUELLER: “Can’t kill your way out of Debt. Lord knows I tried.”
MILLICENT: “Oh it’s not outsider talking time yet. You boys go on for a minute, I’ll amuse myself.”
ALEJO: Alejo shrugs in reluctant agreement. “Fair.”
MILLICENT: hand sign, “Noma, where are the Kith from? Where is Kith space?”
TUELLER: “Anyway, we don’t need to decide now. Doc, what’s your plan?”
ALEJO: “No, you’re right, Doc. At least on the surface. But I think that there’s a way for us to do both, if that’s what we decide we want.”
ALEJO: “Yeah, let’s hear more about your squirt gun aliens.”
TUELLER: —In my head, Ya’Makasi debts go in a big book, like in John Wick 2.
TUELLER: —In fact, I think Sergio is probalby that fucking guy.
ALEJO: — You know, that movie has been in the back of my head these last two sessions, with the way you’ve been playing Tueller!
STORY: “Unknown, Millie. I have shared all publicly available information on the Kith.”
TUELLER: https://images.cdn.whathifi.com/sites/whathifi.com/files/styles/big-image/public/brands/news/2017-July/john_wick_chapter_2_villain.jpg?itok=Caunoknz
STORY: — YOU’RE KIDDING ME I ALREADY PICKED THAT GUY
STORY: — _STU_
STORY: — _STU LITERALLY_
ALEJO: –Great minds!
TUELLER: —John Wick has been very influential on me.
STORY: @jess uploaded a file: Screen Shot 2018-02-06 at 10.13.18 PM.png https://jethica.slack.com/files/U0QC1BT42/F952E6D2N/screen_shot_2018-02-06_at_10.13.18_pm.png
STORY: — HE’S ALREADY GOT AN AVATAR _STU_
TUELLER: —Hah!
MILLICENT: “Oh, research. My plan is to research the Kith and what their problem is and to help them and honestly that’s as far as I’d gotten. Also I would like to not have to sign this lie. Any thoughts there?”
ALEJO: “Just curious — no insult intended here, Doc — what bothers you about the lie? You killed literally dozens of Loll’s comrades to get a doodad, without the slightest hesitation. But some aliens squirt water at you with sad faces and you go all mushy? Help me understand why?”
ALEJO: –If you roll out some sort of Kantian answer, Josh, I’m gonna slap you through Slack, just so you know.
TUELLER: —You misspelled….oh, nevermind.
MILLICENT: “Fair point, Mr. Soto.” Deep breath. “The Maitri don’t need our help. And their entire installation is a literal challenge to all comers. The Kith are looking for the help the Ark is supposed to represent. And the Ark turned a literal deaf ear. So they asked me for help.” Millie shrugs. “I’m inclined to give it to them, if I can.”
MILLICENT: “If the Ark was wrong in treating us wrong, then they’re wrong to treat the Kith the same way. And if I expect better for us, I must expect us to be better for them.”
MILLICENT: “That is as close as I can get to describing my feelings here, Mr. Soto.”
TUELLER: “Works for me. It’s that, or going to a fucking party.”
MILLICENT: —Jesus, Stu I nearly choked on my drink
MILLICENT: —lol
TUELLER: —I roll 0s for Influence. Of course I don’t want to go to the traditional party heist scene.
ALEJO: Alejo nods thoughtfully. “Tueller really hates parties.” He looks to Millie. “You’re a delightfully complicated person. I like it.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods, smiling.
ALEJO: “So we’re agreed that we’re suddenly on a mission of egalitarianism. What about Ruma?”
TUELLER: “We don’t shoot her. Yet, at least.”
MILLICENT: “When is this party?”
TUELLER: “Party is tomorrow.”
ALEJO: “Why? What’s the angle with her? Curiosity or profit?”
MILLICENT: “I have much research on the Kith to do before we leave, if that is our goal. We have time to attend your party.”
TUELLER: “Well. Shit. In the interest of full disclosure there’s a guy who will almost definitely be attending the party whose hand I kind of…well…cut off.”
TUELLER: “In my defense he was asking for it.”
TUELLER: “It was college.”
ALEJO: “Happens.”
TUELLER: “Small universe.”
MILLICENT: Millie shakes her head, shrugs. “What college?”
ALEJO: Alejo shakes his head.
TUELLER: “University of Callisto.”
TUELLER: —It’s a very good school.
TUELLER: —Jovan Yale.
MILLICENT: “Ah”
ALEJO: “Look, college frat parties aside, I’d like to understand what you’re proposing with Ruma. I owe Akilah a lot. She asked something of me. If I’m going to say ‘no’ or delay, I need to understand more.”
MILLICENT: “So how do I get out of signing this lie?”
TUELLER: —Attendees tell you they went to University of Callisto a lot, in casual conversation.
MILLICENT: “Which I believe to be step one in our plan to not be in this small room all afternoon.”
ALEJO: “Good point, Doc. So, does the lie now prevent us from rescuing the toy gun gang? I mean, I understand your moral concern, but if we really want to help, seems the easiest path is to sign the thing and get out of here.”
MILLICENT: “Oh yes, I suppose it won’t hurt the Kith in general, just the specific one who wanted me to feel afraid.”
MILLICENT: Millie wavers
TUELLER: “Or you can appeal to CJH, get a lawyer from the embassy here with my help. But you almost definitely end up Owing the Families for that.”
TUELLER: “As a note, to repay my debt, I am being asked to go into unknown dangerous space to rescue embryos.
ALEJO: —Kids in SPACE.
TUELLER: —KIDS…..IN…..SPAAAAAAAACE.
STORY: —spabies
TUELLER: https://media.giphy.com/media/yPLrPpSPHGMhy/giphy.gif
MILLICENT: Millie straightens. “Let’s go sign that lie and then go help some aliens.”
MILLICENT: “And rescue some embryos.”
TUELLER: “Good call, Doc.”
MILLICENT: “And.” Millie looks around, kind of confused, but game, “shoot a face off?”
TUELLER: “We’ll flip for it.”
STORY: — i know you all want the button but it’s only 10:35
MILLICENT: Nods, keen as anything
ALEJO: Alejo does not nod and is not keen about coin flipping for face-shooting-off.
TUELLER: “After you, Doc.”
MILLICENT: Millie strides out and signs the stupid cop doc and keeps striding until she reaches Space Library
STORY: Hooray!
STORY: Okay, let’s step back a bit.
STORY: Y’all need lodging. You need Space Library time. Presumably, you need to brief each other on specifics.
STORY: What else do you need before bedtime?
ALEJO: Alcohol.
TUELLER: Tueller stocked up our bar back home.
TUELLER: And had a bunch to drink, as well.
STORY: Alejo, tell me about the rooms you get! What section of the Ark are they in, and how are they appointed?
ALEJO: Alejo and Tueller debate a bit about where to stay. Ultimately, Millie breaks the tie and we wind up close to the library. We have a flat that is comprised of six bedrooms, all reasonably apportioned and, in comparison to Tueller and Alejo’s quarters on the Peregrine, palatial. The rooms all branch off a common space that includes a small kitchen area and a living room sort of area. It’s big. Surprisingly big for a space station.
MILLICENT: ….
MILLICENT: Unfortunately, they were all made for an alien race that starts around 7 feet tall. They’re at basically 5/4 size. All the furniture, plumbing and fixtures are juuuust a little too tall, big or unwieldy for our size. Tueller is in heaven.
STORY: So is T’chololl.
STORY: Jenny deals with it.
MILLICENT: Everyone else has stools delivered.
TUELLER: It’s in a section of the station that’s at half earth gravity, but the apartment has artificial gravity settings, so they agree to bring it up to 75% earth gravity to feel more comfortable, which makes the height a little easier to deal with.
STORY: For at least an hour Jenny is fixated with jumping around and exercising in low gravity.
STORY: She’s really into it.
STORY: Kahn and Tariq are still both back at the ship, but Jac shows up and joins you for dinner.
STORY: Presumably, you all catch each other up – so we don’t waste time explaining things we’ve all already seen, is there anything that happened in a private scene that you -wouldn’t- disclose to the rest of the crew?
MILLICENT: Not for me.
TUELLER: Tueller explains to Millie that Nandini was his ex, and after she married Ruma, she and Tueller were on a job and Tueller fired a gun on a ship that caused an explosive decompression that spaced Nadini and killed her.
TUELLER: I don’t know if that’d been said explicitly anywhere else, but that’s what happened.
TUELLER: “You were asking if I’d ever had a concussion. Well. That’s when. My own fucking fault.”
TUELLER: “Boarding armor scrubs it out. Ruma’s getting us some boarding armor. Don’t know if that’s ironic or not.”
MILLICENT: “Oh.” Millie lays a hand on his arm. “I’m so. So. Sorry, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
STORY: Noma pipes in. “That is ironic, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
TUELLER: I can’t think of anything else to do before bed other than to pour a couple rounds of drinks.
ALEJO: Alejo is definitely gonna want some time with Tueller to talk about this Ruma thing. But otherwise, he’s not too shy about sharing the gist of things with the crew, and especially Millie.
STORY: Okay. Millie, you spend some time at the library, let’s cover that in the next episode.
STORY: Alejo, Tueller, time for a chat.
TUELLER: “Ejo. What’s up with Lah? Where’s this coming from?”
TUELLER: “And why the hell didn’t she speak to me?”
STORY: — does tueller think nicknames are just the last sound in someone’s name?
ALEJO: Alejo pours Tueller a drink and hands it to him before pouring his own.
TUELLER: —They are some time!
ALEJO: He sighs. “This is something I probably shouldn’t tell you. Or maybe I should have told you a long time ago. I don’t know.”
TUELLER: —I’m trying to nickname EVERYONE.
ALEJO: He takes a drink.
TUELLER: —And just going with the first thing that comes when I say people’s name out loud.
MILLICENT: —Cent! Chol! Riq! Ahn! Knee!
ALEJO: “Akilah was my mentor. You know that. She became a lot more.”
ALEJO: He takes another drink.
TUELLER: —Aki and Esi probably would have been a good parallel.
ALEJO: — That’s what I call her. I’ve avoided it here just ’cause I didn’t want to offend Tueller.
TUELLER: —But I went with Lah because they’re twins, and Lah sounds like a kids name.
STORY: — IT’S A GOOD NICKNAME STOP INTERRUPTING THE SCENE
TUELLER: —Naw, you can use your own nicknames, no problem.
TUELLER: “More?”
TUELLER: “What type of extracuriculars are we talking here?”
TUELLER: Tueller is not threatening at all, btw.
ALEJO: “More. Like at first just an intense but casual fling sort of more for us both. But then, less casual. More intense.”
TUELLER: “Oh shit.”
ALEJO: Alejo squints up his eyes and takes another drink. “I’m sorry I . . . we didn’t tell you. If it helps, we didn’t tell anyone.”
ALEJO: “She eventually wanted to tell. You. Everyone.”
TUELLER: “You’re engaged.”
TUELLER: “Wen.”
ALEJO: Alejo nearly spits out his drink. “No. No. I mean, we . . . no.”
TUELLER: “I got a Save the Date.”
ALEJO: Alejo’s eyes open wide. “From Aki?”
TUELLER: “From Esi first. A follow-up from Lah.”
ALEJO: Alejo just freezes for a very long five seconds or so and then drains his drink, pours another, and drains it. “Right. Sure.”
TUELLER: Tueller is very still, only occasionally raising his glass to his lips.
TUELLER: The sudden quick movement of the glass is alarming every time it happens.
TUELLER: “Six months to the wedding, huh?”
ALEJO: “Well shit.” Alejo is starting to feel the quick succession of drinks. “A wedding, I guess. Not mine, unless your sister has got one hell of a sense of humor.”
TUELLER: ’Hmmmph.”
MILLICENT: —speaking for the audience at home: huh?
MILLICENT: — ah wha?
ALEJO: Alejo just gets the bottle.
TUELLER: —in brief, my sister and him were dating, and now she’s engaged, and apparently not to him.
TUELLER: —It’s apparently a thing that happens to all of us.
ALEJO: “So, yeah, that’s news. Good for Aki. Anyway, that’s why she talked to me. Or that’s why I thought she talked to me.”
TUELLER: “Well then. A couple paradigms shifting here or there.”
TUELLER: “I got a wedding invite. Guy’s name is ‘Wen,’ apparently.”
TUELLER: “I have a plus one.”
ALEJO: “Date night.” Alejo says this while pouring another drink.
TUELLER: Tueller polishes off his drink, puts it out for Alejo to fill.
ALEJO: Alejo does.
TUELLER: “wanna come?”
ALEJO: “Strange how that slipped her mind, what with wanting me to blow Ruma’s head off and all.”
ALEJO: Alejo smiles and then laughs, looking at Tueller more directly than he has during the entire interaction.
TUELLER: “Wedding’s on Io. Loki Patera crater, though don’t let that get out. You know how we avoid orbital strikes.”
ALEJO: “I do. And . . . I’m sorry, truly. I should have told you.”
TUELLER: Tueller shrugs. “She’s my sister, not my property. She does what she wants, same as me.”
TUELLER: “I kept Nandini and I from her for all of Freshman year.”
ALEJO: Alejo nods. “She told me.”
ALEJO: “Listen, Tueller, there’s more. Something that . . . fuck it all, I definitely shouldn’t tell you this, but I also should have told you this so long ago.”
TUELLER: Tueller pauses with his drink right before his mouth.
ALEJO: Alejo finishes his drink again and pours a new one. “The Nandini op. It was supposed to be me.” He drinks half of it. “It was supposed to be me leading it, not you.”
TUELLER: “Hmmm.” Tueller finishes off his drink. Doesnt’ know what else to say. “This Ark Poteen is for shit.”
ALEJO: “Aki and I . . . . had a fight. A very big fight. I left. And left her hanging. You got assigned the op in my place.”
TUELLER: “So?”
ALEJO: “You should have never been there, man.” Alejo shakes his head and downs the rest of his drink and pours yet another.
TUELLER: “That’s some bullshit. And insulting to me to boot.”
ALEJO: Alejo shakes his head. “It’s not about you or what you’re capable of doing. You just shouldn’t have had to bear the consequences of an op going sideways and losing Nandini. That should have been my shit to bear.”
TUELLER: “You don’t get to take responsibility for Nandini’s loss from me.” Tueller is very quiet and sharp.
ALEJO: Alejo nods quietly. “Of course. I’m just sorry that I didn’t tell you. I should have given you a choice to hate me for it too.”
TUELLER: “Things aren’t meant to be. Things just happen. Kinetic energy meets steel meets what nature does when it meets a vacuum and things happen from there. I fucked up and that’s not your fault or your responsibility or Lah’s or anyone but me.
TUELLER: “It just…is. Was.”
TUELLER: “Hit me with some more of that swill.” Tueller pushes the glass over.
ALEJO: Alejo refills Tueller’s glass, as much as it’s down at this point. “You’re a wise man for being such a muscle bound brute.”
TUELLER: “I went to a good college. Also, my tutors had the fear of being thrown onto the surface of Io with just a breather.
MILLICENT: Somewhere in the Space Library, Millie farts.
ALEJO: He smiles and shakes his head. “Meritocracy my ass.”
ALEJO: –Smelly!
STORY: — in space library, no one can hear you fart
ALEJO: –I think that this is alright for me.
TUELLER: “I’m not sure you know what a meritocracy is, buddy.”
TUELLER: —I’m ready to end the scene anytime.
ALEJO: “So true!” He finishes another glass and ends the scene.
STORY: You both get fairly drunk. At some point, Millie slips back in from her library visit and goes to bed.
STORY: Alejo, you fall asleep much more easily than usual, proving the booze may not have tasted great, but it was real, at least.
TUELLER: —pocheenious.
STORY: You barely hear the door to your room slide open and click shut, and open your eyes just in time to see a figure crawl onto the bed over you.
STORY: What do you do?
ALEJO: It is a threatening sort of crawl?
STORY: No, but it’s swift.
TUELLER: —-SHOOOOOOOT HER.
TUELLER: —-OR HIM.
MILLICENT: —flip them
TUELLER: —-COULD BE A HIM.
STORY: — probably her though
TUELLER: —COULD BE AN IT.
MILLICENT: —into the incenerator
MILLICENT: incinerator
TUELLER: https://imgur.com/cRReV9E
ALEJO: “Well hi,” Alejo says as he shifts to a slightly more defensible position, but does not react in any dramatic way.
ALEJO: –You all are silly.
STORY: Before you can react, this person is on top of you, pushing you flat and pinning your arms to your sides with their legs. You react instinctively, trying to break free, but they’re too fast for you, reaching for your head…
MILLICENT: —wife is wearing a grey hoodie with the hood up for some reason and I have called her Mom’s Spaghetti at least three times in a minute to no effect
STORY: and sticking a wet finger in your ear. Really digging in there.
STORY: Sufficiently slimy, the figure leans over and flicks on the light. It’s Calixta.
ALEJO: “Wet willy! Seriously!” Alejo still struggles to break free.
STORY: “You’ve gotten slow, Cinco.”