STORY: The drinks finally arrive. Wen takes a big gulp of his and shudders. It’s stronger than he expected. “Look, I want to do this right. She doesn’t, I mean. Really talk about you. But I know things got complicated between you, and I know it’s been… this has been quick. So I wanted the chance to, well. Look you in the eye and.”
STORY: He looks flustered.
STORY: “You know, ask for your blessing.”
STORY: We left off after a very successful heist, in which Millie and Alejo obtained the encrypted data about Ruma’s attack and Tueller made a friend and got his jaw broken.
STORY: Millie and Alejo, are you returning to your quarters?
ALEJO: Yes.
MILLICENT: Yes
STORY: Excellent. Alejo guides Millie, helping them avoid the A-Sec officers who pass them on their way to investigate the alarm she set off at Sergio’s apartment, and you arrive to a quiet apartment. Jenny is inside, sitting at the table with a dinner roll and a head of steamed broccoli on a plate.
STORY: She looks up and smiles. “How did the heist go?”
ALEJO: Alejo smiles and gives her an “all good” nod. “Millie was a boss.”
TUELLER: —Jenny has no subtlety.
MILLICENT: Millie smiles hugely. “It went smashingly!”
STORY: “Glad to hear it! I’m just about to turn in, you guys are good for the night?”
ALEJO: “I think so, yes. Seen Tueller?”
STORY: She shakes her head.
ALEJO: “Alright. Thanks. Get some rest. We’ll let you know if anything exciting happens.”
STORY: Tueller! You and Wen find yourselves in a tough spot, as you arrive at the nearby infirmary to find multiple A-Sec officers there, investigating what looks like a burglary.
STORY: Wen looks at you and shrugs, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding cheekbone. “Your place or mine?”
TUELLER: Tueller gestures to himself, not speaking.
STORY: He nods. “Lead the way.”
TUELLER: And indicates to the right, waviing us along.
STORY: Alejo, Jenny goes off to bed as the door beeps and opens. Tueller and Wen, both looking significantly worse for wear, are outside.
STORY: Wen looks inside and his eyes light up when he sees you. “Alejo Soto?”
STORY: “Tueller, I didn’t know you were still traveling with him! Wait – was he in on the thing with Sergio?”
TUELLER: Tueller grunts.
STORY: His eyes get wide. “Oh my god, was this a job?”
ALEJO: “Wen. Hi. Tueller, Jesus brother! What the fuck happened?”
TUELLER: “Hmmmmph.”
STORY: “Oh, sorry. I think his jaw is broken. And his hand is cut pretty bad too.”
TUELLER: “Distraction worked?”
ALEJO: Alejo goes over to offer him a shoulder.
TUELLER: Tueller’s voice sounds like broken glass.
ALEJO: He nods, obviously very concerned about Tueller. “Yeah, it went great.”
STORY: “Do you guys have any medi-gel?”
MILLICENT: Millie sees Tueller and immediately starts bustling.
TUELLER: “Bourbon. And a straw.”
MILLICENT: She bustles into her room and comes out with a big bag that she bustles over to the kitchen table.
ALEJO: “Yeah,” Alejo says distractedly, still trying to assess Tueller.
MILLICENT: She slams the bag onto the table and points imperiously at the nearest chair while digging through the bag. “Sit!”
TUELLER: Tueller has a black eye, a fucked up jaw, and a fucked up left hand. He’s cradling the left hand across his chest.
ALEJO: Alejo helps Tueller to a stool, promptly heads to the liquor cabinet and makes him a bourbon then rustles around for a straw, finds one and brings it back to him. It’s like a quadruple-sized glass, not proper at all for bourbon.
TUELLER: Tueller goes over and sits. “Bourbon and straw. Pleshe”
MILLICENT: The bag is classic doctor’s bag, big, black, two looped brown handles, obvious flat bottom.
ALEJO: Alejo pays almost no attention to Wen to this point.
STORY: Wen stands around, trying to stay out of the way. He’s very tall.
STORY: He’s still holding a half-red hanky to his cheek, but he doesn’t address it.
TUELLER: His cheek got cut open?
STORY: Millie, give me a Patch Up roll please!
ALEJO: Once it’s clear that Millie is taking care of Tueller, Alejo spins to Wen. “What the hell happened?”
STORY: It did, he was slashed with that claw when he tried to enter the fight.
TUELLER: “No metal.”
ALEJO: “You alright?” He asks this clearly as an afterthought.
TUELLER: “Wanna look like me when this is over.”
TUELLER: “Too pretty for metal.”
TUELLER: Tueller glares at Millie there.
MILLICENT: Millie goes to work, examining Tueller.
STORY: Wen looks alarmed. “It.. I mean, we got into a fight with a guy with a claw and his four bodyguards! Tueller was amazing, but it’s not like it -wasn’t- dangerous.”
STORY: “He got cracked pretty good at the end there. Took Sergio down, though. He’s gonna have a bad scar, I bet.”
MILLICENT: roll /2d6
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6
STORY: @josh rolled 7
MILLICENT: 9
ALEJO: Alejo stares at Wen intently and not entirely kindly. “Why were you there?”
STORY: Okay! You can improve one of his Major wounds to Minor, but that’s as far as you go under these circumstances, he’ll need medical assistance (or time) to handle the other stuff.
TUELLER: Can I assist?
STORY: Wen looks utterly guileless. “He needed a second.”
STORY: Tueller, what do you intend to do to help Millie?
TUELLER: Stay conscious and brace while he puts my jaw back into place.
ALEJO: At this Alejo reluctantly nods. “Right. Well, then I’m glad you were there. Thank you.” The last is more sincere than anything he’s said to Wen tonight.
STORY: That’s not likely to assist her medical skills, unfortunately.
MILLICENT: Millie mutters under her breath while she works. “Too pretty for metal! Ha! I’ll remake your entire jaw with osmium if you go picking fights with claw-handed perverts again.”
STORY: Wen smiles broadly at Millie’s banter.
STORY: And turns to Alejo. “Happy to help, man. We’re gonna be family, you know, so.”
TUELLER: “is my job. Doc.”
ALEJO: “Jenny!” Alejo shouts while still looking at Wen. “Things got exciting. Doc could use your help.”
STORY: Jenny hops out of her room a moment later, pulling on a t-shirt and in her socks and sweatpants, half a bread roll in her mouth. She hops over to Millie. “What can I do?”
STORY: Alejo, give me a Command move please!
ALEJO: /roll 2d6
STORY: @ablair01 rolled 9
ALEJO: +2 = 11
MILLICENT: Millie turns to Jenny, smiles, wipes some blood from forehead and looks her right in the eye.
STORY: Millie, Jenny takes orders well as you explain what to do, and your Patch Up will work on the aforementioned Major (downgraded to Minor) injury and you can roll again to keep working. Which do you handle first, Tueller’s jaw or his hand?
TUELLER: Tueller points toward his jaw.
TUELLER: Sipping bourbon through a straw.
STORY: Wen sidles over to you, Alejo, keeping a respectful distance but trying to speak more quietly. “I’m, uh. I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable.”
MILLICENT: Whispering, “I’m going to hurt him very badly. His jaw is dislocated and he’s in shock, so he very likely doesn’t know. I’m going to need you to hold his head and help me force it back into place.”
STORY: Jenny swallows and nods.
TUELLER: “Not in shock.”
TUELLER: Tueller grows.
MILLICENT: Out loud, “Jenny, could you look at Mr. Ya’Makasi’s pupils? I think he might have a concussion.”
MILLICENT: Hey, I whispered, nosy
TUELLER: “Know shock. Not this.”
MILLICENT: Millie guides Jenny’s hands to Tueller’s head. “Here, look just here, Jenny.”
STORY: Jenny hops to it. “Yes, Doctor!” She holds Tueller by the forehead and smiles at him. “Everything’s going to be okay!”
TUELLER: “I know.”
TUELLER: “No metal. Doc.”
MILLICENT: Millie suddenly cracks Tueller’s jaw back into place.
STORY: It’s very loud!
TUELLER: “Hmmmmph.”
STORY: Tueller, you hear it both outside and inside your head.
MILLICENT: “No metal, dear.”
STORY: It’s searingly painful.
ALEJO: Alejo softens his look at Wen. “I think I probably owe you the apology. I’m sorry this might be uncomfortable for you. But thank you again for having Tueller’s back.” He says this quietly while watching in some horror as the procedure happens.
TUELLER: Tueller exhales for a very very very long time.
STORY: Wen and Alejo stand back, arms crossed, watching some brutal field medicine unfurl before them.
MILLICENT: As if nothing happened, Millie wipes Tueller’s face and starts examining his fingers
STORY: Wen: “Huh.”
STORY: Then, to Alejo: “I’d, uh. Still love to buy you that drink, if I can.”
ALEJO: Alejo is grimacing, not at Wen but at the medical horrors before him, but he’s transfixed. He simply nods and says, “I could use a drink.”
STORY: “Maybe… the other side of the counter?”
TUELLER: Tueller is just breathing slow. He’s kind of staring off into the middle distance.
MILLICENT: “Oh good! Nothing broken here, just some sprains. I’ll need to set this hand and you’ll need to rest it for a few days.” Millie bustles about, building a splint and stopping briefly to hand Tueller the bourbon/straw combo.
TUELLER: “Palm.”
MILLICENT: “Oh, that’s. Hand on the counter, please.”
TUELLER: “S’fucked up.”
TUELLER: Tueller puts his hand out gingerly.
TUELLER: It obviously really hurts.
TUELLER: “A moment, Doc.”
ALEJO: Alejo moves over to Tueller, without getting in the way of anything, and assesses the amount of bourbon in his glass. If it’s low, Alejo will refill it.
TUELLER: Tueller reaches out and very very very carefully takes the glove off of his hand. You didn’t even know it was there until he takes it off.
TUELLER: It blends in with the tabletop when he sets it down.
TUELLER: “K.”
TUELLER: Blood you didn’t even know was on the glove drips off of it, only becoming visible when it pools around a glove shaped void on the table top.
STORY: Jenny and Wen, simultaneously: “Huh.”
MILLICENT: Millie cocks her head
TUELLER: “Ready, Doc.”
STORY: Millie, let’s have another Patch Up move for the hand please!
MILLICENT: “Fascinating glov-YES, of course.”
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6
TUELLER: “Eyes over here, doc.”
STORY: @josh rolled 7
MILLICENT: 9 again
MILLICENT: Plus Jenny’s assistance?
STORY: Nope, she already assisted. You can downgrade the Major hand wound to Minor, which effectively means stitching it up in a way that the pain will subside after a few hours and he can use it again tomorrow.
STORY: Same with the jaw. Medi-gel is apparently magical.
TUELLER: So would that mean I have three minor injuries?
TUELLER: I have a black eye, a major jaw wound downgraded to minor, and a fixed up hand?
MILLICENT: Millie pulls out some pliers from the bag.
MILLICENT: “Now, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
ALEJO: Alejo’s eyes widen at this.
STORY: Yeah, I mean. I’m okay fudging it. You need a full night’s sleep and you’ll be a little busted up looking but you can function normally in the morning.
ALEJO: “Doc?” He says questioningly.
MILLICENT: “You have some serious muscle damage here. I believe I can fix it.”
MILLICENT: Her eyes glisten audibly.
MILLICENT: “Or…”
ALEJO: “No metal!”
MILLICENT: Millie frowns. “Yes, of course.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks her right in the eyes, and not in a friendly fashion.
MILLICENT: “Have it your way.”
TUELLER: His undamaged right hand is in a fist, and it…shimmers a little bit.
MILLICENT: “Mr. Ya’Makasi?”
MILLICENT: “Do you currently possess any augmentations I should know about before I go digging in your hand?”
TUELLER: “All natural.”
MILLICENT: “Nano-security? Neuroelectrical suppressors? An osteodefensive matrix, perhaps?”
TUELLER: “Gloves are a set. Store kinetic energy. Release it when appropriate.” Tueller waves his undamaged right hand which gives off waves like heat off of a grill.”
TUELLER: “Evening’s been kinetic.”
STORY: Jenny looks alarmed. “Doctor Breedlove, I think he’s saying you should just fix his hand.”
STORY: “Or he’ll punch you with his explosion hand.”
MILLICENT: “Ah. I do hope you’ll let me examine them later.” Millie bends over Tueller’s hand and performs impromptu surgery. After cleaning the wound she does poking and prodding around in his hand.
MILLICENT: At the end Tueller’s hand feels like he closed it in 3 car doors, but could catch a frisbee
STORY: Wen has just been silently watching, equal parts fascinated and horrified.
STORY: He continues to hold the handkerchief to his cheek, which gets progressively redder.
TUELLER: Tueller squirms while being operated on, obviously wanting to be as still as possible but not quite succeeding.
MILLICENT: Millie stitches up Tueller’s hand.
TUELLER: He manages to look like he needs to pee.
TUELLER: And drinks his pint glass of bourbon.
TUELLER: “Help Wen out, if you can.”
ALEJO: When Millie is wrapping up with Tueller, Alejo will say, “Doc, when you’re done there, can you look at Wen.”
MILLICENT: Before she lets him up she looks him dead in the eye. “Those are good stitches now. You’re going to clean these wounds at least three times a day with a sterilizer I give you. And I’ll be counting doses.
STORY: Wen looks alarmed. “Uh.”
TUELLER: Tueller nods. “Thanks doc.”
MILLICENT: Millie gestures at Tueller to scoot and gestures at Wen to sit.
STORY: “What, uh, what exactly are you a doctor of, Dr. Breedlove?”
ALEJO: Alejo puts a hand on his shoulder. “She’s good, friend. She-”
TUELLER: “This is not my first rodeo.”
ALEJO: Alejo stops and let’s Millie explain.
ALEJO: He gestures to her somewhat grandly.
TUELLER: Tueller flexes his left hand gingerly.
TUELLER: “This is good work.”
TUELLER: “CJH doctor quality.”
TUELLER: Tueller raises his glass to Mille. “Salut.”
ALEJO: Once Tueller has drained it, Alejo goes and refills it. Again. He gives Tueller a manly nod. “Hell of a distraction.”
TUELLER: “Did the job. Right?”
TUELLER: “You should see the other guy.”
ALEJO: “Dead?”
MILLICENT: “Hmmm? I hold doctorates in nuclear engineering, astrophysics, stellar cartography, robotics and computer science. And I got my bachelors in communication from Tulane. Now come here and sit down. I also have a medical degree, if it helps.”
STORY: He sits, hesitantly. “Uh, oh, okay. Can… you try to keep the stitches small, please?”
MILLICENT: Millie patches up Wen
STORY: It works! You do a nice job.
STORY: Wen grimaces a little but you manage to close up the wound in his cheek, which will likely heal into a small, barely noticeable but nonetheless slightly rugged scar.
STORY: You realize as you are operating on him that you have seen his face before. In many places.
ALEJO: –Fucking Wen.
STORY: He’s in advertisements everywhere on the Ark.
ALEJO: “Nice work, Doc. Thank you.” Alejo says, after making sure Tueller’s glass is full and then moving over to look at the progress on Wen. “Really nice work.”
MILLICENT: “Thank you, Mr. Soto. Don’t tell Mr. Ya’Makasi, but he is, indeed, too pretty for metal.”
MILLICENT: “Mr. Kuang, you’ve got.” Stitches stitches. “One of those faces, haven’t you?”
STORY: Wen looks bashful. “Oh, yeah, I mean. I do some modeling work.”
STORY: “And acting. I’ve got a holovid coming out soon, that’s probably what you mean. You saw the ads?”
ALEJO: Alejo can’t help but shake his head, just very slightly.
MILLICENT: “I did, Mr. Kuang. What was the name of it again?”
STORY: “Space Quest X: Latex Babes of Estros.”
STORY: He shakes his head, laughing a little. “It’s direct-to-holo, you know. I take what work i can get.”
MILLICENT: “A bona fide”, let’s not pretend she doesn’t say BONE-A-FEE-DAY, come on, “celebrity on my operating…hotel kitchenette chair! It’s quite an honor.”
ALEJO: Alejo smiles at this, unable to help but sort of enjoy the earnest awkwardness of them both.
STORY: He laughs. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but thank you very much for the help nonetheless.”
MILLICENT: “Thank you for keeping Mr. Ya’Makasi in one-in enough pieces that he can be swept into a manageable heap at the end of the day.”
TUELLER: “Hmmmph.”
MILLICENT: “Which is a story I _still_ haven’t heard, by the by.”
TUELLER: “Ndrangheta fought dirty.”
TUELLER: “Five against the two of us.”
ALEJO: “Asshole.”
TUELLER: Tueller shrugs. “It’s what I expected.”
TUELLER: “Five wasn’t enough.”
STORY: “I wasn’t much help, to be honest.”
TUELLER: “Serj is going to need a new hand.”
STORY: “And face. You didn’t see what you did to his face?”
STORY: “If his lip’s still in one piece I’ll eat my hat.”
ALEJO: “Twenty wouldn’t be enough against you, my friend. But I’m glad you’re alright.”
MILLICENT: “Oh good, so the ultra-violence was successful?”
TUELLER: “That was just to pass the time. Your mission is the mission.”
STORY: “I was wondering, I mean.” He puts up his hands. “Don’t spill the beans if you can’t, but… what was that all about, Tueller?”
TUELLER: “Old history.” It still hurts Tueller to speak, btw.
ALEJO: Alejo suddenly remembers that Wen is here. He turns, a little more quickly than he should to face Wen as Tueller speaks.
STORY: “But I mean…” He looks at Alejo and Millie. “Where were your friends while that history was… happening?”
TUELLER: “Doing stuff that you’re better off not knowing too much about.”
ALEJO: “Where do you think that prothesis came from in the first place.” Alejo tries to point things back to Tueller.
STORY: Wen shrugs. “Okay.”
TUELLER: “Oh, that prosthesis was a college project of his.”
TUELLER: “Obviously built with one hand.”
MILLICENT: Now that he isn’t her patient, Millie frowns a little dramatically at Wen
TUELLER: “Maybe the only thing he ever built himself.”
ALEJO: “Wen, I think I owe you that drink. If, that is, you’re still up for one?”
STORY: “Oh! Yeah, absolutely. I mean – I don’t think we can go back to the party.”
ALEJO: Alejo gives Tueller and Millie a quick and knowing glance. “Yeah, no, probably not. Gotta be a bar or pub or something around here, right?”
STORY: “Sure, there are a couple within a few blocks. You like hookah?”
ALEJO: “Who doesn’t.”
TUELLER: “You guys have a bit to talk about.”
TUELLER: “Give my love to my sis when you see her.”
TUELLER: Tueller aims that at the two of them.
STORY: Tueller, a look passes over Wen you can’t quite place, but it looks like the briefest panic.
ALEJO: Alejo gives Tueller a slight frown.
STORY: “Tueller, you’re of course welcome to come see Kiki whenever you can! Do you – can I write down our address for you?”
TUELLER: “Just tell it to me. I’ll remember.”
STORY: “I don’t know if she knew you’d be here more than… I’m not sure, honestly. I think she has been pretty busy the last couple days.”
TUELLER: “No paper trail.”
TUELLER: “Ya’Makasi rules.”
ALEJO: Alejo’s jaw nearly drops before he recovers composure. “Kiki?” This slips out.
TUELLER: —I left that one for you to respond to.
MILLICENT: Millie watches this like a tennis match
STORY: Wen glances at you, Alejo, smiles awkwardly, then returns to Tueller. “Yeah, uh. We’re on the Morgrave deck, aft section, on Vimes street. Number 26442.”
TUELLER: “When’s a good time to visit?”
STORY: “Anytime! She’s just in tonight doing work, couldn’t take time off to get to the gala. Paperwork, I think.”
TUELLER: “See you around. Enjoy your drink, fellas.”
ALEJO: Alejo is still reeling a bit from “Kiki” but he’s recovered to anyone who doesn’t know him. “Right,” he says, “shall we?” He gestures to the door welcomingly.
TUELLER: “Hope to see Kiki soon.”
STORY: Wen smiles warmly at you, Tueller and Millie. “Thanks again, everyone. It’s been… I mean, wow.”
TUELLER: “Bring her around, if you get a chance.”
MILLICENT: “I’ve got some computer work to attend to. Enjoy your drink, gentlemen.” Glares half-heartedly at Wen in solidarity with Alejo
ALEJO: Alejo gives Tueller a dangerously intense look. Then turns heads out with Wen.
STORY: “Oh, sure, will do.” He exits cheerfully, the painkiller from the medi-gel starting to work, and gives you his back, Alejo, totally open for a stab to the shoulder blades if someone wanted to do such a thing.
ALEJO: Alejo thinks long and hard about it but does not stab Wen.
STORY: He points you down the hall. “So there’s a hookah joint a block or two away from here I hear is pretty nice. It should be quiet, at least.”
ALEJO: He smiles broadly, Loki style. “Lead the way!”
STORY: You walk down the street together, occasional images of Wen’s face catching the corner of your eye in advertisements. They’re really going heavy on the Latex Babes advertising in this sector.
STORY: He walks a half step ahead of you, as if he has trouble walking slower than his natural long stride.
ALEJO: “So, interesting film career you have.” Alejo says this as easily as if he was talking about the local sports scores.
STORY: “Oh. Yeah, I mean. I don’t think they hire me for the talking part, but it’s good enough money. Not a lot of choices where I come from, so I’m lucky I had this.”
ALEJO: “Where’s that?”
STORY: “Oh, uh. My parents were homesteaders on Triton.”
STORY: “We had a salt farm.”
STORY: “Lot of machines, just turning the dirt over, gathering moisture. It was extraordinarily boring. How about you?”
STORY: You make it to the bar, get a table and a few drinks, and a waiter brings you the hookah. It’s apple tobacco.
STORY: Wen can’t exactly figure out how it works.
STORY: He inhales too deeply and spends a few seconds hacking.
ALEJO: Alejo acknowledges Wen’s background with respect. Then he take’s a deep drag on the hookah, enjoying it and smiling at Wen, unable to help but find him a bit charming. “Salt of the . . . well Triton.” He smiles warmly. “Makes sense. Ak,” he pauses and corrects himself, “Kiki always did like us boot-string sorts of folks.”
STORY: He leans in, instantly interested. “Is that what you are? Farm kid?”
ALEJO: Alejo shakes his head dramatically. “Oh no! No. I’m a city kid. But humble roots. Maybe humbler than farmers. My dad was an actor, actually.” He laughs at this. “My mom was a pilot. Cargo.”
STORY: “Oh, wow. I bet you traveled a lot.”
STORY: “I have seen more systems at this point than I can remember. And I don’t even know why, it’s not like Arcturans out on the rim give a shit about sketch comedy.”
STORY: “But they tell me to go, and I go.”
ALEJO: He nods. “I can appreciate that!” He looks for a drink and realizes that he doesn’t have one yet. “I think that you’re a bit more successful than my Dad ever was, though. Anyway, how’d you meet,” he pauses, “Kiki?”
STORY: Wen tries to wave down a waiter. “Oh, uh.” He instantly starts to sweat, and wrings his hands together. “Look, I want to be…”
STORY: Go for it! Millie, Tueller, what are you doing back at the apartment?
TUELLER: “So how’d the job go?” as soon as Wen is out the door.
TUELLER: Tueller polishes off his bourbon again, refills, and then holds the bottle up offering some to Millie.
MILLICENT: Millie makes herself a drink
MILLICENT: “Quite well! No one on our end broke their jaw or any other parts.”
MILLICENT: “It was a relatively nonviolent affair.”
TUELLER: “Well, we’ve got the separation of duties down pat then.”
MILLICENT: “We retrieved the file. We were only detected because.” Millie grins. “I tried to rewire Mr. ’Ndràngheta’s personal sex computer.”
TUELLER: “Hmmm. He’s probably going to be limited only to that computer for awhile, too.”
MILLICENT: “I’m doing some preliminary work on the file, cleaning out the dross, on my visor now, but I’ll need some time with a deck. Or, preferably, I’ll let Noma get into it.”
TUELLER: “Whatever you think it takes.”
MILLICENT: “Unfortunately I wasn’t able to corrupt his cyber masturbatoreum. I _am_ sorry, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
TUELLER: “I took his hand and his good looks. It’s a good night, Doc.”
ALEJO: –Fancy neologism. I like it!
TUELLER: “Even more if we get actionable info out of it.”
STORY: Noma speaks up from your visor. “Millie, if you’d like I can begin decrypting the files. I’ll need you to transfer me to an onboard computer; there isn’t enough memory in this suit for me to brute force it here.“r
TUELLER: Tueller opens and closes his mouth gingerly. The painkillers and booze are definitely helping him out.
MILLICENT: “Oh, you’re sweet, Noma!” Millie begins the file transfer. To Tueller, “Noma’s agreed to brute force the file using the ship’s computer.”
TUELLER: “She need to go back to the ship for that?”
MILLICENT: “Just the file. She needs the ship’s memory to force it. Like, ah. Needing a table under your arm to leverage an arm wrestling victory?”
TUELLER: “Whatever she needs.”
TUELLER: “Whatever you need, Noma.”
STORY: “Thank you, Mr. Ya’Makasi. You will also receive a break from me for a few hours, which I am sure you will appreciate. Millie, you can initiate the transfer now.”
TUELLER: “I think I’m going to pass out very shortly.”
TUELLER: “It’s been a long day. But a satisfying one.”
MILLICENT: Millie initiates the transfer.
TUELLER: “Oh shit. I need to log this in the CJH database.”
MILLICENT: “The assault?”
TUELLER: “Unsanctioned duels need to be recorded as religiously as sanctioned ones.”
MILLICENT: “Ah, duel. Forgive me.”
TUELLER: “Make it clear that it was personal and not a Ya’Makasi action against Ndrangheta, or vice versa.”
TUELLER: “Plus it’s worth noting he tried to ambush me with his amazon bodyguards. Esi will get a kick out of it.”
TUELLER: “Plus, maybe she can take on the debt of the Amazon who I crippled. She always had a soft spot for that.”
TUELLER: Tueller walks over to his room to grab his hand terminal, leaving the door open so conversation can continue while he works.
MILLICENT: “Sorry, take on the debt? I must admit, Mr. Ya’Makasi, I am very lost in your world.
TUELLER: “I’m afraid it’s by design. You get three ancient families involved with very different ideas of honor, and build a criminal empire that spans multiple systems, things get baroque.”
TUELLER: “The important thing to know is that our families work together, and support each other, and occasionally, hate each other. Hate each other as you can only hate family.”
TUELLER: “Each family has doomsday plans to destroy the other, if anything goes wrong. I need to register my duel in the blockchain to make sure none of those move forward.”
TUELLER: “Well, we have plans to destroy everyone.”
MILLICENT: “Do you know, I don’t believe I’ve ever hated a family member? Casual disdain or disinterest has often carried the day, but never outright dislike.”
TUELLER: “My family has an extinction-level-event-sized chunk of rock parked in orbit near every major power in the solar system. It’s just an appropriately sized rock with some dirty nuclear engines strapped to it where the kinetic energy alone can end civilization and the fallout can kick them while they’re down for 15,000 years after on whatever mudball declares war on my family within 50 hours of the command going out.”
TUELLER: “The Chicxulub Gambit, Esi calls it.”
MILLICENT: Weakly, “Poetic.”
TUELLER: “Your government knows about it, of course. A doomsday device is no use as a deterrent if no one knows about it.”
MILLICENT: “Is that why you’re afforded such ornate respect here, Mr. Ya’Makasi?”
TUELLER: Tueller laughs.
TUELLER: “No, that’s because I am very very very rich.”
TUELLER: “And I beat people to death with my bare hands.”
TUELLER: “Well. Not so bare, as you saw.”
STORY: Let’s hop back to Wen and Alejo.
STORY: The drinks finally arrive. Wen takes a big gulp of his and shudders. It’s stronger than he expected. “Look, I want to do this right. She doesn’t, I mean. Really talk about you. But I know things got complicated between you, and I know it’s been… this has been quick. So I wanted the chance to, well. Look you in the eye and.”
STORY: He looks flustered.
STORY: “You know, ask for your blessing.”
MILLICENT: -HA
MILLICENT: —right out loud here in the office
STORY: “She’s – she means a lot to me, and I know that you mean a lot to her, and, well, it just wouldn’t feel right if this wasn’t right with you.”
ALEJO: Alejo just looks blankly at him for a good long beat. Then he picks up his drink and downs it.
ALEJO: He sets the empty glass down and gestures to the server for another round. “That’s . . . an unexpectedly thoughtful request, Wen.”
ALEJO: “You haven’t said how you met. Mind sharing that?”
STORY: “Oh, uh. At an event. She’s been here, well, when did you last see her, about three months ago? She must have been reassigned right after. She’s been here on the Ark since then, and we met her first week at a party my agent was throwing, trying to get some interest in his clients. I was working, I guess.”
STORY: “She looked as unhappy to be there as I was, so I introduced myself, and you know. It went from there.”
ALEJO: “Sure.” He says this with just a tinge of sadness. “I’m glad she found you.”
STORY: “I mean, yeah. Me too. I’m a lucky guy.”
ALEJO: Alejo is trying to assess Wen’s credibility. Shall I make a roll?
STORY: Like, you want to try to read whether he’s being honest?
ALEJO: Yeah. Alejo is skeptical and protective, but he’s being persuaded by the dialogue of Wen. Still, he’s a pro, and inclined to doubt people. So, I figure he’s gotta be pretty good at reading liars.
STORY: Sure, give me an Assessment + Influence
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: @ablair01 rolled 11 + 2 = 13
STORY: You’re confident he’s telling the truth, and pick up during your conversation some triggers that may help you wring more information from him later on. You gain a Data Point about Wen!
STORY: He’s almost impossibly earnest.
ALEJO: –Shit. I sorta wanted to kill this guy.
STORY: — You still can!
TUELLER: YOU STILL CAN
STORY: lol
ALEJO: “You are a very lucky guy. Aki is an amazing woman.”
ALEJO: He says this softly, but as a sort of warning.
ALEJO: And he punctuates the use of “Aki.”
MILLICENT: —…you still caaaaan
STORY: He shakes his head. “She is, yeah. She really is. Intimidating as hell.”
STORY: He laughs nervously, looking hopefully at you.
ALEJO: Alejo looks for the server and that next drink. “She’s hella intimidating.”
TUELLER: —kill. Kill. Kill.
TUELLER: —or not. He was helpful to Tueller
ALEJO: “I don’t know what you’re hoping for from me, Wen. I’m not Aki’s keeper. But you seem a frustratingly earnest guy. I want to hate you, if I’m honest. But I don’t. Aki deserves to be happy, and I can see why she is with you. So . . . ” He looks around for the drink again, desperately, “I hope you can bring her all the freakin’ happiness in the universe.” He gives a very dirty look to the serve who isn’t there. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” He turns to Wen and gives him the most shark-flat stare that has ever been given.
STORY: Wen stares at you in shock, then erupts into a hearty giggle and pulls you in for a hug. He splashes his drink on your shoulder a little.
ALEJO: –Fucking Wen.
STORY: “Aw man, I’m SO relieved to hear that. I was really worried.”
STORY: “Not everybody has exes who are assassins, you know?” He exhales audibly. “Well! This is cause for a celebration.”
STORY: “Let’s get out of here, this service sucks.” He reaches into his pocket and drops a couple coins on the table. “You wanna find somewhere rowdier?”
ALEJO: “Absolutely!”
STORY: You go out and have a rowdy night. Wen’s a sweet guy, entirely devoid of malice or subterfuge, and he gets recognized once or twice and you get a few free rounds out of it.
STORY: Anything you want to do while you’re out with him?
ALEJO: Get moderately drunk, but only moderately. Alejo will keep assessing Wen, though he’s already done so and gotten a good read. He’s just extra cautious. He’ll be relieved, and a bit sad, to find him so earnest, then get back to the flat and pass out.
STORY: Okay! Millie, Tueller, anything you want to handle before the morning?
TUELLER: Tueller had given Millie an opening to talk about the gloves.
MILLICENT: “Mr. YaMakasi, I was hoping I could examine those gloves before you put them back on. They are. Extraordinary.”
TUELLER: Tueller pauses and looks Millie up and down.
TUELLER: “Okay.”
TUELLER: “You’ve earned it.”
MILLICENT: Millie grins and claps twice.
MILLICENT: Hands together afterwards, as if in prayer, smiling over them
TUELLER: Tueller takes the one he’s wearing on his right hand off and places it next to the other, which almost disappears into the table.
MILLICENT: Millie examines them!
TUELLER: “They are technology developed by the Ssssszzzzssss, offered for trade, but with no explanation. No scientist of my family was able to reverse engineer them.”
TUELLER: “They accumulate kinetic energy during the day – if you’ve ever seen me fidgeting for lack of a better word, that’s me charging them up.”
TUELLER: “They release the kinetic energy when I want it to. Somehow it knows when I’m being aggressive. It’s tied into my emotional state somehow. I wear them all the time and never break anything or even notice them unless something needs breaking.”
MILLICENT: “I see…micro-valves on every surface, ready to release.”
TUELLER: “And…as you’ve noticed, they blend. I can see them perfectly, but they fade for elsewhere.”
MILLICENT: “Tied to. Your emotional state?”
MILLICENT: “Have you ever tried to break something with them without being upset?”
TUELLER: “My family made a very favorable trade with the Ssssszzzzssss. They love spices.”
TUELLER: “Yes, I have. Intending to damage somethign is enough. I don’t get upset much.”
MILLICENT: “Huh. I. Huh.
MILLICENT: “Do you know anything about the concealment layer?”
TUELLER: “it works.”
MILLICENT: “Well, that is for sure.”
TUELLER: “I’m not a stupid man, Doc, but I’m not a brilliant one either. I am, at my core, a practical one.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles.
MILLICENT: “Let’s put that on our business cards.”
TUELLER: “There’s an entire universe of tech like this out there for us, though. That I do know. Some of it we can figure out. The rest of it, we can use.”
TUELLER: “This got a good use tonight.”
TUELLER: “Damn straight.”
STORY: Bedtime for the space pirates? I’d like to get you Noma’s analysis before the end of the session so you can discuss!
MILLICENT: “Mr. YaMakasi, I’ve been wondering for a bit. You’re not working with your family at the moment. With tech like this and the resources at your disposal, why are you slumming with us?”
TUELLER: “My resources are my family’s resources. My gloves, they come from a deal Esi made with the Ssssszzzzssss that I executed for my family. My fortune comes from my inheritance. My education comes from my family’s place in CJH.”
TUELLER: “It is a very comfortable way to live. It is a very boring way to live.”
TUELLER: “I need something of my own. I come from a great family, but I must achieve greatness for myself as well. That is not possible in the System. It is hard to make a name for _yourself_ when you are Ya’Makasi.”
TUELLER: Tueller drains his glass again, and refills it.
MILLICENT: “How interesting, Mr. Ya’Makasi. You are looking to. Make a _new_ name for yourself, as it were?”
TUELLER: “Changing the course of humankind is as good a way to make a name for yourself as any.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles. “I suppose it is.”
MILLICENT: Millie makes herself another drink.
MILLICENT: “You know, Mr. YaMakasi, we’re not that different.”
MILLICENT: Big swallow. “I started out in much the same situation. Why do you think I went for that absurd stellar cartography degree?”
TUELLER: “You like maps?’
MILLICENT: “An absurd discipline made for calculators and space _enthusiasts_.”
MILLICENT: “But none of the Breedloves held _five_ post baccalaureate degrees and I had most of the credits necessary. I only lacked a dissertation.”
MILLICENT: “_On space maps_.”
MILLICENT: “It was a low point.”
TUELLER: Tueller shrugs.
TUELLER: “The only thing that matters is what you do with what you’ve got.”
MILLICENT: “Yes, I suppose that’s the weight of it, isn’t it? Do you know that I’m the first Breedlove to leave the system? There’s a science academy on every human world named after my family and none of us had ventured past Sol.”
TUELLER: “Seems crowded.”
MILLICENT: “Oh, it certainly does.”
MILLICENT: “What would success look like to you, Mr. Ya’Makasi? What would separate you from your family? Elevate you?”
TUELLER: “I was raised to do everything. Captain a ship. Audit the books of a resistant branch office. Raid a resisting ship. Figure out the value of a resource no one’s ever encountered before. Serve the Family In All Things.”
TUELLER: “I really…”
TUELLER: “I don’t know. I don’t know the answer to your question. It’s what I’m here to find out.”
TUELLER: “Regardless, I’ve got Debts to clear before I can find out for real.”
MILLICENT: “Interesting. I truly hope we can help one another, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
TUELLER: “I mean this with no disrespect, truly. What are you looking for from me?”
MILLICENT: “Do you mean right now? Or generally?”
TUELLER: Shrugging. “It’s an open ended question for an open ended answer.”
MILLICENT: “Ah. Well, right now we’re having a friendly chat. I am looking for an honest exchange between co-captain and crew. Long term, I’m hoping your desire to make a name for yourself independent of your family will give you the edge we need to perform deeds of piracy undreamt of by more self-actualized thieves.
MILLICENT: “I’m sorry, Mr. Ya’Makasi, that’s a rather glib answer.”
TUELLER: Shrugging.
TUELLER: Unperturbed.
MILLICENT: Millie leans in.
MILLICENT: “I am all in.”
MILLICENT: “I have done things.” Millie pauses, shakes her head, long, deep breaths, centers herself. “I have no other course.”
MILLICENT: “I believe that you are driven as I am.”
MILLICENT: “Your co-captain. Of him, I am less convinced.”
TUELLER: “Like Cortes, we have burnt our ships behind us.”
TUELLER: “Ejo, well, his ships were burnt behind him whether he wanted them to or not.”
MILLICENT: “It is a pretty metaphor, to be sure.”
MILLICENT: “But I don’t really know what you mean and so I am left with beauty carrying no meaning.”
TUELLER: “hmmph.”
TUELLER: “I can’t go back. There’s no path back to my old life, even if I wanted it.”
TUELLER: “My pampered life as a merchant prince.”
MILLICENT: “That’s hard to believe, Mr. Ya’Makasi. Even now, the station falls over itself to serve you because of your name.”
TUELLER: “Even with my name, this station is largely indifferent to me. Even the Ya’Makasi are mere humans.”
TUELLER: “The people who aren’t indifferent to me are…diametrically split. Sergio, when he regains consciousness, will be less than servile.”
TUELLER: “And Ruma…I owe a great debt to.”
TUELLER: “I struggled to buy us space suits this week. My name will not get us far.”
MILLICENT: Slowly, figuring it out, “You need a big score to set you on your feet. Independently.”
TUELLER: “I need to build my own Family.”
TUELLER: “Or die.”
MILLICENT: “Are you looking to create your own branch?”
TUELLER: “Akello Ya’Makasi had the foresight to move off their comfortable life on Earth, past the easy picking of the belt, and settle on Io. No one saw that as the right move, but he did, and it was. My family has become used to their comfortable Jovian life. No one sees the right move. Not yet.”
TUELLER: “Not even me. Not yet.”
TUELLER: “I have my hopes. I must leave it at that for now.”