MILLICENT: “I am pleased to meet you, Three-Sing-Flowers.
MILLICENT: “I understand you need some help.”
MILLICENT: “Would you tell us more?”
STORY: They nod. “I am remain here. We were need help. No one will listen.”
TUELLER: “No one understands.”
STORY: They nod. “No one understands.”
STORY: “We come from very far. We ask help. They put me in small room with a machine. There is no time. We are dying.”
TUELLER: “Ahhh.”
STORY: They shake their head. “Now One and Two are gone.”
MILLICENT: “What kind of help do you need?
STORY: “I need travel.”
STORY: Three-Sing-Flowers was not bred for combat, but they excelled at it nonetheless. From an early age, they showed an aptitude for aim, patience, timing, and an athleticism typically unusual in their line. Bolstered by high test scores (much more fitting a typical Three), they enrolled in the Traveler’s Academy and trained for six years. As their final test, they were sent just outside the atmosphere in a ship that was not spaceworthy with a small crew. They survived; the others did not. They were given a special commendation, their shipmates disposed of, and they were sent out shortly thereafter towards a recently discovered destination: a large space station, made from the bones of the ships that brought its inhabitants together. They were ready. The hope of their people laid on them. They could not fail.
—
STORY: The following morning, you have a message from Noma: Decryption complete.
STORY: She is still onboard Peregrine, but you can hop on a wave to talk to her.
MILLICENT: Millie pours everyone a coffee and gathers the group around the wall console in the rented apartment.
ALEJO: Alejo graciously takes the cup of coffee and huddles near the wall console.
MILLICENT: “Good morning, Noma! Thank you for pulling an all-nighter to decrypt the files.”
TUELLER: Tueller sits with his civet coffee and sips gingerly. His jaw still aches.
STORY: “You’re welcome, Millie! Of course you know I don’t sleep, but I appreciate the humor.”
MILLICENT: —the audience shivers
TUELLER: —“Not a robot.”
TUELLER: —I now hear Noma as Janet.
STORY: “I believe I now know everything about Ms. Bhattacharya’s accident that Consolidated Jovan Holdings knows. What are you interested in knowing?”
TUELLER: Tueller perks up.
MILLICENT: —-well shit, now I do too
TUELLER: “Location of the wreckage, for starters.”
TUELLER: “Sorry, Doc, am I jumping the queue here?”
MILLICENT: “Not at all, Mr Ya’Makasi, please. Take the lead.”
STORY: “Certainly, Mr. Ya’Makasi. The wreckage is located in the Gamma-Perseii cluster, roughly one week’s travel from here through two known jump points. I could show you the location on a stellar map, but I believe that would not be useful information.”
STORY: “Travel time depends as always on planetary positioning, any gravitational anomalies in the area, and traffic at the jump relays, as you know.”
TUELLER: “Any clue what the condition of the wreckage is, Noma?”
STORY: “The ship was completely destroyed, broken into at least twenty large pieces. The contents of the hold are spread out in a cone of debris from the wreckage of the aft section of the ship. The forward section of the ship is the largest intact structure, which is where I believe Mr. Bhattacharya’s embryos are being stored.”
TUELLER: “Well, thank god for small favors, I guess.”
TUELLER: “Did CJH have any clues to the type of attack or origin of the attack that they didn’t share with Ruma?”
TUELLER: —I just realized Ruma’s the only significant character Tueller’s not come up with a nickname for. Huh.
STORY: “I believe the ship was broken apart by a shot from a railgun round, fired from some distance – there was no alert raised by the crew, so they did not detect anything before the attack. That part of space has no major planets or moons and is part of a small asteroid belt, so hitting the ship such a shot would be… computationally unlikely.”
STORY: “It was either computer-led or an extremely unlucky accident.”
TUELLER: “Computer-led, huh.”
TUELLER: Tueller pauses.
TUELLER: “Noma, I’m about to ask you a personal question.”
STORY: “Please do, Mr. Ya’makasi.”
TUELLER: “Could you make a shot like that? If you had the infrastructure to do so.”
STORY: “Naturally.”
STORY: “It is simply a matter of understanding all of the variables.”
TUELLER: “Kay.”
TUELLER: “Just trying to understand the scale of the computer that would be necessary, is all.”
STORY: “Any automated targeting system could handle the computations. I merely mean to suggest it would be extremely unlikely that a humanoid organism made the shot.”
TUELLER: Tueller rubs his jaw.
TUELLER: “Okay.”
ALEJO: “We know who wants her dead. Unless you think there are more players?”
TUELLER: To Alejo. “We know one person who wants her dead.”
TUELLER: “For instance, there is more than one person who wants me dead.”
ALEJO: “So you think more players. Fair enough.”
TUELLER: “I don’t think there are more players, Ejo. I don’t know enough at this point, so I’m ruling nothing out.”
TUELLER: “I owe a Favor. And Family is involved. Just want to get this right.”
MILLICENT: “Noma, is the projectile still on scene?”
STORY: “Unknown, Millie. At the speed generated by a railgun, any small projectile would be capable of doing that much damage. It would be like searching for… a needle in a cow stack?”
MILLICENT: “I believe it’s hay stack, Noma.”
STORY: “I see.”
STORY: “Millie, there is something else.”
STORY: “Based on the research you completed on the Kith, I believe the star charts they brought onboard may have some relationship to this part of space.”
STORY: “Certain sections of their static maps match the general placement of major stars from roughly the location of the attack.”
MILLICENT: Millie breathes out. “Really.”
STORY: “I attempted to research this further, but without translation capabilities our information is extremely limited.”
MILLICENT: “Do you think we might be able to make some sense of their navigation data?”
STORY: “Perhaps, if we had it.”
STORY: “I was only able to access the public records they submitted: star charts, the small amount of translation work already done, and biometric information.”
MILLICENT: “Well done, Noma. Very, very well done.”
TUELLER: —“Maps” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs just came on, so good timing Spotify!
MILLICENT: —haha nice
TUELLER: —lyrically not so connected.
TUELLER: “So what does this mean?”
STORY: “I am unsure. There seems to be a connection between the Kith that attacked the radio station and this attack.”
STORY: “What luck for Millie to encounter them!”
MILLICENT: “Yes.” Millie frowns. “Very lucky.”
TUELLER: “Either luck, or we’re drowning in connected bullshit.”
ALEJO: “She’s got your sense of humor, Doc.”
ALEJO: “Either way, seems like our next move is to go rummaging, after a couple week flight, yes?”
TUELLER: “Well, we know where to go, at least. What the rest of this means is still up in the air.
ALEJO: Alejo offers a bemused look. “Always seems to be, in our new adventures.”
MILLICENT: “There is. Ah. One more source of information we could investigate here on the Ark.”
MILLICENT: “But, there is.”
MILLICENT: “An open question.”
MILLICENT: “A ah.”
MILLICENT: Millie looks nervous, her hands opening and folding in front of her.
TUELLER: Tueller frowns.
MILLICENT: “Please understand, I have no judgments about this, and I have respected your privacy so far, but if we are to continue, I need to know.”
MILLICENT: “Do either of you gentlemen.”
MILLICENT: “Have any open warrants?”
TUELLER: Tueller laughs. “Not that I know of!”
TUELLER: “Unless Sergio went to the fuzz last night. Of course.”
ALEJO: Alejo laughs as well, after having been very attentive and interested in the impending question.
ALEJO: “Clean record, Doc.”
MILLICENT: “Oh good! Then it’s off to the pokey!”
MILLICENT: “The clink?”
MILLICENT: “The cooler?”
MILLICENT: “Crowbar hotel?”
TUELLER: “The hoosgow.”
ALEJO: Alejo’s smile disappears. “Just ’cause I’ve got a clean record doesn’t mean that I want to tempt fate. Why, if I may ask, do you want to go?”
MILLICENT: “The stoney lonesome!”
TUELLER: “A visit, right doc? Not a stint.”
MILLICENT: “Skinner joint, con college, club fed!”
MILLICENT: “Well, if the kith were involved, or even nearby when the attack happened, then we might have a witness on this station.”
MILLICENT: “It just happens that they’re locked up in the calaboose for assault and hijacking.”
ALEJO: He gives a rueful shrug. “Kay.”
STORY: On to A-Sec detainment!
STORY: Tueller, please set the scene for us. What are the A-Sec detainment facilities like? Who staffs it? How many people does it hold?
STORY: What does it smell like?
TUELLER: A-Sec detainment looks like an Apple store. It is fabbed out of diamond glass and is all white smooth surfaces. Except on the Ark, they don’t pick up finger prints, or slime, or ever get dirty.
TUELLER: It is staffed by a selection of mechs; there is no staff interaction directly so no danger of the staff getting hurt.
TUELLER: However, the staff communicates through the mechs, showing their faces using display tech bought from the Varro. It is an ecumenical crew full of different alien races, though, holding accused criminals of all sorts of different races.
TUELLER: The general population of this section of the prison is holding two dozen accused offenders.
STORY: The mech manning the front desk is a young female with pink skin and red hair. She chews gum on the monitor, though the mech has no jaw to move, so her head just bobs a little.
STORY: She looks up at you. “Help you?”
TUELLER: Tueller puts Millie front and center for this.
TUELLER: –in part because I gotta cut the ribs…back in a minute.
MILLICENT: Millie steps forward
MILLICENT: “Good afternoon!”
MILLICENT: “We’re here to visit a prisoner.
ALEJO: Alejo stands, uncharacteristically awkward, behind Millie and not quite hiding behind but obscured by Tueller.
STORY: “Fix your clock, hon, it’s still morning. Just land?”
MILLICENT: Millie laughs. “Yes, dear. Does it show that clearly?”
STORY: “You look green. Prisoner name?”
TUELLER: —back
MILLICENT: “It’s a tough one to pronounce. It’s the one of the kith that was taken alive at the radio station.”
STORY: She purses her lips and looks at you skeptically.
STORY: “You know that guy?”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles. “We’re very well acquainted, my dear. I might be the only person on the station he’s talked to.”
STORY: Why don’t you give me a Face Adversity + Influence here please!
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6
STORY: @josh rolled 10
MILLICENT: hahahaha
MILLICENT: 10
STORY: She looks skeptical, but the mech reaches under the desk and hands you a paper form. “Fill this out, please, and get in line.” She gestures to the left, where five aliens stand uncomfortably.
MILLICENT: Millie fills in the form diligently!
STORY: You get in line.
STORY: The alien in front of you looks at you with a leer, Alejo. He’s five and a half feet tall, blue, and covered in shimmering green and yellow spots.
STORY: He licks his teeth under his closed mouth. “How much?”
ALEJO: Alejo smiles warmly. “More than you have, friend.”
TUELLER: Tueller casually moves to flank the alien.
STORY: He opens his jacket, showing the fine detailed pattern of his vest. “You would be surprised, child.” He looks up at Tueller, eyes raised. “Friend isn’t invited.”
TUELLER: Tueller smiles with no warmth.
ALEJO: Alejo stays cheery. “Nice vest. And yeah, my friend there does pack quite a punch.” Alejo squares up to the alien. “I’m flattered, but I will have to decline.”
STORY: He raises an eyebrow at you. “Your loss.” And turns back to wait in the line, which is now just him.
ALEJO: Alejo gives a shy, quick grin to Millie and Tueller.
STORY: After a few more minutes, you reach another mech who takes your form, looks it over, and gestures down the main hallway with one robot arm. “Fourth room, left. Cell A-4-B.” He stamps your form and hands it back to you.
TUELLER: Tueller gestures politely for Millie to lead the way.
MILLICENT: Millie does so.
MILLICENT: Pulls on her visor.
MILLICENT: “Noma, did you happen to get anywhere with translating the kith language?”
TUELLER: Tueller comes in last, taking a suspicious look back at wherever the vested alien went.
STORY: “With no further sample of the kith’s language, I was unable to build on the limited amount currently in the Ark database. Typical translation protocols take three to sixteen days to establish a baseline vocabulary and syntax.”
STORY: “And a willing participant. From your research, it appeared they abandoned the translation exercises soon after beginning them.”
STORY: Alejo, describe the kith’s behavior and physical state for me as you arrive.
STORY: http://the-peregrine.obsidianportal.com/characters/three
MILLICENT: —aw shit
STORY: — ftr, that alien is danny pudi
ALEJO: The Kith sits, bolt straight, on a simple flat bed that extends directly out of the wall. They do not appear to be meditating, as their eyes are open. Their head turns slightly towards us when we step forward. Though the Kith is still, for anyone who is accustomed to physical fights, they appear on the verge of furious action.
STORY: They look at Millie. “The speaker.”
TUELLER: Tueller takes a deceptively casually stance off to the side.
TUELLER: Tueller is non-threatening, but ready to defend Millie if need be.
STORY: There’s a thick panel of glass between you and the kith, Tueller, with small holes here and there for air. It’s a little like Lecter’s cell.
STORY: But no harm being prepared.
MILLICENT: “Hi!”
MILLICENT: “Ah, greetings.”
TUELLER: Tueller reacts when he registers the diamond glass.
TUELLER: and relaxes.
ALEJO: Alejo watches the Kith intently.
STORY: They nod at you, a gesture that appears respectful, but your experience with alien body language is limited.
MILLICENT: Millie nods back. Points, “Mr. Ya’Makasi. Mr. Soto.”
MILLICENT: Points again, “Dr. Breedlove.”
STORY: “Breed-love. So-too. I do not… know the other.”
TUELLER: Tueller shrugs.
MILLICENT: “May we know your name?”
STORY: They place a hand on their chest, gently. “In English. Three-Sing-Flowers.”
MILLICENT: “I am pleased to meet you, Three-Sing-Flowers.
MILLICENT: “I understand you need some help.”
MILLICENT: “Would you tell us more?”
STORY: They nod. “I am remain here. We were need help. No one will listen.”
TUELLER: “No one understands.”
STORY: They nod. “No one understands.”
STORY: “We come from very far. We ask help. They put me in small room with a machine. There is no time. We are dying.”
TUELLER: “Ahhh.”
STORY: They shake their head. “Now One and Two are gone.”
MILLICENT: “What kind of help do you need?
STORY: “I need travel.”
TUELLER: “Where?”
STORY: They shake their head sadly. “They took maps. I do not see them anymore. I do not know the place. Our home. It was our home.”
ALEJO: “You said you came from very far. Did you come from your home to this place?” Alejo steps forward and offers a respectful bow.
STORY: They shake their head no. “We came from new home. We look old home. Old home has…”
STORY: They gesture to their body, lifting their hands up and down around their torso.
STORY: “Old home make more of us. More different.”
TUELLER: Tueller frowns.
TUELLER: “Map to old home taken?”
TUELLER: “Who took map?”
STORY: They nod. “Machines. These machines with faces.”
TUELLER: “They need map? Or just because you have map?”
STORY: They shake their head, not understanding. “I need map. They take.”
MILLICENT: “If you go back to old home, can you help?”
STORY: “Help is at old home. Yes.”
STORY: “I have the words.”
STORY: They shake their head again. “Words. Machine words. Stop machine.”
STORY: “Stop gun.”
TUELLER: Tueller cocks his head to the side.
TUELLER: Like trying to see something he can’t quite see.
STORY: “Hidden words.”
STORY: They look frustrated.
MILLICENT: “Three-Sing-Flowers. When you came here. Did you see a broken ship?”
MILLICENT: “Did you see a ship break?
STORY: They shake their head.
STORY: “Our ship break.”
ALEJO: “Is that why you came here? To get your ship repaired?”
TUELLER: “Hmmmph.” Tueller says, barely audible.
STORY: They gesture a lot, clearly struggling with limited vocabulary. “I wake up on ship. I am not the first. Our Two, our One, also not first. We travel for many years.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods to Tueller.
MILLICENT: Half shrugs.
MILLICENT: “Could be.”
STORY: “I am… the five ten Three.”
STORY: “We leave many years ago, we get old, we make us again.”
MILLICENT: Millie perks up.
STORY: “I am Three, I am five ten Three.”
STORY: “You know?”
MILLICENT: Millie stands.
STORY: They stand as well.
MILLICENT: “You cloned yourself over five hundred times?”
STORY: They hold out their hands, show you ten fingers, then another five.
STORY: “Five ten.”
STORY: “On ship, five ten.”
STORY: “In new home, many many more.”
MILLICENT: Millie’s eyes shine. “You made new bodies to travel?”
STORY: “In new home…” They shrug. “Ten hundred hundred, more. Always get old, make more.”
MILLICENT: “You moved. Ah. Ah? Thoughts? You moved thoughts to new bodies? For travel time?”
STORY: They shake their head. “No thoughts. I learn new.”
STORY: “Three-Sing-Flowers four ten… mother.”
STORY: “Mother. Father.”
STORY: “Same.” They touch their face. “Same.”
STORY: They touch their head. “Not same.”
STORY: Reader, they are saying it took generations to get here and they did -not- transfer consciousness, they just cloned themselves when they got old and raised a new generation
STORY: Three travelers left, made new versions of themselves, trained and replaced themselves. that happened fifteen times
MILLICENT: Millie is _vibrating_ with excitement
TUELLER: “No wormhole travel?”
TUELLER: “No…ummm…fast travel?”
STORY: They look at Tueller. “No. Very slow. Ship cannot fast.”
TUELLER: “No ship can fast?”
STORY: “No ship our people. We come long way.”
TUELLER: “Why?”
ALEJO: Alejo shudders a bit, going slightly white at the thought of that.
MILLICENT: “For help!”
STORY: They nod. “Help!”
ALEJO: “Why the radio station?” Alejo says this more to Tueller and Millie than to the Kith.
STORY: “For help! For return to old home, to find more people. Radio ask for help.”
TUELLER: “oooof.”
STORY: They are now standing, eagerly gesturing as they answer you, openly happy to be heard.
TUELLER: Tueller still looks a little confused, trying to work through it all.
MILLICENT: Millie’s eyes light up.
MILLICENT: Do we have any thing we could pull a picture up on? Like a picture of a relay?
STORY: No, but you’ve got a dry erase marker in your pocket. As a scientist, you find they come in handy during exposition.
MILLICENT: Millie pulls out a marker and draws a relay on the glass between them
MILLICENT: “Do you have this at old home?”
STORY: They look at it carefully, then shake their head. “I do not know. I have not seen old home. New home, no.”
STORY: Reader, new home is where they came from, old home is the place they are trying to get to. They had maps to old home that were taken – they came to the ark to ask for help getting to old home, because they presumably cannot get there by themselves anytime soon.
TUELLER: “With map we can jump old home.”
STORY: Their eyes light up.
TUELLER: “Maybe.”
STORY: “Machines have map! You can take me to old home?”
MILLICENT: “But if there’s no relay there, we’ll be stuck.”
TUELLER: “We don’t know. Without map we don’t know.”
TUELLER: “With map, maybe?”
ALEJO: “So we get the map.” He says this matter-of-factly.
MILLICENT: Millie’s eyes light up.
MILLICENT: “A-Sec uploaded your maps to the database and ah. We may have stumbled across the records doing some background investigation.”
MILLICENT: “I think I know where old home is, or rather, I believe we could find it.”
MILLICENT: Millie turns to Tueller. “It’s maybe a couple days travel from the wreck we’re going to investigate.”
MILLICENT: “Once we get to where we believe the wreck of your sister’s ship is meant to be, I believe we can start building a map to old home.”
TUELLER: “A cavalcade of bullshit all together.”
TUELLER: Tueller sighs.
MILLICENT: Millie nods.
MILLICENT: Smiles
STORY: Three looks both excited and confused. “I do not know your saying.”
MILLICENT: Turns to Three.
STORY: “You can help me to old home?”
TUELLER: “What is at old home?”
TUELLER: “Why you no live at old home anymore?”
TUELLER: “Lord knows people will give up a perfectly good planet, but you don’t do that without a reason.” To the others.
STORY: “Old home gone. Broken.”
STORY: “No world.”
ALEJO: “Sounds like home.”
STORY: “No round world. Old home broken.”
MILLICENT: “Ah.”
MILLICENT: “Is it safe?”
TUELLER: Tueller laughs.
STORY: They shake their head. “Machines still on. Guns. Shoot.”
MILLICENT: Millie frowns. “It could be a gravitational anomaly that has -”
MILLICENT: “Oh.”
TUELLER: Tueller laughs again.
ALEJO: “I definitely don’t like the sound of these machines. And their, probably, railguns?”
MILLICENT: “Your old home was broken by guns that are still there, waiting?”
TUELLER: “Cavalcade.”
TUELLER: “Of”
TUELLER: “Bullshit.”
MILLICENT: Millie pokes Alejo hard in the chest. “That’s. Yes!”
STORY: They nod, sitting back down, gesturing for you to as well, starting a story in broken English. “Old home broken by us. No one get out. Only us in space. Space people run, find new home, but not enough of us.”
MILLICENT: Millie pokes Tueller.
MILLICENT: “You want to settle the score? Make your name?”
MILLICENT: “Ha!”
STORY: “They find new home, new home safe, but not enough of us in new home. We make more with machines. With…”
MILLICENT: Millie is pacing.
STORY: “Glass and metal and… water.”
STORY: “We make more bodies. You know?”
MILLICENT: “Three, if we bring you safely to old home, will you share your understanding of new bodies with us?”
STORY: “But most do not live. Only three can live. We are three.”
STORY: “We are all one of three. I am Three-Sing-Flowers. I am five ten.”
ALEJO: Alejo frowns at this. “Damn, I liked it better when I was just going to . . . ” he pauses and looks around, remembering where he is, “give Ruma your sister’s love.” He leans over to Tueller.
STORY: “One cannot make more with Two. Two cannot with Three. You know? We can only make more with glass and water.”
STORY: “Our glass and water people think we can find more than just three at old home. There is information there, old words. Information.”
STORY: They look frustrated. “Your language.”
MILLICENT: “Yes, of course, the cloning data of your race would be stored at old home.”
TUELLER: —Damn, only three survivors in orbit got away.
STORY: “More than three means we survive.”
STORY: “More than three means we are people again.”
MILLICENT: “You could rebuild-yes.”
STORY: “Not just many of same.”
MILLICENT: Somber, “Yes, of course. A new chance.”
ALEJO: “God yeah, if the universe were made up of only us three, I’d definitely get sick of that.” Alejo smiles.
STORY: “They send Three-Sing-Flowers, and Two-Walk-Knife and One-Love-Friend.”
STORY: “We travel for very long. We are five ten.”
MILLICENT: She can’t help her excitement. “And we could introduce a new, rebuilding race with cloning technology exclusively available to human scientists for a period, let’s say, not to exceed 15 years? To the intergalactic community. And,” poking Tueller’s chest, “we find your sister’s ah, materials, and stop a family war all at once.”
STORY: “We reach this place, but no one will help.”
MILLICENT: “Easy!”
MILLICENT: Millie beams
STORY: They look very sad, in contrast to Millie’s excitement
MILLICENT: “Three-Sing-Flowers, will you share your knowledge of new bodies with just us?”
STORY: “I am not glass and water people. I do not know new bodies machine. We can only use new bodies machine.”
STORY: “Our ship broken. Machine gone. Ship gone. These machines destroy.”
STORY: “But old home, there will be machines. We can see there.”
MILLICENT: Millie claps. “I’m sold! Gentlemen?”
TUELLER: “How to turn off guns?”
TUELLER: “Guns shoot ships. That bad for us ships.”
STORY: They point at their chest. “I have words.”
STORY: “I have hidden words. They stop gun.”
ALEJO: “So . . . we actually need those words, and this fellow, if we’re going to get our cargo without dying.”
TUELLER: “If guns shot Rumas ship, yes. yes indeed.”
TUELLER: Tueller shakes his head. “Sorry. Pidgin’s hard to stop once you get started.”
ALEJO: “How the hell do we ‘them’ out of here?”
ALEJO: Alejo says this very quietly.
ALEJO: He starts looking around, assessing the prison and the prospects of a prison break.
TUELLER: “Your charm and my money?”
ALEJO: “I do like you.”
MILLICENT: “Me dropping all relevant charges?”
MILLICENT: “What do they have them on but my statement?”
TUELLER: “Let’s find out.”
ALEJO: “Nothing. But your statement is sworn testimony. What grounds do you have to change it? Knock on the head?”
ALEJO: Alejo nods. Let’s see what we can find out.
TUELLER: “Three. Let us get you out. And get help to find old home.”
STORY: They nod. “Yes. Please.”
ALEJO: –Let’s charm some A-Sec mall cops!
TUELLER: —They’re security on the most important space station in the galaxy, if not the universe. Some respect, please!
TUELLER: —Just because you’re a space lawyer doesn’t mean you need to be mean to space cops.
ALEJO: –Humph. Fine.
MILLICENT: —fuck ’em up, H
MILLICENT: —get these fuckin’ jabronies
TUELLER: —Fuck him up, Socrates.
MILLICENT: —I want to see them pickin’ their dingleberries or wiping away tears when you’re done with them
MILLICENT: —make these sad sacks into Jets fans
ALEJO: –Whoa. Now that’s just mean.
STORY: So.
STORY: What do you do?
TUELLER: “Let’s go find out the charges, and the fine.”
ALEJO: “Lead the way.”
TUELLER: Tueller does!
STORY: You return to the mech at the front desk.
STORY: She looks at the three of you wearily. “Good conversation?”
ALEJO: –I’ll take a roll here and try to charm the screen off this mech.
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: @ablair01 rolled 9 + 2 = 11
TUELLER: —technically she’s telecommuting
MILLICENT: nice
STORY: Well, let’s hear it!
STORY: Wait you don’t roll until I tell you to, btw
STORY: but fine, we’ll use that for later, just quit it
ALEJO: –Sorry. I thought that you said not to ask about rolls. My bad.
ALEJO: “Hi. Yes. It was a very good conversation, thanks.” His voice is pleasant and certain. “Can you please tell us what the charges are against this alien and the fine for those charges?”
STORY: The mech looks down. “Looks like… it’s a long list, hon. Making terroristic threats, armed robbery, there’s a lot here. Not eligible for fine, this one’s going to be transferred to max soon.”
STORY: “Refused representation, met with two lawyers, kicked them both out after five minutes. You a lawyer?”
MILLICENT: —hahaha
MILLICENT: —fingers crossed
ALEJO: Alejo smiles broadly. “Indeed. Two lawyers kicked out already, huh? Well, glad things went better for me.”
ALEJO: “What’s the nature of the evidence against this fellow?”
STORY: “Hang on, I’ll initiate the transfer. Wait by the printer.” She gestures to a grey box in a corner of the room.
ALEJO: He nods and smiles. Then he walks to the box.
STORY: You stand there, pages come pouring out, and you have a chance to look over them. You notice on the first page a technicality that you have experience with – it’s a common oversight with legal documentation, but one you know won’t hold up in intergalactic court, one that has saved a few of your friends from prosecution in the past.
STORY: What do you tell the officer at the front desk?
ALEJO: Is the error correctable at this stage or is it a fundamental flaw that can’t be fixed?
STORY: Can’t be fixed. It was filed incorrectly, that means it won’t be able to be successfully prosecuted if the issue is called out.
ALEJO: “Officer,” Alejo walks up to the mech again, “thank you for this. I’ve had a chance to skim through it, and there’s a problem. When’s the arraignment?”
STORY: She taps on the computer. “This afternoon.”
ALEJO: “Excellent. Can you please get me the details? I’ll also need to confer with my client again. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
STORY: She nods. “Looks like… section B, platform 22-A, you’ll be before Judge Tzztkola. 3 pm.”
ALEJO: “Lovely. Thank you again.” He turns and heads back to Millie and Tueller. “We can get our new friend outta this.
MILLICENT: Millie looks impressed. “Do tell.”
ALEJO: “The arraignment is this afternoon. There’s a fundamental flaw with the arrest procedures. It’s a technicality, but it’s one that means this whole thing can get tossed.” He looks to Tueller. “I need to play a lawyer.”
ALEJO: “We might need your money yet.”
TUELLER: Tueller shrugs.
TUELLER: “Okay. All the courtrooms I’ve been in its not like they’re checking credentials at the door. Just for weapons.”
ALEJO: He agrees. “Should be fine. Let’s go tell my new client the deal.”
ALEJO: –Are we playing this part out or fast-forwarding?
STORY: Let’s fast forward!
STORY: It’s 3 pm. You’re before the judge in a hastily purchased suit.
STORY: The judge is rather foreboding, a large red-skinned alien with a face that looks like a pile of rocks stapled together.
STORY: He also looks impatient.
ALEJO: Alejo waits to be addressed by the court.
ALEJO: Respectfully.
STORY: “Afternoon, everyone. Calling the case of the People of the Ark and its surrounding fleet versus Mx. Three-Sing-Flowers of the Kith. Is your client ready, son?” He asks, looking at you.
ALEJO: “Thank you, your Honor, yes.” Alejo stands. “May it please the court, my client pleads ‘not guilty’ and respectfully requests that this matter be dismissed immediately on procedural grounds.”
STORY: The judge leans on his hand and looks at you curiously. “Mind elaborating on those procedural grounds, son?”
ALEJO: “Absolutely, your Honor. I’ve marked an Exhibit, if I may provide a copy to the court.” Alejo pulls a copy of the arrest record up off the table in front of him and moves around the table but does not approach the bench further until and unless instructed. “It’s the arrest record. Your Honor may already have a copy, but I’ve marked the error on this one.”
ALEJO: “The arrest record error reflects that the officers at the scene failed to read my client his full rights. As you know, your Honor, this means that any subsequent conviction cannot stand.”
STORY: He holds out one of his four arms and beckons to you.
TUELLER: —We’re going to have Ark vigilantes after us, aren’t we.
ALEJO: Alejo walks up and hands the paperwork to the Judge and then backs away.
TUELLER: —Death Wish Upon A Star.
ALEJO: –Yup. We’re fucked.
MILLICENT: —guys this is going so well
MILLICENT: —look at how the judge is smiling
MILLICENT: —or farting, who knows
ALEJO: –I feel like I’m in My Cousin Vinnie.
STORY: He takes out a tiny pair of glasses, holds them before his eyes, and looks at the paper. “Yep.” He offers the paper to the DA. “Ms. Marahsou, please remind the A-Sec officers that defendants here have rights, and if they’re unaware of them, we can’t try them.” He picks up a fist-sized stone on his desk and taps it against the table. “Case is dismissed, the accused may go free.”
ALEJO: Alejo nods. “Thank you, your Honor.”
STORY: The DA looks unhappy, but nods and packs up her papers. “Thank you, your Honor.”
MILLICENT: Millie starts to clap, but quickly stops
ALEJO: Alejo calmly but quickly gathers his paperwork off the table, gives our new Kith friend a quick smile and then gets ready to hustle out of there.
STORY: You bump into the DA on your way out. She is pink-skinned, like the cop at the front desk, and fits well in a pencil skirt and blazer.
ALEJO: “So sorry,” Alejo says with a quick smile and then continues out.
STORY: She looks at you curiously, then lets the four of you pass. Three is excited, not speaking very clearly, lapsing into a language none of your translators will pick up.
STORY: “We go now? You take me to the old home?”
ALEJO: Alejo is ushering Three out. “Yes. Just keep it under control here, okay?” He smiles at Three but keeps the pressure on to get out.
MILLICENT: Millie is all smiles. Maybe waving inappropriately.
ALEJO: Alejo looks at Tueller. “Time to go, I think.” He looks around cautiously, trying to see if anyone is following.