STORY: “So, Soto, given that I can’t suss you out indirectly, I’d like you to tell me why I should send my baby brother into space with a double agent.”
TUELLER: “In his defense, he has saved my life multiple times.”
TUELLER: Tueller sounds meeker than you’ve heard him.
STORY: “Now why would he do that?”
STORY: She turns her back to the three of you, watching out the window behind her desk.
TUELLER: “He’s my co-captain.”
ALEJO: “He’s my family.” Alejo hits the middle word. “Cards on the table? I really was a triple agent. Or quadruple. I lose count. The point is that I am good at what I do. I choose this. It’s not about masters and debts. It’s about choice.”
ALEJO: “I’d take a bullet for Tueller.”
MILLICENT: “I don’t want to derail the issue but I am also a co-captain.”
MILLICENT: “It won’t work!” Millie scowls from over Nikau’s shoulder. Nikau grins into the innards of the machine, holding a wrench in his mouth and a tiny screwdriver behind one ear.
MILLICENT: “Ith whill too wok und,” Nikau leans out from the machine and points, spitting the screwdriver out, “there. Tighten the, yes.” He leans back into the guts of the device, his voice tinny and hollow again. “And if it doesn’t work,” he connects a wire and leans back out of the machine as sparks light his manic grin, “we’ll by God, _make it work!_” He laughs, long and full and happy as the engine of Earth’s first ricochet drive roars to life.
MILLICENT: Millie can’t find it in her to look away or even blink.
—
STORY: STORY: Millie’s upstairs, temporarily deafened from things that are mostly her fault. Alejo’s on the ground, trying to stop a bullet wound in his leg from bleeding. Ruma’s on her knees on the ground, catching her breath, and Tueller has… well rather a lot of blood on him.
STORY: TUELLER: “And the bad news is that you seem to still have enemies who are trying to kill you.”
STORY: We can drop out of the slow motion initiative type deal, but what’s everyone doing?
TUELLER: Talking to Ruma to see if she’s good. Searching the corpse for ID and taking his weapon, and looking after Alejo. Then, getting out of there.
MILLICENT: “CAPTAINS! CAPTAINS DID WE SUCCEED?” Millie pokes her head into the hole in the floor and peers down the hallway.
ALEJO: “Uh, hi. I think that the bad news is that I’m fucking shot.” Alejo is clasping at this leg, trying to stop the flow of blood.
TUELLER: “How bad?”
TUELLER: “Ruma, find ID on that guy. Grab the gun. Then give us a hand.”
STORY: The crowd around you that scattered at the gunfire and bludgeoning has started to reform – some standing around gawking, many going back to what they were doing. The sounds of the merchants in the immediate area return as they go back to hawking their wares.
ALEJO: “Well. I mean. . . it ain’t no flesh wound.”
ALEJO: He is gritting his teeth, fighting off shock as best as his training will permit.
STORY: Ruma nods, hesitantly searching the dead mercenary, shaking her head as she comes up short for ID. She checks the safety and tucks his handgun into the back of her pants.
TUELLER: “How’s mobility?”
TUELLER: Tueller leans down and checks out the wound himself.
MILLICENT: Millie slowly makes her way downstairs, making nnnngh sounds to try and clear her ears.
STORY: It’s severe. He can’t put weight on it or it’ll bleed much worse.
TUELLER: Tueller taps behind his ear “Mille, get down here.”
TUELLER: Tueller gives instructions on where we are. “Bring the eggs. And Loll and Jenny.”
STORY: Someone from the crowd leans over. “D’ya need help, mister?”
TUELLER: Tueller sizes up whoever is speaking.
TUELLER: “Depends on who and what.”
STORY: It’s a short, pink-skinned alien.
STORY: “He’s shot!” comes a voice from elsewhere in the crowd.
STORY: “Someone call A-Sec!” shouts a third.
ALEJO: “Time to move, I think.” Alejo whispers to Tueller.
MILLICENT: Millie arrives with Loll and Jenny and the eggs.
ALEJO: “I’m gonna need help.” He starts and stops trying to stand. “Yeah. I’m definitely gonna need help.”
MILLICENT: Where is Alejo shot?
TUELLER: “You’ll have to lean.” To Alejo.
STORY: Loll has blood on her hands and the SMG she took from a merc strapped to her back.
STORY: She walks over and swiftly picks up Alejo.
TUELLER: “Ruma, you got a place to go to ground nearby?”
STORY: It’s a nice view from up there, Alejo.
TUELLER: “That works too.”
ALEJO: “Well hi.” Alejo is starting to feel light headed. “Thanks Loll. You’re really strong, huh?”
STORY: Ruma shakes her head. “I don’t know anywhere in this sector. We’re two taxis or an hour’s walk from my territory.”
STORY: T’chololl nods. “I am very strong, yes.”
STORY: “Please hold your wound.”
TUELLER: “Why the hell would you set up a meet here?” Tueller shakes his head. He doesn’t expect an answer.
MILLICENT: “Mr. Soto, you appear to have been shot.”
ALEJO: Alejo simply nods, trying to focus on the pain and stay conscious and alert.
MILLICENT: —does this look like something I can patch up from here or will I need a medical facility?
STORY: — You will need a medical facility.
TUELLER: Ruma’s bodyguard didn’t make it, right?
STORY: He is dead.
MILLICENT: “We need a medical facility I can use, the ship or a very good reason why Mr. Soto was shot. Mr. Ya’Makasi, this strikes me as a very _you_ problem to solve. Do you have any ideas?”
MILLICENT: Millie checks Alejo’s pulse and eyes as she talks.
STORY: Millie, he’s in rough shape. He’ll be conscious for a while now, but he won’t be ok without medical attention, and quickly.
ALEJO: “We can’t go to a med facility. At least officially. Whoever wants Ruma dead will watching them now.” Alejo stumbles over the words but gets them out.
STORY: Jenny keeps scanning the area. “Why don’t we wait for A-Sec?”
TUELLER: Tueller finds the pink alien again. “Yes, we could use help. You got a room? I can pay.”
STORY: The pink alien looks confused, then glances around. “Oh. Uh.”
STORY: Tueller, let’s have Face Adversity + Influence
ALEJO: “A-Sec might be compromised.” Alejo rolls his head in the general direction of Jenny.
TUELLER: /roll 2d6
STORY: @chris.stuart rolled 6
STORY: The alien shakes their head. “Naw, man, I mean. I don’t want any trouble.” They disappear into the crowd.
TUELLER: —No one likes the rich brats.
STORY: Alejo drips blood onto the floor.
TUELLER: …
TUELLER: “Ruma, you are our representative to one of the greatest criminal empires humanity has ever seen, and this is your city. So I need a med fac for our friend here now in this neighborhood and we need to have a serious conversation. You don’t set up a meet in a place where you’re not ready to go to ground, so stop playing coy with us and get us an exit.”
TUELLER: “I don’t care if it’s a low level dealer who owes you eight favors, you know someone here.”
STORY: Ruma straightens up and looks at you angrily. “I’m not playing fucking coy, I set the meet out here so we could have -privacy.- The fact that we were followed anyway makes me wonder about how far to trust -you,- Tueller.” She takes out a small communicator, punches something into the interface.
STORY: She shakes her head and points down a narrow hallway. “That way, second right.”
TUELLER: Tueller leads the way.
TUELLER: Well, is lead the way
TUELLER: He shoulders the eggs and wipes blood off as much as possible.
STORY: You take the second right, and the crowd starts to thin out. Alejo, what does this sector look like?
TUELLER: He leaves a very beloved pocketsquare behind.
TUELLER: Soaked in other people’s blood.
ALEJO: The sector looks to be an older part of the station. It has narrower walkways though it is still about four levels open. Graffiti is scattered around on some of the walls, which is different than we’ve seen in other parts of the station. This area looks far less regulated.
STORY: As you’re walking, Ruma keeps pace with Millie. “You can treat him?”
TUELLER: Tueller’s on edge, watching out for another ambush. Opening and closing his hands.
MILLICENT: Millie is hurrying to keep pace with Loll and keeping her fingers on Alejo’s wrist to monitor his pulse. “With a clean room and the right tools, yes. Do you have such a place?”
ALEJO: Alejo has ripped a strip of his shirt and tied it tight above the wound, though he continues to keep pressure on it. He tries to keep his eyes open and as alert as possible, though the adrenaline rush is slowly dissipating.
STORY: Ruma doesn’t answer, Millie. As you turn down another hallway, she shouts up to Tueller. “Third door on the left, it’ll have a caduceus.”
TUELLER: Tueller gets to the door, takes a look up and down the alleyways, and opens the door when he sees no one looking.
TUELLER: He is very tense.
MILLICENT: Millie takes Ruma by the arm as they walk together. “Where are you taking us?”
STORY: “To a doctor.”
TUELLER: He gives one of the snakes on the caduceus a pat as he goes in.
STORY: Millie, please describe the facility.
MILLICENT: It’s a rehab.
MILLICENT: The walls are creamsicle orange, the chairs are mint green, the fixtures and details are medical white. It is clean and old and, somehow, reassuringly ugly. The front desk has a half-hearted plastiglass partition that doesn’t come all the way down to the desk’s top, giving the receptionist the impression of wearing a very large visor. There’s one door, with a small window showing a hallway with a dozen or so private rooms beyond.
TUELLER: Tueller comes in, checks for threats, and then holds the door open to let our people in
MILLICENT: The receptionist is a bored looking alien. A different species of alien sleeps fitfully in a chair in the corner.
MILLICENT: —okay now I’m done
TUELLER: A mounted turret next to the receptionist rotates to point a large bored gun at Tueller. It flicks over to people as we enter, and then comes back to focus on Tueller.
TUELLER: —large bore, that is. Not that the gun is bored of us.
MILLICENT: —Oh I thought it was bored of us
ALEJO: “Cozy place.” Alejo looks at the turret and then scans the room as best has he can from the arms of Loll.
TUELLER: It seems pretty apathetic, to be honest.
STORY: Ruma follows in at the end of the line. She looks up to Tueller expectantly.
TUELLER: “They officially ours? Or through a CJH holding?”
TUELLER: To Ruma.
TUELLER: “Nevermind.”
TUELLER: Tueller strolls up to the receptionist. The turret tracks him.
STORY: The receptionist looks up and cracks her gum.
TUELLER: “You know who I am?”
STORY: She is also pink. She shakes her head.
STORY: “Am I supposed to?”
STORY: She looks pretty disinterested in you, though she does lean around and notice Alejo.
TUELLER: “Tueller Ya’Makasi.” He takes out an official CJH passport, with a ostentatious embossment on the cover.
STORY: “N–” Ruma objects from the back.
ALEJO: Alejo gives her a little wave and a very weary smile.
STORY: The receptionist looks at the passport and hands it back to you.
STORY: She puts her head in her hands. “They don’t want your ID, Tueller.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks back at Ruma, and shrugs, and then takes out a rather large stack of bills.
TUELLER: “We’ll be needing a room, and some privacy.”
STORY: Let’s have an Acquisition roll!
STORY: I’m going to say medical attention for a Severe injury is a class 1
TUELLER: So that’s 2d6 -1? No modifiers?
STORY: Yep, unless you’re offering cargo
TUELLER: Ugh.
MILLICENT: Can we offer something else in trade?
STORY: Nope!
MILLICENT: Okay
TUELLER: /roll 2d6-1
STORY: @chris.stuart rolled 11 – 1 = 10
ALEJO: –Yes!
MILLICENT: —heck yes
STORY: Nice. She looks at the stack of bills, looks around, and takes it off the counter, gesturing behind her. “Exam 2.”
TUELLER: Tueller waves everyone back there, keeping an eye on the turret as he does so.
STORY: The turret disengages and lets you all pass.
STORY: The exam room is small, not big enough for all of you to go in. You can fit maybe 3 people plus Alejo.
STORY: Ruma enters first.
STORY: T’chololl and Jenny, seeing the size of the room, elect to stay outside in the waiting room.
MILLICENT: Millie blows in and takes stock while giving orders.
MILLICENT: -it was the leg, right? No one answered me earlier about where he was shot.
TUELLER: To Loll and Jenny. “Keep an eye out. Give a quick rap if you need help. I’ll come running.”
STORY: Yes! Leg.
MILLICENT: “Put some gloves on and cut that pant leg off. ”
MILLICENT: —can I use what’s in the room to patch him up?
STORY: Why don’t you give me an Assessment + Mettle to see what you can throw together!
TUELLER: Tueller cleans himself off in the sink, staying out of the way as much as possible.
ALEJO: “I’m really prefer not to be a robot when this is done, Doc.” Alejo catches her hand at some point.
ALEJO: He gives her a look and a smile.
TUELLER: The blood comes off his suit without any sign that it was there.
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6+1
STORY: @josh rolled 9 + 1 = 10
MILLICENT: “Don’t be silly, Mr. Soto. I’ve not even got my welding torch with me.”
MILLICENT: …
STORY: You think you can scrape together the materials you need, and you get a Data Point for Surgery while you’re at it!
STORY: Ruma finishes cutting off his pant leg. The wound looks clean, but the bullet is still in there.
MILLICENT: Millie leans in close. “Although, I did augment my visor to act as acetylene torch, so, who knows?”
MILLICENT: At Alejo’s worried look, “I’m just kidding! I don’t even have any scrap metal around.”
MILLICENT: Millie surgeries the bullet out and closes the wound as best she can
STORY: Ok! Let’s have a Patch Up roll
MILLICENT: That’s Expertise, right?
STORY: yep!
MILLICENT: I’d like to use my Surgery Data Point
TUELLER: Plus data point!
MILLICENT: haHA FIRST
STORY: That’s a wise choice!
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6+3
STORY: @josh rolled 8 + 3 = 11
MILLICENT: NICE
ALEJO: –Fantastic!
TUELLER: —Bionic leg, here we come!
STORY: You get the bullet out and close the wound! Have you done anything fancy with it, or is this straight doctorin’?
TUELLER: Is Josh sketching out cyborg parts?
MILLICENT: Straight doctoring! Millie grabs a handful of bottles from the cabinet, selects one, loads a syringe and leans over Alejo.
MILLICENT: “Mr. Soto, I’m going to give you something to keep you from kicking me while I dig around your leg. If it comforts you, you may think of it as for your pain.”
STORY: Ruma looks at the bottle as you fill the syringe. “Methadone?”
TUELLER: Tueller cleans himself and stands by the door, his gaze going back and forth between keeping a worried eye on Alejo and eyeing Ruma.
MILLICENT: Millie plunges the needle into Alejo’s arm.
MILLICENT: “Count backwards from purple, Mr. Soto.” On Ruma’s look, “Doesn’t matter what task I set him, he’ll try for a couple seconds and then,” Alejo’s eyes droop. “I can operate.”
ALEJO: Alejo is about to protest, but the effects are fast. He shakes his head, then smiles, then laughs just a bit and then passes out.
MILLICENT: Millie performs surgery on an in and out of consciousness Alejo.
MILLICENT: She doesn’t replace anything and installs nothing and seems grumpy about it afterwards.
MILLICENT: “There,” she closes up. “A perfectly normal, run of the mill, not at all augmented leg.”
TUELLER: “There may be hope for you yet, Doc.”
MILLICENT: “You lack vision.”
STORY: Ruma nods, impressed, then takes off her gloves and pulls the handgun from her belt and trains it on Tueller. “Time to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
TUELLER: “What?”
MILLICENT: “Nothing.”
STORY: Ruma rolls her eyes. “Make your joke.”
ALEJO: “I like jokes,” Alejo sort of half sits up.
MILLICENT: Millie pushes him back down. “No horseplay for the patient.”
TUELLER: “Yes, let’s discuss this. Please point the gun elsewhere, though. You can hold it if you like. We all know you’ve got it.”
ALEJO: “Haha! Horsesplay. My you’re strong, Doctor.”
TUELLER: Tueller unslings the egg container that he’s been carrying over his shoulder, and holds it in his hands, kind of flexing his hands around it…which kind of glimmer in a weird way. “I still have these, of course.”
STORY: She shakes her head ruefully, then lowers the gun. “Give them to me.”
TUELLER: “We went a long distance to get these, at your bequest, and have almost died a couple times because of them, so we’d like at least a little credit.”
MILLICENT: “Or payment.”
MILLICENT: “We have a large ship repair bill coming due soon.”
STORY: “I have to be alive to pay you. Why the fuck did a dozen men try to stop that from happening?”
TUELLER: “I have no idea.”
TUELLER: “I honestly don’t.”
TUELLER: “But we killed them all, so I’d like to propose that, at the very least, we’re on the same side here. Or adjacent sides, at the very least.”
TUELLER: “So, let’s go down the list.”
TUELLER: “Whose kids are these?”
TUELLER: “Both sides.”
STORY: “Nandini’s and a donor.”
ALEJO: “Bingo! Donor. Who’s the mystery sperm bank?”
MILLICENT: Millie pushes Alejo back down with one hand
STORY: Tueller, let’s have an Assessment + Influence to find out!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6
STORY: @chris.stuart rolled 4
TUELLER: I have no modifiers in Influence AND YET I ALWAYS ROLL BAD.
STORY: “I don’t know, all right?”
TUELLER: It’s like the game knows Tueller’s a fucking spoiled brat that no one likes.
STORY: “I don’t know. Someone they approved of. I have no idea.”
MILLICENT: “They?”
TUELLER: “Her parents.”
MILLICENT: “Please pretend that it’s both important that I understand and that I don’t have the map for this conversation.”
STORY: “They, the families.”
MILLICENT: Millie calls to the hallway, “Jenny, would you duck into exam 3 and steal us an extra pillow?”
STORY: Millie, when you open the door, you see Jenny and Tchololl sitting in the waiting room, attempting to look small while three A-Sec officers are talking to other people in the waiting area.
MILLICENT: Millie closes the door
TUELLER: “The three Families came together to pick a donor?”
MILLICENT: “Guns away, smiles on bright. There are A-Sec officers out there.”
ALEJO: Alejo sits up again. “Party times.”
MILLICENT: Millie snaps twice. “Business later. Keeping us out of jail now, please.” Millie points, “You two, over there and try to look disappointed in your cousin.” Millie pushes Alejo back down. “Look higher.”
MILLICENT: “Actually, you’re good. Keep that up.”
ALEJO: “We were at an A-Sec party, you and me. You kissed that guy. Hella kissed.”
STORY: Ruma shoves the gun back behind her belt and looks nervous.
STORY: There’s a knock at the door.
TUELLER: Tueller does what the Doc says and does not look nervous.
TUELLER: Tueller sets the eggs down in a place where it looks like part of the equipment of the room and sits next to Ruma.
MILLICENT: Loud, “Not now, please, we’re working through something right now.”
STORY: Through the door, “A-Sec ma’am, please open up.”
MILLICENT: Millie shrugs into a white coat from the door and searches beneath cabinets until she finds a blanket to lay over Alejo’s legs.
MILLICENT: She pulls out a flashlight and is examining Alejo’s pupils when the cops enter.
ALEJO: “Whoa! Doc. Too bright. Kinda tickles.” He giggles.
MILLICENT: Millie holds his head still.
STORY: The door opens and a tall Odh enters, accompanied by a short redheaded human with curly hair that you recognize from the A-Sec fundraised a month ago.
STORY: She glances at the three of you briefly, opens her mouth, then closes it and peers down at her steno pad.
STORY: The odh steps forward. “Step away from the patient, please, Doctor.”
MILLICENT: Millie looks up. “Excuse me? What’s going on?”
ALEJO: “Hiya big fella.” Alejo looks at the Odh.
ALEJO: He giggles more.
STORY: “Step away now, Dr. Breedlove.”
ALEJO: Alejo stops giggling.
ALEJO: “Uh oh.” Then he starts giggling again very loudly.
MILLICENT: Millie cocks her head to the side.
MILLICENT: “Does one of you officers mind explaining what you’re doing here?”
STORY: The odh rests his hand meaningfully on his stun baton. “Step away and hands up, Dr. Breedlove. You two stay seated,” he indicates to Ruma and Tueller.
STORY: The human puts a hand on her partner’s arm. “Metz, c’mon, they don’t need–”
STORY: He shrugs her off. “Step away now.”
ALEJO: Alejo eases to the edge of the table, very slowly, still giggling, but softer now.
ALEJO: He gives Tueller a quick, inquiring look.
MILLICENT: “Hands up? What in the world could you be about?” Millie draws herself up to her full like 5’4. “Explain yourself immediately.”
TUELLER: Tueller makes eye contact with Alejo, and gives a quick single tiny shake of his head.
ALEJO: Alejo stays on the table.
MILLICENT: Millie is intimidating the hell out of these cops, if only in her own mind
TUELLER: Tueller is very still.
STORY: The odh reaches out and pushes Millie away from Alejo, stepping closer to both of them to separate them.
STORY: Millie, what do you do?
MILLICENT: Millie steps back
TUELLER: Tueller flexes his hands but does not otherwise move at all.
MILLICENT: Millie surreptitiously palms a syringe from the counter behind her as she steps back
STORY: He keeps a hand on your shoulder, Millie, holding you in place, and turns to Alejo. “What’s wrong with him?”
STORY: Tueller, from her seat, Ruma reaches behind her back and adjusts something.
ALEJO: Alejo laughs manically.
MILLICENT: “Currently, his doctor is being manhandled by a goon.” Millie glares up. “If you don’t tell me what this is about immediately I will have you in front of a tribunal so fast it will make your head spin.”
STORY: The odh turns back to you impatiently and backhands you across the cheek, Millie.
STORY: “Did I ask you?”
TUELLER: OKAY, TUELLER PUNCHES THIS FUCKER.
STORY: Well all right! These are close quarters, so I’d like to know what Millie and Alejo do when Tueller leaps into action before we resolve.
ALEJO: Alejo will do his best to assist.
ALEJO: H
ALEJO: He’ll attempt to grab the Odh’s hand with the baton and disarm him while busting his hand.
MILLICENT: Millie stabs the officer in the leg with her syringe and plunges it into him
STORY: Ok! A triple attack. Tueller, let’s have a Launch Assault first, then a Get Involved from Alejo
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: @chris.stuart rolled 5 + 2 = 7
STORY: Millie, I think you’re just going to be a Face Adversity + Mettle to see if you can get that syringe in.
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: @ablair01 rolled 5 + 2 = 7
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6+1
STORY: @josh rolled 8 + 1 = 9
MILLICENT: 9!
STORY: Ok! Tueller leaps for the odh, Alejo reaching out to disarm him, and Millie plunges the syringe in his leg and fills him with whatever is in it. Alejo, the effort makes you dizzy and you pass out again.
STORY: Tueller, what do you do with your now fully successful assault?
TUELLER: Punch this guy in the face to knock him the fuck out.
TUELLER: Tueller leaps up from the bench and uppercuts the Odh.
STORY: As he hits the ground, Officer Madsen, whose name you now remember from the party, puts her hands up and sputters, “Jesus, enough! We’re on the fucking payroll!”
TUELLER: —Did we meet Madsen on screen?
STORY: — you did, at the beginning of the party
TUELLER: —Oh, yeah.
ALEJO: –First person, I think, that you talked to.
TUELLER: —I bought her a drink!
MILLICENT: Millie turns and puts the syringe back on the counter and picks up another one.
MILLICENT: “Would someone please tell me what exactly is going on here?”
TUELLER: “Both of you? Then what’s this guy’s fucking problem?”
STORY: She gestures feebly to his unconscious form. “He’s an asshole!”
MILLICENT: There is an edge to Millie’s voice, “The next person to not tell me what is going on here gets to experience the healing powers of methadone and then wake up to find I have kicked them for an hour.”
STORY: Ruma stands, slowly. “These two work for us.”
TUELLER: Tueller points at the cops. “Crooked cops”
STORY: “Which doesn’t explain why they’re involved in an assassination attempt on me.”
TUELLER: Both at the same time.
STORY: Madsen sucks on her teeth. “Yeah, that. Well.”
TUELLER: Tueller moves closer to Madsen. “I kind of liked you.”
STORY: “I mean, I’m not here to kill you.”
STORY: “Someone was supposed to have, though.”
TUELLER: “A lot of someone’s tried.”
ALEJO: “Did we win?” Alejo mutters, sort of shifting back fully onto the table.
STORY: “To be honest, I’m not really sure what’s going on here.”
TUELLER: “No one’s got a fucking clue what’s going on. Great.”
STORY: She looks up at Tueller. “I’m supposed to take you back to your sister.”
TUELLER: Tueller laughs. “Which one?”
STORY: “The one who gave you the job.”
STORY: She looks meaningfully at Ruma.
TUELLER: “I think you misunderstand the situation I’m in. No one gave _me_ a job at all, beyond Ruma right here. I don’t work for Lah, no matter how much time we spent in the creche together.”
TUELLER: “She give you any other instructions, officer?”
STORY: Madsen raises an eyebrow. “You really wanna fuck up my day like this?”
STORY: “Just come with me, please. I already have to calm this asshole down.” She gestures down to Metz.
MILLICENT: “You can leave him. He’s due for a pretty severe kicking.”
TUELLER: Tueller turns to Millie. “Oh, short version: crooked cops, work for my sister, who wants Ruma dead for reasons we don’t understand.”
MILLICENT: Millie half bows. “Thank you.”
STORY: Ruma, standing alone behind Alejo’s exam table, pulls the gun out and points it at the four of you. “Enough. Make me a path, please.”
STORY: “And give me the case.”
TUELLER: Tueller moves out of the way, with his hands up.
MILLICENT: Millie half shrugs with exasperation. “The gun again?”
ALEJO: Alejo simply rolls over to face her. “This isn’t the way, Ruma. Trust me.” He is as cogent sounding as he’s been since this all began.
STORY: “I’ll take my chances, thank you.” She moves quickly past the table and reaches for the eggs.
STORY: Does anyone stop her?
STORY: Madsen steps out of the way.
TUELLER: “We’re square.”
STORY: “We are if I get back to my goddamn desk. And you owe me a bodyguard.”
TUELLER: “No, I do not.”
STORY: She leaves, closing the door behind her.
MILLICENT: “And you’re going to pay for our ship.”
STORY: Madsen relaxes a little. “Okay, so. Coming?”
TUELLER: Tueller kicks the Odh one more time.
TUELLER: “Sure.”
MILLICENT: Seriously, “Do you want backup?”
TUELLER: “Always good to see Lah.”
STORY: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but ok.”
ALEJO: Alejo sits up.
STORY: “Can you help me get him on this table at least?”
TUELLER: “No.”
TUELLER: “Leave him.”
TUELLER: “He attacked my friend. He doesn’t get table privileges”
STORY: She sighs. “Fine. He can get a cab.”
STORY: She leaves, speaking to the receptionist before the rest of you go.
STORY: Does everyone get into the squad car?
MILLICENT: “He’s going to get a kicking.” Millie stands back, pursing her lips, considering the best place to start
TUELLER: “You coming?”
TUELLER: To Millie and Alejo.
ALEJO: Alejo slowly gets up and heads out with Tueller.
MILLICENT: Millie hoists Alejo and hobbles after
ALEJO: Hobbling a great deal.
STORY: It’s a quiet ride to the Ya’Makasi compound, unless any of you have anything to say.
MILLICENT: Millie pocketed a methadone syringe
MILLICENT: Chekhov’s methadone syringe
ALEJO: “Thanks for the patch up, Doc.” Alejo says this quietly to Millie at some point during the ride.
MILLICENT: “You’re welcome, captain.” Millie smiles. “Don’t worry. I didn’t make any improvements.”
TUELLER: “Don’t lie, Doc. I saw the servos.”
ALEJO: Alejo raises his eyebrows and then smiles. “Hope they start working pretty soon.”
STORY: Madsen drops you off at the same compound you went to for the party. “Upstairs, third level, second door on the left. Security is expecting you.”
STORY: She looks at Jenny and Loll in the rear view. “Just the three of them, I’m afraid. You two can wait with me or hang in the presidium.”
STORY: — that’s not the right word.
TUELLER: “Sorry, Jen, Loll. I know you’ve done a bunch of waiting. We’ll be back, we hope. Use your judgment. We’ll be in touch as soon as we can.”
TUELLER: Tueller taps the place in his ear where we all had receivers put in.
STORY: Jenny elects to stay in the car. T’chololl steps out and has a walk.
STORY: You head up to the office, security waving the three of you by each time. The door has Akilah’s name on it, and her title: Murders and Acquisitions, Head.
TUELLER: “You want to lead on this, buddy? She’s your ex.”
ALEJO: Alejo half nods half shrugs and heads in first.
STORY: The office is dimly lit, and large, with room for a big white metal desk and a handful of chairs. A drink cart lit in blue neon sits on the right near a couch, and a large fishtank covers the left wall. It is too cold in this room.
STORY: As the third of you enters and the door slides closed behind you, you all note that it is not Akilah sitting behind the desk.
STORY: https://the-peregrine.obsidianportal.com/characters/esinam
STORY: Esi beckons casually. “Sit.”
TUELLER: Tueller sits down meekly immediately
ALEJO: Alejo moves to a chair and sits, though he’s a bit slower.
MILLICENT: Millie sits down brightly and folds her hands in her lap.
MILLICENT: “Hi!”
TUELLER: “Doc, this is my _other_ sister, Esinam.”
TUELLER: “She runs the family.”
STORY: “We have got a mess here, haven’t we.”
STORY: “Why don’t you debrief me.”
MILLICENT: “Very pleased to meet you, Ms. Ya’Makasi. Your brother has been an invaluable thief, tough and general brigand.”
STORY: Millie, she holds up a hand, silencing you. “Soto.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods and quiets
ALEJO: “We rescued the kids, as Akilah asked. That had complications, including sentient fungus. That’s a different story. We were delivering the kids to Ruma when we were attacked.”
ALEJO: Alejo is succinct and keeps his voice business-like.
STORY: “Is that what you were asked to do?”
ALEJO: “In part, yes.”
STORY: “Cut the shit, Soto.”
STORY: She looks bored.
ALEJO: “No shit. I was told that Akilah’s requests were not official family business.”
STORY: “Hm.” She nods, standing, and takes a few steps behind the desk, her arms gently crossed.
STORY: “Where is Ruma now?”
ALEJO: “She left with the kids. Nearly getting killed spooked her.”
TUELLER: —I was about to say “in the wind” but then realized someone who doesn’t have a concept of wind probably wouldn’t use Baltimore cop slang.
MILLICENT: —good point
STORY: “You let her leave.”
ALEJO: He begins to gesture to his leg, then stops. “Yes.”
STORY: “Hm.” She paces some more. “Hm hm hm. Interesting.”
STORY: “Your loyalty to Akilah is enough to keep her secrets, but not to do her bidding. But why not? Certainly not because you value the families more.”
STORY: “Did your other master come calling?”
ALEJO: Alejo takes a deep breath. “My sister stopped by for a family chat. Nothing more.”
STORY: Esinam stops and leans over the top of the chair, looking at Alejo coolly. “You’ve produced awfully muddy test results, Alejo. Want to clear them up for me?”
ALEJO: “Ma’am, I’ve been the good soldier for you. No shit. I don’t know what’s going on. You’re right. I am loyal. I owe Akilah a lot. I owe the Family a lot. I’m not playing a game with you. Or I’m not meaning to be. I honestly don’t know more.”
STORY: Esinam sighs. “Fine. Cards on the table, it was my request, not Akilah’s. She delivered it – under protest – because I wanted to know whether we can trust you.” She looks at Tueller. “I still don’t have an answer to that question.”
ALEJO: Alejo sits back.
STORY: “So, Soto, given that I can’t suss you out indirectly, I’d like you to tell me why I should send my baby brother into space with a double agent.”
TUELLER: “In his defense, he has saved my life multiple times.”
TUELLER: Tueller sounds meeker than you’ve heard him.
STORY: “Now why would he do that?”
STORY: She turns her back to the three of you, watching out the window behind her desk.
TUELLER: “He’s my co-captain.”
MILLICENT: If there were popcorn, Millie would be chowing down
MILLICENT: What a show!
ALEJO: “He’s my family.” Alejo hits the middle word. “Cards on the table? I really was a triple agent. Or quadruple. I lose count. The point is that I am good at what I do. I choose this. It’s not about masters and debts. It’s about choice.”
ALEJO: “I’d take a bullet for Tueller.”
MILLICENT: “I don’t want to derail the issue but I am also a co-captain.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles charmingly.
ALEJO: “And I’d probably take a bullet for the Doc here too.” He gives her a quick smile.
STORY: Esinam announces to the window, “Choice.”
STORY: “And yet when offered a difficult one, you made neither.”
STORY: “You didn’t carry out Akilah’s wishes, nor did you warn Ruma. You just… took the middle road.”
STORY: “And waited for things to happen around you.”
STORY: She turns back. “You owe the Family a debt, Soto.”
STORY: “And when we call it due, believe that you will not have the abillity to wait for things to resolve themselves.”
STORY: “Are we understood?”
ALEJO: “Perfectly.”
STORY: She nods. “We’re done. Congratulate Ruma on her upcoming pregnancy for me.”
STORY: She waves a hand, sitting down and looking at a pad.
TUELLER: …
TUELLER: “Esi. Did CJH send the hit squads we just tussled with?”
STORY: Without looking up, “Were they any trouble?”
TUELLER: “Not remotely. I think you got swindled.”
STORY: She smiles. “They were cheap. I didn’t want you to overexert yourself.”
STORY: “Tueller.”
TUELLER: “Sis?”
STORY: “You wanted to try things on your own.”
TUELLER: “I did.”
STORY: “Do things on your own, then. Enough throwing our name around. If you’re with the family, you’re with us. If not, emergencies only. Understand?”
TUELLER: Tueller takes out his CJH ID, wads it up in glove-assisted ball, and tosses it across the desk.
TUELLER: “Yeah, sis.”
STORY: “See you at the wedding.”
MILLICENT: Millie raises her hand
STORY: She levels a measured look at Millie. “Yes, doctor.”
MILLICENT: “I’m sure you already know my name and credentials. But the next time one of your goon squad raises a hand to me they will face an answer from Erde-Maris. I won’t be struck a second time. I will call in whatever favors are left to me to ensure it. Do you understand?”
ALEJO: Alejo raises an eyebrow at this.
TUELLER: Tueller smiles.
STORY: Esinam nods. “Understood. One of the mercs?”
MILLICENT: “An odh A-Sec. I would appreciate it if he remembered today.”
STORY: “Hm.” She leans back in her chair.
STORY: “I suspect he will.”
MILLICENT: Millie stands. “Thank you for your time.”
STORY: “Oh, you’re very welcome, Dr. Breedlove. Good luck with these two.”
TUELLER: “Be seeing you, sis.”
TUELLER: Tueller stands as well.
ALEJO: Alejo simply gives her a single, formal nod, then stands as well.
STORY: “Good evening.”
MILLICENT: Millie leaves the room
ALEJO: Alejo starts the long walk to the door, moving cautiously but as swiftly as he can.
STORY: The door slides closed behind the three of you.
TUELLER: Tueller looks at the others and opens his mouth to speak…
TUELLER: And then closes it. Shrugs, and continues on, cowed.
MILLICENT: “I expected more family photos.”
TUELLER: “Those are really horrific.”
MILLICENT: “Perhaps a small and violent baby Tueller.”
MILLICENT: “Jump kicking another infant into a pit of spikes while shrieking the family name.”
TUELLER: “Our pits were all lava based.”
MILLICENT: “Oh, see that’s very efficient from a disposal standpoint.”