TUELLER: “Can you guys…not tell Loll? This is…going to complicate things.”
STORY: Kahn mimes turning a key in front of his mouth.
TUELLER: “I really do like cows, though. That you can talk about.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods, “Is it the number of stomachs?”
MILLICENT: “I’ve always found the number of stomachs to be remarkable.”
STORY: Kahn shakes his head and starts walking.
TUELLER: “Yes. It’s the number of stomachs. That’s definitely it.”
STORY: He may be laughing at his captain.
MILLICENT: “Four.”
TUELLER: Tueller’s favorite uncle expressed his disappointment again that Tueller was going off to college rather than taking him up on his offer. “This could be the most lucrative wing the family could go do, in the long run. The people of Beta Hydri have no wormhole. They’re 40 lightyears from the nearest civilization–us–and stuck there. They’re NO threat to us and we’re no threat to them. We can have a Columbian exchange of ideas and technology like Pen Pals! There’s no downside to either of us.”
TUELLER: Tueller laughed, and said, “Yeah, but we got to talk them into liking us. That’s not my strong suit. And it’ll take 80 years before we know one way or another if we’re even going to get started. I have plans between now and then, and I’d like to get started on them.””
—
STORY: Tueller, you wipe the sweat off your head with your bandana, folding it carefully and replacing it in your back pocket, peering down at the body. No visible wounds, well-fed, no sign of illness or disease – a bovine mystery. Two steers idle nearby, watching you, as a calf prances up behind you and nudges the back of your knee.
STORY: You hear the dinner bell in the distance and again regret picking it up. She loves to ring that thing.
STORY: What do you do?
TUELLER: I pick up the body; in the low gravity of the habitat, it’s unwieldy and awkward, but doable. I start bounding back to the bell; I’ll try to get to the bottom with some help.
STORY: You travel back to the house, a fully-grown dead cow over your shoulder, as the calf follows behind you braying.
STORY: You smell dinner before you see it. What is it?
TUELLER: Sous vide steak, finished in dunk of deep frying butter kept at temperature by waste heat of the life support fusion generator, and corn on the cob.
STORY: Padma is singing in the kitchen, wiping up something she spilled on the floor so you are greeted by her ass in blue jeans. “You’d better not bring that calf back in here, you know she’s going to think she’s a pe–” she stops when she sees the cow’s body.
STORY: “What happened, T?”
TUELLER: “Honestly trying to figure that out, P. Bryant didn’t make it. No idea what killed her.”
STORY: “Well, put her down, I’ll take a look. Take the steak out in thirty seconds.” She moves past you to the porch, gesturing for you to put down the cow.
TUELLER: Tueller does so.
TUELLER: Gingerly putting her down.
STORY: Millie, you wake up to a gentle alarm, set off by your feet on the dashboard again. You make a mental note to rewire that button when you get a chance.
STORY: “I can rewire it on the software end if you like, Millie,” the computer announces.
STORY: It is not Noma’s voice, but a soft English-accented male.
MILLICENT: “No, that’s fine, dear. I should have time this weekend.”
MILLICENT: “Could you run through my appointments today, please?”
STORY: “Certainly. Today at 7 am you are going to weed the biodeck. At 9 you have a nap planned that will last one hour. At 10:30 you are scheduled to catch up with the news from Erde-Maris and reprogram any uncooperative segments that have been recovered. After your lunch, you have a 2:30 call to negotiate the treaty with the Evanuris. Then another nap at 4, and after dinner I have a new SQUID disc for you to try. I believe it’s hiking through Big Sur.”
MILLICENT: Millie stretches lazily. “That. Yes, let’s do all those things.”
MILLICENT: Millie pads, sleepy-eyed, to a device that looks like something Dr Doom would threaten the universe with and persuades it, with a button press here and a handle pull there, to make an extremely good cup of tea.
MILLICENT: She leans into a window seat and rests her head against the window, letting the tea steep and the vapors rise into her head, slowly drawing the fog of sleep away.
STORY: Tueller, you come back in from burying the cow and meet Padma as she is stirring something into a beaker. She holds it up and compares the liquid inside with a striped card. “pH looks fine, no sign of disease, no injuries. I dunno, T, I think she might have just been older than we thought. Some things don’t adapt as well to low-G.” She peers over, notices the calf winding her way between your legs, and rolls her eyes and smiles.
STORY: “You spoil her.”
STORY: “You’ll change your mind when she’s half a ton.”
TUELLER: “No reason not to spoil her.”
TUELLER: “These animals are the lifeblood of this family. No reason for them not to like being part of it.”
STORY: “Fair enough.” She leans back. “So how was it out there? Did you figure out how to scythe today?”
TUELLER: “It’s just cutting. Cutting with a big weird blade. How hard can it possibly be?”
STORY: Tueller, looking at her you remember – Padma works for your uncle. She isn’t your wife. It’s an intrusive thought.
STORY: She smiles. “It’s cutting your leg off if you’re not careful with it.”
STORY: “I’m not patching you up again.”
TUELLER: Tueller shakes his head weirdly.
TUELLER: “Oh shit, I didn’t take the steak out!”
TUELLER: Tueller runs back into the house and saves the steak. It’s definitely getting towards medium well.
STORY: Padma runs in after you, putting on an oven mitt and pushing you playfully out of the way to plate everything. She smells like someone else.
STORY: Millie, you tug on a weed and pull up earth with it as a tangle of roots comes with it. Sourgrass.
STORY: You wonder again how you manage to grow weeds on a damn spaceship, shake your head, and continue untangling the woodsorrel from your pea vines.
MILLICENT: “Oxalis stricta,” Millie mutters to herself.
MILLICENT: She sits up a little straighter. “Andrew?”
STORY: “Yes, ma’am.”
MILLICENT: “Would you remind me how we met?”
STORY: “You conquered me, Millie.”
MILLICENT: Millie stands, brushes herself off. “Right.”
MILLICENT: “Vanity. You know, that’s close. It’s very close.”
MILLICENT: “I think I may have responded better to ‘we sent you a gilded invitation for being such a smart human, Millie.’”
MILLICENT: Millie strides toward the nearest door and kicks it.
MILLICENT: “We’ll never know. Or perhaps we will if you lock me into.”
STORY: Kahn is standing behind it.
STORY: He opens his mouth briefly, tilts his head, and pauses. “I hadn’t… worked out what I was going to say yet.”
STORY: “Are you… you look ready to go.”
MILLICENT: Millie fights some extremely visible feelings by clenching her jaw. A tear starts in her eye, but some resolute staring and a blink or two convinces it of the wisdom in retreat. Finally, “Ready.”
MILLICENT: Millie strides past him, shaking with anger.
STORY: You reach the airlock, and open the first door.
STORY: Kahn pauses behind you and takes a deep breath.
STORY: “Ladies first?”
STORY: A voice comes over the intercom. “Millie.” It is Noma.
MILLICENT: Millie takes a breath. “Just a moment, dear. Mr. Vespertine, would you please remind me what happened to your hand?”
STORY: He scowls at you. “You tried to pull it off.”
MILLICENT: “Via?”
STORY: He gestures toward the airlock.
STORY: “It’s me.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles, relieved. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Vespertine. I apologize for the insensitivity of my question.”
STORY: Noma comes in again. “I can modify the scenario, Millie. I can make you forget this and give you that golden invite.”
STORY: Kahn glances upward. “I wouldn’t, Dr. Breedlove.”
STORY: “I did a few rounds with this. There’s nobody here but you and me.”
STORY: “Everyone else… is a guess.”
MILLICENT: “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Vespertine. But I believed I’d established that to my satisfaction in this particular scenario. Please, allow me.” Millie opens the airlock and goes through first.
MILLICENT: I mean, drastic compression probably makes sure of that.
STORY: Yeah, there’s not really a first or second so much as the two of you are immediately blasted out into the darkness of space. You start to freeze as your lungs do their best to suck air in from the void before you. Stars appear in your eyes, and you start to black out as you land hard in a field.
STORY: Kahn lands a moment after you, rolling over the edge of a gentle hill and disappearing out of sight. From the sound of it, he tumbles for a while.
STORY: The grass smells interesting. You encountered grass once.
STORY: It has a fresh, woody smell. Or what has been described to you by sommeliers as woody, anyway.
MILLICENT: Millie chases Kahn
STORY: Kahn is curled up at the bottom of the small hill, wrapped partially around a fencepost. “Ow.”
MILLICENT: “This is no time to relive your favorite family friendly romantic comedy, Mr. Vespertine!” Millie calls after Kahn as he tumbles ass over teakettle.
STORY: He gets on his hands and knees and barely recovers in time to brace as you slam into him and knock into the same fencepost.
MILLICENT: Groaned, “Thank you”
STORY: “You two look pretty stupid like that,” calls a voice from the top of the hill.
STORY: You look up to see Tux, one hand over his brow, blocking the sunlight so he can get a look at you.
STORY: He sits down and slides on his butt down the hill, scooching a little at a time.
MILLICENT: Before he arrives, sotto voce to Kahn
MILLICENT: “Is it the head trauma, or is he cute?”
STORY: “Definitely both.”
STORY: Tux arrives, having looked equally dumb getting down, but at least in one piece. He offers the two of you a hand, and as a trio you survey the area.
STORY: There’s a large, empty pasture before you, fenced in, likely ten acres at least. A farmhouse sits in the distance, at the top of another small hill. It’s painted white.
STORY: Two steers mill around to your left.
MILLICENT: “I take it this isn’t your dream, Mr., you know I don’t believe I caught your surname.”
STORY: “It’s–uh. Tux is fine.”
STORY: Tux looks anxious and starts walking towards the farmhouse.
MILLICENT: Millie walks after, “So, this isn’t your dream construct, Tux?”
STORY: Tux calls over his shoulder. “Not enough drugs, not enough naked people. One of your crew.”
STORY: Kahn raises his eyebrows. “Who wants to live on a _farm?“_
MILLICENT: Millie shrugs, bewildered.
STORY: He follows along, demonstrating, you notice, a talent for avoiding stepping in cow shit.
STORY: Tux does not possess the same talent.
STORY: As you get close to the farmhouse, Tux slows down. “So, who’s up for ruining their friend’s utopian life?”
MILLICENT: “Ensign Nilsson? Jac, maybe?”
MILLICENT: Millie raises a hand and doesn’t slow down.
STORY: Tueller, you and Padma have just settled in for a movie, she pulling out the old afghan to lay it over her – she’s always colder than you. You hear footsteps on the porch.
TUELLER: Tueller ignores the footsteps.
STORY: Millie, inside is a cozy farmhouse, the kitchen and living room before you. Tueller is sitting, facing away from you, on a couch, a woman resting her head on his chest. They’re in front of the opening credits of some holovid you don’t recognize.
MILLICENT: Millie raps on the door she’s opening
MILLICENT: “Good evening, Mr. Ya’Makasi. I’m afraid it’s my turn to rescue you.”
STORY: It’s an old wooden screen door, one that creaks quaintly when you open it.
TUELLER: Tueller hears the door opening and jumps up, grabbing a really large scythe off the wall and turning, wielding it awkwardly.
MILLICENT: “I truly hope they did as bad a job for you as they did for me. I’d hate to take you away from a lie you were enjoying.”
MILLICENT: Millie waves, gives it a second.
TUELLER: “No. No no no no no.” Tueller is shaking his head, closing his eyes.
TUELLER: The scythe is definitely dangerous, but mostly in an accidental impalement sort of fashion.
MILLICENT: “Oh, they did do better. I’m so sorry, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
TUELLER: “Fuck.”
STORY: Padma stands up, taking cover behind Tueller. “What’s going on, T?”
MILLICENT: “Tueller. Co-captain. We have responsibilities to tend to.”
STORY: Tux’s voice is audible from the porch. “Jesus, that’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Have you ever seen a woman that beautiful?”
STORY: “Not really my thing, Tux.” Kahn answers dryly.
STORY: _“Oh.“_ Tux sounds interested.
TUELLER: “Millie.” Tueller has never called Millie by her first name before. “I must politely but firmly request that you leave my house and wife and never return.”
MILLICENT: “Tueller. I.”
MILLICENT: Millie stops to think.
STORY: “Is he holding a scythe?”
STORY: “Yes, Tux.”
STORY: “Who the fuck knows how to use a scythe?”
STORY: “From the look of it, not Tueller.”
TUELLER: “I don’t, and I need time to learn, so fuck off.”
STORY: “You want a lesson, captain?” Kahn steps into the room.
TUELLER: “No, Kahn. What I want is the practice.”
STORY: He gestures behind him. “Raising kobe here, right?”
MILLICENT: Millie’s head comes up, paying attention now.
TUELLER: “Trying to. Something killed one of the flock today.”
STORY: “What are you feeding them?”
TUELLER: “I… don’t know.”
TUELLER: “Shit, I fed them this morning. I should know what we’re feeding them.”
STORY: “The last couple generations of kobe have trouble making enough lysine. You have to get them special feed or they just bleed out internally.”
STORY: “Know why I know that?”
STORY: “And you don’t?”
STORY: “I’m the kobe farmer, Tueller. This isn’t your life.”
TUELLER: “But it could be, Kahn.”
TUELLER: “If you guys walk out that door and leave me be, I’ll figure it out.”
TUELLER: “I can do that.”
STORY: He gestures to Padma, who is looking increasingly upset. “Who’s that?”
MILLICENT: Over her shoulder to Tux, “Oh I thought they were doing a masculinity thing, but this is really very clever. Attacking the roots of the illusion.”
STORY: Padma crosses her arms. “I could ask you the same, buddy.”
TUELLER: “This is my wife, Padma Ya’Makasi. We met at a wedding and got along like a house on fire.”
MILLICENT: Millie raises her hand like a good pupil
STORY: Kahn smiles. “I bet she’s real, right? Man. They are good at the guesses.”
TUELLER: “So real.”
MILLICENT: Millie waves her hand a little frantically
TUELLER: Tueller shakes his head, like a bad thought just crossed it, and ignores Millie.
STORY: Kahn leans against the door frame, looking down at his feet. “Padma, it’s nice to meet you. What’s the first thing you remember?”
STORY: Padma furrows her brow.
STORY: Kahn continues. “From your childhood, I mean.”
STORY: Tueller, what’s your earliest memory?
STORY: And Millie, yours?
STORY: Doesn’t have to be detailed
TUELLER: A vacation on Callisto with the entire family.
TUELLER: Esi punched Tueller at the zoo.
MILLICENT: Oh, I remember an afternoon in the park with my nanny.
MILLICENT: I was given a balloon and an icy.
STORY: Padma looks taken aback, but sets her jaw and answers. “A shuttle trip with my nanny to Mars. She punched me, then gave me a balloon.”
MILLICENT: Millie does that thing where she grabs onto the elbow of the arm that’s waving in the air
STORY: Kahn raises his hand. “I was the shuttle trip.”
STORY: Tux. “To Mars? I remember Mars.”
TUELLER: Tueller frowns stubbornly.
TUELLER: And says nothing.
STORY: Kahn looks at Millie.
TUELLER: You suspect he might never call on Millie.
MILLICENT: “The balloon part was me. It was green.”
MILLICENT: “And you thought you would float away? Because you didn’t know that helium’s pull wasn’t greater than your weight.”
STORY: Padma looks uncomfortable.
MILLICENT: “That was me. The punching nanny must have been someone else though, because I can’t recall my nanny ever touching me outside of a nappy change.”
STORY: She looks at Tueller.
STORY: Tueller, what do you do?
TUELLER: Tueller shakes his head.
STORY: A cat walks by and rubs against your shins, Tueller.
TUELLER: Tueller mutters. “The punching was me.”
STORY: He makes that happy mrrr? noise like he would like for you to feed him.
TUELLER: “Well, it was Esi.”
TUELLER: “But me.”
TUELLER: “Fuck.”
STORY: Kahn nods sadly, still looking at the floor.
STORY: Padma takes a deep breath and stands up straight. “All right. We can start again.”
STORY: “But you have to make them leave.”
STORY: “If you would like, I can arrange for you to forget this episode before we begin again.”
TUELLER: Very quietly. “Please leave, guys.”
STORY: Tux calls from the porch, “I never came in, for the record.”
STORY: “You wanna get lost in this, go ahead.”
MILLICENT: Millie drops her arm
STORY: Kahn looks at Millie, his lips pursed.
TUELLER: “When am I going to get another chance like this?”
MILLICENT: Softly, “Tueller, I’d be happy to leave you here if you’re happy, but I’m afraid that you might sustain irreparable brain damage when we painfully murder the execrable son of a bitch who’s doing this.”
MILLICENT: “Also, I’m pretty sure that you’re going to be able to see through this again.”
TUELLER: Tueller eyes Millie.
MILLICENT: “We didn’t dig that deep.”
MILLICENT: “And you’re smarter that you want to be credited for.”
TUELLER: “No, you don’t have to dig deep, that’s true.”
TUELLER: Tueller turns to Padma.
MILLICENT: “Execrable means extremely bad or unpleasant, like feces.”
MILLICENT: Helpfully.
TUELLER: “Please, before we go on, can you tell me what killed Bryant? And was anything going to come from Missy always being around? Was that a set up for some dramatic scene where we would have to save her from a storm or something?”
TUELLER: “There was an awful lot of setup here for a simple quiet paradise.”
STORY: Padma opens her mouth, then closes it. Whatever is making her move is excellent at mimicking human body language. “We knew you would not stay satisfied by a perfect life.”
STORY: “Some conflict was necessary.”
STORY: “We do not… plan in advance.”
TUELLER: Tueller swings the scythe and decapitates the Padma thing.
STORY: There’s only a brief squirt of blood from what used to be her head, then both pieces fall to the ground.
STORY: Kahn shakes his head unhappily.
TUELLER: “God I hate this fucking place.”
STORY: From the porch, “Jesus shit, are you serious?”
STORY: “You didn’t have to kill her! Could we at least have seen what she looked like naked?”
TUELLER: “I have. And yes, you’re missing out.”
MILLICENT: Millie puts her hand out and squeezes Tueller’s elbow. “I wanted to cut the head off mine, but it was just a voice.”
TUELLER: Tueller bends over to set the scythe down gently, and stays down there for a moment with his head lowered.
TUELLER: Then sighs, and stands back up.
TUELLER: “So. We killing ourselves again?”
MILLICENT: “I think we can just walk.”
STORY: Kahn lifts his head. “Maybe give her a call when we get out of here, captain.”
TUELLER: “She’s a void-hopper. No forwarding address.”
TUELLER: “Can you guys…not tell Loll? This is…going to complicate things.”
STORY: Kahn mimes turning a key in front of his mouth.
TUELLER: “I really do like cows, though. That you can talk about.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods, “Is it the number of stomachs?”
MILLICENT: “I’ve always found the number of stomachs to be remarkable.”
STORY: Kahn shakes his head and starts walking.
TUELLER: “Yes. It’s the number of stomachs. That’s definitely it.”
STORY: He may be laughing at his captain.
MILLICENT: “Four.”
STORY: You wander for a while, and can’t find a door.
STORY: There’s a well in the distance?
TUELLER: Well then we go there.
STORY: It’s deep enough that you can’t see the bottom. There’s the typical rope with a bucket attached.
TUELLER: Tueller experiments with rappelling down a well.
MILLICENT: Millie pulls the bucket out, places it carefully onto the ground and jumps down
STORY: The rope breaks and you fall, splashing into the water.
STORY: Millie, you jump in shortly after Tueller unintentionally jumps in.
STORY: As you hit the water, you land in a cool, clear lake. The woods surrounding it are thick, and crickets sing loudly to accompany you. A short dock is nearby, with a cozy cabin thirty feet away and the last remnants of a campfire burning out beside it.
STORY: There are lights on inside the cabin.
TUELLER: Tueller treads water, counting off who made it.
TUELLER: He dives underwater a couple times, to make sure no one’s drowning there.
STORY: Kahn splashes down a few feet from you, treading water alongside you, his perfect hair looking even more perfect when wet
STORY: Tux splashes in a moment later, but does not reemerge.
MILLICENT: Millie shrugs out of her coat and kicks off her shoes
TUELLER: Tueller dives towards where Tux hit.
MILLICENT: She swims confidently to the dock
STORY: You find him quickly, sinking slowly into the aquatic plants below, him scrabbling what feels like a bag of elbows towards you as he tries to grab on.
STORY: Pulling him out of the water, you note how skinny this dude is. He needs some bread.
STORY: Kahn shakes his hair out, wrings some water from his shirt as he waits for Tueller and Tux to make it back to shore.
MILLICENT: Millie pulls herself up on the dock and takes off her shirt, wrings it off, then back on, same with her pants.
STORY: Tux clings on to you, Tueller, clearly enjoying observing your chest in a wet shirt.
STORY: Millie distracts Tux.
MILLICENT: “Whoever’s doing this better hope this doesn’t keep frizzing my hair once we leave.”
TUELLER: “We declared our intention to murder them. We can’t do much more to them than that.”
MILLICENT: Millie looks surprised.
MILLICENT: “I never thought I’d hear anything like a lack of creativity from you, Tueller. At least not in this regard.”
STORY: Kahn trudges up the hill.
TUELLER: “Well, I tend not to plan ahead, so we’ll see what I come with in the moment. I hope it meets your expectations.”
STORY: He opens the back door, holding it for whoever arrives first.
MILLICENT: “I guess we’ll see.”
TUELLER: Tueller follows apace.
MILLICENT: “Who do you suppose dreams of a lake house and who remembers a good one?”
TUELLER: “Who’s our earther?”
TUELLER: “My guess is Jen.”
STORY: Tueller, you search the house, clearing each room as you enter them, and find no one. Finding yourself in an empty kitchen, you hear movement upstairs.
TUELLER: Tueller heads upstairs, not running, but quickly.
MILLICENT: Millie follows
STORY: You enter a bedroom and find Alejo laying half-prone in bed, shirtless, a sheet over the rest, reading a book. He closes it and looks up curiously at you.
TUELLER: “Oh. Hey.”
MILLICENT: “Mr. Soto.”
STORY: Alejo tilts his head, considering the two of you.
MILLICENT: Millie looks around, curious.
STORY: “What are you doing here?”
TUELLER: “This is unexpected.”
MILLICENT: “We’re here to rescue you. From this comfortable cabin and your book.”
MILLICENT: “What is the book, by the way?”
STORY: Alejo puts the book on the nightstand. “I don’t want to be rescued. Please leave.”
MILLICENT: “I’m sorry, I won’t intrude into the reason you’re not wearing a shirt or if anyone else is here, but I must know the name of the book.”
STORY: Millie, when you mention that, you realize you can hear the shower on in the en suite.
MILLICENT: Millie shakes her head and moves to the side table, to pick up the book.
STORY: Millie, what’s your favorite book?
TUELLER: Tueller strolls around the room, taking everything into account.
STORY: Tueller, it’s similar to the home you left in its craftsmanship – looks like it was built by hand, rustic, warm, cozy.
STORY: There are rather a lot of quilts.
MILLICENT: Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica
STORY: Millie, that’s what Alejo is reading.
MILLICENT: “Okay, well. I’d be very surprised if you are at all interested in.” Millie drops the book, “this.”
STORY: Millie, as you drop the book the bathroom door opens and Jac steps out in a towel.
STORY: She looks at the four of you and turns white. “Shit.”
MILLICENT: “OH”
TUELLER: “’Lo.”
MILLICENT: Millie stands stock still for a minute or so
STORY: She shifts uncomfortably in her towel. “This was going to be temporary.”
STORY: “I would have… switched him out eventually. Fuck.”
STORY: “Let’s just go.”
STORY: Alejo looks confused, and takes back his book.
MILLICENT: Millie nods and makes eye contact with Jac if possible.
STORY: Jac looks over at you as she finds clothes.
MILLICENT: Millie mouths, “I get it.”
STORY: Jac is the most embarrassed person that has ever existed.
STORY: She stomps out of the house.
MILLICENT: Millie follows!
STORY: Tux lingers.
STORY: “I can’t stay, though?’
TUELLER: Tueller pulls Tux along.
STORY: You find your way out by entering an old pickup, and emerge in a vast and snowy wooded area.
MILLICENT: Millie checks her hair
STORY: As you walk, the snow diminishes, eventually leading to an area thick with pine trees and covered in moss and clover, with old trunks and branches carpeting the ground. You hear something over the ridge that sounds like heavy breathing.
MILLICENT: “I guess it’s Dr. Guosin. Will anyone take the bet?”
STORY: Like… a lot of heavy breathing.
MILLICENT: “Mr. Vespertine? Is my lab assistant into ASMR?”
STORY: Tux raises his hand, and Kahn pushes it back down. “This isn’t his.”
MILLICENT: “Wait, we should address this.”
MILLICENT: “Mr. Vespertine, if you believed this isn’t your boyfriend’s dream, you should have allowed Tux to make the bet.”
STORY: Kahn continues walking. “We are absolutely not going to address this.”
STORY: You come over a crest and are greeted with the sight of fifty St. Bernards milling around.
MILLICENT: “Do you see? Pushing his hand down had the opposite effect. I am now convinced that Dr. Guosin is fond of heavy breathing.”
STORY: They climb over each other, pacing, investigating, St. Bernarding.
MILLICENT: “My theory has fallen apart.”
MILLICENT: “Well.”
TUELLER: “Jenny?”
MILLICENT: “Maybe.”
STORY: Jenny sits on a stump nearby watching them and getting licks from four of them.
STORY: She looks up at the pack of you. “Aw, already?”
MILLICENT: “Oh yes, there she is, hello Jenny, this isn’t a sex thing.”
TUELLER: “Hey there soldier.”
STORY: “Hi. Do you guys want to stay, or should we keep going?”
STORY: “We can stay for a little, no?”
STORY: “There’s a kid who shows up sometimes, even.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks uncomfortable around dogs.
TUELLER: “I think we should keep on keeping on. Please.”
STORY: Jenny stands, nuzzling one of them one last time and getting a big lick on the face. “Okay. But I have made a decision: if I survive this, we’re getting a ship dog.”
MILLICENT: “Do you think we have time for a quick. Wrassle?”
STORY: Jenny nods to you.
STORY: She points to one. “She likes it.”
MILLICENT: Millie wrestles her
TUELLER: “Only if they get along with the ship cat I’m picking up.”
STORY: “Deal.”
MILLICENT: It’s more that Millie is rolling around in a dog led shuffle
MILLICENT: Both parties appear to enjoy themselves.
STORY: Yeah, Millie, once you start wrassling a dog, six more join in.
STORY: It’s a pile.
STORY: A dog pile, as they say.
TUELLER: “You still down there Doc, or is that the way out of this one?”
MILLICENT: A thumb emerges, up
MILLICENT: Muffled, “Ready when you are”
TUELLER: “Anytime, please.”
STORY: As you walk off, Jenny keeps pace with Tueller. “So. Are we any closer to a plan, or are we just, you know. Cool enough to have rejected our own personal dream worlds?”
TUELLER: Tueller shifts uncomfortably when a dog comes bounding up to him.
STORY: “Which I assume this was for everyone else and you didn’t all also have dogs.”
TUELLER: “Don’t ask me. I’m….well, I didn’t go easy.”
TUELLER: “Right now I just want to hurt whoever put me through this.”
STORY: Jenny puts a hand on your enormous forearm.
STORY: “Sorry, captain.”
MILLICENT: Millie emerges from a pack of dogs and trudges after them. “Yes, lots of hurt. Mitigated because that was an acceptable wrassle.”
TUELLER: Tueller makes a grunt.
TUELLER: Very quietly. “Thanks.”
STORY: You find your way out via a particularly dense bit of shrubbery and emerge in a small kitchen with a tea kettle heating up and a curry bubbling on the stove.
STORY: As your pack is assembled in the room, Kahn looks around and his face falls. “Oh, no.”
STORY: He looks to Tueller and Millie. “Can I have this one, please?”
TUELLER: “You want us to sit it out entirely?”
STORY: “Just give me a few minutes.”
TUELLER: “Be our guest.”
TUELLER: “Or his guest.”
MILLICENT: “Sure!”
MILLICENT: Millie leans on a counter
STORY: He passes through a beaded curtain into the next room. Tueller, Millie, a still-embarrased Jac, a cheerful Jenny, and a fascinated Tux stand too close together in the kitchen. The curry smells really nice.
STORY: It’s got potatoes in it.
TUELLER: Tueller stirs it.
STORY: And everyone knows potatoes are the best food.
TUELLER: Takes a taste.
STORY: Ooh, Tueller, also lamb.
TUELLER: Burns his tongue on it.
STORY: Perfectly seasoned, though. You should insist Tariq cook at some point, he must have picked something up.
TUELLER: We are in a dream.
STORY: Well, sure, but his memory of his mum’s cooking must be at least somewhat accurate? No?
TUELLER: Sure.
STORY: Anyway, Kahn comes through a minute later, waving the rest of you through.
MILLICENT: Millie pops up, grabs the spoon for a taste
STORY: Millie, it’s glorious.
STORY: As you emerge into the living room, there is an unhappy-looking Mother and Father of Tariq present, as well as an Identical But Not Kahn. Kahn and Tariq join hands and walk out the front door.
MILLICENT: Millie follows
STORY: You come out on the purple-green rocky death landscape.
TUELLER: “Making progress.”
STORY: Your assembled party arrives with you.
STORY: Looking a little confused. Jenny takes the opportunity to speak. “So, um.”
STORY: “Alejo?”
MILLICENT: “We left Loll on the ship.”
MILLICENT: Soto voice, “Noma, dear?”
STORY: No response.
MILLICENT: “Could be Noma or Veni.”
MILLICENT: Millie strides forward
MILLICENT: “One way to find out.”
STORY: Jenny stays put.
MILLICENT: Millie picks a direction and walks
STORY: “But. Alejo?”
TUELLER: “Yes, where the hell is he?”
STORY: Kahn looks at Tariq.
STORY: “Maybe he got a better offer.”
TUELLER: “Unless his fantasy is secretly following us everywhere, ready to save the day.”
MILLICENT: “Could be he’ll swing in on a chandelier.”
STORY: Jenny looks back where you came from.
STORY: She doesn’t seem to be willing to move.
TUELLER: “Back into the fray.”
TUELLER: Tueller stands with Jenny.
TUELLER: “I’m not too solid in the rules of this fucking place.”
STORY: Kahn exhales and looks to the weird purple sky.
STORY: “What if he wants to stay?”
TUELLER: “I’ve had a pretty good life, all told, and I wanted to say.”
TUELLER: “Ejo’s gone through some shit.”
MILLICENT: “What if he does? Some of the rest of you did.”
MILLICENT: “This is a cheap copy of our dreams.”
MILLICENT: Spits, “It’s a cheap _guess_.”
STORY: Jac shakes her head. “Is it right to take him from his happiness?”
TUELLER: Tueller closes his eyes.
TUELLER: “Doc…”
TUELLER: Tueller trails off.
TUELLER: “Never mind.”
MILLICENT: “This isn’t happiness. It’s a lie that we keep telling ourselves.”
STORY: Jenny nods. “I knew, I still stayed. I mean, until you came. Because I knew you were coming.”
STORY: “But I mean… what if he wants to stay?”
STORY: “Why not let him?”
TUELLER: “Well we have to fucking ask him first.”
MILLICENT: “I’ve thought about that.”
MILLICENT: “Tueller asked us to leave him.”
MILLICENT: “And I didn’t for one simple reason.”
MILLICENT: “I’m going to find whoever is doing this and I’m going to make them stop this and, if I can manage it, I will make that process painful.”
MILLICENT: “And I am concerned that I will do serious neural damage to anyone still connected to these lies when I do that.”
MILLICENT: “My concern is that I will leave anyone connected to this thing without the ability to recognize when it’s Wednesday or to control their bowel movements. ”
STORY: Jenny sighs, settling down. “All right, then.”
STORY: She looks at Kahn and Tariq. “Away mission?”
STORY: They both nod, unhappily.
STORY: Jenny nods, with certainty. “So. Captains. The plan?”
STORY: A blue glowing water-door stands about thirty feet down the path from you.
MILLICENT: “Oh I thought we were still charging in and improv-ing.”
MILLICENT: “What changed?”
STORY: Jenny looks around. “Minus Alejo, this is everyone, no? Assuming we go get him, doesn’t that door lead to… awake?”
TUELLER: “I think we should find whatever’s doing this and politely tell them to stop no I’m just kidding I want to hurt them.”
STORY: “All right.” A voice from behind the door emerges. Confident, measured, and clear.
STORY: Millie, Dr. Nikau Manaaki steps out. 
STORY: Tueller, Esi steps out.
STORY: They put their hands in their pockets, casually. “Let’s make a deal.”
STORY: Tueller, Millie: they make uninterrupted eye contact with you.
TUELLER: “Hey sis.”
TUELLER: To Millie: “This guy special to you?”
MILLICENT: To the figure, “This isn’t as funny as you think it is and if you want to talk you’ll stop it immediately.”
TUELLER: Tueller nods, and says to himself “That’s a yes.”
STORY: Millie, Tueller, this person walks toward you, with sympathy, with gentleness.
STORY: “We can work this out.”
TUELLER: “Oh yeah, you’re definitely not Esi.”
MILLICENT: “I don’t care what other form you take, but if you don’t take another one right now then you have failed in having a conversation.”
STORY: Millie, the person before you turns around, and emerges as Alejo.
MILLICENT: “Fine. Talk.”
STORY: It puts its hands out, calming.
STORY: “What do you want?
MILLICENT: “I want you to release the rest of my crew, the rest of the grell, and Teka. I want your word that you won’t contact the grell or the Nahar again.”
STORY: Alejo nods, understanding, sympathetic.
MILLICENT: “At least not without other psychic representation present.”
STORY: “I understand what you want. I can release the grell, and your crew. Teka will be safe. I require Griffin and Veni.”
MILLICENT: “Hmmm. It’s odd, you don’t look hard of hearing.”
MILLICENT: “You just put us through something that all the Ark peoples would instantly recognize as torture and you’re trying to bargain.”
MILLICENT: “It’s like you don’t understand the position you’re in.”
STORY: Millie, let’s have a Face Adversity + Influence please
TUELLER: Tueller’s angry and looks like he’s raging to charge and punch.
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6
STORY: josh rolled 7
TUELLER: Even though he’s pretty sure that would not have much of an effect.
STORY: Alejo nods.
STORY: “You make a fair point. Leave Soto.”
TUELLER: Tueller charges and punches.
MILLICENT: Millie sighs. “What a bad bid that was.”
STORY: Tueller, Launch Assault!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 7 + 2 = 9
STORY: Tueller, you launch yourself forward and tackle Esi, and she falls to the ground beneath you. You faintly hear the vocal objections of your crew as you do so.
STORY: Millie, you wake up in your bed on Peregrine. The sheets are softer than you remember.
STORY: Tueller, you wake up in your awkward cot on Peregrine. You feel Loll’s weight pressing into your side.
MILLICENT: Millie sits up.
TUELLER: As does Tueller
STORY: Loll stays asleep, nuzzling into your side.
MILLICENT: Millie stands up from the bed suddenly, does she hit her head?
TUELLER: Tueller’s sits on the side of his bed and tries to figure out how to figure out if this is a dream.
MILLICENT: There’s a piece of the hull that juts out just right and it means that Millie has to sit up and stand carefully from her bed in her quarters.
STORY: Millie, yes, the bulkhead that is normally there is still there.
STORY: Tueller, you pinch yourself and it hurts.
TUELLER: He swings the covers off of Loll’s legs and takes a look at them.
STORY: Loll’s legs are fucked up.
STORY: The way that your life would suggest they should be fucked up.
MILLICENT: Millie walks through the ship a little.
MILLICENT: “Noma?”
STORY: Noma pipes in. “Yes, Millie?”
STORY: “I’m sorry, is this one of the times I’m supposed to pretend I’m not listening?”
MILLICENT: “How. How did we meet?”
STORY: “You made a plea to the Collective to make Earth a major cosmic power and they rejected you. I found you interesting.”
MILLICENT: Millie sighs with the weight of it.
MILLICENT: “How many entities exist in the Collective?”
STORY: There is a pause.
STORY: “As you know, Millie, I have been cut off from the Collective’s database. I can estimate for you, if you would like.”
STORY: Tueller, Loll shifts in her sleep and pulls the sheet back onto herself.
TUELLER: Tueller shakes her awake.
MILLICENT: “How many were there when you left?”
STORY: Loll turns over, muttering to herself. She does not wake.
TUELLER: “Well, shit.”
TUELLER: Tueller gets up, throws on pants and a shirt, and wanders the ship.
STORY: Noma comes back in. “That information has also been removed from my memory, Millie. I estimate the Collective has absorbed the intelligence of 3,255 civilizations.”
STORY: Tueller, everyone’s asleep but you. Alejo’s door is locked, and the rest of the crew short of Millie slumbers happily in their usual spots in the cargo bay, save Jac.
MILLICENT: Millie swings in front of a screen, looks up the number.
STORY: Millie, the SectorNet confirms that exact number as the latest estimate.
MILLICENT: “Noma, can you tell me the number of currently estimated observable suns?”
MILLICENT: Millie SectorNets the same question
STORY: Noma answers you, and it matches.
STORY: Exactly.
MILLICENT: This is unusual? That Noma is googling? That she doesn’t have additional knowledge?
STORY: You don’t necessarily know.
STORY: Tueller, where do you go?
TUELLER: I want to go the cockpit and see where the fuck we are.
STORY: You enter the bridge and find Jac, steering the ship by twilight, which to be fair is the state of deep space 99% of the time.
STORY: She doesn’t turn away. “Evening, captain.”
TUELLER: “Where the fuck are we?”
STORY: “On the way back to the Ark. That bump in the head still stinging?”
TUELLER: “What bump?”
MILLICENT: Millie paces for a while, then angrily leaves her room.
STORY: Tueller, you notice a bruise on your forehead just then.
MILLICENT: She walks around the ship for a while, finally heading for the cockpit.
STORY: It stings, and you hadn’t felt it before.
STORY: Millie, you reach Tueller and Jac in the cockpit.
MILLICENT: “What’s our heading?” Millie all but snarls
TUELLER: “The fucking Ark and I have a bump on my head.”
STORY: Jac turns back to the two of you, leveling a cool eye at you both.
MILLICENT: “You always have a bump on your head.”
STORY: “You beat the Grell, remember?”
STORY: “And we got back on the ship?’
STORY: “And we’re going home.”
MILLICENT: “How did we beat them?”
STORY: “Tactics.”
MILLICENT: Millie snorts
TUELLER: —Footage not found
TUELLER: “Well that sounds very plausible and I’m sure this is reality how about you doc?”
STORY: Jac sighs.
STORY: “You don’t have to choose this.”
STORY: “Alejo didn’t.”
STORY: “He loves you both and he didn’t.”
TUELLER: “Alejo doesn’t always make the greatest decisions.”
MILLICENT: Millie snarls at her, “I don’t deserve any of this. You’ll never understand that and so you’ll always fail to fool me for long.”
STORY: Jac looks evenly at you, Millie.
STORY: “You don’t even believe that.”
STORY: “You deserve far worse than I imagined for you.”
MILLICENT: Millie walks forward, pushes herself face to face with Jac. “You obviously haven’t plumbed too deeply into my subconscious, because I _know_ that. I know it _deep_. Now stop this puppet show and let’s talk, one last time.”
MILLICENT: Millie is breathing heavy, flush, fists clenched.
STORY: Jac stops, stands up, and becomes a featureless grey creature with a flat, even face and no discernible features.
STORY: “Fine.” A hole opens in the middle of the creature’s face.
STORY: “I believe in a fair chance.”
STORY: “Before you die, let me warn you: not everyone you love loves you back.”
STORY: “Someone intends you harm.”
STORY: “Good luck with that.”
STORY: “Shall I wake you now?”
MILLICENT: “No one loves me, idiot. Let’s fucking _go_.”
MILLICENT: Millie’s ready to throw down
STORY: Millie, you open your eyes. Half your face is submerged in swampy water.
STORY: Tueller, you stand just outside the room, a flamethrower slung over your shoulder.
STORY: You both tense up, ready for action.