MILLICENT: “I think friends talk about these sorts of things and I would very much like to think we were friends.”
TUELLER: Tueller is silent. Not dismissive. But silently thinking.
TUELLER: “We are friends. Millie. I don’t want you to think what we’re not.”
TUELLER: Another pause.
TUELLER: “But I don’t know who I am or what I can say right now even to myself, much less to my friends.”
ALEJO: “And I’m sorry, Jac. I’m probably just being a fool, as always.”
STORY: “And this is what you always do.”
ALEJO: “Jinx.”
STORY: “Jump to the new thing. Ignore the old one.”
STORY: “What are you running from? We’re free. We got free. You can stop running.”
ALEJO: He looks at her for a long moment. “When’d you get so damned wise?”
STORY: “I do a lot of listening.”
ALEJO: “Maybe I should be listening more to you.” He leans forward. “You’re not wrong.”
STORY: “Not right enough, though.” She leans back and looks away, frustrated.
ALEJO: Rhea looked up, almost demurely, with ghostly blue eyes, and gestured to the open seat next to her. At the same time, as though choreographed, the security guys with her picked up their chairs silently and moved off.
ALEJO: She then dropped her eyes again, staring down at her campaign glass. She slowly twisted its delicate stem in her fingers, her face expressionless. “You are discreet. I appreciate that. So few men are.” She took a sip before meeting Alejo’s eyes and continuing. “You’re also a family man, I think. Soon to be a father?”
ALEJO: This startled him, but he remained impassive. “Seems you know a lot more about me than I do you.”
ALEJO:A smile flickered across her face, gone almost before it came. “As I said, you are discreet. And then there is the matter of your sister. A dead husband, and now she owes money to his bookie. Such a nasty business.”
—
STORY: You all board the ship after a very long day on New Vesta, some injured, some merely disturbed by what you learned today. T’chololl gladly gives up her seat in the cockpit to Jac, who guides the Peregrine through pre-launch preparations. You are all happy to be home as you hear your ship’s engines start her familiar hum.
TUELLER: Tueller guiltly avoids Loll for a bit, which he assumes Loll doesn’t even notice, and heads to his quarters to start preparing skip drones to launch to prepare the preliminaries for his business.
STORY: A line forms for the med bay, as Tariq carries Kahn up the stairs, Jenny helps T’chololl down the stairs, and everyone waits for Millie’s attention.
TUELLER: (I decided skip drones are little craft we launch that go faster than us, surreptitiously attach onto craft about to warp, and get to their destination faster than us to communicate to CJH command).
STORY: That’s excellent worldbuilding.
MILLICENT: Yeah!
ALEJO: Very nice!
TUELLER: Basically like sending a raven.
TUELLER: Tueller ignores medical help.
TUELLER: Tueller ignores everything right now unless he’s asked; he’s rude that way.
STORY: Millie, your patients are a gut shot, a shoulder shot and broken ribs, a leg shot, a near-drowning, a concussion, and Tueller with a few scratches.
ALEJO: Alejo helps crew get to med bay.
STORY: Triage?
MILLICENT: Yeah. Do you want me to roll or pick?
STORY: Pick!
MILLICENT: Gut shot, shoulder shot, leg shot, broken ribs, near-drowning, concussion, scratches.
STORY: Okay. Millie spends her first few hours back onboard performing surgery on Kahn, assisted by Tariq, who does not allow the fact that he has water in his lungs to interfere with his assistance beyond a few hacking fits.
STORY: Jenny, as ordered, goes to sleep.
STORY: Alejo, you find yourself waiting in the science lab with T’chololl, the other person shot by Millie today.
STORY: She nods at you.
ALEJO: He nods back.
STORY: “Your wound is oozing, Captain.”
ALEJO: “Yup.” He looks down absently at his shoulder. “Sure ’nough.”
STORY: “Perhaps you should not have submerged it in swampy water before treatment.”
ALEJO: He agrees. “How’s yours holding up?”
STORY: “It is acceptable. After the doctor’s treatment, my bleeding stopped. I am currently in search of narcotics.”
STORY: “Perhaps you would like to take some narcotics with me.”
ALEJO: He struggles to his feet. “Absolutely do.” He has a hard time keeping his balance. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.”
STORY: “Please, sit. I will return with some.” She stands awkwardly and, using the cane Millie insisted she take, hobbles in to the med bay.
ALEJO: He nods and basically just collapses back to the bench he was on.
STORY: Millie, you spend a few hours fixing up Kahn. It’s a shallow wound, so you just need to clean it, confirm there are no holes in essential equipment (there aren’t), and stitch him up.
STORY: Tariq is frantic.
MILLICENT: Millie gives Tariq a list of things he can do to help
MILLICENT: It’s not until the 4th or 5th one on the list that they start getting kind of make-worky, but she hopes it will keep him busy enough to worry less
STORY: He does them, to the best of his ability.
STORY: It doesn’t help him worry less.
STORY: He just looks really upset and worried and shaky the whole time.
MILLICENT: Millie talks, apparently to herself, about how nicely the wound was established and how easy recovery will be and so on
STORY: Okay.
STORY: Tueller, you get started with your trade route?
TUELLER: Yeah. Formally established language that takes work, but he can do on autopilot, to set up trade routes and connect the people who need connecting.
STORY: Excellent. That takes you a few hours, and you’re reasonably confident this is going to work out fine. Is this going to be a CJH branded operation?
TUELLER: It is probably blindingly obvious that Tueller’s doing this to avoid introspection.
STORY: Luckily, he’s alone, so it’s working well.
STORY: A few hours later, Millie and Tariq are done with Kahn, Tueller has the workings of a business on its feet, and Alejo is good and high.
STORY: After Jac and Tariq help carry Kahn to the barracks to rest, T’chololl brings Alejo in to Millie’s table. “Good evening, Dr. Breedlove. I have given Captain Soto narcotics.”
STORY: “He appears to be responding well to them.”
STORY: She nods to you as if accepting thanks, then leaves.
MILLICENT: “Nice work, Loll.”
ALEJO: “Good evening,” Alejo says very seriously. Then he waves, very big.
ALEJO: “I really like your hair. And face.” He tilts his head and just stares at her for a second. “You’ve got such a beautiful brain. And hair. Did I say hair already?” He’s very serious. Again.
MILLICENT: “Good evening, Captain. You said hair twice, but you may feel free to say it again, if you feel the spirit move you.”
MILLICENT: “Can I help you get seated on the…yes, there we go.”
ALEJO: “Hair.” He smiles and then laughs.
MILLICENT: Millie helps steer Alejo onto the table.
ALEJO: He gets on the bench but before he lays back, he catches her hand. “Wait. Wait. Seriously.”
MILLICENT: “May I, once again, offer my apologies on shooting you?”
MILLICENT: “Oh, yes?”
ALEJO: “I want to tell you . . . stuff. Something.” He takes a deep breath. “I liked you shooting me.” He pauses and squishes up his face. “Wait. No, but . . . ”
ALEJO: “No, I mean. I like . . . we should have a drink sometime, I think.”
MILLICENT: Millie turns and gets some medical supplies. “I think you might be intoxicated right now, Mr. Soto.”
MILLICENT: “But I’d welcome the invitation when you’ve had more sleep and fewer narcotics.”
ALEJO: He nods. A lot. “Yup. Yup.”
ALEJO: “Yup.” The last hits him. “Oh, great! Good. Yeah.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles. “I am very glad I didn’t shoot you fatally.”
MILLICENT: “I. Like my new life here. And you are a part of that, Mr. Soto. A big part of it.”
ALEJO: He smiles. “You really are amazing. And your hair.” He says this and sort of falls back onto an elbow. “I look forward to telling you that when I’m much more, more. . . not highest.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles again. “I look forward to hearing it.”
MILLICENT: “This is the point,” Millie pulls suddenly on the stitches she’s been working on, “that you are going to be very glad that you are highest.”
ALEJO: “I think I’m dying now.” He smiles and then falls all the way back.
STORY: Tueller, as you are wrapping up submitting the paperwork for your new business, there is a knock at your door.
TUELLER: “It’s open.”
STORY: T’chololl opens it and steps in, testing the weight on her leg and holding a plate with something on it. She smiles at you.
STORY: “Do you have a moment, Tueller?”
TUELLER: “Oh. Hi.”
TUELLER: “I’m busy at…no, I’m done. It can wait. Hi.”
TUELLER: “How’s the leg. Hi.”
STORY: She hands you the plate and smiles again. “At this time I thought it was appropriate to tell you that I have enjoyed your company.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks down at the plate and doesn’t respond yet.
STORY: The plate is covered in what appears to be live worms and seasoning, and maybe some vinegar.
STORY: One tries to escape.
TUELLER: Tueller pushes it back onto the plate.
TUELLER: “I have” he looks back up at her, “enjoyed your company as well.”
STORY: She nods. “Excellent.”
STORY: She gives an odd little bow and leaves, leaving the door open after her.
TUELLER: As she leaves, “What should I do with this plate?”
TUELLER: Quieter, “Noma, if you’re there can you tell me what the hell this is?”
STORY: “I do not have visual access to your room. Can you please describe the item in question?”
TUELLER: “Worms, it appears like, and maybe….rice vinegar and cumin?”
STORY: “I believe it is gagh.”
TUELLER: “Well that’s an appropriate name.”
STORY: “Are the worms living?”
TUELLER: “yes.”
TUELLER: “Is it a different message if they’re not?”
STORY: “No. It is most likely gagh. Would you like me to ask Jenny to come console you?”
STORY: “I cannot deliver sympathetic hugs.”
TUELLER: “That might be harder on Jenny.”
STORY: “She is fond of you, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
TUELLER: “Sympathy?”
STORY: “Oh, dear.”
TUELLER: “And…I am fond of her. There were…complications in dreamland.”
STORY: “Are you unaware of the cultural context around gagh for the Maitri?”
TUELLER: “I studied how to kill Maitri, not how to take worms from them.”
STORY: “I see. Your coupling is concluded.”
STORY: “I am sorry, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
TUELLER: “This is like a horsehead in my bed???”
STORY: “The Maitri do not engage in long-term relationships. They typically couple for a few months, then move on. From her comments, she seemed pleased with your relationship.”
TUELLER: Tueller sits down.
STORY: “I hope things will not be… awkward with her on the crew. Many of us enjoy her company.”
TUELLER: “Am I to eat these?”
STORY: “They are a delicacy.”
TUELLER: “Well, shit.”
TUELLER: “Thank you, Noma.”
STORY: “You’re welcome, Tueller.”
TUELLER: “Is there a corresponding response?”
STORY: “No, your response to her affection was sufficient.”
TUELLER: “Okay. Thank you. I will…catch up with you later, Noma.”
STORY: “She may appreciate it if you act heartbroken for a few days.”
TUELLER: Tueller laughs one loud bark of a laugh and then is silent.
TUELLER: “Okay.”
STORY: “Goodnight, Tueller.”
TUELLER: Tueller sits at his desk, and picks up the worm that is closest to escape, and pops it into his mouth.
STORY: Tueller, your computer bleeps a little alert. You have a secure email.
TUELLER: Tueller ignores it until he eats the entire plate of worms.
STORY: They’re delicious, if a little impractical to eat.
TUELLER: And then drinks a pint glass of bourbon.
TUELLER: Then he reads his email.
STORY: It’s a video message from Akilah. She looks awkward.
STORY: “Hey, T. Uh, weird ask. Wen doesn’t really have… any family, or friends. I mean, I guess he has friends, but he doesn’t have–”
STORY: A voice from the background interrupts cheerfully. “Just ask!”
STORY: “We’d like you to be best man. Please say yes.”
TUELLER: “Fuuuuuuuuck.’
STORY: It winks out.
TUELLER: Tueller hits the record button, and stares at the camera with his half finished pint glass of bourbon in his hand. Gesturing with the glass, “Of fucking course I’ll be there. Wen was there for me with…fuck, what’s his name, my fucking nemesis that fucking dago. Wen had my back, and I’ll be there in a fucking heartbeat, though please don’t make sure I don’t have to wear a ridiculous fucking suit, Lah. Wen, I’m there for you!” Tueller tosses back the rest of the glass. “Of fucking yes.”
TUELLER: He saves the video clip and attaches it to the skip drone with his business arrangements.
STORY: Millie, you’re operating on Alejo’s shoulder.
STORY: You’re taking your time, since you’re doing it unassisted, and though the narcotics have made Alejo drowsy and numb, they haven’t put him to sleep. You don’t dare give him any more drugs.
STORY: You reach in with the scalpel to remove some tissue that looks necrotic and nick what you think is a vein, but you know there’s no vein in that part of the muscle.
MILLICENT: “What in the world is this?”
ALEJO: “Tiiickles.” Alejo mutters, eyes fluttering open for a moment before he hums and shuts them.
STORY: It’s yellow, Millie.
MILLICENT: “Sleep, cute man.” Millie pushes Alejo’s hair back, then his eyes closed with an elbow with her hands still inside his shoulder
MILLICENT: Millie examines the unexpected tissue
STORY: It’s… a wire?
STORY: You nudge the muscle with a less sharp tool and find another wire, this one black. Then a third, black, then a fourth, red.
STORY: An inch to the right of the hole you made in Alejo’s shoulder, you find this buried in his muscle tissue. 
MILLICENT: “Huh”
MILLICENT: Millie takes off her gloves and finds a data pad on the counter, then rifles through a box of cords until she finds the three connectors that will allow her to accept the plug into her data pad. She runs a diagnostic, trying to figure out what the hell these wires go to.
STORY: Alejo, it’s not entirely clear what’s going on, but Millie appears to have plugged you in to her computer.
STORY: Millie, you don’t get any live data and you suspect it’s because there’s an incomplete circuit somewhere. Those wires need to be plugged in to a board.
ALEJO: “Don’t you have to dinner me first, doc?” He says without opening his eyes.
MILLICENT: Can I do that without activating the tech?
STORY: Most likely no.
MILLICENT: “Your dinner was narcotics. Empty carbs.”
STORY: But you’ve seen this sort of thing before. Alejo may not know it, but he’s got a cybermod.
MILLICENT: Can I figure out what it does?
STORY: Nice work, too. You didn’t see any scarring that would indicate the implantation.
STORY: Let’s have Assessment + Expertise please
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: josh rolled 6 + 2 = 8
STORY: As far as you can tell, Alejo has a nonfunctioning cybermod integrated with his muscular system.
STORY: You poke a few other places that would be likely candidates for storing parts of it – his calves, inside his thighs, his armpit – and meet resistance.
MILLICENT: If I plug it in, will I be able to unplug it later?
STORY: Sure, if you cut a new hole in him.
MILLICENT: What’s the quality of the work like?
ALEJO: “Lots a poking at not my hole.” He says this then, after a beat, giggles a little, drowsy. “That didn’t come right. At all.”
STORY: Really good.
MILLICENT: Millie finds some restraints and cuffs Alejo down. She gives him an extremely mild relaxant so that when he comes to he will be chill. Then she plugs him in and does what she can to run a diagnostic.
STORY: Alejo, Millie does something to your shoulder and you are immediately sober and AMPED UP.
STORY: You sit up and meet resistance – she’s cuffed you to the bed.
ALEJO: “What the holy living fuck, Doc!” He tries to sit up and finds the restraints holding him.
MILLICENT: “Hey there, good morning, please don’t freak out.”
MILLICENT: Millie smiles.
MILLICENT: “Hi!”
MILLICENT: “Everything, I can’t emphasize this enough, is fine!”
ALEJO: He strains for a second and then meets her eyes. He relaxes some. “What’s going on.”
STORY: Colors are brighter, sounds are clearer.
MILLICENT: “Fine!”
TUELLER: —Millie is great.
MILLICENT: “Everything is fine!”
STORY: Your reflexes are buzzing.
MILLICENT: “Can you describe what you’re feeling?”
ALEJO: He looks around, confused. “It’s . . . I’m totally sober. I think? Am I? How’s that even possible? And everything’s . . . brighter. On fire.”
ALEJO: “But not burning.”
STORY: Millie, Alejo’s voice is clear and steady.
MILLICENT: “That’s beautiful!” Millie types some notes into her pad.
MILLICENT: “I’ve got good news.”
ALEJO: He looks down and sees the plug in his shoulder.
ALEJO: Back to her, anxious.
MILLICENT: “Oh good you’ve seen the good news.”
ALEJO: “What did YOU do?”
MILLICENT: “You’ve. Had some work done.”
MILLICENT: “Not me! The work is beautiful, though. Very high quality.”
ALEJO: He shakes his head, not following. “Work?”
TUELLER: —He’s got a point. No one’s going to believe Millie didn’t do this.
MILLICENT: “It looks like a non-integrated cybermod. I took the liberty of plugging it in.”
MILLICENT: “I thought while it’s there you might want to, you know, give it a test drive.”
MILLICENT: “I can probably remove it, if you don’t like it. Almost certainly. There’s only a very small chance that you’ll end up paralyzed for life.”
ALEJO: He has an absent puzzled look. “A cybermod? But . . . who? What’s it do?”
MILLICENT: “And I’m even more confident that I can turn it back off without any side effects.”
MILLICENT: “Well, that’s what I’d like to find out. But first, I’d like to ask you a question.”
ALEJO: “Yes. I love your hair.”
ALEJO: He is looking at his shoulder.
MILLICENT: Millie smiles hugely and punches him on the other shoulder.
MILLICENT: “Is there anyone behind you right now?”
ALEJO: He looks up, thinking this is a test. He tries to “sense” if anyone is there.
ALEJO: After a beat. “No clue.”
MILLICENT: “Oh good. Extreme and violent paranoia is a potential side effect. Glad to see you’re still yourself.”
MILLICENT: Millie claps. “Let’s see what you can do!”
ALEJO: “Seriously?”
MILLICENT: Millie uncuffs him.
MILLICENT: “Yes, of course, Mr. Soto! I’m quite fond of you. Not being a terrified sociopath is one of your better qualities.”
STORY: Alejo, you still have an open wound in your shoulder and four broken ribs, so you’re not moving as well as you can, but the world seems alive and bright in a way it never has.
ALEJO: He pops off the table. “Had no idea you were such a romantic.” He starts to stretch and test his body a bit.
MILLICENT: “Please tell me every single thing you think and feel.”
STORY: Alejo gets patched up, as does everyone else, and we have a few days of down time before you hit the first jump relay. Alejo, you start to test your skill set, and just to give you some shorthand, if Captain America can do it – agility and speed-wise, not feats of strength – you can do it. Alejo runs roughly three times faster than most people. He can jump twice as high and far as you’ve ever seen. His reflexes are insane – everything you throw at him, whether near him or halfway across the room, he catches safely.
STORY: I’d like to hear what information everyone shares with each other from their time on New Vesta, and if you want to RP it out, go for it
TUELLER: Tueller doesn’t share shit. If he told you about it in the moment, you know it, but he’s closed down except to direct conversation.
TUELLER: He’s also drunk a lot of the time and Kahn swears he heard crying from his room at one point.
ALEJO: Alejo will tell Millie and Tueller about his interaction with whatever was controlling the Weave. He’ll omit, for now, the bit about it taking Millie’s form and be more generic about it taking the form of “people I know.”
STORY: Alejo, do you tell them the details of the being’s warnings re: knowledge of the Weave?
ALEJO: Yes. And with the warning that he got about Tux.
STORY: Okay. Any questions about that, M/T?
TUELLER: Tueller doesn’t know what to make of it. Honestly, I’m not clear about the details, but I remember not knowing what to do with it when I read it.
MILLICENT: Millie vibrates with dissatisfaction and retires to her room for a day to consider it
STORY: Basically, the warning was that the more you know and understand about your experiences in the Weave, the more dangerous it is for… someone. A vague gesture at humanity suffering if you press.
MILLICENT: She comes out finally and compliments Alejo on taking the action she wouldn’t have been able to do as it obviously worked
TUELLER: Tueller says, “Well, I’ll stick to import/export and that’s it for me. Deal?”
ALEJO: Alejo agrees with Tueller. “Getting rich sounds like a plan.”
TUELLER: Tueller grunts, and then goes about his business.
MILLICENT: Millie finds Tueller alone at some point. She goes looking. Any preference, Stu?
ALEJO: At some point, Alejo will approach Tueller on this journey.
TUELLER: You guys, roll to see who gets to Tueller first.
STORY: Millie gets there first
STORY: Alejo has a different conversation waiting for him
TUELLER: Okay. Millie finds Tueller’s exercising. Loll isn’t there, and Jenny is just finishing up and leaving when she finds him.
MILLICENT: “Mr. Ya’Makasi, how are you doing today?”
TUELLER: “Fine, Doc.”
MILLICENT: “I understand congratulations are in order! You had a satisfactory mating period with Loll! Very well done, Tueller.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks angrily at Millie, assuming he’s being mocked.
TUELLER: He drops the weights he was lifting noisily.
MILLICENT: She smiles with genuine congratulatude
ALEJO: –Mating period. That’s the woman that Alejo has a crush on. Talking all sexy.
TUELLER: “Yeah. Fucking congrats.”
TUELLER: “What I was fucking looking for.”
TUELLER: “Are you completely unable to read human emotion at all, Doc?”
TUELLER: “Is that a dirtnapper thing, or just a you thing?”
MILLICENT: “Oh no. Did you not look up any information on Maitri coupling habits on the SectorNet?”
MILLICENT: “Tueller.”
MILLICENT: “I apologize, I didn’t realize you lacked context for the relationship you were in.”
TUELLER: “I haven’t been on the SectorNet in years. There are weaponized memes that hunt down Ya’Makasi who browse, and also it’s fucking boring.”
TUELLER: “So no, I didn’t research my girlfriend.”
TUELLER: “My ex.”
TUELLER: “Noma filled me in, though.”
MILLICENT: Millie drops her head. “I am sorry, Tueller.”
TUELLER: “Good girl you’ve got there.”
MILLICENT: “I would have checked in with you.”
MILLICENT: “Well, is there anything I can do to aid in your emotional healing?”
TUELLER: “If you’ve got free time and can set up a wash still so we don’t run out of booze. I’m sure the Enceladan can help you out. They make good whisky on Enceladus.”
MILLICENT: “I’d be happy to, actually. I have some thoughts about distillation I’d like to test.”
TUELLER: “As long as it hits 80-100 proof, you can test all you want.”
MILLICENT: “I’ve always found that throwing oneself fully into work without regard for the consequences helps to ease grieving. Mute it. Well. Dull it, anyway.”
MILLICENT: “These long space journeys don’t help, though. I suppose I understand why you dedicate such time to training.”
TUELLER: “Well, I’m working at being independently wealthy. Or as much as a Ya’Makasi can be.”
TUELLER: “So I’ve got that going for me.”
MILLICENT: “Oh? That will be nice.”
TUELLER: “You should train yourself. Brains are nice, but it helps to be able to push someone’s face into their brain, or the nearest counterpart.”
MILLICENT: “Mr. Ya’Makasi, I came to talk about our, ah, respective dreamstates.”
MILLICENT: “Mr. Ah, that is. Tueller. We both saw one another in a vulnerable state. And I’ve spent a very long time ensuring that I don’t end up in that position.”
MILLICENT: “But I think I want to make a change.”
MILLICENT: “So I wanted to know if there was anything you’d like to talk to me about, regarding what you may have seen or experienced.”
MILLICENT: “I think friends talk about these sorts of things and I would very much like to think we were friends.”
TUELLER: Tueller is silent. Not dismissive. But silently thinking.
TUELLER: “We are friends. Millie. I don’t want you to think what we’re not.”
TUELLER: Another pause.
TUELLER: “But I don’t know who I am or what I can say right now even to myself, much less to my friends.”
TUELLER: “The Weave worked so well on me because I didn’t even know that’s what I wanted. I didn’t recognize it as wish fulfillment because it wasn’t anything resembling what I think my wishes to be.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods.
TUELLER: “A happy quiet life with a minor ex-girlfriend?”
TUELLER: Tueller reaches over behind the weight machine to pull out a bottle of scotch you didn’t even see he had, taking a deep pull off of the bottle before offering it to Millie.
TUELLER: “Wasn’t expecting it. Don’t know what it says about me.”
TUELLER: Tueller shrugs, still holding out the bottle.
MILLICENT: Millie takes it, takes as deep a swig as she can manage
TUELLER: It’s good stuff.
MILLICENT: “I don’t know, Mr. Ya’Makasi. I haven’t, ah, been much of an advocate of self-reflection, myself.”
MILLICENT: “But, as I said, I’d like to make a change.”
TUELLER: “What does change look like for you?”
MILLICENT: Millie gestures to him and her. “I have not often allowed myself the luxury of amicable work relationships.”
MILLICENT: “My ah. My mentor.”
MILLICENT: Millie clears her throat. “My mentor and I became very close. He.”
MILLICENT: Millie takes the bottle again, takes a long pull and holds it between them.
MILLICENT: “He hung himself. I found him.”
MILLICENT: She looks at Tueller for a long time, her eyes steadier than her lip.
MILLICENT: She takes another pull on the bottle.
MILLICENT: “He was, before Noma, the last person I cared about.”
TUELLER: “I’m sorry.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods.
TUELLER: “I killed the first person I cared about.”
TUELLER: “Not intentionally, mind.”
MILLICENT: “I’m sorry.”
TUELLER: Tueller nods, takes the bottle back.
TUELLER: Takes a pull of it, but keeps it handy for both of us.
MILLICENT: “Now there is you and Alejo. Tariq and Loll. The others, I suppose. And my dear Noma.”
TUELLER: “She’s a good one.”
TUELLER: “Listening in right now, no doubt.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods, looks up.
STORY: Noma comes in over the intercom. “Well I can’t help it.”
STORY: She mutters. “Awfully corpus-centric of you.”
MILLICENT: “That’s fair. My apologies, dear.”
STORY: “You try being a multi-conscious disembodied entity sometime.” The intercom clicks off.
TUELLER: Tueller tips a bottle up at the speaker in a silent salute, doesn’t say anything out loud.
MILLICENT: Millie clears her throat. “I’m not ready to talk about my own dreamscape, but I think I might be ready one day.”
TUELLER: “Shit. I don’t know if I can even say that much for myself.”
TUELLER: “Take the time you need.”
TUELLER: “Get some exercise down here in the meantime so when it comes time to hit the people you’ll want to hit, it’ll hurt.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “Thank you. I think I may just.”
TUELLER: “If you need something bigger, I’ll rig the explosives wherever you need them to go.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “Thank you, Mr. Ya’Makasi.” She leaves, unless Tueller stops her
TUELLER: “See you around, Doc.”
STORY: Alejo, it’s the morning. You’re getting dressed in your quarters when there’s a knock at the door.
ALEJO: “Come in,” he says, as he slips a t-shirt over his head.
STORY: Jac slides the door open and steps in, closing it halfway behind her. “Oh, you’re — I can come back later.”
ALEJO: He brushes his hair back with his hand and flattens his shirt, reflexively. “Nah. All good. Just about to get some coffee. Want to join me?”
STORY: “Oh, uh. I was hoping to – can I talk to you for a minute?”
ALEJO: He nods and sits on his bunk, gesturing for her to pull up the chair in the corner. “Course.”
STORY: She sits on it, tucking a leg underneath her and looking at the floor. “I, uh. Wanted to thank you. For, you know, keeping me alive in there.”
ALEJO: He sits forward on the bed, scooting closer to her field of vision. “You never have to thank me for that.”
ALEJO: “You know how important you are to me, right?”
STORY: She closes her eyes. “I guess.”
STORY: “I, um. Also wanted to apologize. For not really… for just being. Closed.”
ALEJO: He looks down, towards the spot that she’s looking at, in solidarity. “You know, ’cause I’m such an open book.”
STORY: “I’ve been…” She takes a deep breath, and looks at the ceiling. “We lost so many people during the Chandra op, I just.”
STORY: “I think I assumed this would be temporary too.”
STORY: “And I wasn’t really ready to… care about anybody here, in case it went down the same way.”
ALEJO: He keeps looking to the spot, until she looks up. Then he’ll meet her eyes. “Yeah, I get that.”
ALEJO: “Completely.”
STORY: She gets quiet. “Were you serious about… what you said about Patera.”
ALEJO: He holds her eyes and nods, swallowing hard.
ALEJO: “I wish I’d done things different.”
STORY: “Well I mean…” She drags her foot across the floor, tracing the dust. “We’re not dead yet.”
ALEJO: He smiles softly. Then he looks down to the spot again.
ALEJO: “Are you sure this isn’t just . . . you know, post-nearly-getting-eaten-by giant worm monsters?”
STORY: She scooches forward on her chair, adjusting the leg she was sitting on. “So what if it is?”
STORY: “Like I said… we’re still alive.”
ALEJO: He sits forward too, clearly intrigued. Then he takes a deep breath. “Gods, I have the absolute worst timing in the world, Jac. I . . . really want to. I do. ”
STORY: Her lips tighten. “But.”
ALEJO: “But, you deserve me to be honest with you.” He shakes his head. “Fucking terrible timing,” he mutters. “You’re no one’s second best. And right now, I’ve got something, maybe nothing, I don’t know, with someone else.”
ALEJO: “You of all people know how thoroughly convincingly I like to fuck up my life. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
STORY: She raises an eyebrow.
ALEJO: “With you. With her.”
ALEJO: “With anyone. Anymore.”
STORY: She sighs. “She won’t let you in, you know.”
ALEJO: He laughs. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you? ’Course you did.”
STORY: “You live on this ship with seven other people.”
STORY: “We all know.”
STORY: “I just thought it was a crush.”
ALEJO: “Might be. I don’t know.”
ALEJO: “I think I’m a much better liar than I actually am.”
STORY: She shrugs. “Or maybe I know you better.”
ALEJO: “That’s definitely true.”
STORY: She bites her lip. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t suck. We’ve known each other for years, Alejo.”
ALEJO: He agrees. “We have.”
ALEJO: “And I’m sorry, Jac. I’m probably just being a fool, as always.”
STORY: “And this is what you always do.”
ALEJO: “Jinx.”
STORY: “Jump to the new thing. Ignore the old one.”
STORY: “What are you running from? We’re free. We got free. You can stop running.”
ALEJO: He looks at her for a long moment. “When’d you get so damned wise?”
STORY: “I do a lot of listening.”
ALEJO: “Maybe I should be listening more to you.” He leans forward. “You’re not wrong.”
STORY: “Not right enough, though.” She leans back and looks away, frustrated.
ALEJO: “Jac.”
ALEJO: He reaches out and takes her hand. “I’m trouble. You know that right?”
ALEJO: “Maybe I just don’t want someone I really care about to get too close.”
STORY: “Fish or cut bait, Alejo.”
ALEJO: He laughs. “You remember that time I met you at Boar’s Head? You were so bloody drunk. You said that exact same thing then. Different context. Same words.”
STORY: She raises her eyebrows at you skeptically.
ALEJO: “This isn’t our moment. I’m sorry. I really am.”
STORY: “I love you, do you know that?”
STORY: She stands, dropping your hand. “So I have to go.”
ALEJO: He nods once and looks down, not watching as she leaves.
STORY: “I’ll find a new charter once we get back to the Ark.”
STORY: “Good luck, Alejo. With whatever it is you end up doing.”
ALEJO: “Please don’t do that.”
STORY: She pauses at the door and sighs with her whole body. “Don’t do this and then ask me to stay.”
ALEJO: “Give me until we get to the Ark. Give me a chance to make this right. If you decide you need to leave then, I’ll do everything in my power to help you. But don’t make that decision right here. Right now.”
STORY: She shakes her head, still not turning around. “Make what right? You made your choice. It’s okay. But I don’t want to hang around watching you be happy with it.”
STORY: “What are you gonna do, clone yourself and let the other one take seconds? No thanks.”
ALEJO: “I love you too, you know. I just don’t know what that means.”
STORY: She drops her head. “Well, I’ve waited around long enough for you to figure it out.”
STORY: She turns back. “I don’t think you’re ever going to, Alejo.”
ALEJO: “I understand. But I know this much, Jac. You’re family. Always. I wish I could give you more than that.”
STORY: She shakes her head and opens the door. “You made your choice, live with it. I’ve got job postings to look at.”
STORY: The ship rocks and you fall to the ground. Millie, Tueller, you are also knocked to one side suddenly.
STORY: The lights flicker and go dark.
ALEJO: “Fucking timing.”
ALEJO: Alejo gets to his feet, finds the torch in his nightstand and flicks it on, checking on Jac. “You alright?”
ALEJO: He offers her a hand.
STORY: Alejo, she doesn’t take it, and brings herself up to standing by grabbing a railing.
TUELLER: “You okay Doc?”
MILLICENT: “I landed on one of my softer bits. Noma, what was that?”
TUELLER: Tueller makes his way over to the Gregor, and opens the entrance by touch, getting to the survival kit and cracking open an emergency light.
STORY: Noma comes in over the intercom. “Attention crew, we are being boarded. Please take defensible positions.”
STORY: Tueller, the main door in the cargo bay erupts into sparks.
ALEJO: “We’ve got a job to do,” he looks at Jac. “This can wait, yeah?”
STORY: Jac nods.
ALEJO: He goes to his locker and gets his assault pistol, which he straps on and tosses her a rifle.
TUELLER: Tueller slips his gloves from his pocket and puts them on.
MILLICENT: Millie uses her data pad as a light and finds a place to hide.
TUELLER: “Things are about to get interesting, Doc. Go get help. I’ll get started.”
MILLICENT: “Oh come on that was just enough Scotch to get me tipsy!”