TUELLER: “How’s your loyalty to the family after this?”
TUELLER: “The people who turned you into a mass murderer.”
STORY: He rubs his temples. “Don’t make me think about that right now, Tueller.”
TUELLER: “You think you need a short vacation before you go back to work, then?”
TUELLER: “Take some time off on the pleasure domes of Ishtar before you come back to the team that builds pink gas and parks asteroids above cities?”
STORY: He looks up at you, his face white. “What the fuck are you even talking about, Tueller?”
STORY: “This is _your fucking family.“_
TUELLER: “Only technically. They’ve disowned me and I them.”
STORY: “Not mine. I don’t call these fucking shots. I follow orders and get paid and some piece of shit higher up makes a decision that turns me into this.”
TUELLER: “So, you want to go back to following those orders.”
TUELLER: “Hope you don’t have to press the pink mist button again. After all, the pay is so good.”
STORY: “Don’t pretend like you haven’t gotten to where you are on their backs, Tueller. You may not be a Ya’Makasi now, but you were one long enough to benefit.”
STORY: “You were one long enough to kill for them.”
STORY: “And you goddamn knew as well as I did they’d do something like this.”
JENNY: Third Thursday of the month. _Again_. Jenny glared at the calendar above her bunk as if it would change things. It stubbornly remained the third Thursday in June.
JENNY: “Hey Nilsson, the squad’s going out for drinks tonight. You coming?”
JENNY: Oh well, no use trying to change the inevitable. Jenny turned, faked a smile. “Sure thing, Corporal. I could use a drink.” Just like she could every third Thursday. She’d found that going out with the squad once a month made them more comfortable around her, increased unit cohesion, and helped catch her up on the current inside jokes. “Just let me get ready.” Jenny grabbed a roll of boxing tape and started wrapping her knuckles.
JENNY: The corporal gave a derisive laugh. “Not like you to look for a fight.”
JENNY: Jenny shook her head, “No, but it’s pay day for the miners and the local hockey team lost their shot at the playoffs this afternoon. And the only thing these townies hate more than losing hockey games is jarheads. Guessing we’ll get a fight whether we want one or not. Jenny finished wrapping her hands and slipped on some fingerless gloves to conceal her preparations. “Come on, Corporal. Last one there buys the first round.”
—
STORY: Tueller, Jenny, Figgan, and Ambassador Aice are crowded into the shuttle’s piloting section, peering over sensor readings and star charts. You’ve broken atmosphere and need to make a decision. The ambassador sits down, putting a hand on her forehead.
STORY: What do you do?
TUELLER: Tueller checks the gauges of the craft to make sure they have enough juice to do what he’s planning on doing, and eases the craft in an elliptical path to the gate, looking to arc around the sensor arrays that may be set up in front of it.
TUELLER: “I’m aiming us back into occupied space, if that’s alright with y’all. Especially not prison space.”
STORY: Let’s have Assessment + Mettle please
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+1
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 5 + 1 = 6
STORY: The good news is the ship has power, and can be aimed. The bad is that you’re aimed directly in the path of another vessel, one that is headed right for you.
TUELLER: How far and how big?
STORY: Looks like a small transport ship, room for a crew of five or so, no registration in the database. It’ll be on you in under a minute. At that proximity, it must have something to do with Erehwon.
TUELLER: “Looks like we have guests arriving.”
FIGGAN: Figgin rocks back and points at the obvious ship.
TUELLER: “Or we’re the guests. Not sure about this at this juncture.”
FIGGAN: “Fight or make nice?”
TUELLER: “What kind of nice can we make?”
TUELLER: “We’re escaped convicts who smell of aged shit.”
TUELLER: “And my _real_ identity is even worse.”
STORY: Aice sighs into her hands, not even looking at the screen. “We make nice. Either they’re here to help, or they’re here to take us back down there.”
STORY: “I’ll not have blood on my hands.”
JENNY: Jenny nods. “We could start with prisoner transport.”
JENNY: “See if they buy it.”
FIGGAN: “What if we just keep it on ours?”
STORY: To Figgan: “No.”
TUELLER: “Anyone who bleeds on us is getting a bad infection in the bargain, so I’ll pass. For now at least.”
TUELLER: Tueller steers towards an intercept course.
STORY: “You’ll pass on it until I’m no longer in your care. Absolutely no violence while I am involved in this.”
STORY: “If that’s negotiable to you, take me back down to the surface.” She looks unwaveringly at Tueller.
TUELLER: “No violence, your honor.”
FIGGAN: “So, prisoner transport?” Fig looks at Jenny and picks a bit of garbage off of her pant leg. She then looks around for restraints and starts to get three sets ready.
JENNY: “Worth a shot. It’s nonviolent.”
STORY: Figgan, you find some in a locker.
TUELLER: “Worth a shot. And, if nothing else, I have money. Though, disturbingly, not in this system.”
FIGGAN: She tosses a pair to Tueller. “In case we need to sell it.” She takes a set over to Aice. “Hands, please, your excellency.”
STORY: She extends them.
FIGGAN: Fig puts the restraints on, but keeps them loose enough that Aice could escape if she tried really hard.
FIGGAN: Then fig slips a pair on herself, keeping them unclosed for now.
JENNY: Jenny taps Tueller on the shoulder, gestures behind her. “I believe you’re in my seat, prisoner.”
TUELLER: Tueller does the same.
TUELLER: “Was about to say the same thing.”
TUELLER: “Screw.”
JENNY: Jenny works at hiding a grin.
STORY: As the other ship approaches within visual range, it turns on a blaring spotlight and points it at you. Your vision out of the front windscreen is overwhelmed by the glare. A tone plays on your console, most likely indicating that you’re being hailed, though you can’t see the screen.
JENNY: Jenny answers the call.
STORY: “Greetings, over.”
STORY: It’s a low, smooth voice.
JENNY: “Greetings, please identify, over.”
STORY: “Ma’am, I’m afraid you’re being boarded. Please avoid being armed and prepare to dock, we’d hate to have to kill you, over.”
JENNY: “Loud and clear, we’d hate to be killed. What’s the purpose of your boarding our ship, over?”
STORY: “Let’s talk when we can look each other in the eye. We gonna have a problem, over?”
STORY: Their ship closes on yours, now starting to come around towards you from the back and point its shuttle dock at you.
FIGGAN: “So that no blood thing, I mean, they start trying to kill us, we can kill ’em back, right?” Fig looks anxiously at Tueller and then at Aice.
STORY: Aice is not amused. “Make sure they don’t try to kill us.”
TUELLER: “That is of course how it works.”
FIGGAN: When Aice isn’t looking, Fig glaces back to the locker where she got the restraints, checking out the small arms that might be there.
JENNY: On the comms, holding up a finger to make sure only her voice goes through. “We might. This is a prisoner quarantine transport.”
JENNY: “If you break quarantine protocols I am not legally liable for any illness you may contract. Over.”
TUELLER: Tueller sneezes very loudly while that’s broadcasting.
FIGGAN: Fig nods, impressed by Jen’s lie and Tueller’s quick addition.
STORY: “Thanks for the warning, hon. We’ll suit up. See you in a tick, over.”
STORY: They close the channel and get their ship into position. An automated command is awaiting your input, Jenny, it’s one that will put the shuttle into autopilot to dock with this vessel.
JENNY: Jenny swivels in her chair. “Run, fight, or keep up the lie?”
TUELLER: “Let’s get this over with.”
JENNY: “Not an answer.”
TUELLER: “Dock and talk.”
JENNY: Jenny hits the command.
FIGGAN: Fig slides to the seat closest to the small arms locker.
STORY: Figgan, there’s a laser rifle in there.
STORY: The ships dock together, and you hear a long hiss as the air pressure between them equalizes. You also pick up a faint smell, and are in the process of identifying it when the door opens and your question is answered: three men, all armed and inside boarding armor, step forward from a cloud of cigar smoke.
STORY: Their leader steps forward, looking the four of you over, his rifle dangling from his hands. STORY: “Three prisoners and one screw?”
STORY: “That math ain’t right.”
STORY: “Thought you lot always work in pairs.”
STORY: He points at Jenny. “Why ain’t you in a mask?”
JENNY: “Not for quarantine transfers. Too great a risk of infection. I,” Jenny grins ruefully, “drew the short straw this month.”
STORY: “What? The risk of infection is so great they make you go without protection? That don’t make sense, darling.”
JENNY: “These geniuses figured they’d get better care if one of the guards was infected. I was on their cellblock when they came down with it and the first thing they did was cut all our masks to shit.” Jenny kicks Tueller.
JENNY: “So now we all get to go to medical.”
TUELLER: Tueller gives Jenny a look, and raises his hand. “Let me take it from here.”
TUELLER: “Sir.” Tueller bows to the captain. “This is Code Name Narcissus, human tyro aspirant to Volturnii Federation, may they trade forever, license number pending, requesting boon-status level assistance. We Are Open For Business.” He straightens out after that.
STORY: Steuber screws up his face and tilts his head as he tries to decode what you just said. “You think I’m Volturnii?”
TUELLER: “I think anyone who’s any one deals with the Volturnii in this universe.”
STORY: “We’re independent contractors, fella, and I’m gettin the feeling you four ain’t on the up and up.”
STORY: “So. Let’s try this again. You ain’t doing prisoner transport, and that one’s shackles ain’t even on all the way.” He gestures toward Figgan.
STORY: “This guard on your payroll or something?”
TUELLER: “We have released ourselves of our own recognizance.”
STORY: He looks at you seriously for a moment, then laughs and slaps his leg.
FIGGAN: Figgan shrugs and lets the restraints fall free.
STORY: “I take it you ain’t got that disease I got to worry about?”
TUELLER: “I hope not. Gangrene was always a possibility, but that’s not contagious.”
JENNY: Jenny grins, lowering the harried screw face she’d been wearing. “It was worth a shot.”
STORY: He laughs again, and takes off his helmet, extending a hand toward Tueller and holding the helmet with the other. “Captain Steuber. I’m thinkin’ you four might have just made my day a hell of a lot easier. Can I offer you a drink for five minutes of your time?”
TUELLER: “Oh god, I’ve been dying for a drink that’s aged longer than a week.” Tueller takes the hand and shakes it.
STORY: The five of you are crowded around Steuber’s tiny dinner table, a round imitation wood affair that could comfortably sit three. You’ve each got a heavy ounce of vodka in a tin cup in front of you, and Steuber finishes his explanation: he’s there for his first mate, an Odh revolutionary named Bardeela who’s been by his side since they fought together a decade ago. Some old pamphlets she shouldn’t have distributed caught up to her, and she disappeared one night from their rented room on the Ark. Took them months to track her down, but she’s been given a false identity and dumped here on Erehwon.
STORY: Steuber figures now that you’ve escaped you know how to help him get down there and retrieve her.
STORY: Aice looks at him seriously. “You’re saying your partner had committed no crime?”
STORY: Steuber shakes his head. “No, ma’am, she just said some things her people didn’t like hearing and they wanted her out of the picture.”
STORY: Aice looks at the three of you. “If the two of us were there under such circumstances, there are likely others. We need to find out and stop this.”
STORY: She stands. “Captain Steuber, thank you for the drink. We will return to the surface and help you find your partner.”
TUELLER: Tueller gives her a look.
TUELLER: And then shrugs.
TUELLER: “Yeah, that seems about the long and short of it.”
JENNY: Jenny looks puzzled.
STORY: “Now,” she looks around. “What’s your plan for helping us with that, Mr. Ya’Makasi?”
FIGGAN: Fig looks at her and then Tueller and then shoots the vodka.
TUELLER: “Aice, you have impulse control issues after my own heart.”
STORY: “I am doing what is right.”
STORY: “And you are going to help me.”
FIGGAN: “Viva la revolucion.”
JENNY: “Not to rain on la revolucion, but won’t you have a much better chance of getting the many people down there who are wrongfully imprisoned freed once you can get in front of important people and the press and not, for example, re-wrongfully imprisoned?”
TUELLER: Tueller starts to speak, and then let’s Jenny go, and sits there contemplatively.
STORY: “And until we return to the Ark and I, as you suggest, make speeches, the innocent people below should suffer?”
JENNY: “Yes, ma’am.”
TUELLER: “See, I’m supportive of all this, and running straight at my problems and overwhelming them is a particular hobby of mine, but my friends have been advising me off and on that that’s not always the right move.”
TUELLER: “Also, my way often involves hand-blood.”
FIGGAN: “Gotta plan? Or just a lot of plucky good intentions?” She looks at Aice. “Your Excellency,” she adds as a quick afterthought.
STORY: Aice shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “No one in this weird-ass crew knows how to address an ambassador.”
FIGGAN: Fig smiles largely.
TUELLER: “Regardless, I’m supportive of this idea. It sounds like a lot of fun and it’s definitely interesting and also fucking up a Ya’Makasi prison camp is something I really like the sound of.”
TUELLER: “But I’m not a planner. I’m a hitter and occasionally I like to buy my problems off.”
STORY: “Go get Captain Steuber’s partner, and we can return to the Ark with her as a corroborating witness. I will ensure this place is closed within the month.”
STORY: Steuber nods. “I like your style, your honor..able.”
STORY: “Your. The honorable.”
STORY: He looks around, shaking his head and grimacing.
FIGGAN: “Good try.” Fig mouths at him when he’s looking. She gives him a supportive nod.
TUELLER: “I can try that, Madam Ambassador.”
JENNY: Jenny shrugs. “Alright, Madam Ambassador, I’m sold.”
TUELLER: “Anyone meet Bordello down there?”
STORY: Steuber corrects you. “Bardeela.”
TUELLER: “You may not be able to read all our expressions but that blankness is a ‘nope’ on our front.”
JENNY: “She wasn’t assigned to my cell block because I never saw her, so that narrows it down a bit.”
TUELLER: “You got a description or a holo or anything for us to go by, Captain?”
STORY: He pulls a pouch out of his pocket, opens it, and hands you a paper photo of an Odh woman.
STORY: It’s a bit worn around the edges, but well cared for.
TUELLER: “You know what name she was imprisoned under?”
STORY: He nods. “Ventolin Xtal.”
STORY: “For mass murder and robbery.”
TUELLER: Tueller nods.
STORY: So?
STORY: Going back down?
STORY: What’s the game plan? Steuber wants to come with you.
JENNY: I have no ideas.
TUELLER: I would request that Madam Ambassador NOT join us.
STORY: She will stay behind.
TUELLER: Steuber is welcome wherever he wants to go.
STORY: No other plans?
STORY: Someone tell me how you are going to do this!
TUELLER: “Jenny, how rigorous is the security protocols?”
TUELLER: “Like, would they notice if we made ourselves guards?”
TUELLER: “I mean, if we had some uniforms and shit.”
JENNY: “Depends on whether the riot is still going on. As long as you kept your helmets down it should be fine.”
JENNY: How long has it been since we left the planet?
STORY: Under an hour!
STORY: The riot is almost certainly still happening.
JENNY: “It could work!”
FIGGAN: “Can we figure out what part of the camp this Xtal is in? Drop in, do some guard shit. Get out before the riot is under control?”
TUELLER: “Let’s go become authority figures!”
TUELLER: “And also make everything worse!”
TUELLER: “Oh, to make everything better, of course.”
JENNY: “I wish the doctor was here. She could probably find all this out from the shuttle computer, but the office building ought to have prisoner assignments in it. After uniforms that’s probably our first stop.”
STORY: Tueller, Figgan, Jenny, and Captain Steuber, now free of Steuber’s little ship and back in the shuttle, zip up your purloined guard uniforms and fit your hats.
STORY: Steuber sits down at the helm. “So we lookin to hit where the action is, or outside?” He starts to type, scanning the surface for a good landing point.
TUELLER: Tueller starts to answer and then pulls back.
TUELLER: “This is probably a Jenny question. Officer?”
JENNY: “I’d say we should follow standard supply delivery procedure to avoid raising suspicions. Just land at the giant red X.”
STORY: He nods, turning back to the screen. “Wai–”
STORY: And just stares, tapping the keyboard. “This scanner’s busted. I’m not picking up any life signs below.”
TUELLER: “Did someone press the button?”
STORY: He turns back, draping his arm over the chair. “What button?”
FIGGAN: “The button? What button?” Fig looks over Steuber’s shoulder at the screen.
TUELLER: “Jen said there was a crowd control device.”
FIGGAN: “Sorry, you just asked that.” She’s still staring at the screen. She taps it, as if that would help.
JENNY: Under her breath, “Oh shit.”
FIGGAN: “Like . . .” She looks at Jenny. “No. No?” Her eyes widen. “No.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks down at the planet from the windows.
TUELLER: “Didn’t get any more details than that.”
STORY: Steuber looks at the screens, doing the scans again and again. His mouth tightens.
STORY: “Buckle in. Now.”
JENNY: Jenny buckles and braces
FIGGAN: Fig buckles in.
TUELLER: Tueller does so, grabbing a truncheon to fiddle with as they maneuver.
STORY: He brings the shuttle down planetside quickly, ignoring landing protocols and hitting the tarmac with some force. He bangs a button on the console, stands from the helm and rushes to the back doors, which hiss open as he reaches them.
TUELLER: Tueller is out to support him fast.
JENNY: Jenny hops out too, starts checking the perimeter.
STORY: Outside, the ground is covered in a haze, a thick pinkish cloud that coats the ground up to your knees and swirls around you as you walk. Steuber looks at the gas and holds an arm behind him to signal the three of you to wait.
FIGGAN: Fig follows, slower.
JENNY: In a military way.
STORY: “Slowly. Don’t disturb this.”
TUELLER: Tueller very much obeys.
FIGGAN: Fig stops before she’s even completely down the shuttle’s ramp.
STORY: You notice a few odd objects you hadn’t seen before, thin three foot tall metal rods emerging from the earth, nozzles in a line vertically along each side, remnants of the pink smoke still drizzling out of a few.
STORY: Steuber looks down the hill before you, to the barracks where the riot began. “Oh holy shit.”
FIGGAN: “Holy fuck,” Figgin mutters.
STORY: He takes off running, the smoke swirling into little vortexes behind him and lifting up off the ground.
STORY: What do you do?
TUELLER: Continue to move cautiously
JENNY: Jenny jogs after him, keeping an eye out
TUELLER: “Be careful, still.”
FIGGAN: Is Fig tall enough to stay out of the fog?
STORY: Jenny, let’s have a Face Adversity + Mettle please
STORY: Figgan, good point! It’s chest high for you!
TUELLER: Tueller picks Fig up.
JENNY: Sure, can I also find out What Caused This Situation?
STORY: Ah, the air’s much clearer down here.
JENNY: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 9 + 2 = 11
JENNY: With my Deduction powers
FIGGAN: Fig steadies herself on Tueller’s shoulders. She’s got the laser rifle, which she frees and keeps at the ready.
STORY: Jenny, you pick your way down the hill, unable to see the ground clearly but stepping carefully in the way you learned in basic. You avoid tripping on any of the roots or loose rocks that litter the path and reach the bottom moments after Steuber. There are low hills on the ground you don’t remember. Then you realize they are bodies. Dozens of them; hundreds. Everyone, every last soul on this moon, is dead on the ground before you. Guards still in uniform lay still among the prisoners, prisoners hang over furniture and lay on the ground mid-escape.
STORY: It would be peaceful, if you weren’t surrounded by corpses.
STORY: Steuber stands, speechless in disbelief. “Bardy,” he says softly.
TUELLER: Tueller carefully carries Figgan after Steuber and Jen.
STORY: Jenny, you see movement in the distance. A figure in boarding armor is walking between two shacks, its back to you, a rifle in its hands.
JENNY: “Take cover, we’ve got armed company.”
JENNY: Jenny complies with her own order and hides behind a building.
TUELLER: Tueller takes cover behind a building, not getting low to avoid the clouds.
JENNY: What does he appear to be doing?
STORY: You all take cover. The figure is fairly far off, thirty meters or so. It walks around, poking bodies now and then with its foot, speaking to a radio on its wrist.
TUELLER: Tueller gives Jenny a look from cover.
TUELLER: Questioning.
JENNY: Jenny points at Tueller, then swivels her finger around. She then points at herself and swivels her finger in the opposite direction. Then she looks him right in the eye and mouths, “ALIVE”
TUELLER: Tueller nods.
STORY: Jenny! Launch Assault.
TUELLER: And starts to move stealthily around in the direction indicated.
TUELLER: “We’re taking him alive Fig.”
JENNY: Is this Mettle or Physique?
FIGGAN: “Yup.” Fig holds on tight.
TUELLER: “After all, they might be family. This is just our sort of fucked up shit.”
STORY: Physique
TUELLER: Tueller picks up a piece of rebar.
TUELLER: And moves as quickly as he can.
JENNY: /roll 2d6 + 1
STORY: josh rolled 9 + 1 = 10
STORY: Tell me how it goes!
JENNY: Jenny tosses a pair of restraints behind the guard, when he swivels to check it out Jenny and Tueller make their moves coming from opposite directions. Jenny gets there first as Tueller does some sick front flip over some bodies. Jenny grabs his rifle as he raises it, kicks him sharply in one knee making a soft crunching sound. As he starts to double over Jenny tears to gun away and uses it to knock his helmet free. She then uses the butt of the weapon against the guard’s jaw. He falls slack and Tueller arrives just in time to catch him under the armpits before he falls into the mist.
STORY: Uh oh.
STORY: You just attacked one of your coworkers, Jenny.
STORY: And, like, possibly re-broke his jaw. And it had taken so long to heal last year.
STORY: Ezio Calabria hangs in your arms.
STORY: What do?
TUELLER: Tueller visibily almost throws him down into the mist, but only barely stops himself.
TUELLER: He winds up shaking Ezio violently and then dragging him up.
JENNY: Jenny shakes her head. “Let’s head back to the shuttle and interrogate him.”
FIGGAN: “The hell is he doing here?”
TUELLER: “Fig, you ride Jenny for this part.”
STORY: He starts to stir and his eyes roll around a bit. He blinks heavily, sees Tueller, and immediately throws his arms in front of his face. “Shit! Jesus!”
FIGGAN: Fig switches spots quickly.
STORY: Just total physical panic. He doesn’t struggle, but he’s bracing for an attack.
JENNY: “Sorry about that, Calabria.”
TUELLER: “You do anything I hold you under a pink cloud.”
TUELLER: “Until you stop doing anything.”
STORY: “Yeah! Okay! Shit!”
STORY: “Jesus Tueller, what are you doing here?”
STORY: He rubs his chin. “Who hit me?”
TUELLER: “Not the important question.”
JENNY: Jenny raises her hand a bit bashfully.
STORY: He tries to stand, but crumples and cries out when he puts weight on his knee. “Fuck!”
TUELLER: “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you.”
STORY: “Look, get me out of here, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
TUELLER: Tueller slings him over a shoulder.
JENNY: “Yeah, I’d be more concerned about that knee.”
TUELLER: Not gently.
STORY: “God damn it, Tueller. Move, I’m not the only one here.”
TUELLER: “Who else?”
JENNY: “Tueller, I’d take it as a favor if you’d stop treating him as hostile until we know what his part in this way.”
TUELLER: Tueller starts moving back to our shuttle, for starters.
STORY: “GO, I’ll tell you when we’re safe.”
STORY: He grunts as you jog along.
STORY: You make it back to the shuttle without incident, plop him down on the floor, and he delicately touches his knee and inhales sharply.
STORY: “God damn it. God _damn_ it.” He shakes his head ruefully.
TUELLER: Tueller kneels down and does basic first aid on the knee.
STORY: Steuber stands behind you, looking down at Ezio. “You better get some answers from this boy ’fore I kill him.”
STORY: Tueller, Patch Up!
FIGGAN: Fig keeps watch on the shuttle’s ramp, but she’s listening closely to what’s going on inside.
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 7 + 2 = 9
JENNY: Jenny stands between Steuber and Ezio. “Pretty sure this hourly guard didn’t push the button. Calabria, tell your story, please, before we all get too impatient.”
STORY: You get a splint on his knee and wrap it. He can probably walk, slowly and with great care, but he’s not running anywhere until he spends some time with a doctor and stays off it for a couple weeks.
TUELLER: “And remember I have your knee.”
TUELLER: Tueller also gives him a pat down for other weapons, while working on him.
STORY: He shakes his head. “I didn’t know what it was going to do. Sergio, he said to use it if they got out of hand.”
TUELLER: “CJH has always loved WMDs.”
STORY: “He said it would calm things down.” He shakes his head and looks down, tears coming to his eyes. “God damn it. God damn it.”
TUELLER: Judging by my years of knowing this guy and working with him, how do I judge his sincerity here?
STORY: “They were rioting. I didn’t know what to do. I was dropping off a prisoner. I shouldn’t even be here.”
STORY: He’s visibly devastated by this, and you don’t get the feeling he’s keeping anything back. Ezio is a prick, but he’s always been more of a backup guy, someone who just enjoyed being tough and slick and would only hurt people enough to get paid. He isn’t a mass murderer.
STORY: Well, he is, it seems, but he wouldn’t want to be.
TUELLER: “When did you and Serj get into the business of selling people off to CJH prisons?”
STORY: He won’t look any of you in the eye. “…Couple years. There’s good money in making people disappear.”
TUELLER: ’Of course there is.”
STORY: “This colony, it’s not so bad. Figured they get some kind of life here.”
TUELLER: Tueller only barely manages not to say “Not any more,” but it’s so close you can probably smell it on him.
TUELLER: “Who else is here?”
STORY: “Three of my guys. We were suiting up to leave when it… They’re checking for survivors.”
TUELLER: “Your guys know me?”
STORY: “Dez, yeah, he does. The other two are new.”
STORY: Dez works for Ezio, you’ve met him before. He’s CJH, though extremely ground level, just a guy.
TUELLER: Tueller sits back.
TUELLER: “Jesus Ezio. This is some shit.”
STORY: Ezio can’t answer. He holds his head in his hands, shaking.
TUELLER: “Those people always threatened to kill a planet. Didn’t think you’d be the one to do it.”
STORY: “I didn’t fucking know,” he whimpers.
TUELLER: “Okay. Why’d you put the Ambassador down here, anyway?”
STORY: Through his hands, “Esi called it in. I didn’t ask. Jesus, is she — is that why you’re here?”
TUELLER: “I guess. I don’t know why I’m anywhere these days.”
TUELLER: Clear something up; did we now Ezio was still working for CJH?
TUELLER: Or was he ostensibly working for us and we’ve just found out he’s double agenting?
STORY: Yeah! Sergio is still CJH too. They didn’t break off, they’ve just got the side business with you two.
STORY: Lots of CJH people have side businesses.
TUELLER: Okay.
FIGGAN: Fig steps inside. “No one’s coming. Yet. We should decide what we’re doing, though.”
JENNY: “How many guards are still alive and which of them knew what would happen?”
STORY: Ezio shakes his head. “I don’t know. How would I know that.”
STORY: “I know my guys are down there. I don’t even know any of the guards here.”
TUELLER: They pressed the button and survived because they were in their space suits, right?
STORY: Yep
TUELLER: “No one without a suit or a rebreather would survive, presumably.”
STORY: He nods, still looking at the ground.
TUELLER: “How’s your loyalty to the family after this?”
TUELLER: “The people who turned you into a mass murderer.”
STORY: He rubs his temples. “Don’t make me think about that right now, Tueller.”
TUELLER: “You think you need a short vacation before you go back to work, then?”
TUELLER: “Take some time off on the pleasure domes of Ishtar before you come back to the team that builds pink gas and parks asteroids above cities?”
STORY: He looks up at you, his face white. “What the fuck are you even talking about, Tueller?”
STORY: “This is _your fucking family.“_
TUELLER: “Only technically. They’ve disowned me and I them.”
STORY: “Not mine. I don’t call these fucking shots. I follow orders and get paid and some piece of shit higher up makes a decision that turns me into this.”
TUELLER: “So, you want to go back to following those orders.”
TUELLER: “Hope you don’t have to press the pink mist button again. After all, the pay is so good.”
STORY: “Don’t pretend like you haven’t gotten to where you are on their backs, Tueller. You may not be a Ya’Makasi now, but you were one long enough to benefit.”
STORY: “You were one long enough to kill for them.”
STORY: “And you goddamn knew as well as I did they’d do something like this.”
STORY: “You’re not holier than any of them. You just didn’t like answering to your bitch sister.”
TUELLER: “Yeah. It took me a long time to get out.”
TUELLER: “And I was further in the shit than you. And I haven’t clawed my way out. But at least I’m trying.”
TUELLER: “There’s some shit in Macbeth about this; I”m not going to quote it because I’m kind of sick of using my classical education to justify it all, but you can get out, right now even, if you want.”
STORY: “Tueller what the _fuck_ are you _talking about.“_
TUELLER: “I even know a good way to do it.”
STORY: “I just killed a couple thousand people and you’re asking me to _what_ tell you I quit?”
STORY: “Fuck you, man. Jesus christ.”
STORY: “They’re going to fucking kill me anyway.”
TUELLER: “No, I’m asking you if you want to get back at the fuckers who turned you into a mass murderer.”
TUELLER: “I’ve got a _great_ way to do it, too. Hit them right where it hurts–the pocketbook.”
STORY: He puts his head back in his hands. “What the fuck do you want.”
STORY: “Just fucking get it out.”
TUELLER: “Well, shit, I want you to testify.”
STORY: He just sighs.
STORY: “Get me the fuck out of here, will you.”
STORY: “My guys will give up looking for me eventually. They’ll take the ship back.”
STORY: “Let’s just… let’s just fucking go.”
TUELLER: Tueller looks to the Captain.
STORY: He looks enraged.
TUELLER: “I’m sorry, Captain. The Ambassador…she can help us strike back at the monsters responsible for this.”
STORY: “You want me to let this fucker _live?“_
TUELLER: “I do. At this point, living is a greater punishment for him, and his life and testimony…the Ambassador can use that. And will use that.”
JENNY: Jenny nods.
STORY: “Well. Fuck.”
STORY: “Fine. But once that knee’s healed I get to kick the shit out of it again.”
STORY: Ezio looks up at him.
STORY: And up at Tueller, unhappily.
TUELLER: “Don’t worry, Ezio, you have a couple of weeks recovery first.”
TUELLER: “And the Ambassador will speak in your defense. She’s very persuasive.”
STORY: Ezio shakes his head. “Let’s go, then.” He’s all out of fight.
TUELLER: Tueller leans back and nods to the Captain.