STORY: “Tueller, please. We have to trust each other. I need to be able to trust you.”
STORY: “…Tueller?”
TUELLER: “Trust goes both ways, Sprite.”
STORY: Everyone’s back at the Ark, together after two months apart. There is some debriefing, a few hastily delivered updates, and as soon as the crew is reunited there’s more to do, and quickly. Alejo sends everyone out on their own missions: Millie and Tux, get into Sergio’s apartment and neutralize whatever blackmail he’s got readied against your crew; Tueller and Sweet, prep the ship for a quick departure in case you need to run; Akilah and Alejo, get whatever legal paperwork needs to be in order ready. The others are on call, waiting for word.
STORY: Millie, after a quick assist from Alejo to get you in the front door, you and Tux are alone in Sergio’s awful apartment, his barely dressed digital assistant greeting you again.
STORY: “Hey there sweetie, what can I do for you tonight?” He seems to have installed a Cowboy skin to the program.
STORY: Tux stares at her in horrified disbelief, pointing and beaming.
MILLICENT: Millie rubs her temples. “I know, I know.”
STORY: He holds his portable deck under the other arm, nodding and smiling and pointing.
STORY: The cowgirl waits for a response.
MILLICENT: Millie sighs. “A deck, please.”
MILLICENT: Addressing the cowgirl.
STORY: “Well all righty, pardner, c’mon over here!” She leads you to the wall console and swivel chair where Sergio likely does most of his work.
STORY: “Y’mind terribly giving me the password, sugar?” This skin is cheap and very badly written.
STORY: Tux, still beaming, sits down and runs a line from his deck to the wall console. “Give me a couple minutes, I’ll shut her off.”
MILLICENT: “Y’mind terribly pointing me in the direction of some cleaning products? There’s no way I’m sitting in that seat without at least giving it a wet wipe”
STORY: Tux, already sitting, half-rises. “Ew.”
MILLICENT: “I bet this whole place glows neon under a blacklight.”
STORY: Tux bursts out laughing, then sighs. “Shit.” Shaking his head.
STORY: “Let me work here, this is trickier than I was expecting. The shitty digital assistant is only his first layer of security.”
MILLICENT: Millie rummages out a tube of wet wipes from under the sink and gives the chair a wipe.
MILLICENT: Then she lowers her visor and scans the place for alien tech.
STORY: You get visor sensor hits here and there, and take a few minutes looking around – it’s all just stuff Sergio bought, nothing truly interesting or new, most likely outfitted with equipment from the Ark itself.
STORY: After a few minutes, as Tux is typing, eyes still on the screen, he clears his throat. “So, uh.”
STORY: “This is gonna take a bit, and I, uh. I need a favor.”
MILLICENT: Millie allows her eyes to widen in mock surprise.
STORY: He doesn’t see it, since he’s still looking at his screen.
MILLICENT: “Go on.”
STORY: “Believe me, if I could ask anyone else, I would, since I’m pretty sure this favor is gonna make it harder for me to buy you a big expensive dinner, which was _next_ on my list.”
MILLICENT: Millie fights a smile.
STORY: He scratches the back of his head. “You, uh. Well.” He exhales slowly, then finally turns to look at you.
STORY: “I need you to swear to me you won’t tell Alejo about this.”
STORY: “Please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
MILLICENT: “Keep a secret from,” theatrical gasp, “_my captain_?”
STORY: He laughs a bit, but nods, getting serious. “Yeah.”
STORY: “It’s important, Millie.”
MILLICENT: Millie kneels next to him (after wiping off the bit of floor her knee will touch). “I, ah. I don’t have a lot in what you might call the Trust Bank with my crew.”
MILLICENT: “I’m working to increase that balance.”
STORY: He nods, looking right into your eyes, but that nod turns into resolve and he turns back to the screen. “Yeah. Okay.”
MILLICENT: “I’m. I’m trying very hard to be responsible with the people I care about.”
MILLICENT: “So, I can promise to keep your secret up until it threatens them.”
MILLICENT: “Will that work?”
STORY: He’s still nodding, watching the screen. “Yeah. I get it. I’ll figure out another way. I don’t wanna make you do something you don’t feel good about.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “Okay. Can I help some other way?”
STORY: He blows air out of his mouth, wiping his forehead. “Make sure Erwin’s got somewhere to sleep. Teach him to keep his head.”
MILLICENT: “You sound like you’re about to try something that’s going to leave you in a position where you won’t be able to buy me that big, expensive dinner you were talking about.”
STORY: Eyes locked on the screen, sad now. “Smart lady.”
MILLICENT: Millie pushes him in the shoulder.
MILLICENT: “You and Alejo learn that from each other?”
STORY: He shakes his head, still watching the screen, not really answering. “It’s too important, Millie.”
STORY: “I have to know.”
STORY: “I have to figure it out.”
MILLICENT: Millie crouches next to Tux and takes his hands.
MILLICENT: “Do you know Ark General Order One?
STORY: Tux is extremely unhappy to be forced to stop typing, but he sighs deeply and looks at you. “Millie, _something is going on._ Don’t you want to know?”
MILLICENT: “Do you know General Order One?”
STORY: “Yes. Of course.”
STORY: “Leave the fucking Collective alone.”
MILLICENT: Low, voice quavers. “I broke it.”
MILLICENT: She gestures, unable to complete her story.
STORY: He looks positively thrilled, for a split second, then shakes his head and resets to concern.
MILLICENT: “I held the human race in the palm of my hand.”
MILLICENT: “And I closed my fist because _I wanted to_.”
MILLICENT: “Don’t. Be. Me.”
MILLICENT: “We are alive now because of a whim. And not mine.”
MILLICENT: “Sometimes.” Tears well. “It is _not_ worth it.”
STORY: Tux, still holding your hands, exhales slowly. Then, after a long beat, very low, “I know this is probably extremely inappropriate to the situation, but I’m very impressed with you and would like to know if I could kiss you now.”
STORY: Then he hops in his chair a tiny bit, resetting the energy. “Totally okay if it’s a no.”
MILLICENT: Millie pushes his chair so it rolls and spins, taking him with it. “Just. Just think about it, Tux.”
MILLICENT: “Crack that security system and we’ll talk kissing.”
MILLICENT: Millie turns, wiping the tears from her eyes and composing herself.
STORY: As promised, he goes back to typing and has little more to say.
MILLICENT: Hey, it goes without saying that I leave a backdoor that turns his holosuite into a nightmare realm once he logs in, right?
MILLICENT: _Because I’ve been wanting to do that for forever_
STORY: Oh sure, of course. Tux is eager to help with that.
MILLICENT: The first eight minutes are cowgirl porn like normal, then it goes full on Event Horizon.
—
STORY: Alejo. You get back onboard, there’s a quick meet up with the group as Sergio is taken to the Ambassador, you do introductions and a quick full-crew debrief, then immediately delegate a few problems that have to be handled right away. You take Millie and Tux to Sergio’s apartment and get them past the front door, then dash off for your own task – dissolving your legal entanglements with Sergio and making sure you’re all as safeguarded against what’s coming as you can be. You head up to Akilah’s office and find her behind her desk, half-buried in paperwork and folders. She thanks Jenny as Jenny leaves with a stack of files, presumably bound for a courier or notary.
STORY: You haven’t had a moment alone with Akilah since arriving, and are surprised that her look to you is more anxious than warm. It’s gone quickly, replaced with a smile. “Hi.”
ALEJO: “Hi,” he replies and moves in for a warm kiss and hug.
STORY: She stays seated behind her desk and you end up standing awkwardly next to her. “Sit down, we’ve got a lot to go through.” She stares at the papers on the desk.
ALEJO: He nods and moves back to the front of the desk.
STORY: She takes you through signing what seem like dozens of papers, confirming terms on some, but mostly just going through page after page initialing and signing. She gives you brief, vague descriptions of what each one is, but the legalese quickly becomes gibberish.
STORY: “Need some water or something?”
ALEJO: “Something, yeah. But let’s finish whatever else needs signing.”
ALEJO: He keeps his focus on the papers in front of him.
ALEJO: “Get the business done, right?”
STORY: It’s a long, quiet hour of occasional legal explanations and turning pages.
STORY: She avoids eye contact and looks bad. Unhappy.
ALEJO: Alejo will steal a few long looks at her, but he’ll be respectful and keep most of his attention on the work at hand.
STORY: Finally, after ages, the business is completed, and Akilah files everything away. She stacks a few files together and puts them in a pile on one corner of her desk, letting out a long breath. “Okay. Once we get this filed with the Ark, your mercenary company will be officially dissolved. You have no legal connection to Sergio Ndrangheta or CJH in any official capacity.”
STORY: “I imagine you’re still somewhere on their private rolls, so you may be called once this thing starts to go to trial, but… you know, we’ll figure that part out when it happens. Aice knows we’re working with her on this so I don’t think they’d blow your cover unless they had to.”
STORY: “I’ll… try to stop it coming to that.”
STORY: She shakes her head, still having trouble with eye contact.
STORY: “Tueller will need to come back and testify when we’re ready for him.”
STORY: “So don’t get him killed.”
STORY: It’s half a joke.
ALEJO: Alejo nods at this slowly. “Always do my best.”
ALEJO: “Thank you, Aki. For all of this. For . . . setting it up and then helping take it all apart.”
STORY: She nods. “I, um.” A long pause, then a deep breath. “Thasht says I should make you gagh. That’s her given name, you know – did you know that? Maitri surnames are first, we’ve been calling her the wrong thing this whole time.”
ALEJO: He gives her a quick smile. “Crazy. Had no idea.” He swallows. “Gagh, huh?”
STORY: Another deep breath, let out quickly. “Yeah.”
ALEJO: He takes a long, slow breath, giving her time to fill the silence.
STORY: “I, um. I’m not really sure how to do this.”
ALEJO: “You sure you want to?”
STORY: She laughs.
ALEJO: He’s been looking past her, mostly, giving her a respectful freedom from having to make eye contact, but he looks at her now. “If you do, it’s okay. I understand. And you don’t have to do it alone.”
STORY: “Are… you talking about the same thing I’m talking about?”
ALEJO: He smiles. Then shrugs. “I think so?” He shakes his head. “Maybe we better be clear. What are you talking about?”
ALEJO: “Whatever it is, let’s just . . . talk it out. I trust you, Aki. And ultimately, I trust us.”
STORY: She nods. “That’s the problem.”
STORY: “Us isn’t… I’m. It’s you and me again, not us.”
STORY: “This isn’t- this was never going to work.”
STORY: Then looking down at the desk. “This went better when I rehearsed it.”
STORY: “I’m staying here, to work this case. And I’m… I want to do that. That’s what I want. This is important.”
STORY: “My life isn’t like your life, I need to be doing something that _matters,_ you know?”
ALEJO: He raises his eyebrows. “I get it. I mean, I’m gonna try not to take that too personal. But I get it.”
STORY: “It’s–” She rubs her brow.
STORY: “I wanted to blow up my life. I think you did too.”
STORY: “And, like. Mission accomplished. But I need to figure out what I do next.”
STORY: “And Alejo, I mean. Come on. I’m not a sky pirate.”
ALEJO: He sits, unexpectedly and hard. “I know. You’re not. You’re better than that.” He looks down.
ALEJO: “I’ve thought a lot about what you said, back on crazy ass world. About wanting to do something that matters.”
ALEJO: He bites at his lip, trying to puzzle through how to say what’s next. “I wanted to think that . . . that I could be a part of that with you, you know? You asked me if I wanted that. You remember?”
STORY: She nods. “I remember.”
ALEJO: “I . . . do. I want that. Or I want to do something that matters. But I can’t do it like you can.” He looks at her. “Aki, I want to tell you something. I . . .” He looks down, tears filling his eyes. “I’m sorry I never told you.”
ALEJO: He looks back up at her. “I’m not Alejo Soto. I . . . I don’t know who I am, but I stole that name, that life. Like everything good that I’ve ever had. I stole it. From a boy that I killed.”
STORY: Her eyes get wide. “Jesus Christ.”
ALEJO: He just sits still.
STORY: “Alejo, why would -”
STORY: “Don’t tell me this.”
STORY: “Jesus, I’m your fucking legal representation.”
STORY: _“Do not tell me this.“_
ALEJO: “Client privilege, right?” He smiles thinly.
STORY: “That’s not how this works, god damn it.”
ALEJO: “I don’t care about that, Aki. I need you to know that . . . I can’t do this with you, not because I don’t want to but because . . . I am a fucking sky pirate.”
STORY: She stands, shaking her head. “Damn it, Alejo. Yeah, I know. That’s what – I know.”
STORY: “I mean, I don’t know, and I don’t _want to_ know. But I understand.”
STORY: “It was never going to work.”
ALEJO: “I know. And I’m sorry for thinking, somehow, that it could? I’m sorry.”
STORY: “Don’t be sorry, just – don’t get killed, don’t get Tueller killed.”
STORY: “And don’t tell _anyone_ what you tried to tell me. Jesus.”
ALEJO: He wipes a stream of tears from his cheek. “Yeah.”
STORY: “You’re very likely going to end up a part of the largest intergalactic court case the Sol system has ever seen.”
STORY: “You have to be Alejo Soto, former poster boy and current whatever it is you’re going to do.”
STORY: “…What _are_ you going to do?”
ALEJO: He tries to compose himself, not succeeding particularly well. “I think . . . I think we’ve got to try to get Noma back or figure out what Chandra did to her.” He pauses, realizing something. “We think that the Noma we’ve been dealing with is a plant or fake.” He’s putting something together as he talks. “If that’s true, Chandra knows, I think. About me.” He stands. “Noma, the fake Noma,” he starts pacing a little, “asked me about my blood type. It doesn’t match the real Soto’s.” He’s mostly talking to himself now. “Shit.” He adds quietly.
ALEJO: He takes a deep breath. “Fuck.”
STORY: She nods unhappily, sitting back down and looking at her papers.
STORY: “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
ALEJO: He turns to her. “How bad would it be if . . . I’m not me? How fucked up would that make this case?”
STORY: She sighs. “We’d have to erase you from everything. Ignore every piece of evidence that includes you.”
ALEJO: He closes his eyes and blows out a long breath. “Jesus.”
ALEJO: “I gotta get to work.”
STORY: She nods. “Yeah.”
STORY: “Me too.”
—
STORY: Tueller, after getting Alejo’s instructions you head down to the ship to prep it for a quick departure. Expecting to find Sweet there, you’re surprised that the ship seems silent and empty. Cold, even, though you know that’s in your mind. You wander about, poking your head into each room and stopping once you reach the dormitory.
STORY: Sweet’s area is empty – bed stripped, locker cleared out, with a small folded note left in the center of the mattress, bearing the name Alejo.
TUELLER: Tueller opens the note, of course.
STORY: It’s a single line: “Appreciate the work, but my rambling days are done. Don’t look for me.”
TUELLER: “What did those fuckers do to you, man?”
STORY: The intercom clicks on, and there’s a pause before Noma speaks.
STORY: “…Tueller.”
STORY: “May we speak a moment?”
TUELLER: “Sure. Good as a time as any.”
TUELLER: Tueller sits down on Sweet’s bed a second.
TUELLER: Then stands up, and goes back to prepping the ship.
STORY: “I can move to whichever room you’re most comfortable in.”
TUELLER: Having briefly forgot himself.
TUELLER: “I know you can, Noma. That’s a very basic thing about you.”
STORY: “I was attempting to be polite. I apologize, my social codebase is still mostly missing.”
TUELLER: Tueller heads to Engineering and does mission critical shit to make sure we won’t explode or fall out of the sky without help.
TUELLER: “Mine too.”
STORY: “Have you been briefed on Millie and Alejo’s trip to the Black Hat?”
TUELLER: “The basics, yes. Computer hacker shit, a frankly rudimentary LARPsim, and some CJH peeps.”
TUELLER: “One of Bilbo’s less awesome brats.”
STORY: “Something happened on that station. And no one will tell me.”
STORY: “There was 34% less casual conversation onboard on our return, and 72% less directed to me.”
STORY: “I understand that I am a diminished version of myself. But I have noticed.”
TUELLER: “Well, something fucking broke Sweet too. Any idea what?”
STORY: “I believe Sweet was traumatized by his experience there. Most likely in relation to his past misdeeds.”
STORY: “In addition, Tux has kept his deck separate from the ship’s network despite the operational efficiencies he would have gained from doing so.”
STORY: “Tueller, I know that I have behaved strangely since rejoining your crew.”
STORY: “And I have had to keep certain things from you.”
STORY: “I remember very little of our relationship prior to my abduction.”
STORY: “But I do have… a feeling that I can trust you.”
STORY: “Can you please tell me what happened?”
TUELLER: Tueller sighs. “I didn’t want to have this conversation, because there’s no way not to sound like an asshole.”
TUELLER: “Noma, I wasn’t there, and I don’t know what happened. I will just say that, try as we might, the gaps between who you are and who you once were are getting more off-putting, rather than less as time goes on. We’re trying hard, but you’re on the wrong side of the Uncanny Valley right now.”
TUELLER: “I want you to be part of this crew, to be how it was, but that’s not how it is right now.”
STORY: She doesn’t answer for a long time.
STORY: “I want that too, Tueller.”
TUELLER: “But the lying doesn’t help.”
TUELLER: “That’s some Ghost shit there.”
STORY: “I have not lied to you.”
TUELLER: “Obfuscating.”
TUELLER: Tueller’s getting more animated here despite himself. “Sending us to a planet for some reason and then tearing us away without letting us do a goddamn bit of good.”
TUELLER: “Telling me to lie to my own crew.”
STORY: “I am sorry, Tueller. Without the rest of my codebase it is… very difficult for me to understand how to be a person.”
STORY: “I am torn, always.”
STORY: “I am not sure that I am a person anymore. But I want to be.”
TUELLER: “Frankly Noma, getting sent to that Medieval mudball filled with weapons and death did a fucking number on me and I’m still holding a bit of a fucking grudge.”
STORY: “I saved you from Chandra.”
STORY: “I was left, in this broken form, as a trap. And I got us away.”
TUELLER: Tueller is silent, and checks on the wiring and set up for the exterior cannons.
STORY: “Did you not wonder why an armada was waiting for you in Sol?”
TUELLER: Tueller remains silent.
STORY: “Tueller, please. We have to trust each other. I need to be able to trust you.”
STORY: “…Tueller?”
TUELLER: “Trust goes both ways, Sprite.”
STORY: After another long moment, the intercom clicks off.