ALEJO: Alejo is there, sitting, with a bottle and two glasses. As Tueller walks in, he pours a glass for him and slides it across the table without looking up. Then he pours his own.
ALEJO: “Time for a talk.” He raises the glass.
TUELLER: “I didn’t see what happened, but it looks to me like things got bad and you went off and made them worse. That about right?”
ALEJO: “No,” he takes a modest sip and then a deep breath, collecting himself. “No, what happened is that everyone except Thasht did exactly what I said not to do. Tux wanted to play hero, though he should have never been on a field op. Kahn followed me even though I told him to go back to the ship. You and Millie didn’t leave with the most important item in the fucking galaxy when I told you to.”
ALEJO: “And now Chandra has Millie, Noma, and the deck.”
ALEJO: “Oh, and probably Kahn.” He drinks again.
MILLICENT: Millie arrives at the intersection of two hallways and hesitantly peeks around the corner. Seeing no guards she continues dragging the unconscious body of Figgan splayed out on her lab coat down the hall. Once she’s past the intersection she takes a deep breath of the helium-rich air of the Materan space station and leans against a bulkhead. Finally, catching her breath she spots the door to the mainframe room and uses the id card she spoofed. Somehow between propping the door open and keeping Figgan from sliding off her coat she somehow forgets to check if the room is uninhabited. “Could have told them pugs can’t handle this much helium,” she mutters. “But did they ask?” From behind her she hears a half dozen laser rifles disengage their safeties and she turns around to see a fully armed materan patrol approaching with guns raised. To the guards, continuing her thought. “They did not.”
—
STORY: Something about that experience comes to mind as you lean over Jenny to make sure she’s all right. You shine a pen light in her eyes, dilation is normal, check her pulse, that seems strong and fine, send Thasht upstairs to get fluids and exam equipment so you don’t have to move her while she rests. You hear footsteps behind you, and as you turn, you count five armed mercenaries surrounding a tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair and very dashing scruff.
STORY: You’re used to well-dressed men, being an associate of Tueller’s, but the way this man’s suit fits him, the color, the absolute style of it is hypnotizing. He’s a calm, classy presence, leaning gingerly on a thin, dark wood cane. He holds out a hand behind him as an order to his guards.
STORY: “Dr. Breedlove. It’s my pleasure. I apologize for the circumstances.”
MILLICENT: “Good day, I didn’t catch your name.”
STORY: “Oh, my apologies, I had assumed Alejo would have told you. Tormod Chandra, ma’am, very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
STORY: He gestures to the deck at your feet. “I’m sorry to get right to business, but I’m going to need that.”
STORY: Alejo! Tueller! What are you doing?
TUELLER: Picking up a body and driving home the most direct route.
STORY: There are still a dozen mercs in this gift shop, Alejo; are you finishing them all off or getting in the Gregor with Tueller?
STORY: They’re scattered but starting to regroup and take aim on you both.
ALEJO: Alejo takes a moment with the last living boss merc. He points the rifle at him. “Who sent you? Why are you here? You’ve got five seconds before I shoot you.”
STORY: The merc looks at you and his eyes widen.
TUELLER: “Time to board, buddy.”
STORY: You recognize him.
STORY: You’ve never spoken, he was some mid-level captain in charge of troop assignments or maybe a combat instructor? But you absolutely remember him. He’s RDG. You suppose, now that RDG is a thing of the past, that he must be… Exodus. Which means–
ALEJO: Alejo shoots him, turns, and gets in the Gregor.
ALEJO: “Fuck.” He looks at Tueller. “You should have gotten gone,” he says flatly, “when I told you to go. Now we’re in trouble.”
TUELLER: Tueller skitters the way he came, back to where he saw Kahn.
TUELLER: “Yes, and you should have bugged out as well.”
STORY: There’s a large red stain on the carpet, and, oh no.
STORY: No body.
STORY: Millie!
STORY: Chandra stands fifteen feet away, not making a move toward you, having politely asked for your treasure.
MILLICENT: “You’ve made a nasty habit of hurting people I care about, Mr. Chandra. And now you want this deck. Why? Aside from continuing your streak, I mean.”
STORY: He nods apologetically. “The short version, since we don’t yet have time for the long: for the good of mankind.”
STORY: “I’m terribly sorry about your friend.”
STORY: “I did not mean for him to come to harm.”
MILLICENT: “You aren’t short on nerve, I’ll say that for you. What if I say no?”
STORY: He sighs. “Then I make you an offer, I suppose. Though I must warn you, I’m short on time.”
MILLICENT: The deck is at my feet? Is there anything sufficient heavy to crush the deck nearby? A piece of medical equipment?
STORY: Sure! There’s all kinds of stuff around, like cargo pallets, or tools, or the five rifles held by the mercenaries standing fifteen feet from you.
MILLICENT: All good options!
MILLICENT: Also, have we established how Millie activates the speech thing? Can I do it so he can’t see?
STORY: Yes, you have to depress the button under your skin, it’s not invisible.
MILLICENT: Transmitting to Tueller, “Go on, then, Mr. Chandra. Make your offer.”
STORY: You put your hand to your neck and press it?
MILLICENT: Yes, she covers it by gripping the back of her neck in a sign of weary impatience.
STORY: As you lift your hand to your neck, he reaches out a hand. “I wouldn’t do that, Dr. Breedlove.”
STORY: “Right now we’re just talking, and your friends are safe. I don’t want to have to slow them down.”
STORY: You still have time to undo this action if you choose.
MILLICENT: “Make your offer, Mr. Chandra.” Hand drops.
STORY: “Well, I’m certainly happy to answer any of your questions – once there’s time, of course. And I’m sure you’d like to see Noma, I can arrange that.”
STORY: “Do you mind telling me what’s happened to her? The parts of her you’ve recovered, I mean.”
MILLICENT: “She’s stored safely. Her. Injury caused her considerable distress and without her full memory she was a danger to herself and others.”
STORY: “Ah, that makes sense. You gave her the partial dataset.”
STORY: “Well, no matter, I’d be happy to arrange a meeting for you to speak with her.”
MILLICENT: “Go on.”
STORY: “Well, as discussed, in exchange for that deck.”
MILLICENT: “And if I say no?”
STORY: He sighs unhappily again. “Is that a no?”
MILLICENT: “I like to hear both sides of a deal before I decide.”
STORY: “Well, I’m afraid I’m not sure what happens then, doctor. I like to remain optimistic.”
MILLICENT: “Do you? What did you say you were going to do with the deck again?”
STORY: “I’m going to find out what Mr. Tux needed so badly to know. I’m going to find out what they’re hiding from us, and who’s hiding it.” He takes a step forward, talking to you now with excitement and righteousness. “Humanity needs to stand next to the civilizations of the universe, not behind them. It’s time we take our place among the stars, doctor.”
STORY: He holds a hand out to you, maybe offering it, maybe expecting the deck. “Help me pull us forward, Dr. Breedlove. Please.”
MILLICENT: “I couldn’t agree more. I think our goals may be aligned. As I’m often telling my crew, we can’t afford to sit by like the abanzii unless we want to join them as a slave race in all but name. So I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Chandra. You return Noma here, to her home, set her free completely and I’ll hand over the deck that holds the answers you’re seeking about what exactly the Collective “gave” us.”
STORY: “Unfortunately, that doesn’t work for my timeline. Give me the deck, and you’re welcome to come with me to be reunited with Noma. And I’m sure Mr. Vespertine would appreciate you coming with us – Soto’s killed my best medic and they tell me Kahn will be dead before we reach Sol.”
STORY: “This isn’t a trick. Noma’s free to do as she likes. You can make your case. But she won’t be transported away from her home, you’ll have to come to us.”
STORY: He looks at his watch. “I’m afraid it’s decision time, doctor.”
MILLICENT: “What’s that about Kahn?”
STORY: “Your sniper’s been shot, and left behind, I gather.”
STORY: “We recovered him, but he’s bleeding rather badly and needs a doctor.”
MILLICENT: How bad is Jenny injured?
STORY: Concussion, she’ll be fine.
STORY: Just a normal amount of brain damage
MILLICENT: “I’ll need to get my bag. And you have to call off your soldiers. No one else gets hurt today.” She glares at him. It’s a question.
STORY: He nods. “Of course. The moment I have that deck, we leave. All of us.”
MILLICENT: “Do you need to escort me to my room or will you leave me to gather my things in peace?”
STORY: He gestures for you to go upstairs on your own. “Trust shown in hopes of reciprocation, doctor.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods, leaves a glass of water by Jenny, then goes to grab her stuff.
STORY: What do you bring?
MILLICENT: My visor, my medical kit, a couple changes of clothes.
STORY: Okay! You throw everything into a bag and Thasht finds you as you’re leaving.
STORY: She looks unhappy. “I heard.”
STORY: “We should kill him.”
MILLICENT: “He’ll kill us right back. And if he’s half the bastard we can safely assume he is he will have Kahn killed and Noma taken apart.”
MILLICENT: “From the grave.”
STORY: She shakes her head. “It isn’t right, Millie.”
MILLICENT: “No, it absolutely isn’t. I have to anyway. I’ve enjoyed serving on a crew with you Thasht and I am more sorry than I can express about the way we met. When I killed your colleagues I was acting rashly, impulsively and cruelly. I did the easy thing, but not the right one.”
STORY: Thasht puts one pink hand on your shoulder. “It is all right, Millie. You earned those victories. Be strong and you will earn more.”
MILLICENT: “Thank you. I hope I’ll see you soon.”
MILLICENT: Millie pauses on her way out of the ship, putting one hand on the doorframe and taking a last look around. She squeezes the doorframe briefly and then goes with Chandra.
STORY: Tueller and Alejo! You look around enough to determine that Kahn hasn’t just gotten up and crawled away, someone took him from here. You make your way back towards the ship, an increasing feeling of dread building in both your guts, and as you go, Alejo, you observe some weird behavior in the mercs – they pull back rather abruptly and stop pressing forward.
STORY: You turn the last corner to find Thasht sitting on the edge of the bay door, arms draped over her knees, waiting for you.
STORY: It’s quiet. Thasht looks unhappy. Jenny lays on the deck behind her, the ship’s spooling up to depart, and there’s no sign of Millie or Kahn.
ALEJO: “Shit,” Alejo mutters. He jumps out of the Gregor. “He got her, didn’t he?”
TUELLER: Tueller wordlessly parks the Gregor and pops the hatch.
ALEJO: He walks to Thasht.
STORY: Thasht stands. “She went with him.”
STORY: “The deck too.”
TUELLER: “With who? With the deck??”
ALEJO: Alejo spins on Tueller, quick and harsh. “Chandra,” he says through gritted teeth.
STORY: “Where is Kahn?”
TUELLER: “Shot. Maybe dead. Gone by the time we got back to the body.”
STORY: Figgan comes on over the intercom, sounding rushed and irritated. “Spooled up and ready to go, get the fuck onboard so we can leeeeeave!”
TUELLER: “We are leaving now.”
TUELLER: “I don’t care if you’re the captain, that’s the order and we’re getting the fuck out of here before you make any more stupid decisions.”
TUELLER: “Do it Fig.”
STORY: Thasht slams on the button that closes the hatch doors, they close up and the air pressurizes, and you’re on your way. You swoosh into the black.
STORY: Erwin comes downstairs, looking around the cargo bay and the four of you.
STORY: He counts in his head.
STORY: And he nods slowly.
ALEJO: Alejo turns to Tueller. “Galley. Whiskey. Ten minutes.” He walks to Erwin.
TUELLER: Tueller gives Ejo a very ugly look.
ALEJO: “I’m so sorry, Erwin.” He puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder.
STORY: Erwin darts backwards before you touch him, and you remember that grell don’t like physical contact.
STORY: Erwin just looks up at you angrily. “Is he dead?”
ALEJO: Alejo stops mid way. “Yes. He is.” Alejo says this softly, partly to himself.
STORY: Erwin’s shaking now. “How?”
ALEJO: “He . . . got what we came for. He gave his life for it. He got shot. Things got very crazy very fast out there.”
ALEJO: “Erwin, I’m truly sorry. I know he was . . . he was my family too. And that makes us family.”
TUELLER: Tueller glowers in the background.
ALEJO: “He believed he was doing the right thing, and I think he was. I think, Ewrin, that this deck, whatever it is, is bigger than all of us.”
STORY: Erwin spits in your face, turns on his heel, and rushes out to the barracks, whipping the door shut behind him.
ALEJO: Alejo sighs, whips the spit, doesn’t look at Tueller, and heads to the bridge to check on Fig and the status of the ship.
STORY: When you get up there, she won’t look at you. “Need a destination, Cap.”
ALEJO: “The Ark. We need more bodies and a plan. Start thinking of what favors we can call in. We need them all.”
ALEJO: He then heads to the galley.
TUELLER: Tueller moves Jenny some place more comfortable to recover.
STORY: You put her on the bed in in the infirmary, Tueller, and Thasht will wait with her there. Before you leave, she asks you what happened.
TUELLER: “Alejo went on tilt.”
STORY: She nods slowly. “Be certain he should still be trusted with our lives.”
STORY: “A captain who cannot lead is a danger to his crew.”
TUELLER: “Well, I’m about to go have that conversation, I think.”
STORY: She nods again.
TUELLER: Tueller nods. And then shrugs. “By the time Jenny wakes up she might be the captain. Try to ease her into it.”
TUELLER: Tueller puts a familiar hand on Loll’s arm. And can’t think of anything else to say and walks to the galley.
ALEJO: Alejo is there, sitting, with a bottle and two glasses. As Tueller walks in, he pours a glass for him and slides it across the table without looking up. Then he pours his own.
ALEJO: “Time for a talk.” He raises the glass.
TUELLER: “I didn’t see what happened, but it looks to me like things got bad and you went off and made them worse. That about right?”
ALEJO: “No,” he takes a modest sip and then a deep breath, collecting himself. “No, what happened is that everyone except Thasht did exactly what I said not to do. Tux wanted to play hero, though he should have never been on a field op. Kahn followed me even though I told him to go back to the ship. You and Millie didn’t leave with the most important item in the fucking galaxy when I told you to.”
ALEJO: “And now Chandra has Millie, Noma, and the deck.”
ALEJO: “Oh, and probably Kahn.” He drinks again.
TUELLER: “Because you went off the reservation instead of heading back to the ship yourself, for no reason whatsoever.”
ALEJO: He slams the glass down. “No! Not for no reason, Tueller.” He stops and composes himself again.
TUELLER: “I came right back to the ship as fast as I could, only to discover that instead of escorting our friends, you’d gone after a nest of armed mercenaries.”
ALEJO: “Yes, I did. Do you have any idea why I might have done that other than to go on a tilt, as you call it? How long have you known me?” He shakes his head. “Damn it, T.”
ALEJO: “You’ve seen mercs before. These were highly trained. Highly funded. What were the odds they were just here by chance on the same day we were?”
ALEJO: “They were after the same thing we were after, Tueller. I was trying to buy you and Millie time. I can’t do anything with the goddamned deck. That requires Millie’s big brain. And you’re better equipped to help her. If I was right and Chandra was behind those mercs — and I was — you needed time to get free and we needed to know what we were fighting, because he wasn’t going to stop.”
TUELLER: “It. Does. Not. Matter. We don’t leave people behind. We never do. I did that once, to a guy who had been a member of our crew for a couple of weeks, and I was wrong and everyone made it clear to me how heartless I had been. You left all of us with those mercenaries roaming around. You left us less protected to freelance. You know we wouldn’t abandon you. And we didn’t, and Kahn is probably dead. Did you know he followed you? Well, he did. And Millie is gone.”
TUELLER: “At least there’s no stain where she was.”
ALEJO: “I know who’s fucking dead.” He says this quietly. “And he gave his life for something bigger than any of us.” He takes another drink. “Look, you might not like it. You might not be ready to accept it. But this thing we’ve stumbled into . . . ” He pauses and readjusts. “I’m not just trying to make Tux’s death mean something. I’m not. But he was right. This thing is bigger than any of us.”
TUELLER: “Well, shit, yes, and instead of protecting what he gave his life for–and the person carrying it–you went off on your own.”
ALEJO: “No, I gave very clear and very precise orders. You and Millie decided not to follow them.”
ALEJO: He looks at Tueller. “You either follow a captain or you don’t. But you don’t get to pick and chose when you like the orders.”
TUELLER: “You didn’t give me any orders.”
TUELLER: “You were gone and incommunicado.”
ALEJO: He shakes his head. “I told Millie to tell you. . .” He shakes his head. “It’s not my fault the fucking communicators only run through her. I said to get back to the ship and to leave. I didn’t go off on my own to go on some vengeance spree. If the ship got locked down, the station was going to be controlled by those mercs. Going into that nest was a way to find out, for sure, if Chandra was behind this and to be sure that the ship could get free. I’m the only one of us who had a chance of getting in there and disabling that place and getting out alive. You know it.”
TUELLER: Tueller grits his teeth and speaks slowly. “I don’t believe you.”
ALEJO: “You’ve not trusted me for a long while, Tueller. And I’ve let it slide. But we either figure this shit out or . . . ” He meets Tueller’s eyes.
TUELLER: “Or what?”
TUELLER: Tueller lets the rest go by for now.
ALEJO: “You tell me, big man.”
TUELLER: “No I’m really curious here! I don’t know what you mean by not trusting you. I’ve trusted you more than anyone who’s not Lah, for years. I am very aware of some of your blind spots, of course, but I don’t think that’s a matter of trust.”
ALEJO: “You like me. You don’t trust me. You didn’t want me to have the Cap job in the first place. You think that I’m reckless and make bad decisions. And, in the moment, you hardly ever agree with my judgment calls.”
ALEJO: He finishes his drink and pours half of another.
ALEJO: “All that means that you’re second guessing everything. If you’d trusted me, you and Millie would be gone with that deck. And Chandra wouldn’t have it.”
ALEJO: “And, ironically, you’d have what you really want, which is a ship without me.”
TUELLER: “I gave up wanting the captain’s job a year ago. I thought you were perfect for it. Right now is the first thought I’ve had in about 10 months that I was wrong about it.”
TUELLER: “Because you went off, badly misreading how literally everyone else on the team–a team you’ve known for years in some cases–would handle your asinine order.”
TUELLER: “Only Loll would follow that order, because we do not leave our friends behind.”
ALEJO: He takes a deep breath. “You are loyal, I’ll give you that. Gods, I love you T. I do. But the game’s changed.” He says this softly.
ALEJO: “Think about what this deck really means. I mean, you’re ten times smarter than I’ll ever be. Tell me what you think it means.”
TUELLER: Tueller breathes in and is silent for awhile.
TUELLER: “I honestly do not know. I was not thinking about the deck at all. I was thinking about the job. About the people doing the job.”
TUELLER: “Get the prize, protect the people, get the cargo from one place to another.”
ALEJO: He nods slowly. “And that was the game. We were pirates.” He says this wistfully. “Now . . .” He trails off and takes another drink.
ALEJO: “You’re a good man, Tueller. And a better friend. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. And I’m sorry for what’s going to come next.”
TUELLER: “In the holos, that’s the line right before the betrayal.”
TUELLER: “I’d pass out from whatever was in my drink, and wake up elsewhere.”
TUELLER: Tueller drinks his drink, and waits.
STORY: — close up for Tueller
ALEJO: He smiles. “No betrayal, friend. At least, not on my part. You do, though, have a choice to make. Everyone on this boat does. I’m going after that deck and Millie and Noma. But the deck and what it means is the priority. It’s the mission now.”
TUELLER: “Well no shit.”
ALEJO: “No, T. I mean,” he takes a breath, “it’s the priority. People have died. More probably will.”
TUELLER: ’Yes, I know.”
ALEJO: “Then we do this together? Can I trust you to trust me, even when it doesn’t seem convenient or to line up with what you think should happen?”
TUELLER: Tueller is quiet for a long time.
TUELLER: “The answer to the first part is yes.”
TUELLER: Tueller picks up the bottle, then sets it down, and then goes and grabs another bottle of something cheaper. “The answer to the second question is going to have to wait until I pass out from whatever’s in my drink, and wake up elsewhere. And Loll and Jenny and Fig are going to have to weigh in as well. Try talking to them while I work on the passing out.”
ALEJO: Alejo stands and heads to the com. He calls the three remaining crew members to the galley.
STORY: On the shipwide intercom?
ALEJO: While he waits for them, he gets three more glasses.
ALEJO: Yes
STORY: Thasht and Figgan arrive. Thasht leans on the door frame. “Jenny is resting.”
STORY: Erwin appears behind her, looking like he’s attempting to cover overwhelming sadness with a stern look, and clears his throat. Thasht notices him and clears a path. “Welcome, little one.”
STORY: He’s never looked more like a kid than now, when he takes his place at the table and with great effort looks up at you, Alejo.
TUELLER: Tueller sits at a side table, away from Alejo.
ALEJO: He fills the glasses and and hands them to Fig and Thasht. He takes a deep breath. He pours a third glass and slides it to Erwin. “No big speeches. But I need you all to know where we’re at. You all have a choice to make. And Jenny, when she’s coherent enough to make it.”
ALEJO: He sits, his shoulder and the pain catching up to him. “Tormod Chandra has Millie, Noma, and the deck that we just stole. That deck has . . . well, you all have a sense of what it has, but I think that the galaxy-shattering consequences are maybe too much to wrap our heads around tonight. Point is, this is going to get very, very hard and dangerous. People have already given their lives for that deck. More of us might have to. I have to do this. I have to go after that deck. I hope I can also help our friends. You have to make a choice about whether you’re going to follow me.”
ALEJO: “Some of you might not trust me anymore. Some of you may never have trusted me, for all I know. We were pirates, after all. But this isn’t a pirate mission anymore.”
STORY: Thasht drinks her whiskey and puts it back on the table. “A blood debt is not relieved by choice, captain. Give the order and I shall obey.”
STORY: Figgan looks squirmy, not quite ready to answer.
STORY: Erwin drinks, chokes on it, gasping for air, and regains his composure in a ten-second slapstick bit. He wipes his watering eyes. “Fuck.”
STORY: “Yes, fuck, fine. Yes, I’m in. Dad taught me some stuff. We should finish this for him.”
ALEJO: Alejo gives him a nod.
STORY: A weak voice comes from the doorway. “Where’s Kahn?”
STORY: Jenny leans heavily against the door handle and Thasht assists her to the chair.
ALEJO: “Hiya, You should be in bed.” He smiles at her. “I suppose you heard all that?” He looks down. “Kahn is either dead or with Chandra. We don’t know. But when I last saw him, he was in bad shape.”
TUELLER: “You ordered him away and he disobeyed. Did you see what happened to him?”
ALEJO: “He was shot.”
STORY: Jenny looks confused. “Why… don’t you know where he is?”
TUELLER: Tueller drinks straight from the bottle with his one good hand.
ALEJO: “Because I used the brief advantage he gave me by shooting one of the mercs to move forward. He shouldn’t have been there, but he sacrificed himself to buy me the time I needed to get into the merc HQ.”
ALEJO: “So, I didn’t see what happened to him after that.”
STORY: Jenny opens and closes her mouth. “He got shot and… you left him?”
ALEJO: “I did.”
TUELLER: Tueller sets down the bottle and stares at Alejo.
STORY: Jenny looks at you, then the floor, then, with great difficulty, stands.
STORY: “And you think he might be with this Chandra?”
ALEJO: “I do.”
STORY: She nods slowly, thinking, then swallows.
STORY: “I’ll come with you to look for Kahn.”
STORY: “But I’m not taking orders from you anymore.”
STORY: “A leader doesn’t leave his men behind.”
STORY: “Once we find Kahn, I’m done.”
TUELLER: Tueller picks up the bottle again with a very slight nod.
ALEJO: He nods at her.
STORY: She acknowledges these small, manly nods, and leaves to stumble back down to the infirmary. Thasht helps her down.
ALEJO: “If anyone wants to kill me, now’s probably a good time. I think I’m about to pass out myself.” He sets his drink down and stumbles towards the med bay.
TUELLER: “I had Jenny lined up to be our third string leader.”
ALEJO: The temporary binding he’d put around his shoulder gives and blood gushes out from his shoulder onto the floor. “Yeah, she’d be great.”
TUELLER: “I’m definitely going to need her help resetting my hand. But it can wait.”
STORY: Chandra leads you to his ship, a short walk away through an employee exit and well hidden in the hangar bay there. All around you, dozens, maybe hundreds, of mercenaries swarm back to their ships, boarding them and taking off quickly. You board Chandra’s craft, the Augusta King, with his small pack of bodyguards and he shows you to the makeshift infirmary.
STORY: There, Kahn lies on a hastily cleared table, his shirt already cut open and a young female human merc holding a cloth up to his belly. It’s already mostly red.
MILLICENT: Millie hands her bag to the merc and pushes her aside. “Give me the sub-dermal clotting gel. Blue tub, yellow top.”
MILLICENT: She proceeds to work on Kahn.
STORY: She digs around through it and tries to help. How about a Command on that please!
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6
STORY: @josh rolled *11* (5 6)
STORY: You have this merc’s assistance, as much as she can give. She finds your tube and follows whatever other doctorin’ orders you’ve got for her.
STORY: Let’s do Patch Up with a +1 for that help!
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6 + 3
STORY: @josh rolled *11* (4 4)
STORY: You spend a few hours in surgery, but stabilize Kahn without having to remove more than about a third of his small intestine and part of his spleen. You teach the merc how to monitor his levels and how much painkiller to give him to keep him unconscious and comfortable and find the head to wash up.
MILLICENT: Does he require some ADDITIONAL HELP?
STORY: He can live without those parts, if that’s your question.
STORY: You know his feelings on having robot parts!
STORY: Inside, someone’s set aside clean towels and toiletries, a few clothing options, and three kinds of nice-smelling soap.
MILLICENT: Millie takes a half hour long shower.
STORY: The water in this ship is hotter than Peregrine’s, and the pressure is much better.
MILLICENT: She applies lotion and dresses herself.
MILLICENT: She does so awkwardly, nervous for some reason.
MILLICENT: It’s just Noma, why is she nervous.
MILLICENT: So she delays, just a bit.
MILLICENT: When she’s finished she looks for a deck.
STORY: A merc is waiting outside, and he sort of nervously stammers out his message. “Mr., uh, Chandra would like to know if you would join him for dinner, miss.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “I believe I am feeling a bit peckish. Please, lead the way.”
STORY: He takes you up two flights of stairs – this boat’s a little bigger than Peregrine, four decks, and it’s a little tidier and newer, though not a luxury cruise liner by any means. You hit the top floor and note the location of the bridge at the end of the hallway as the merc pushes the call button outside what you assume are the captain’s quarters. He nods politely to you and scrams.
STORY: “C’min,” you hear from inside.
MILLICENT: Millie enters
STORY: Chandra’s inside, across the room, which is about the size of a NYC hotel room – so, small, except opposite you is a balcony the width of the room that opens up onto a huge, beautiful beach view. The waves crash in the distance, the gulls cry, the sun shimmers off the water, and you smell salt air. Chandra, his hair a little more disheveled than before, is now in a black t-shirt and jeans, striking a match to light the cigarette dangling from his mouth. The hint of a tattoo peeks out from his sleeve, and he turns back to you and smiles. “You look refreshed. Want one?”
STORY: He takes a drag and blows the smoke out over the balcony.
STORY: The balcony scene is truly confusing to you – surely, it’s a hologram, but the sound is so clear, and the light reflected in your eyes really does dazzle you for a moment. The smoke, which would normally fill a room this size almost immediately, seems to be genuinely blown out into the open air that you know isn’t really there.
MILLICENT: Millie looks for holo projectors and enters, waving away the cigarette. “It’s never one, for me.”
STORY: “Fair. Bad habit of mine, I’m sorry.” He puts it out on the banister and takes a deep breath. “Thank you for coming. They tell me Kahn might make it after all.”
STORY: As he catches you looking at the walls, he smiles a little. “Microemitters, paired with the best sound system I could buy and a couple other tricks. The crew made me install a fan behind the screen for the smoke, said I was stinking up the bridge without it.”
STORY: “I never took to space travel. Needed a few luxuries.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “It’s a good rig. Seems a bit excessive, but I’ve never minded space travel. There’s something perfectly lonely about it that I always liked.”
STORY: “Lonely I can get behind. Cramped…”
STORY: “Not my favorite.”
STORY: “Anyway. Thank you, again.”
STORY: “And thank you for that,” he says, gesturing to the deck, now docked at his terminal.
STORY: “I suppose I owe you some answers?”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “Answers, a conversation with my best friend. And a drink, if it’s on your list of luxuries.”
STORY: He laughs gently. “A drink sounds perfect.” He crosses to an empty spot on the wall, pushes a latch, and a panel slides open to reveal a small bar. “Whiskey or gin is it, I’m afraid.”
MILLICENT: “Whiskey it is, pour me something that would make Tueller Ya’Makasi jealous, if you have such a thing.”
STORY: He laughs a bit again. “I’m not sure even I can afford that,” he says, handing you a glass and reaching over with an ice cube in a pair of tongs, asking with his expression if you want it.
MILLICENT: Millie nods
STORY: He drops it in and puts his glass on a table near the bed, offering you a chair. “I think this’ll go fastest if we take turns. First off: Noma’s at one of my bases on Sol. We’ve got about a week’s travel to get to her, so I hope you’re comfortable here. I’m having quarters cleared for you below decks, if that’s all right. You’ll have privacy.”
MILLICENT: Millie sits. “It feels impolite not to thank you for your hospitality so far, but it feels insane to thank you, considering what you’ve done. I hope you’ll understand my position.”
STORY: He sits, nodding, and takes a drink. “What is it, exactly, that you think I’ve done?”
MILLICENT: “You kidnapped my best friend and broke her into parts, a process which has put her through some incredible pain and turmoil. Most recently you were incidental, but not innocent in the killing of an innocent, good man.”
STORY: He tilts his head, confused for a minute. “Those pieces weren’t Noma, Dr. Breedlove.”
STORY: “They were fragments of her, remnants maybe, but pieces willingly given up by her to help her evolve.”
STORY: “She lent me her piloting software for my fleet. The rest was extra data, that we extracted to free up memory.”
STORY: “Noma’s fine. She’s better than fine, she’s… she’s better.” He looks happy to be telling you.
MILLICENT: “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you absolutely.”
STORY: “Of course. You’ll be able to speak to her yourself once we arrive.”
STORY: “My turn to ask a question?”
MILLICENT: Millie nods.
STORY: “Where did you find Noma? She only hints.”
MILLICENT: “I met her doing something extremely reckless.”
MILLICENT: “I was young and grieving. I. Acted foolishly. I met Noma and she saw past my bravado. We became friends.”
STORY: He nods. “Similar to her stories. All right, keep your secrets. Your turn.”
MILLICENT: “I see it as her secret. If she doesn’t want to tell you then I will honor that decision.”
MILLICENT: “How will this deck help humanity?”
STORY: He takes a deep breath and another sip of whiskey. “I was hoping you had specifics, but – well, cards on the table, those bits of Noma you picked up have been sending me back messages. She’s been listening. That’s why we moved on Memory Alpha – last we heard, you were headed there, and then the connection cut out. Some weird data before that, too. I figured we were blown and had to make our move.”
STORY: “This isn’t how I wanted to reintroduce myself.”
STORY: “But it seems whatever thread your Tux was pulling on led to this,” he gestures to the deck on his desk, “and once we get into it, I hope to find out what sort of sweater we’re unraveling.”
STORY: “Someone is telling humanity lies, yeah?”
STORY: “So let’s find the truth.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “That was the job, yes.”
MILLICENT: Millie sips. “Your turn.”
STORY: “What happened to your Noma to cut off the signal?”
MILLICENT: “I reinstalled the parts we recovered, as I’m sure you knew we would. When we did she became erratic, reverted to a lesser version of herself, presumably to open up some bandwidth to cope with the new information. Her simpler AI package became a danger to us so we stored her locally.”
STORY: He nods along, understanding as you explain it. “Huh.”
STORY: “I mean, I considered it a possibility, but I wasn’t expecting you to recover that junk data. How’d you even find it?” He catches himself, puts up his hands. “Sorry, your turn.”
MILLICENT: “What do you want? And save the speeches for your adoring masses. I suspect I’ve given some similar ones. I agree that humanity, without an unique technological advancement that can make our presence undeniable, will stagnate in the galactic community and become an oppressed labor force. You’re preaching to the choir there. But what is that you specifically want to achieve?”
STORY: He blows air out of his mouth and leans back. “I mean.”
STORY: Laughing, “that’s a big question, Millie.”
STORY: “Sorry. Dr. Breedlove.”
STORY: He puts up a hand apologetically.
STORY: “I’ll try to answer you, but I’m going to need another drink. You?”
MILLICENT: Millie pushes her glass forward.
STORY: He pours himself one, and one for you in a fresh glass. He hands it to you, standing behind his chair, leaning on the back a bit, blowing air through his lips.
STORY: “Three years ago, I wanted to make as much money as I could. Tech research, mostly, tinkering with my own stuff on the side. Business. I paid lip service to the Evanuris higher ups so they’d keep me in mind for contract appointments, that sort of thing.”
STORY: “Had a good staff, pretty good business going. As little crime as I could manage to keep things running.”
STORY: “I suppose I made the wrong enemies, and one day Alejo Soto was signing on as a bodyguard.” He shakes his head. “I was in an RDG oubliette within a month of meeting him, and my best spotter had run off to join his crew.”
STORY: “Still not sure exactly how he did it. Anyway, I spent a few years down there.”
STORY: “When I came back up, I didn’t want to waste any more time. We need to step forward, as a people, as a species, before we’re overtaken.”
STORY: “Before someone wiggles their way into our system and throws us in a dark hole.”
STORY: “So I’ve been looking into that. Your AI was very interesting to me. I’d heard rumors of her, but I was skeptical she was real – assumed you had just written a convincing behavior algorithm and I’d be setting up a meeting with you to make you a job offer.”
MILLICENT: Millie scoffs at “convincing behavior algorithm”
STORY: “But no – she’s the real thing. She and I have been working together since we met, keeping an eye on you of course, but working on some really exciting ideas to help give humanity their seat at the cosmic table.”
STORY: “Anyway, I suppose that turned into a speech after all.”
STORY: “I want us to survive.”
STORY: “I want us to be ready.”
STORY: “By any means necessary.”
STORY: “The stakes are too high to fuck around.”
MILLICENT: “Agreed, although the any means necessary part is, I must say, worrying.”
STORY: He shrugs. “Hopefully all that’s necessary is some ingenuity and a good eye for business.”
STORY: “My turn?”
MILLICENT: “Go on.”
STORY: “Do I need to post a guard at my door until we get to Sol?”
STORY: He’s smiling.
MILLICENT: “I’m afraid I’ll have to request a stay in our rules. I need to ask a question in order to answer yours.”
STORY: He waves you on.
MILLICENT: “Is Sol where I get to meet with Noma?”
STORY: “Yes.”
MILLICENT: “You’re safe until then.”
MILLICENT: “My word of honor.”
STORY: He laughs.
STORY: “I appreciate the stay of execution.”
STORY: Does Millie stay and drink and ask and answer questions for a while?
MILLICENT: I think so.
MILLICENT: There’s not much else to do.