Writer's note: Still working on it!. Thanks to anyone following this, again, for your patience.
Piers and the Wolf (Bougene Station ATU)
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Vignette -- Significant Events (1):
Verni's waiting in the ship's common space, with luggage. I haven't seen her this happy -- anxious too, maybe, but definitely happy -- in a while. Makes me almost wish I had some Teecy so I could read her aura. No, I’m kidding myself here; I want to read her mind. Can’t, shouldn’t. Still want to.
“Perry,” she exclaims brightly, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Ok,” I respond. Looks like I’ll find out what’s on her mind regardless. “Go on.”
“Bad news first: I have to leave immediately, and I’ll be gone for several weeks. It hurts me too, but it’s for the best in the end.”
“What!?” I splutter. “Why?” I lack her Vargr expressiveness, but my shock and dismay shouldn’t need the help. Maybe they do, though, as she rolls on, oblivious.
“The ‘why’ is the good news,” she continues cheerily. “When I was hanging out in Ned’s Dustbin Tavern here in the downport, this amazing pack leader found me. Captain Bront Theralgodogz of the Invisible Claw, He’s strong, smart, and has a good crew. Needs a drive tech, though – and that’s me! Works out pretty well, huh?”
“Um,” I say, skeptically. Very skeptically. Doesn’t slow her down one bit, however.
“You see, I told him how we got here, and just like that he came up with a plan to get our ship back!” she exclaims.
“Ronni,” I point out, “we have our ship. We’re in it right now.”
“No, Perry. The ship we deserve – the Duck Duck Gone.”
“Wait. The Robot Unicorn? How are you going to do that?” I’m incredulous.
Ronni replies, “Same way we did when we did it. Get on board and use the fallback authorization codes. I memorized them.”
My disbelief is gone, replaced by looming dread. “Piracy. You’re taking up piracy. That mothermother must have charisma off the damn charts…”
“It wasn’t piracy when we did it!”
“We were fighting to save your life, from the goons trying to steal your ship. It’s not the same thing and you know it.”
“Not the way Bront put it. We have every right to take it back,” she defiantly states.
“Ohhh…kay,” I remark, dubiously. “You haven’t really thought this through, have you?”
“What’s to think about? Captain Theralgodogz has a plan, he says it’ll work, we do it, and we get my ship back. Easy.”
“Veronica, how am I supposed to get you out of this?”
“What do you mean? Talk me out of it? I have no choice in the matter – I have a place and purpose now.”
This isn’t looking good, but I have to try, for us. “What are you going to do when it goes wrong?”
“If,” she interjects.
“When. Nothing ever goes as planned. When it goes wrong, and comes down to missiles and beams and guns and dead bodies floating in space – what are you going to do?”
She sighs, wilting slightly. “I’ll do what I need to do for my pack.”
“I was afraid of that. Damned charisma. He knows you still have a price on your head for another week, right?”
“Yes,” she says happily. “Part of the plan – they would never expect me to come back for the Duck.”
“So you’re just leaving me and turning pirate. Impossible! But you’re acting like you’re serious. How in the hellworld can you?”
“Look, Perry, it’s killing me but I have no choice here.”
“Killing you? Doesn’t look to me like it’s even laid a claw on your conscience. If you actually have one.”
“I do! I do! I just don’t get to listen to it right now. You don’t understand. For us, sometimes things will happen while they can, whether we will them or not. And I have to go.”
I sigh; it’s over. "If that's what you feel you have to do, let's get it done," I declare, grabbing her satchel and striding to the elevator. She follows.
"I'll fly you and your luggage to your new ship, and that'll be it."
"I'll call for you when I get to somewhere safe," she says with a touch of hope.
I crush it, as I must: "Don't bother."
Vernikerr looks up at me, dismayed -- muzzle down, eyes up, ears sagging. "You really don't want to see me again? I thought you loved me. I thought I could count on that. Don't you?"
I swallow, then take a deep breath before answering. "I loved the woman that we both thought you were. But that's not you anymore, is it?"
"I'm still myself, Perry!" she protests. I'm Akumgeda -- we guide, we protect, we do not prey. I'm Veronica Aguerre, and I'm forever yours! But Captain Theralgodogz is one of us too, and he says we're all raised up from wolves, and we each have the strength to do this.
“Except for me – I don't! At least I hope I don’t. But he's asked, and I can’t refuse…" She folds in on herself, whimpering. "I'm at war with myself, Perry! Help me...?"
Verni's waiting in the ship's common space, with luggage. I haven't seen her this happy -- anxious too, maybe, but definitely happy -- in a while. Makes me almost wish I had some Teecy so I could read her aura. No, I’m kidding myself here; I want to read her mind. Can’t, shouldn’t. Still want to.
“Perry,” she exclaims brightly, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Ok,” I respond. Looks like I’ll find out what’s on her mind regardless. “Go on.”
“Bad news first: I have to leave immediately, and I’ll be gone for several weeks. It hurts me too, but it’s for the best in the end.”
“What!?” I splutter. “Why?” I lack her Vargr expressiveness, but my shock and dismay shouldn’t need the help. Maybe they do, though, as she rolls on, oblivious.
“The ‘why’ is the good news,” she continues cheerily. “When I was hanging out in Ned’s Dustbin Tavern here in the downport, this amazing pack leader found me. Captain Bront Theralgodogz of the Invisible Claw, He’s strong, smart, and has a good crew. Needs a drive tech, though – and that’s me! Works out pretty well, huh?”
“Um,” I say, skeptically. Very skeptically. Doesn’t slow her down one bit, however.
“You see, I told him how we got here, and just like that he came up with a plan to get our ship back!” she exclaims.
“Ronni,” I point out, “we have our ship. We’re in it right now.”
“No, Perry. The ship we deserve – the Duck Duck Gone.”
“Wait. The Robot Unicorn? How are you going to do that?” I’m incredulous.
Ronni replies, “Same way we did when we did it. Get on board and use the fallback authorization codes. I memorized them.”
My disbelief is gone, replaced by looming dread. “Piracy. You’re taking up piracy. That mothermother must have charisma off the damn charts…”
“It wasn’t piracy when we did it!”
“We were fighting to save your life, from the goons trying to steal your ship. It’s not the same thing and you know it.”
“Not the way Bront put it. We have every right to take it back,” she defiantly states.
“Ohhh…kay,” I remark, dubiously. “You haven’t really thought this through, have you?”
“What’s to think about? Captain Theralgodogz has a plan, he says it’ll work, we do it, and we get my ship back. Easy.”
“Veronica, how am I supposed to get you out of this?”
“What do you mean? Talk me out of it? I have no choice in the matter – I have a place and purpose now.”
This isn’t looking good, but I have to try, for us. “What are you going to do when it goes wrong?”
“If,” she interjects.
“When. Nothing ever goes as planned. When it goes wrong, and comes down to missiles and beams and guns and dead bodies floating in space – what are you going to do?”
She sighs, wilting slightly. “I’ll do what I need to do for my pack.”
“I was afraid of that. Damned charisma. He knows you still have a price on your head for another week, right?”
“Yes,” she says happily. “Part of the plan – they would never expect me to come back for the Duck.”
“So you’re just leaving me and turning pirate. Impossible! But you’re acting like you’re serious. How in the hellworld can you?”
“Look, Perry, it’s killing me but I have no choice here.”
“Killing you? Doesn’t look to me like it’s even laid a claw on your conscience. If you actually have one.”
“I do! I do! I just don’t get to listen to it right now. You don’t understand. For us, sometimes things will happen while they can, whether we will them or not. And I have to go.”
I sigh; it’s over. "If that's what you feel you have to do, let's get it done," I declare, grabbing her satchel and striding to the elevator. She follows.
"I'll fly you and your luggage to your new ship, and that'll be it."
"I'll call for you when I get to somewhere safe," she says with a touch of hope.
I crush it, as I must: "Don't bother."
Vernikerr looks up at me, dismayed -- muzzle down, eyes up, ears sagging. "You really don't want to see me again? I thought you loved me. I thought I could count on that. Don't you?"
I swallow, then take a deep breath before answering. "I loved the woman that we both thought you were. But that's not you anymore, is it?"
"I'm still myself, Perry!" she protests. I'm Akumgeda -- we guide, we protect, we do not prey. I'm Veronica Aguerre, and I'm forever yours! But Captain Theralgodogz is one of us too, and he says we're all raised up from wolves, and we each have the strength to do this.
“Except for me – I don't! At least I hope I don’t. But he's asked, and I can’t refuse…" She folds in on herself, whimpering. "I'm at war with myself, Perry! Help me...?"
Authorial aside (yes, I'm rambling):
The help, of course, is going to be telepathic. The problem I was having was how it manifests. My first thought was that there'd be some metaphorical visual/mental representation of Vernikerr's/Veronica's mind (if you're new to this or it's been too long, they're alternate transliterations of her name) in which the two of them would wander and perhaps battle against a metaphor for her instinctual followership. Sort of a late-60s New Wave SF or early-90s "cyberspace"kind of thing.
But, that's not quite how Traveller psionics works in-game, and I also already have a conceptual framework for how Perry/Piers (ok, I straight-up retconned his name. So?) works his telepathy: it's a loss of boundaries/identity wherein he "becomes" and can sometimes influence the target. (It's Read Surface Thoughts and Send Thoughts, on crack. Well, to be precise it's on Sci-Fi Space Ecstasy -- Far Future Space Glow Sticks and lollipops optional.)
So I'm going with that. Still working on it.
The help, of course, is going to be telepathic. The problem I was having was how it manifests. My first thought was that there'd be some metaphorical visual/mental representation of Vernikerr's/Veronica's mind (if you're new to this or it's been too long, they're alternate transliterations of her name) in which the two of them would wander and perhaps battle against a metaphor for her instinctual followership. Sort of a late-60s New Wave SF or early-90s "cyberspace"kind of thing.
But, that's not quite how Traveller psionics works in-game, and I also already have a conceptual framework for how Perry/Piers (ok, I straight-up retconned his name. So?) works his telepathy: it's a loss of boundaries/identity wherein he "becomes" and can sometimes influence the target. (It's Read Surface Thoughts and Send Thoughts, on crack. Well, to be precise it's on Sci-Fi Space Ecstasy -- Far Future Space Glow Sticks and lollipops optional.)
So I'm going with that. Still working on it.
Vignette -- Significant Events (2):
Another swig of water to rinse the last bits of the Teecy pill down. I hope it kicks in fast -- we don't have much time. Even without it she's trying, reluctantly, to let me in. Talking alone isn't going to change her mind, and that needs to happen now.
I gaze imto her mismatched blue and amber eyes; optical illusion blurs them to a fascinating green. Her mind is open, but it feels like an obligation instead of a welcome.
She doesn't feel me.
I see his pretty green eyes looking back at me -- my imagination does come up with nice little details sometimes. Doesn't matter much; I'm leaving that behind me.
Verni, I'm right here!
It'd be nice if he were real. Maybe I'd have something else to focus on instead of the fear of joining my new pack, and what they'll do. What I'll do, with them. Well, it's too late now... Bront is real, and he's a leader.
It feels like Perry's grabbed my upper arms and is shaking me. "Vernikerr!" he shouts from a vast distance, "Are you in there?" I'm here, I think -- at least I'm pretty sure I am. But he's not, sadly. He always wanted to be me, or at least I imagined he would have wanted into me. Wonderful figment of my imagination, that got me through these last couple of months. But I don't need it now.
Figment of your imagination!? I'm not even real?
Don't need imaginary friends. Not real. Just stop think --
---
I'm crumpled on the deck, shaking. I scratch my left wrist with my fingernails; it hurts, I bleed. I'm here. Not an imaginary friend; not a cyborg. Perry Starmin. Alive.
Verni's curled up into herself on the deck next to me, whimpering. Her eyes snap open, and her head flinches -- i think she deliberately bit her tongue! "You're still here," she says, anxiously," maybe you're real after all. But am I? Did someone make me up just to comfort them?"
"Vernikerr Ergrrah, of course you're real. Me, on the other..." It hits me. "I was you. You think you made me up, and that convinced me I was imaginary. And because I was you, you thought you were imaginary, too." She's fading to grey, tinted red with fear -- no, that's her aura. I can see it now, and sigh with relief; the Teecy must be kicking in at last.
"Let's try that again," I suggest, hopefully.
Another swig of water to rinse the last bits of the Teecy pill down. I hope it kicks in fast -- we don't have much time. Even without it she's trying, reluctantly, to let me in. Talking alone isn't going to change her mind, and that needs to happen now.
I gaze imto her mismatched blue and amber eyes; optical illusion blurs them to a fascinating green. Her mind is open, but it feels like an obligation instead of a welcome.
She doesn't feel me.
I see his pretty green eyes looking back at me -- my imagination does come up with nice little details sometimes. Doesn't matter much; I'm leaving that behind me.
Verni, I'm right here!
It'd be nice if he were real. Maybe I'd have something else to focus on instead of the fear of joining my new pack, and what they'll do. What I'll do, with them. Well, it's too late now... Bront is real, and he's a leader.
It feels like Perry's grabbed my upper arms and is shaking me. "Vernikerr!" he shouts from a vast distance, "Are you in there?" I'm here, I think -- at least I'm pretty sure I am. But he's not, sadly. He always wanted to be me, or at least I imagined he would have wanted into me. Wonderful figment of my imagination, that got me through these last couple of months. But I don't need it now.
Figment of your imagination!? I'm not even real?
Don't need imaginary friends. Not real. Just stop think --
---
I'm crumpled on the deck, shaking. I scratch my left wrist with my fingernails; it hurts, I bleed. I'm here. Not an imaginary friend; not a cyborg. Perry Starmin. Alive.
Verni's curled up into herself on the deck next to me, whimpering. Her eyes snap open, and her head flinches -- i think she deliberately bit her tongue! "You're still here," she says, anxiously," maybe you're real after all. But am I? Did someone make me up just to comfort them?"
"Vernikerr Ergrrah, of course you're real. Me, on the other..." It hits me. "I was you. You think you made me up, and that convinced me I was imaginary. And because I was you, you thought you were imaginary, too." She's fading to grey, tinted red with fear -- no, that's her aura. I can see it now, and sigh with relief; the Teecy must be kicking in at last.
"Let's try that again," I suggest, hopefully.
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man, going for the feels now!
Thank you. More to come.
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