Piers and the Wolf (Bougene Station ATU)

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Just a quick set of links to consolidate the narrative for those who want to skip most of the interstitial discussion*:
#1 Piers and the Wolf (character introductions, backstory in dialogue, and where I got the framing for it).
#2 Veronica's Backstory
#6 Steward walks in -- drink orders and fresh fruit.
#7 Boughene Station is the place for dancing and parties -- who knew?
#13 Piers's family. And maybe more than you wanted to know about Menorb/Regina.
#16 And it starts to get awkward. Plus gratuitous lyrics insert!
#17 The Look, and Veronica's little brother.
#20 Veronica and her mom each take a level in badass. And we finally find out why she was flying solo.

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*Mind you, I kind of liked the discussons and digressions, but it breaks up a straight read-through.

 

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If you merely jumped to the end of the thread as a shortcut, scroll up one post for an index of the narrative. Thanks!

So of course I'm going right off the rails again with some topical music from NorCal indie artist Ha Vay (Thanks, youtube algorithm from half a year ago...)

and

 

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Once again, back to the narrative -- even if it turns expository for a bit.

“This crap just keeps happening to us! I don’t get it,” Veronica declares, tail twitching, jaw clenched. “I mean, it’s safe to talk with you about it -- except for the psionics part that I really didn’t expect you to overreact about – but everyone else thinks our family is going to be ashamed of ourselves and we just aren’t. Why would we be?”

Another swig of the screwdriver; I contemplate the orange slice decorating its glass while I think. “You shouldn’t be. I know it’s a really awkward and difficult situation. The part I don’t get is that it’s never about anything real, just badly misunderstood or even totally imaginary versions of your family’s relationships.”

“That’s what I’m saying! That maniac went after Father claiming he was so weak he couldn’t keep Mom from letting a Roth Thokken get under her tail, when there probably weren’t any Roth Thokken within a couple of dozen light years to even try – not that she would have in the first place! It’s not like the genetics of Lethal White are some kind of mystery. Not talked about in polite company, sure, but nothing mysterious. And then that arrogant fool of a hireling took what I’d told him about that, ignored most of it and got the rest wrong. What’s going on here?”

A final gulp and I set the glass down. “It’s your language.”

She takes another sip of hers. “Piers, it can’t be that. I don’t even curse that much.”

“No, not your dialect, the language!” I clarify, perhaps too emphatically. “Every bit of it, from vocabulary to grammar, is wrapped up with self-promotion and contesting status. You know it, everyone knows it. So when you say your father was a hero who laid down his life for his family’s honor, and that your mother loved him deeply, it’s taken as just puffery. They think you’re covering something up. After all, they would if they were in your shoes.”

“But it’s not!” she exclaims.

“I know. You shared the story with me in Galanglic, which doesn’t have that built into it. The neutral story is pretty clear; there's a lot there to be proud of. But the ones who went after you and your family heard it in Gvegh or whatever...”

Roni interrupts. “Right ...and heard self-serving bias when it wasn’t there. Good observation. So when it didn’t match reality...”

I interject right back. “… Yeah. They just went with a story that made your family look worse.”

“Exactly. And made them look better.” She looks momentarily confused, then exclaims, “Colloquy!”

I remember that term from my high school language classes. It’s a failure mode in Gvegh conversation... “We have been finishing each other’s sentences supportively instead of to challenge each other, for the last few minutes.”

“Yes. Just like newlyweds … or an old married couple,” she says. “Yikes.”

We both know the socially necessary action here. I look into her eyes; she looks into mine. We nod, knowingly; then, simultaneously declare, “Newlyweds.” And laugh, and hug, and laugh some more. Sometimes the necessary action is ridiculous dominance moves for comic effect – it’s a common Vargr comedy trope, as a pair vigorously demonstrates denial of their mutual attraction -- but not tonight. Tonight, it’s just silliness.

 

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Writer's notes:
I've hit most of the points I'd set out for myself at the start:
- Peter and the Wolf, recast as space piracy (sort of).
- Akumgeda as "uplifted Herding Group canids" (I still have a point or two left to make on that)
- Merle gene being linked to psionics; Akumgeda with single copy, Roth Thokken with two copies.
- Description of The Look as a psionic skill (basically, it's Send Thoughts with an attitude)
- Dug myself out of a plot hole (why does everyone keep picking on Veronica's family for no reason?)
- Explained the Vargr conversational failure mode of "Colloquy" (if you're not conversing in Swagger Mode, something has gone terribly wrong...)

I still have to get to a few things I've left open:
- Jump rituals and First Meal
- Meeting and interacting with the other passengers, and perhaps crew other than the steward.
- Disco -- In Space! And on Boughene Station too.
- What exactly is the club-drug "Teecy" and why it matters.
- What happens to the Duck?
- What does the Duck look like anyhow? I really want to develop deck plans, or at least sketches (it's a canard* layout, and I didn't realize that's what my quick text description at the tag end of the Gypsy Queen thread meant until I read it again a couple of weeks later...)
- Piers has been just a mirror through which we see Veronica, and could use more characterization.
- And finally, the big conflict in the story: can Piers come to trust Veronica again despite his fears of her psychic powers? Should he?

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*Link: wikipedia

 

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Piers left my room, to go dress for Jump Dimming and First Meal. I get into my EVA suit for that, for the first time since I tried rescuing the Duck Duck Gone last week. The suit’s comfortable as always, but memories intrude: Handcuffed! Almost murdered! I shake my head – can’t dwell on it, that isn't me. Piers and I showed them, though! Contemptable idiots. We flat out stole that ship out from under them perfectly legally -- we’re clever and they weren't. And, what they did doesn’t matter, because we won. I take the suit’s helmet, stand straight, tail and head high, ears front -- we won! Father, I say to his memory, that was when I became the Pirate Queen you always said I would be.

Then again, this probably isn't the frame of mind of a respectable High Passenger. I grin anyhow– we won. I check the mirror and my claws – all tidy -- then step out and stride up the corridior to the lounge.


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Writer's Note: my first attempt at writing an alien and opposite-gender character in first person.

 

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- What does the Duck look like anyhow? I really want to develop deck plans, or at least sketches (it's a canard* layout, and I didn't realize that's what my quick text description at the tag end of the Gypsy Queen thread meant until I read it again a couple of weeks later...)

Sketch posted. Not entirely happy with it, but it's a point on the board for a slow Sunday.

 

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While working my way through writer's block (mostly, it's about the timing of the next few steps in the narrative, and how high I want the stakes of the next couple of scenes to be), I discovered that The Wave starts hitting the Akumgeda Vargr's home sector (Ksinanirz) about thirty years before the narrative present (1074; present is mid-1106). They're 3 sectors coreward and 1 trailing of the Marches... (3 rows up, one to the right on TravMap.)

Welp.

That will probably affect Veronica's backstory. Her mother and Andrwrr aren't going to make it to Angfutsag sector before The Wave rolls over Roth Thokken space, if starting from Ksinanirz Sector -- and they'll know it by the time they start.

Yikes. Do I want to delete or slow down The Wave IMTU? Can't say I'm particularly fond of either of the Deus Irae ex Machinae setting-wreckers, and am inclined to leave both the wave and virus out of my universe. Still...

 

[Spinward Flow]

Can't say I'm particularly fond of either of the Deus Irae ex Machinae setting-wreckers, and am inclined to leave both the wave and virus out of my universe. Still...

The problem with both is the beyond obvious ROFLstomp on the setting that crushes EVERYTHING in just a few decades.
There's nothing you can do ... except give up and surrender to the inevitable.
Because it's not YOUR game ... it's somebody else's property and they're going to wreck it simply because they can (in a fit of ego/pique).

It's almost as if "filling in the map" for all of charted space was a ... mistake ... or something such that the Third Imperium was "bounded" on all sides by other polities with nowhere else to grow/expand to, therefore the only "logical" thing to do was to ... blow it all up.



I mean, seriously, with the Wave especially, you're talking about something so powerful (and garbled) that it can wipe out not only "civilizations" but entire biospheres pretty reliably, leaving only devastation in its wake as a Galactic Reset Button (which is how many sectors?).

Talk about a Weapon of Mass Disruption.



And then there's the Virus ... which just proves the point of an old Murphy's Law poster line.

If builders built buildings the programmers write programs, the first woodpecker to come along would destroy civilization.

Not only was the Virus like the Borg (ST: TNG) and like the Founders (ST: DS9) ... it also developed psionics as a machine intelligence, which is just DERP.



Seriously, if Traveller needed a setting/milieu featuring "the collapse of civilization" there's the end of the Rule of Man/Ramshackle Empire/Second Imperium going on into the Long Night (-1776) sitting right over there in the OTU history. The trigger was a financial crisis, leading to centuries of a slide into the darkness.

The Long Night is a much better "sunset on civilization" story, simply due to the fact that the causes are self-inflicted (parochial greed, vulture capitalism, etc.) combined with the inherent friction caused by jump lag in communications (making "far away places" REALLY FAR AWAY).

I would argue that during a civilization collapse event such as the Long Night that any world lacking Atmosphere: 5, 6 or 8 and Hydrographics: 4+ would be a candidate for a Die Back World. Any world lacking those features AND with a Population: 6- would DEFINITELY become a Die Back World in the absence of interstellar trade to sustain the world's population ... although the collapse could "take a while" ... but I'm thinking in 2-3 generations, it's all over. Everyone who can leave has already left ... and those who didn't are "trapped" and CAN'T (or simply, won't) leave and are the last of their kind as their civilization dies.

Population: 7+ worlds would be the only ones that could potentially "sustain" their civilization regardless of (other) UWP codes, but even then they would need to have enough Tech Level to be capable of self-sufficiency without needing interstellar trade. In some environments (such as asteroid/planetoid belts), that puts a premium on fusion power technologies/industries to sustain life and life support.

Which means, that as soon as people can see the "writing on the wall" following the Market Crash™ ... there's going to be a RUN on interstellar transport services as those with MEANS flee the places that won't survive to the places that will, causing a Mass Migration among the stars. Think refugee crisis in terms of BILLIONS of people, just to get an idea of the size and scope of the (entire) catastrophe across the crumbling of the Rule of Man/Ramshackle Empire and you'll start to get a sense of the level of desperation among people for "the last flight leaving the planet" in those times as the Long Night began to fall and settle in.

Being a Traveller in that era wouldn't exactly be a "safe" profession ...

 

[kilemall]

The problem with both is the beyond obvious ROFLstomp on the setting that crushes EVERYTHING in just a few decades.
There's nothing you can do ... except give up and surrender to the inevitable.
Because it's not YOUR game ... it's somebody else's property and they're going to wreck it simply because they can (in a fit of ego/pique).

It's almost as if "filling in the map" for all of charted space was a ... mistake ... or something such that the Third Imperium was "bounded" on all sides by other polities with nowhere else to grow/expand to, therefore the only "logical" thing to do was to ... blow it all up.



I mean, seriously, with the Wave especially, you're talking about something so powerful (and garbled) that it can wipe out not only "civilizations" but entire biospheres pretty reliably, leaving only devastation in its wake as a Galactic Reset Button (which is how many sectors?).

Talk about a Weapon of Mass Disruption.



And then there's the Virus ... which just proves the point of an old Murphy's Law poster line.

If builders built buildings the programmers write programs, the first woodpecker to come along would destroy civilization.

Not only was the Virus like the Borg (ST: TNG) and like the Founders (ST: DS9) ... it also developed psionics as a machine intelligence, which is just DERP.



Seriously, if Traveller needed a setting/milieu featuring "the collapse of civilization" there's the end of the Rule of Man/Ramshackle Empire/Second Imperium going on into the Long Night (-1776) sitting right over there in the OTU history. The trigger was a financial crisis, leading to centuries of a slide into the darkness.

The Long Night is a much better "sunset on civilization" story, simply due to the fact that the causes are self-inflicted (parochial greed, vulture capitalism, etc.) combined with the inherent friction caused by jump lag in communications (making "far away places" REALLY FAR AWAY).

I would argue that during a civilization collapse event such as the Long Night that any world lacking Atmosphere: 5, 6 or 8 and Hydrographics: 4+ would be a candidate for a Die Back World. Any world lacking those features AND with a Population: 6- would DEFINITELY become a Die Back World in the absence of interstellar trade to sustain the world's population ... although the collapse could "take a while" ... but I'm thinking in 2-3 generations, it's all over. Everyone who can leave has already left ... and those who didn't are "trapped" and CAN'T (or simply, won't) leave and are the last of their kind as their civilization dies.

Population: 7+ worlds would be the only ones that could potentially "sustain" their civilization regardless of (other) UWP codes, but even then they would need to have enough Tech Level to be capable of self-sufficiency without needing interstellar trade. In some environments (such as asteroid/planetoid belts), that puts a premium on fusion power technologies/industries to sustain life and life support.

Which means, that as soon as people can see the "writing on the wall" following the Market Crash™ ... there's going to be a RUN on interstellar transport services as those with MEANS flee the places that won't survive to the places that will, causing a Mass Migration among the stars. Think refugee crisis in terms of BILLIONS of people, just to get an idea of the size and scope of the (entire) catastrophe across the crumbling of the Rule of Man/Ramshackle Empire and you'll start to get a sense of the level of desperation among people for "the last flight leaving the planet" in those times as the Long Night began to fall and settle in.

Being a Traveller in that era wouldn't exactly be a "safe" profession ...

I didn’t overthink the content process, just figured it was the primal need to knock over the sand castle/lego structure just built.

Like the Sim City disaster modes of earthquakes, fires, tornadoes and monsters, tearing up your pretty city. Built in from the beginning.

If they needed an interesting era to provide a different version/setting within the OTU, I’d go barracks emperors.

 

[Spinward Flow]

If they needed an interesting era to provide a different version/setting within the OTU, I’d go barracks emperors.

The civil war, Emperors of the Flag, era would definitely have made for a more interesting setting for a Third Imperium that was under severe internal stresses and strain.

 

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@kilemall and @Spinward Flow:
We've had this discussion a few years ago. (9-page thread, "What Was The Catastrophic Event That Caused The EW?")

My gripe (and it's partly on me for not putting it together before) is that the wiki descriptions of the Akumgeda and the Roth Thokken don't mention that they're the second/third polities* to get hit by The Wave -- and for them, it happens shortly before the Golden Age play era so those worlds should be written up as either having been totally wiped out or as recovering, not as though nothing's happened. (The Zhodani got hit first, as far down the Core Expeditions Route as you feel like having it happen -- they got centuries of advance notice.)

Pretty sure those two groups were placed on the coreward periphery of Vargr space so they'd be rare in Human space (so, completely aside from the in-universe reasons for them going out there). That this meant the fact they'd be the first hit wasn't much noticed. Honestly, unless you go down the rabbit-hole of doing deep background or world-building research inside Vargr space/culture, you'd probably never know. Me, I got snagged by the nearly-explicit in-universe link between canine merle genetics and psionics, and off I went and here I am.

The thing here is that "they hadn't written it yet" -- the same issue that undercut A4: Leviathan. Just because they're off the edge of your maps, doesn't mean nothing happened there until you looked that direction.

And yeah, the wave got a few rounds of retconning over the years so even if they'd written it into the descriptions, it'd probably have been obsoleted.

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* Pedantry: The Akumgeda polities are the Kechk Pact and Kechk Reversion, and I'm grouping them together here.

 

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Veronica:

Piers is near the head of the Captain’s table. Oddly, he’s not wearing a vacc suit while most of us are. Nah, he’s good -- his environment suit’s chameleon camo is set to look like a leather jacket. Clever. Vain. I approve.

I wave -- he waves back and points to the empty seat next to him. We’re high passengers, entitled to sit there.

Two cheerful tawny Gvegh Vargr sit across from him; they’re a couple, their vacc suits well-tailored but not well-worn. So, well-to-do. So am I, but mere money isn’t as good as owning a ship – that’s now a potential weak spot I’ll need to rhetorically shore up until I get to Boughene’s sales yards -- or, if I have to wait, the yards at Efate.

There are other humans in the lounge at the other table, and a couple of crewpersons. I recognize Al the steward, who’s busy explaining the emergency rescue bubbles to the two passengers not in vacc suits. Two other humans come in – one male in an advanced but used vacc suit; one female in a suit-liner jumpsuit. Each is military, they’re together but not paired. Al calls out an offer to orient the female on the rescue bubbles, which she declines, saying that she knows those things, but thought her armored suit would be overkill for this. Al shrugs and turns back to the others.

There is a chime, and a voice over the ship’s speakers. “Good evening, passengers! I’m Jeffrey Ikandi, your captain. We will be Jumping in a few minutes. There’s a countdown clock on the forward bulkhead with the time remaining before initiation. You might be able to sense the turbopumps forcing fuel into the drives; this is normal.”

And of course I do – there's a quarter-harmonic beat frequency thrumming through my boots, because the pumps are slightly out of sync. It’s easily within safe limits, but I could do better. Not my job today, though.

The captain continues as I take my seat next to Piers, “If anyone wants to look out a window into Jumpspace once we’ve Jumped, let us know and we’ll let you. Also, if anyone does not want to, or has ever experienced Jump Mania from doing so before, let us know that as well and we’ll protect you from that. In any case, we’ve asked you to wear your vacc suits -- if you’ve brought them -- as a reminder that in the long-ago early days of Jump, it wasn’t as reliable as it is now. We will also dim the lights at transition in memory of when it required all of a ship’s reactor’s output to light off the Jump Drive. We’re big on traditions here on this ship.

“Also note the string of blinking lights down both corridors. These lead to the ladder up to the ship’s lifeboat. In the event of an emergency, the lifeboat will be manned and a crewmember will assist you in getting to your assigned seat.

“In addition to this having been a reminder of the legacy of starflight, this orientation satisfies the Imperially mandated lifeboat drill requirement. Thank you for your attention. We will be Jumping in approximately one minute.”

I look at the clock, and note that he’s timed it correctly. Sign of good speaking skills, good leadership. Or maybe just years of practice?

Piers introduces me to the Vargr high passengers across from us, Estfanngh and Karlissa. They’re going to Boughene Station for trade goods to take back to Feri.

We brace for Jump, though there's never anything to actually brace for. The lights dim and the last few seconds roll off the clock. Piers hand finds mine; I think it reassures us both.

The captain's voice comes back over the speakers, but he's not talking to us directly. "... Three, two, one -- now." The room lighting comes back up, and he continues, "Looks good. You've got it?" A pause. "Great, thanks. I'll be back in a few."

 

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The two Vargr and Veronica are talking a bit faster than I can translate; still, I can tell she doesn't have her usual attitude and that's not good. I reach over and take her hand supportively -- better for me to be the one reaching out and appearing to rely on her, even if I'm helping her. After all, I'm outside their power games, she's not. It seems to revive her mood, which helps mine too.

In walks Captain Ikandi, who sets to a credibly-sincere grip-and-grin meet-and-greet with we High Passengers; Al making the introductions. Seems nice enough, and competent. Turns out First Meal will be in twenty minutes, so everyone should have time to change into more comfortable clothes.

 

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I'd like to thank @The Pakkrat for a splendid art piece he's done. It fits a scene that's two steps ahead in my narrative (set between jump breakout and arrival at Boughene Station) so I'll post it when the story gets there. The intervening scenes are First Meal, and Dancing Lessons.

The artwork solved two questions I had:
First, which concept of the Gypsy Queen class was the Duck Duck Gone -- the Vargr hot rod, or the Really Fast Scout? It's the latter (me, from back in February):

But seriously, it's likely to look like a "Type J Seeker mod" done to my 199Td Type ST J4/2G Transport Scout. I really ought to sketch it up, one of these days.

The second question was, what does a Vargr bikini top look like (in either canon or informed fanon)?

Answer: it has two rows. Presumably, the Ancients' genetic uplift process retained only the thoracic teats, with the remainder (abdominal and inguinal) edited out since Vargr would be having fewer offspring at once. Yes, I spent far too much time on Wikipedia researching canine anatomy*... And yes, it's convenient for fan art -- just anthropomorphic enough to be understood as "human-ish female" without being "technically correct but weird-looking". At least they're bipedal so we don't have to argue about which way their pants go! (knowyourmeme.com)

I should have some story bits up tomorrow. For those following along, thank you for your patience.

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*seriously, canine legs and feet are weird.

 

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what does a Vargr bikini top look like (in either canon or informed fanon)?

This is not to say that the art piece includes a female Vargr in a bikini top (it doesn't); it was meant to obliquely address anatomical details.

 

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I should have some story bits up tomorrow. For those following along, thank you for your patience.

Piers:

We’d all dressed up for dinner. The Vargr couple are wearing coordinated and acceptably garish outfits, with all the accoutrements. Captain Ikandi is in his full dress uniform, and the fellow from Feri is in a professional-looking suit. I’m in my formal – such as it is – Scout Service flight suit. I have no idea where Veronica got that stunning plum-colored hock-length dress. Didn’t have it with her when she boarded the Duck, and she couldn’t get back to her ship for her wardrobe. But I guess even a Class B starport can provide alien fast-fashion tailoring if you’ve got a multi-megacredit ship payout in hand…

D’rrell and Ndeen, the Vargr brokers, have been talking up the advantages of trade speculation using hired cargo space, while Veronica waxes lyrical about the freedom of trading with one’s own ship. Captain Ikandi shared economic details of subsidies – it’s not particularly exciting, but it is a very steady paycheck. John from Feri makes use of his datapad to translate our Gvegh conversation – as does the Captain – to comment on the benefits the Windsor nation on Feri gains from its rightful control of offworld commerce. I think the rest of us are a little skeptical about that, but it’s not worth the effort to argue. The food is impressive, of course. Real meat, and very fresh. The fruits and vegetables are, too.

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Writer's note: posting this fragment just to put something on the thread -- more to come but I'm calling it a night.

 

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Then the big question drops. Almost looked like the Vargr couple were smugly deciding which of them got to ask it – turns out it’s D’rrell. “So… what happened to your ship?”

Veronica nods, takes a breath. She’s not as off-balance as before. “Well,” she says, “I sold it to Feri’s Starport Authority for a fair profit.”

John speaks up from the far end of the table. “Why would they do that? They’re not generally in the used starship trade…”

“They’re not,” she replies flatly. “At first they were just going to keep it… ‘indefinitely’ … for customs inspection, while suggesting that I really ought to get off the planet as soon as possible for my own good. Then my associate here,” she points to me, “had the Scouts step in, and the Starport Authority quickly went from ‘no offer’ through ‘an offer I couldn’t refuse’ to ‘an offer they hoped I wouldn’t refuse’.”

“What did the Scouts have to do with it?” John asks. “I saw the news reports, and it was just you helping repair one of Windsor’s contract Customs Patrol ships – despite what hostile disinformative radio traffic might have suggested.”

I catch Veronica’s eyes in mid-roll. “May I?”

“Sure, have at it,” she responds.

“You see, I was there as the junior crewman on that contract ship, the Duck Duck Go. They had a Letter of Marque to do customs enforcement, but at the last minute they found that their sensor and computer suite flaked out. They needed a computer and electroncs guy, and that turned out to be me. The electronics stuff apparently was transplanted from a scoutship that went missing out Coreward last year, and I brought everything back online using old Scout Service standard fallback codes. So, they hired me on. Seemed a little sketchy, but it was law enforcement, close to “home” and a decent salary.

“Anyhow, they decide to get cute and lazy. Instead of running down inbound traffic, they shut down the power plant, pretended it had failed, and sent out a distress call. Veronica here,” I nudge her and she perks up slightly, “comes in, docks the Bay of Wolf to the Duck, and walks in with tools and spare parts to fix things up. Honestly, way too trusting of her.” Her expression falls again. So much for perkiness...

“As soon as she steps out of the airlock, my other four crewmates hold her at gunpoint, handcuff her, and palm her off on me to watch while they board her ship looking for contraband and such. Wait, let me back up a bit. Before she docked, the captain ordered the Duck to stop logging audio, video, or radio traffic. Seemed really sketchy to me, but I was new to this so I didn’t question it in the moment.”

John chips in, “Makes sense to me -- Customs enforcement is serious business. Can’t have our guys worried about being second-guessed.” The justification takes the rest of us aback, including Captain Ikandi.

“Ok,” I mutter, and continue. “Anyhow, as soon as they’re all on the other ship, I use the fallback access codes to resume the canceled logging retroactively and send it as a voice message to the Detached Duty Coordinator at Scout Base Feri. And, of course, relay those guys’ radio traffic back to the Duck. I mean, they thought they had control of the Duck, but the ship’s computer isn’t the Duck – it thinks it’s the scoutship Robot Unicorn and it likes me.” John’s starting to look at me with suspicion. Good.

“So they’re sweeping Veronica’s ship – it’s a Far Trader built to be flown single-handed – and finding nothing, no contraband and not even any other crew. And they start getting ideas. Not good ideas, or nice ones, but they have them and talk about them, and make plans. With no other crew, there won’t be any witnesses when they either coerce Veronica into confessing she’s smuggling, or just kill her outright if she doesn’t cooperate. And they don’t know we can hear them, or that there’s now a record at the Scout Base.”

“She must have been guilty of something, or they wouldn’t have boarded her ship in the first place,” declares John, before suddenly realizing he’s outnumbered at the table by seriously un-amused Vargr.

This could get ugly. “Not this time, she wasn’t,” I state evenly. “And this is not the time for that.” He shifts uneasily in his chair, but doesn’t protest. Veronica and the couple across from us relax slightly.

Ndeen asks me, “So, why did you betray your crewmates? Did you take pity on Veronica?”

Oh, sneaky -- even after bonding over a common opponent, she still takes a swipe at her.

“Pity? No, just anger. She’d done exactly what you’d expect anyone to do when they come across a stranded ship, and these goons took advantage of it – and intended far worse.”

“Are you sure it was your own idea?” she continues. "She’s Akumgeda, and they’re known to have… certain abilities.” Both Captain Ikandi and John sit bolt upright at that; Veronica looks anxious.

I have my doubts, but they're not for now. “Look. If she has the psionic abilities you fear she has, it’s kind of late for us to do anything about it now.” I shrug. “That said, I’ve seen no sign of anything of the sort – for whatever that’s worth.” My laugh seems to disarm the others, to Veronica’s relief.

The Captain has a dubious tone. “Even so, it looks like you hijacked your own ship with this Vargr’s assistance. That’s disconcerting.”

John adds, “And you interfered with law enforcement. Why should we take you at your word?”

“I’ve got the logs – as do the staff at Scout Base Feri. I could play them back for you if you’d like…” In the face of murmurs, I go on. “John, you mentioned law enforcement. That’s what I signed on to do. I did not sign on for piracy --”

“Privateering. Totally legal,” John interjects.

“Even privateers can only target enemy vessels. This wasn’t one. Again, I have the logs if you want to hear it for yourself. I was upholding the law.”

D’rrell steps in. “So, it was your idea then?”

I realize where he’s going with this, and once again we’re talking around the key player in this game. “Yes and no. I knew I couldn’t leave her to their mercies, but it was her idea to make a salvage claim on the ship to give us cover back to Feri.”

Veronica finally speaks up. “I came on board expecting to claim salvage rights or at least a recovery fee, so that was already at the front of my mind. Didn’t know Piers had that much control over the ship’s systems, so with his help it worked out better than I’d hoped.”

And I conclude, “I know about your Charisma, even if I don’t get the nuances and frankly don’t have the,” I gesture at my face, my ears, and behind my chair, “anatomy to convey it myself. Did she demonstrate the right to lead? Could be. She had an idea, a plan, and convinced me – though in fairness I didn’t need much convincing. But give the lady her due.”