A composition book.

(There's a stained cocktail napkin tucked between the pages. The following is written on it in maroon ink, in handwriting that's very obviously not Aissa's own.)

A world going on, underground, while the rest of the world is asleep.
A corpse in the pilot's seat, still buckled in, but dead before the ship started moving.
Nature, driven out with a pitchfork, always comes roaring back.
And the army ants will leave nothing but your bones.

 

Met some people at the MC today. Gytha'd stepped out, so it was just me and an empty bar for awhile, 'til a private eye guy (could be useful in the future), a Glitch in a gas mask, and some loud Avian showed up. Private eye guy didn't stick around too long, so I ended up talking to maskface-Glitch for awhile.

Can Glitch get drunk? I don't know. This dude was crunching down bottles of something that had a sharp, acidic smell to it, and then he just... kind of started sparking and went quiet. I didn't know what to do, so I radioed for a mechanic. I tried poking him with the handle of a mop I'd found (no way was I going to use my bare hands around someone shooting sparks from their chest), but he kind of... grabbed it and snapped it.
Then I radioed for an exorcist.

He woke up (came back online?) after that, like nothing was wrong. We talked a little more (mostly about how he woke up on a ship with a mask, some scars, and a weird note. I wasn't in the mood to do much talking about myself), I think I may have been hit on, then he rolled out.

I am flypaper for weird.

- A.

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Responded to a distress call late at night. Some guy sounded very disconcerted about what was happening to him, and sounded like he wanted it to stop immediately.

I was not prepared for what I saw when I arrived. I was even less prepared for what I heard.

I bummed a cigarette off of the guy who made the call, and he, Crimson, and I knocked back a few shots to steel our nerves.

It was avant-garde. It was experimental. It was amazing. It was some kind of Glitch glam-rock band.
There were costumes. Skarti and the guy who called (Cole?) were blasted with raw sewage from a saxophone. I met a guy named "Mister Sunshine."

Sunshine ("Is that your first name, or your last name?" "Yes.") seemed friendly enough, but a little... I don't even. I haven't talked to too many people that made it that hard to figure out if they were joking or just wearing several unflattering layers of tinfoil millinery. He kept talking about the Government, conspiracies, star forges, and so on. Crimson did more talking than I did. I sat and agonized and smoked and drank gin and listened to babbling conspirator lunacy.

The music was pretty damn fine, though.

- A.

 

So that Skarti guy asked me to go to the Taranis Ball with him. There is an ulterior motive here-- I don't even think he'd bother to spit on a human if they were on fire. I said I'd go (I even have a fancy dress that'd be suitable), but... Well. Let's just say I wasn't clear-headed enough to go to a party when the time came.

I'm sure I'll hear about this at some point.

- A.

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I've never felt in over my head quite as deep as I do now, and I hate it.

I knew that being friends with Remy and working with the Home base was going to create a conflict. I've been putting it off as long as I can, and I'm going to keep putting it off as long as I still have breath in my body to talk a way out of it. As long as nobody asks me about Remy, I'm not volunteering shit.

He was on the radio earlier today. Looking for a doctor that specialized in "sentient AIs." I didn't think too much of it (Leon mentioned that there were a lot of servers there, he could've been asking on someone else's behalf... right?), until he mentioned "mental diseases." I don't know who he saw or spoke to in the interim, but he asked for me after awhile and I had him beam to my ship.

I really regret being as hungover as I was after the concert last night. I'm not sure that being completely clear-headed would've helped me deal with what I saw, though.

It was Remy, but not Remy. Remy's face, and his voice, but unfamiliar the way your car feels unfamiliar when someone else is driving it. He had on a hat and an actual uniform (no skirts this time). He mentioned not having eaten or slept in days, but it being "okay" because he had "these proteins." He sure as shit didn't look okay, though... He was so pale, and his cheeks and eyes looked weird and sunken. I tried to get him to eat, I even offered him chicken nuggets, and he just called them "childish meals." A moment later he... I don't know, had some kind of seizure (? Can an AI have a seizure?). His nose was bleeding, and he stopped talking, and he just stared off into space and blinked, and I'm honestly not sure when I've been that frightened. Not only of what was happening (sure, I know first aid... but on an AI? I don't know what parts of him are made of what, or what's regulated by what. How can I help if I'm terrified of doing more harm than good?), but of what might happen when he snapped out of it. I know his programming caused issues in the past between him and Leon, and things even got violent. I hadn't done or said anything anti-Empire to him, but if he was having some kind of malfunction (? I guess? Gods, I don't know), I didn't know how he would react to me.

I told him I was going to try to clean the blood off of him, even though I don't know if he could even hear me. I used a towel to try to stop the bleeding and clean him up while I called for a doctor, and he still just stood there blankly. A Glitch came after awhile, but I don't think s/he had any more idea of what to do than I did. Fortunately, after a few minutes, I heard Remy say "Rebooting" and he kind of came to.

The fucked up part is, he didn't know where he was or how he got there. He had no recollection of the radio calls, just turning on the radio and waking up on my ship. I did get him to eat (which he did voraciously), and I tried to get him to stay long enough to at least take a nap... He was worried about being away for too long, though. I did manage to get him to promise to take a break and get some sleep, but I don't know. I'm worried about him... He told me some of what he's been experiencing, and who he thinks might be responsible. I promised that we'd get everything figured out once he was rested. He beamed out a little while after that.

He kept calling me "Ms. Torres." I didn't have the heart to correct him.
I meant what I promised. I just hope he (or his programming) lets me keep that promise. As scary as it was for him to have no recollection of talking on the radio and appearing on my ship, I'm at least a little grateful that he thought to call me. I don't know if he has any other friends outside of the Empire, now that he and Leon are at odds...

I never thought I'd start going all mama bear over an AI in a body that's technically at least two years my senior. Fuck my perceptions in particular, I guess.

- A.

 

Leon and Julian radioed me after Remy left (a day later? The same day? Running back and forth like I have been, it becomes impossible to tell when I'm on the wrong side of dawn). With Leon, it was the usual teasing me for not making enough time to hang out with him (I try to, and I tell him that, but I don't know if he believes me. I'm going to have to try harder). With Julian... Apparently he'd managed to get himself mixed up in some kind of murder investigation? I'm not really sure. Word on the street is that Aiko's was closed down while the investigation took place, and Evan was some kind of suspect, because of fucking course.

I let Julian beam aboard what has apparently become some sort of very expensive flying crisis center.
He told me what he knew about the murder investigation (not much), and some disturbing information about this "job" he'd taken before... I could've pulled an I-told-you-so, but he seemed kind of rattled and I decided not to be a jerk about it. Turns out he'd been followed by two men-- one with a mask like his, one without, both dressed differently. I won't go into what became of what... I'm hoping it was an isolated incident. He's lucky that the desert buries its own dead.

After Julian filled my fridge with booze and beamed off to steal a ship(? He seemed a bit vague on that point. Why are all of my friends so fucking weird?), Leon was on the radio offering pancakes. So, since I could never turn down a good pancake and I honestly felt bad for having neglected him lately, I stopped by.

Met a girl named Lydia there. Energetic, funny kid. Smart mouth, too.
It was nice to be among my own kind, even if they are about a decade my junior.

Julian turned up a bit after that, and ended up wearing a donated pink hat (I guess the whole android-clone test-tube-baby chrome-dome thing just isn't working out for him). Leon brought in a plate of "dulce de leche bacon pancakes" with enough caramel syrup to put an entire colony in dentures. We stuffed ourselves, made some small talk, and he... I guess took the plate of pancakes into the bathroom, before emerging triumphantly and saying that they would, in fact, stick to the ceiling if you threw them.

I probably don't need to get into what happened after that, other than I am apparently a six year old at heart with the maturity and impulse control of a fruit fly. I'm just hoping he doesn't get hit with some kind of "conspiracy to incite vandalism" charge.

Lydia had the idea to egg a house after that. Since I had a bellyful of pancakes and a head full of bad ideas, I went along... Judging by the conversation before that, I probably should've realized that she meant the apartment Remy mentioned on Stark. And that she didn't so much mean a quick egg-and-TP job as she did breaking, entering, and destruction of property. I mostly stayed in the hallway while she and Julian ran amok... Clogged toilet, eggs in the microwave, books on the floor, the works (I did throw a roll of toilet paper at the door, but the results weren't exactly a riot). I'm sure she has her reasons for disliking Remy. I know he (and the recording of Suwedi's speech that he played) has hinted that a number of people do. I didn't try to delve into it, but if I'm putting the right pieces together... this situation's more fucked up than I thought.

I knew that I'd run into someone with a grudge against him eventually. I didn't know it'd be quite this weird for me.
Still... of all of the terrible things I'm feeling right now, "surprised" is not one of them.

- A.

 

Jackton radioed me again, as cheerful and loving as ever.

When I asked him if he was sure that everything was fine, he kind of laughed it off and asked if I thought he was really that bad. We were both busy, so I didn't really get a chance to answer.

I wish I hadn't let that argument a few weeks ago put these ideas in my head.
Trains like that can travel a soul for years.
A terrible thought can have a terribly long career.

- A.

((
))

 

Wake up, putter around my ship, play with Waffles, wait for one of my people to call me, lather, rinse, repeat.

I think I need a new job. My department at Carroli is hell of understaffed, and I don't often get called upon as a ride-along for scientific expeditions or anything.

On the other hand, as it turns out, there's not a whole lot of money in rebellion.

Maybe someone else needs some artwork restored, or a ditch dug, or something...
Gotta update my resume and chase some pixels before the cash runs out.

- A.

 

Gytha asked me to keep an eye on the bar while she stepped out for something. I said sure (I've tended before, albeit ages ago, so how bad could it be?), but that was before I realized she doesn't label any of these damn bottles.

Seriously. A lot of this stuff looks like some kind of homebrew, and some of these bottles look hell of old. Not, like, unsanitary or anything... Just kind of oddly decorative. Super thick cut glass. Fancy swirls and stuff. The kind of thing that you'd see in Earth antique stores, even, which really makes me wonder how the hell any of it ended up storing bathtub hooch on a planet like this.

I guess this place is full of surprises.

- A.

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Still haven't heard from Jackton since that last call.

It worries me, but I think I'd be more worried if I didn't pretty much know that he's been fortifying his ship and getting work done by the occasional Floran... So it's not like he's alone-alone. Besides, this isn't the first time he's gone radio silent for a bit just to pop up out of nowhere again like nothing's happened. I'm not quite sure what to tell him when we do talk again (well, no. I think I know what to say, just not how to say it). There're so many things on my mind... The good thing is, Dan seems to have stopped trying to press me on the issue.
So at least I've got a little breathing space there. It's not like I don't have way bigger fish to fry.
I don't know. Maybe I don't really have that much to say.

Anyway, I ended up tending the bar for awhile today. Gytha seemed to feel bad asking me to watch the place for a bit, but I was happy for the chance to earn some scratch. Of course, once I took over, the place went deader than hell and I spent most of the time fucking off on the radio.

A few people came in. Some merc. Skarti. A number of other faces that kind of passed in a blur of ordering drinks in between Skarti yelling at me about standing him up at the Taranis Ball. I hadn't thought me not going was a big deal, but it was obviously a very big deal to him so I apologized for skipping out like a jerk.

Apparently, he asked me because I'm not like "awful spacer humans." I'm more like the humans he thought humans were like when he read about old Earth. Which... It upset me at the time, but I guess is the kind of compliment Skarti pays to other races. ?

The merc, Vex (Vecs? I really need to get people to start spelling shit out when they introduce themselves) decided to have a little fun with Skarti. I was content to just leave things be, Skarti hasn't learned yet and I doubt he's going to at this late stage of the game, but the merc decided it was a much better idea to dunk Skarti's head in some really, really foul-smelling hooch (it might've been floor cleaner, in retrospect. THE WOMAN LABELS NOTHING). Productive, no, but it was good for a guilty giggle.

There's a bottle of something here with a goshfucked snake floating in it. I don't serve it to anyone, though. Sometimes I talk to it when I get bored. His name is Louis.

Bullshit aside, it feels good to have some actual money in my pocket again. I still have plenty in the bank, but I don't want to burn through any more than necessary.

- A.

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"Mister E."

Guns, armor, building materials, slaves, shipwrights, narcotics, etc.

WMD components hidden in a bullshit shopping list? He says no.

3k for a radio call, though. NBD.

Vex says he'd been asked to go put on a mask and talk to some guy (paid up front). Hypothesizes that "E" is some rich kid trying to break into the slaver game.

?

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Levitz's alive. I know I knew that because of the bizarre fucking message I got awhile ago, but it was different to confirm it with my own bare eyes. He looks a little different now... Maybe not as pale, but I guess having people raid your ice-cave lab while the chick who accidentally fucked up your life helps your android clone-baby boyfriend escape will do that to a guy. According to him, something's happened to Julian... I don't know if I believe him, though. I think he's just trying to get me to avoid him.

Also? That nosy writer turned up again. His name's right on the tip of my tongue, which is frustrating. I know I could easily pick him out of a crowd, could probably even pick out his voice if I was blindfolded, but.

Speaking of names... is Dom "Mister E"? Levitz seemed to think so. Vex, the nosy writer, and I proceeded to troll him with alliteration.

"Enervating." "Energizing, even." "Hardly equivalent."
Dom and Levitz disappeared. I think Vex, the writer, and I decided we were now Friends.

We scooped up as much of Gytha's store of weird shit as we could carry, and beamed off to the writer's ship (I'm almost positive his name starts with E, so he's going to be E from now on. Not to be confused with "Mister E," which is Dominic. Unless he isn't). I don't... even remember how the hell we ended up on the subject, but scarves.

Just. Scarves. I still have a black one (I almost lost it, which would've made me sad. The fabric's so nice). I had to earn it through some kind of frat hazing ritual that may have involved an Avian headdress; building a scale model of San Francisco out of plates, cups, and an hourglass; and then rampaging through it like a monster. I guess I passed. At one point, Vex ended up with my jacket... and this journal, which he read part of. Out loud.
Luckily, it wasn't any of the important bits.

We hit up Haus first so I could pick up the bear Leon'd made me (he sewed it himself, and it's even dressed in the outfit I used to wear all of the time), but I think we ended up making sort of a mess. I mean, there were bottles just fucking everywhere, and E and Vex were in chaps, and I had on a powdered wig and knee-high boots, and I think we confused the hell out of some Avian lady.

So, after that, back to the ship. We were getting hungry and demanding Drunk People Food, and I guess E made the mistake of letting us tear through his kitchen? I don't know, but Vex and I tried to make a cake (it was really more of an experiment to see how much rum you can fit in a single carbohydrate-based dish) (the answers is a lot yes). It seemed to smell alright, even after a bunch of toxictop leaves ended up in it for some reason. E disappeared during this time, which is probably for the best.
I don't know what we did to that kitchen, but I know we didn't clean it up afterward.
Flour and toxictop greens just hell of everywhere.

So, flash forward to Vex and I achieving cake, E reappearing with instructions that we were going to go drunk hiking on a strange planet, and me thinking all of this was a fantastic idea.

The rest is kind of a blur. The planet wasn't what we thought it was-- we touched down expecting a savanna, and ended up in some kind of frozen hellhole in the middle of a storm (a bad enough storm that we weren't able to beam back up, or, trust me, we would've). We found a windbreak in the form of a cave, but it almost did more harm than good... I slid down a snowbank and ended up in water, so all I could do was get out of the wet clothes (which, let's be honest, were not exactly intended for this kind of expedition to begin with). Either E or Vex dug out an area for us to try to build a fire in, igloo-style. I don't really remember much of what happened after that... E was separated for awhile, until he turned up looking about half frozen and three quarters dead. Vex seemed the most "together," I guess, because it's him I remember trying to keep me awake, keep me talking, even keep me warm at one or two points. Mostly I remember feeling exhausted. Tired from the alcohol, physically worn out from shivering, just tired. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I'd get shaken awake or shouted at.

Somehow, we ended up back on the ship.
And it hurt. like. hell.

I think the only thing worse than cold-- really severe, fanged, biting cold-- is going back to normal temperatures afterward. I have hard, red sores along the sides of some of my fingers and toes that make them almost hard to bend. The feeling of my circulation returning burned so fucking bad, I almost wished I was back in the snow. It was awful.

Not quite as awful as realizing that I left my jacket and all of my radios on the planet.
Fortunately, I was able to get them back during a lull in the storm, and ended the night with a few hours in my own bed.

Flypaper for weird.

- A.

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(There is nothing written here-- just a pink butterfly dusted with traces of what appears to be some form of white cosmetic powder, carefully taped in place.)

​

 

I don't know how much sleep I needed, but it was not what I got.

I was lucky enough to be far less hungover than I expected, though-- two bottles of water and something to dull my headache, and I was pretty much right as rain.
Well, right enough to go to the MC to see if I couldn't pick up a few tips for shilling bathtub gin to the local yahoos. No joy there, though-- I don't know what the hell side of dawn I woke up on, but it wasn't the one that makes people inclined to get lucid on some ethanol.

Oddly enough, that Vex guy turned up again. Seemed kind of coincidental, but I was bored to tears and glad of the company. He was kind of nosy, though... Not as much as E was the first time I spoke to him, but inquisitive. I told him about my ma, Brianne, and Maricela. Hell, I think I even told him my grandmother's names (Aimée and Melissa. Two perfectly good names that were smashed into the clumsy portmanteau "Aissa" that nobody ever says or spells right).
After the whole business with "Mister E," I'm wondering if I shouldn't be more careful what I say around him. I haven't exactly been sinking any ships or anything, but still.
I'm not sure how we got onto the subject, but Gytha's organizational system (by which I mean "the complete fucking lack thereof") came up. I said I was working on memorizing which unmarked bottles went to which liquor, but he (cocky ass that he is-- he's lucky he's fun, not that I'd ever let him know it) insisted he could do better already.

So, fine. We set up a challenge: I'd name four types of liquor, and he'd have to pick them out of Gytha's unlabeled batshit bottle lineup. If he succeeded, he'd win exactly one opportunity to make me participate in some kind of shenanigannery (his suggestion). If he didn't... I think I'd win one opportunity to make him participate in it, but I don't really recall.

What'd I do? I began pulling obscure names out of my ass just to see if he could even come close. I wouldn't've been able to identify them myself if my life depended on it (well, except for whatever kind of Pernod-analogue Gytha has), but I was banking on him not being able to either. Someone had to be able to confirm (or pretend to, I guess... I don't think he was any the wiser, though) the liquor by taste, so I ended up drinking the samples he poured out.
I don't really remember all of what happened, just being handed some tequila at one point and declaring that I was "completely not afraid of the fucking police right now."

I guess he won?
Mierda.

- A.

 

Saw Veronica, btw. She's been through some shit... But she seemed alrightish, I guess? I don't know. She seemed calmer than I would've been in that situation.

Maybe that what I found kind of upsetting. I mean, good on her if she has that kind of emotional resilience, but I've known too many people who don't... They think they can fake it 'til they make it, put on a brave face, and crack under a mask. I hope that doesn't happen to her. Especially with her husband away.

- A.

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Gytha left before I could ask her which bottle was wartwine. So, of-fucking-course Skarti shows up to demand some... He described it to me, but it was so vague I didn't really know where to begin looking. I radioed to see if there was anyone out there in radiospace who could help a chick out with some more specifics. So, of-fucking-course Vex answers.

Skarti decides he'll just have water. Vex decides to show up even after I chide him about his sense of humility and mention that I don't need help anymore.

Anyway, Vex had a pretty good idea... Writing names or short descriptions of things on napkins, and using them as a sort of bottle-coaster. At least then I'd be able to tell which was which at a glance (he, of course, reminded me that he needed no such assistance).

The trouble is, that meant we had to figure out what was in the bottles, first.

We started with the ones from the night before (which I guess counted as identified? Idk. I mean, does Vex really think I'd be able to tell if he'd properly picked out tequila añejo? I mean, dude was also operating under the assumption that the bar even contained any of the shit I told him to find to begin with, which... sucker), then started trying to figure out what was in some of the rest. Not too much, since we still kind of had to function well enough to write legibly. So, there was a lot of taking half-shots from unidentifiable swill in mason jars (most of which was actually pretty tasty, and at least one of which contained some kind of newt), and I found a bottle that contains either a reasonably vintage shrunken head, or an absofuckinglutely ancient baked apple. Still not sure. We put that one back.

I've also discovered that the games people play, even when they're fun, are as predictable as hell... whether it's friendly, flirtatious, or someone straight-up trying to get something out of someone else. I've seen it in endless reprises of, "Tell you what, I'm going to do this, and then, if you want to, you can..." Whether those things are "Pour you a drink, and you can drink it if you want to," "Leave this pile of money unattended, and you can accept it if you want to," "Give you my radio, and you can save your frequency if you want to," or "Go home, and you can follow me if you want to."
It's bait. It's banal.
Plus... what the hell am I, some kind of trained puppy? A circus pony to be led around by vague verbal cues? Get the fuck out of here with that noise.

I mean, in this case it was just over exchanging frequencies (after I kind of gloated that, despite winning the the bet, he didn't have any means of actually collecting on it) so it wasn't like it was anything ridiculous or forward or worth being all insulted over. More of a "Dogg, are you serious?" kind of thing. So, I did what I do-- refused to cooperate until I was asked using actual people language.

I wonder if other species have the same sort of scripts humans fall into, sometimes. Are there Avian versions? Apex? What do Hylotl even do?

- A.

P.S.- I have to refill Louis' bottle. Vex drank some, and I don't want him to dry out.

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One bit I'd forgotten to mention...
Had a long, strange conversation with that Sen guy. I was surprised how much I actually enjoyed it, despite there being a distinct sensation of acute worry that he was going to shoot me through most of it.
He's dumb like a fox. I think I'd almost like him if I didn't know he wanted to feast on my entrails.

He was there when Vex and Skarti were at the bar, which actually became... weirdly frustrating? I don't know. He seems like he dumbs himself down deliberately for Skarti, to conform to whatever preconceived notions Skarti has about him and Florans in general. Which, I mean, fuck Skarti's notions, but I really kind of wanted to yell, "What the hell are you doing, Sen? I barely know you, and even I know you're better than this," at him.

Still... dumb like a fox. He pretty much said back some of the things I'd said during our prior conversation, and I kind of felt like an ass for not realizing it. I mean, I guess if I'd seen him doing it to someone with actual power it would've made more sense... but Skarti? Why bother? Maybe he just likes fucking with him. Everyone else does.

I sometimes feel like I'm the only person who actually feels any kind of secondhand embarrassment for Skarti when that happens.

- A.

FUCK SHIT NOT DONE.

Veronica was just here.

Apparently she intentionally wiped some of her memories? She lost her father during her expedition, and I guess it was a lot harder on her than she let on... She came back to my ship to see if I could fill in some holes for her, which I tried to do despite being half out of my skull on whatever kind of lunatic bullshit electric voodoo lizard moonshine Gytha had in those jars Vex and I were drinking. Not that I should ever be responsible for helping someone with Brain Problems to begin with... if I ever end up in that kind of situation, something has clearly gone terribly wrong somewhere.

She was bored, and I was still in that state of tipsy where everything seems like a fantastic idea. So, I fired up my FTL drive and we skipped along to some rando forest planet that the readouts assured me would be pleasantly habitable.

I'm sure we would've found it pleasantly habitable, too. I'm sure the Agaran settlement we beamed down into just loves it there.

Fortunately, we were able to beam back up before shit got drastic. I am now laying in bed, after practically scrubbing my skin and everything I own with bleach, and writing this down as a hard copy of my vow to never, ever go to a strange planet while drunk ever again. Ever.

- A.

 

Sweet salted Jesus on rye toast, I just cannot.
My ability toucan is dead like some kind of insanity-detecting mine shaft canary and I'm really not sure where I was going with this metaphor so NM

I went to Haus today to see what was what, just kind of poke around a little. In short, it was crowded as fuck, I guess that Yung guy stole twenty pounds of cocaine, 8 and Aiko built a kid at some point, there was a rap battle, Crimson (who I feel like I haven't seen in like five ever) showed up, and there was popcorn and a rap battle.
Did I mention rap battle?

Then, I get another blast from the past... The dude whose ship I partied down on after Flora's pool party, Wintermute, messages me. And Remy texts me. So, Wintermute and Remy show up to Haus-- Wintermute to chill, and Remy because holy shit Remy texted me and sounded like Remy (even if it was a kind of broken Remy who couldn't spell very well). Now I'm surrounded by people, and Remy needs to talk in private, but I don't want to be rude to Wintermute, Crim, or Aiko, but also the rap battle, but just oh my fucking god.

So, teal deer version-- me, Remy, Wintermute, some blonde chick, and Leon(!) end up on the Wayward Helpmeet. I actually had to go grab an extra chair. Remy finally looked like himself again-- no hat, no pants (he was in a skirt again), and he sounded halfway normal. We each took a turn telling him what had happened over the course of the two weeks he'd spent kind of out of his mind... Which, even though that was in the past, was a pretty rough deal to talk about. I ended up just opening up my journal and reading the bits I'd written down after the last time Remy and I spoke face-to-face... Not the incriminating bits, or the overly mushy OMG MY FRIEND IS LOST bits, but the factual stuff.
Remy seemed to take it all pretty well. It was obviously somewhat unsettling, I'm sure, but he didn't, like, emotionally blackscreen or anything. Wintermute took the minutes, which seemed like a good idea.

After we were done, we didn't know what else to do. I mean, my headspace was all "Storm the castle, exact retribution, crush, kill, maim, destroy" and shit (because the only things separating me from some kind of interplanetary warlord are a complete lack of ambition and a really baller helmet, I guess), but Wintermute suggested video games. I called dibs on Yoshi. Wintermute called dibs on Bowser. Remy and Leon argued about who got to be the princess, and then which princess they wanted to be.

Anyhow, while this was going on, Remy beams out for a minute. Then he beams back with... all 32 seasons of the Numi show. Subbed (as it turns out, we're all kind of elitist dicks about cartoons. But we're all the same kind of elitist dick, so it's cool). Leon beamed out and then back with snacks. Wintermute set up my big, important, mission-type stuff screen to play it.
And we fucking rocked a Numi marathon.

There were a lot of episodes I hadn't seen before. The last season seemed kind of like an attempt to "grow with the audience" that had been watching it since childhood (is it still childhood for amphibian fish people? Spawnhood? Idk), so it got pretty dark with a quickness.
Plus the last episode ended with a cliffhanger. Fuckers.

At least three of us suck at strip poker (which I wasn't really sweating too much. I would've felt kind of weird playing it but I started with a lot of clothes and I'm pretty sure everyone else there was gay, so whatevs). Leon eventually crashed, Remy had to go back to Lum (because paperwork I think), so Wintermute and I beamed down to the MC so I could continue to enthusiastically wreck my major organs on Gytha's homebrew.

I think I broke him.
I don't know. I gave him some of the green liquor Vex and I had found in a mason jar, which may-or-may-not-be hallucinogenic when sipped (it also may-or-may-not-be intended to be a beverage at all. I have no idea). Wintermute downed the glass I poured and proceeded to completely trip face in a disturbingly organic fashion.

Of course, this was just happening in front of this purple-feathered Avian lady I don't think either of us knew, so... Pretty bad, but not a disaster. Then, because it's been proven time and again that the MC is bad luck for me, Skarti, this one masky-type guy I met once or twice on Tetanus Fields, David, and Danien show up. Then Skarti and the other Avian start doing some kind of screamy-type bird ritual at Wintermute (I guess? Who even fucking knows at this point), Wintermute busts his head on one of the stools, Danien and Masky-type Guy are trying to defibrillate him with a lamp even though I kept saying he had a pulse, and I guess David was quietly hating all of us in a corner or something.

I don't know if it was the stress, staying up to watch all of that Numi, all of the junk food, or just the fact that my life has basically been comprised of trying to fit naps in between near-death experiences and burgeoning alcoholism, but I don't remember what happened after that. Woke up in my ship, tucked into bed, and now I'm writing all this because I am convinced that my lifestyle is going to turn my brain into a sieve within a fortnight.

Still. That last Numi episode, though. WTF, Numi Co.?

- A.

Okay apparently that Wintermute guy stayed on my ship last night? He's passed out in a chair. I have valid questions.

 

I thought about Lela today. Kind of out of nowhere.

I was in the shower, washing my hair. There she was again.

It's weird how such small things will do that, though. I can feel her pulling on my memory every time I look in the mirror (can still feel her holding my hand while Bose plunged needles full of ink into my skin, and afterward when we almost skipped out of the parlor, still holding hands and drunk on endorphins optimism what it feels like to feel young and clever and immortal).
It's just different when tiny things bring her back. The smell of a shampoo. A couple notes to a song that gets caught in my brain. The colors the smog Liberty Mills paints the sky with late in the day.

It's sad, but it's a kind of dull ache that almost feels good. I would worry more if I didn't feel anything. At least feeling the "right" way about it reminds me I'm still a person, and for a couple minutes the distance of years and parsecs seems a little less immense.

- A.

((
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((
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Every once in awhile, for some reason, the universe decides to declare open season on certain people.
I'm not sure why this is. I like to think I'm not a terrible person.
I don't go around kicking puppies or putting babies on spikes.
Maybe this is why I get slotted into being the person who has to try to clean up when other people get shat on? Idk

Hung out at Haus for a little. Wasn't too eventful-- Dan was hanging around with some redheaded chick in his lap, Dre showed up, Evan(!) showed up, Crimson showed up, and Wintermute and a man-sized hangover showed up. We talked for awhile, mostly about Crim's girlfriend(?) that he seems both super into and terrified for. I don't know, the situation he described sounds kind of fucked. I mean, any discussion about someone being in love should not end with instructions on what to do if they find themselves poisoned halfway to death. But... this is me talking, and I have a spectacularly terrible track record with romance anyway.

Speaking of spectacularly terrible track records.
We moved the party from Haus to the MC. Apparently, we weren't the only ones with that idea... I'm not even sure how it happened, but there was some kind of stand-off involving that private eye guy, some mouthy scientist, and... Moony described it as "slavers against freedom fighters," but I don't know why the hell either of those groups would've picked here to go all cops-and-robbers on each other's asses. Because my homies are awesome, we responded as one body (which kind of further pushes the idea that we should ask Crimson to join us, but I digress). Scientist-guy dove behind the counter with me, and I took cover and ushered him into the space between the fridge and the water cooler before posting myself beside him with guns drawn. The situation was eventually diffused, and I politely informed the would-be combatants to go play their reindeer games somewhere where I wouldn't have to end up having to explain them to the bar's owner. So, problem solved.

Then, someone was radioing for a mechanic to fix their busted food synthesizer. Apparently it only makes burritos? I was fine with this, though, because burritos are awesome even if this guy was sick of them. I asked to obtain some of this delicious orphaned Mexican food and Liberty Mills had what was probably its first ever burrito party. Fuck yes.
Made some decent tips, too, though I was running myself ragged between taking orders and passing out food.

Speaking of food.
I now know exactly what goes into "bloody puss."
Sen showed up again. Brought a friend this time. They tried ordering... Floran ethnic beverages, I guess? I had absolutely nothing meat-based to offer, so, in desperation, I gave Sen the bottle with the shrunken head in it. He seemed content with this.
The other guy, not so much. He kept insisting on having "bloody puss," but I had nothing bottled and wouldn't know what it looked like if I did. When they mentioned it contained meat, I kind of started to panic... Facing two Florans, one of whom totes an assault rifle and routinely tells things to "Die screaming", is not the time to tell them you don't stock meat. We haven't got an actual kitchen, why would we?

Desperate for a way to get them out of the bar so I could relax and stop worrying about possibly getting my head blown off and my viscera feasted upon, I finally told them if they brought me some meat, I would completely buy it from them and hook them up with whatever meat-based mixology their little leafy hearts desired. Then I had to specify that this meat should be non-sentient, which is completely not a conversation anyone should ever have in this context.

While all this is going on, David radios me to tell me not to leave the bar. Now, I'm used to David being fairly paranoid, but something about the group that hung around after the burrito party made me nervous. I mean... it turns out the science guy was a slave (the slaver told me while he was pounding tequila in a sombrero) (he was in the sombrero, not the tequila), but it was okay because he wasn't being beaten or anything and he somehow "owed" the guys who owned him so it was really more of an "indentured servitude" kind of thing. I had absolutely no idea what to say to any of this information other than to point out that it was a) kind of fucked, and b) something that could probably be accomplished by paying the science guy. But I digress.

So, Vex Veks (apparently it's spelled with a K) turned up at some point during the Floran meat negotiations. I waved him over to me to I can tell him what David said, mostly because I know Vecks goes around armed to the teeth and I figured I could do a hell lot worse than trying to get a merc in my corner rather than holding the bar on my own if some shit goes down. So, okay, fine. He hangs around behind the counter again, as per (what is rapidly becoming) usual.

One of the Florans leaves, and I'm figuring I might actually be done trying to smooth talk my way out of some kind of interspecies relations disaster. Of course, because this is me we're talking about, he returns shortly afterward with some kind of shrieking wild animal in tow. To prove that it was non-sentient. He beats it over the head, slams it onto the bar, and... Waits for me to do something with it.

Now, I've never butchered anything bigger than a fish, but I can probably do a reasonable job with it. Hang it up, bleed it out, don't puncture the guts, etc. As long as these guys weren't looking for five star restaurant quality cuts of meat, I'm fairly certain I could lop a few chunks off of the (still warm, still breathing) beast laying on the countertop. Fortunately, Veks decided to go all Wilderness Survival on it and butcher it himself which meant that all I had to do was find some pussplums.
I've never handled a pussplum in my life. I'm standing there holding these weird, pulpy things, and I look at Sen like, "Okay, now what? Do they need to be sliced? Peeled? Seeded? What?" And he just says, "Stabbed."
So, because I am in absofuckinglutely no mood to ask questions at this point, what else can I do? I take a knife I was using to slice some citrus fruit for the tequila before, and I stabbed the shit out of those pussplums. Like, just furiously stabbed. They were some severely stabbed fucking pussplums. I have to admit, it felt pretty therapeutic.
Sen's friend even complimented my stabbing technique.
At first we tried to do a sort of meat-and-pussplum sashimi parfait type thing, but apparently this was wrong. Okay, fine. Veks grabs the bar's blender, and whips the whole mess into a kind of bloody smoothie. This seemed to content them. Crisis averted!

Then... I don't know what happened. Somewhere in between trying to serve drinks and clean up animal carcass bits, I guess Skarti was subjected to the most botched and terrible abduction/slave auction in history. There were gunshots , I had to draw and take cover again, it was tense. Even David was there screaming at people for fucking up (which, I mean... Look how long it took me to stop fucking up his shit purely coincidentally. He expects a whole group not to, on what appears to be their first time out?). Skarti was absconded with, Moony was shot to hell and back, and, while he's running out the door, David basically tosses me an assload of nanowraps and wishes me luck.
Dick.

Far from this being the relaxing, tip-making evening I was hoping for already, I hop the bar and start trying to get Moony's vitals. Pulse, respirations, mucous membrane color, pain response. Veks is trying to be helpful by offering to grab medical supplies, but... Considering that what I really needed first were about six more hands and a medical degree, I may have kind of snapped at him (honestly, though-- my head was less concerned with pleasantness and coquetry than it was with remembering how to recognize and treat hypovolemic shock until a doctor could get there). At least he didn't seem to think much of it, because the last thing I could've dealt with (on top of everything else, and with the recent addition of an Avian exsanguinating on the floor) was someone giving me grief for being short with them during a crisis.

Either way, we managed to keep Moony (barely) clinging to life long enough for a real doctor to arrive. This was in between one of the Avians from the Prancing Dragon incident turning up, one of the Florans coming back for the leftover pussplum, someone shooting up the staircase, and Veks and I trying to trade off who had to keep pressure on all of Moony's wounds so she wouldn't bleed out in front of us.

Fuck, I'm tired. Continued later.

 

Anyway.

Skarti came back, because the skullface Glitch from Tetanus (Skyrax?) decided to drop seven million(!) to buy him, bring him back to Liberty Mills (where he was taken from in the first place), and set him free again. At some point, Skyrax also managed to pull a gun on Sen's friend, get in a brief firefight, and end up embedded in the door of the refrigerator. I may... have accidentally torn his arm off attempting to help him escape.

Apparently Veks wasn't the only one I was being less than charming to, either. Wintermute felt kind of slighted, I think... Called himself a third wheel when he, Veks, and I were talking. The fact that I was kind of restricting his intake of Nancy while Veks and I took two shots of it (don't fucking judge me, book. If there was ever an evening for Nancy, this was it) probably didn't help. I'll have to apologize the next time I hear him on the radio.

Before Wintermute left, we talked about Numi for a little bit. I fangirled over the thirty two seasons Remy, Leon, Wintermute, and I had watched the other night... Then almost immediately regretted it (hey, watch the gun-toting interplanetary supergirl squee over a kid's show! lol gods I am ridiculous). At least I was in good company, though-- Veks might be all "Rar I watch srs shows," but at least Wintermute knows my feels. Still, I think our description of the last episode might have piqued his curiosity.
In the end I sort of tried to make a conciliatory gesture by offering to let Veks borrow the holodisc (if Remy left it behind... I'm pretty sure he forgot it in my console, but I have to check), or watch the last few episodes together, or whatnot.
I guess I still felt like kind of a bitch for bring so snippy while we were waiting for the doctor. He's not going to take me up on it, but at least the gesture's made.

For now, I'm going to turn off all of my radios and sleep for about a thousand hours.

- A.

 

((omg you guys <3 <3 <3

also hell yes TD headcanon picture of Aissa what what

))

 

What.

What the fuck happened.

I beam down ready to go collect a few tips for the evening, and... I just can't. Veks beamed down about the same time I did, and we just kind of stood there staring at the smoking remains of Gytha's bar (good show that almost all of these buildings are converted from heavy industry-- her bar's pretty on the inside, but it was built to take fuel explosions and smelting accidents in its past life).

We're not firefighters, needless to say, and neither of us were prepared to rush into a burning building to save some of her moonshine, so what else could we do?

I brought down chicken nuggets, whiskey, and soda, he brought down marshmallows, and we found some long sticks and sat on the porch to make some fucking snacks. Also? Plot twist-- I grabbed my console so we could watch the last episode of Numi (subbed, of course) and tried to ghetto-rig some popcorn. Of course, because A's an enormous wuss when it comes to gore in movies (but, go figure, not about treating actual wounds) (well, not ones that aren't on me, anyway), I ended up pre-emptively covering my eyes when I knew the gross bits were coming up... Veks held up a box of cheese crackers to block the view for me once, which would've been almost kind sweet considerate nice if I wasn't also fairly certain he was just doing it just to be patronizing so never mind and fuck that noise.

Anyway, the rest of the evening was uneventful (as uneventful as things could be when they cooking snacks over a burning building). I got another bizarre radio call from David, asking me to go perform some equally bizarre task (which I did, because the only thing I'm worse at than judging character is pattern recognition), and now I have an absolutely insane amount of voxels that I'm supposed to "keep safe". The writer showed up (Elijah. His name's Elijah) and we shot the breeze for a bit... Nothing major, of course. Just the sort of needling I should come to expect from him (when he's sober, anyway). I returned the clothes I'd had to borrow during our ill-fated expedition into Hades' sandy frozen butthole.

They'd been talking about dogs when I beamed back down, for some reason. I mentioned that Waffles had bit the Arch Duke of Luminaria (an embarrassing anecdote about my lack of skills as a canine parent), but they both sort of acted like it was a... positive thing, I guess? It was honestly pretty discomforting. I mean, I guess there's a separation in my mind between Remy and the Arch Duke (just like there was a separation between Julian and David's Project, and Jackton and the Durasteel War Machine, and who knows how many others). I don't know if they take issue with Luminaria or not, and more power to them if they have opinions and shit, but I got kind of vehement about the point that Remy =! Luminaria. Probably weirded them out a bit. Probably hear about it from the writer later.

Veks ran off for one radio call or another, so the writer and I were actually able to talk about something of substance. As it turns out, he doesn't know anything about Julian supposedly disappearing. Considering how odd David's acting, I'm not entirely sure Julian's really gone. That said, I haven't heard from him in awhile either... I also can't really rationalize why David would lie, but I don't know. This whole situation's so completely fucked up.

I don't like this. As much as I hated being at odds with David, I'm beginning to regret becoming as involved as I have been.
Guess I'm fucked now, though. Time to see this crazy derailed busted axle psycho horseshit bullet train through to the end and hope it doesn't run me over for my pains.
In for a pix, in for a vox.

- A.

 

(The lowermost portion of this page has a strange, citrusy scent that seems to emanate from the ink itself.)

Too sore to move. Too tired to move. Too wired to sleep.

Spent the day helping to clean things up. Inspectors declared that the building was still structurally sound, so it's just a matter of gutting, sanding, scrubbing, and renovating... all of which is fairly backbreaking.

That Misfit guy stopped by looking for battery acid. I didn't have any, but apparently dancing was okay too(?). I guess s/he's a Glitch, but s/he doesn't act like any Glitch I've ever met. I mean, Misfit left the bar and came back in a pink dress, cat hood, and red cape, talking about being "gal pals." Trouble is, he did it around Xeera-- who, I guess, isn't really as "bounced back" as I'd hoped and most definitely wasn't in the mood.

She asked if she could stay over tonight, just to not be alone. I said yes, of course, but... that was before all hell broke loose. It's close to morning (or my perception of it) now. I feel guilty as hell because it means that she's either spent all night waiting for me to show, or that I'm going to be waking her up when I come in. I might just grab an extra blanket from somewhere and stay on my floor after I get back...

Which, I guess, brings me to what kept me up so long. Elijah stopped by the bar today, followed shortly by Remy. Despite the fact that I was about dead on my feet and had (almost) nothing to serve at that point, I passed off a bottle of something (brandy, maybe? It almost tasted like brandy) to Elijah. Remy, who I've never seen drink anything stronger than juice, also chose to partake.
This was a terrible idea.

To make a long story short, it ended in Remy shutting down and not being able to reboot (I guess? I'm still not all that certain how he works), me panicking, and Elijah acting like a good course of action was to cut into Remy to try to interface directly with his hardware. All I knew was that he probably needed to go back to Luminaria, we had no way of getting there, and the last thing I wanted to do was pass him off to the same programmer who mindfucked him the first time. With Remy in that state, who knows what he might try to do to him?

Elijah and I (mostly Elijah, unless my frenzied hovering counts as "helping") managed to get Remy to the medbay on Elijah's ship. We were prompted for a passphrase, and burned through three out of ten attempts on stupid shit while we tried to figure out what was what (seriously, why did I think his password would be Numi? What the fuck is wrong with me?). Panicked, I pulled Elijah into the hallway so we could sort through what to do... His best suggestion was to try to guess until we had one left, then see if he could get into him and see what was what. My best suggestion was to try to guess until we were running out of tries, then see if we could get him back to Luminaria and directly to the Emperor. Either way, it meant preparing for the worst (namely, Remy's defensive protocols deciding to go caveman on us). Assured of certain death, either at Remy's hands or the Emperor's ("Hello, Mister Emperor Sir, please don't be mad but I kind of turned your Arch Duke/boyfriend into a brick by accident using Terrible Alcohol"), I told Elijah it'd been interesting knowing him. He said if we survived, I owed him dinner.

Anyway. As you can probably tell, book, I am not dead. Through nothing short of a goshfucked miracle, I eventually stopped assuming Remy had generated his own passphrase and had been outfitted with one by someone else. Through some mad shot in the dark, I said "Don't let people step on you," and...
It fucking worked.
We didn't die, I maybe haven't made an enemy out of the entire Empire, and I owe Elijah dinner. Which, if you think about it, makes two things I've come out owing people because of someone else's near-death experience; first Moony getting shot up and me making a peace offering out of watching the last Numi episode with Veks, and now Remy breaking down and me owing Elijah dinner.

If the universe keeps fucking up like this, my dance card's going to be full as hell.
When do I get to start being owed dates for things?
I want to go hiking somewhere without Agarans and hypothermia.
Or just somewhere where I don't have to worry about things like idk ammunition and body armor and firefights for like ten seconds.
Shit is ridic.

- A.

Remy actually gave me the Collector's Edition Numipedia! His own copy, signed by all of the voice actors from the official dubs. I can't wait to get into it when I actually have a moment... He's right. With all of the running around I do, it'll be nice to have something to look forward to doing when I get back to my ship (other than click endlessly through the StarNet, feed my terrible dog, and not sleep). The weirdest part was when I confided a couple old relationship dramz to him. His response? "Don't let people step on you." And he's right (Remy is right about hell of things as it turns out). I worry too much about other people's opinions. Even before they say anything, I let them step on me.

I'm even happier about this book because it reminds me of him, and I don't often have things that remind me of my friends. This situation with Luminaria is hell of complicated, but I like Remy. A lot. It's a big part of why it kills me to think about him and Leon... Leon's my brother-from-another-mother and I'd ride and die for that kid in a heartbeat, but I'd have a hard time choosing one of them over the other if it came down to it. Feeling like I was somehow betraying one of them, letting them down, would eat me alive... I also don't think I could defect to the Empire over it, but I damn sure wouldn't stand by and let anything happen to Remy.
Idk. Friends and Numi and I need to try to sleep soon because I can feel my thoughts going strange.

- A.

 

(This is a sheet torn from some sort of memo pad and tucked into the spine of her book. The page is light blue, with decoratively scalloped margins that feature cartoonish drawings of some kind of endearingly large-eyed lemur/lizard creature dangling from a branch by its forepaws.)

- Fish sticks, bottled water, soup, frozen vegetables, chicken nuggets, eggs, shampoo, marshmallows?
- Shower curtain (find a safe planet to let Waffles run around on for awhile before he destroys all of the things )
- Will a grocery place deliver to me
- Leon - bribe to come make pancakes?
- Ask Gytha for another fortune?
- Also ask about new inventory (wartwine?), security, etc
- El Bearsidente - still need to retrieve him from Elijah's ship

- New pens
- David - not answering my calls (ask about Julian, voxels, Moony, etc). Camp out in his office?
- Why do people claim to be a thing when claiming to be a thing is almost a guarantee that they are not that thing
- For srs though if you have to tell someone you're a heartbreaker, a rebel, or some kind of badass, you are probably convincing exactly zero people js
- Still no word from Jackton
- Why do I let people step on me?

 

(())

An acquaintance's grandfather abducted me today.
That's a perfectly normal English sentence.

I'm not going to lie... It was absolutely terrifying. As stupid as it may sound here (and now), I guess I've gone around wrapped in this pleasant delusion that I'm safe because I don't have enemies. The one who grabbed me today, though? Complete stranger.
Well... Almost. As I indicated, he was the relative of this guy I know (I think he's a Glitch?), Skyrax.

I don't know what they wanted or expected to come from the exchange... but I know the kind of personalities that gravitate toward that kind of position. One wants to see you weak. They want you to whine, cry, grovel, and beg. That's what they get off on-- it makes them feel strong. The other wants to see you strong. They want you to be defiant, to fight back. They want the challenge of breaking you so they can feel strong in the end.
What choice did I have? I didn't play along.

They hadn't taken my radio, so I made sure to use it (they hadn't taken my guns, either, but I know when it's not time to try being a hero). I babbled whatever came into my head. How ugly the cell was ("I wouldn't've painted it this color," "This has the worst flow of chi I've ever experienced"). How I still had my radios and my tablet. However many reactions it took to feign having no reaction at all.

I know there're a ton of misguided do-gooders in the galaxy who'd buy up slaves just to free them. I also know that there was no way I was going to just... like, bend metal bars and escape. My plan was to sit back, see what happened, and reassess my situation the second I changed hands. In retrospect, I should've disabled some of the security protocols on my radios, but...
The good news is, it was over quickly. The bad news is, I doubt it's over permanently. Skyrax, Dre, and Veks came to my rescue-- tore up the guy who did it, too, from what I could hear.

Then, because there's no rest for the wicked, beamed back down to finish moving a piano (a piano I'd been hit with, might I add-- did I mention that these kidnappers tried to grab me twice in fairly rapid succession?) that Yung was kind enough to bring us to replace the shot-up-and-exploded one. We ended up closing the bar early, since nothing puts a damper on your evening like blunt-force head trauma and an abduction.

In the face of this sudden abundance of free time, Dre, Veks, and I got a little lucid on some Nancy and decided to go for a hike (so sue me if I didn't exactly feel like going and sitting around a ship by myself after all that, okay?). Dre ended up passing out on us, which left Vecks, me, and my nav program to pick a planet and go to town. Metaphorically speaking.

Honestly, at this point, I think my nav system just has it out for me. I won't go into detail... but if scans show me a nice, placid little jungle planet, I should not beam down near active lava flows. I also shouldn't end up having to sneak my way around an abandoned USCM bunker (probaby home to some kind of fucked-up splinter group, so no exploring that), scale a roof, and then run into Agarans.
Well, one. Pretty far away. But seeing it was enough of a NOPE for us to decide to beam the hell out and try again using a nav system that isn't a spiteful little murderbox. Never got around to it, though. David called me before we could. It was for another dead drop.

So, once more into the fray... Veks wanted to come along, I guess, but I was sort of torn. On the one hand, I had every reason to believe that this was going to be dangerous (why wouldn't it?). On the other... I don't need my business (or anyone else's) poked into by a merc.
I let him follow. Kept him at a distance, so I could do what I had to do without extra eyes on me.
It didn't go as planned. In retrospect, I should have anticipated this... but there I was, nothing covering my face, running through the snow in the dark while being shot at . Veks and I managed to beam back to his ship, where I immediately began trying to find out how a simple request turned into such a ridiculous clusterfuck.

My efforts were met with being told to go back down to the planet to try to root the guy out. Okay, great. Bait. Not what I signed up for, but who wants to live forever, right? HahahaomgfuckyouathousandDavid. Veks starts asking what kind of role I want him to play... stealth? Combat? (hey here's an idea how about the one where you say on your ship and I go do my job ok thx). I mean... Veks, Elijah, and I have been through some shit, but I wouldn't exactly say I know the man, you know? So, beaming down into an already hostile situation with a virtually unknown gun who shoots people for money at my back? Not fucking smart.
I guess I was late. David got to the man before I did... shot him up good, and chucked him down a shaft. He kept insisting that there was "No way he could've survived that," which is the exact type of thing someone says immediately before the "dead" guy comes back for revenge.
I swear, it's like the man has never watched a fucking movie before.

I talked him into going down into the shaft with me. He made as if he was going to shoot the guy in the head, point-blank, but... he couldn't do it. I don't know if I blamed him at the time. I would've done it first if I'd been able to bring myself to.
All I wanted was a threat to my safety and identity neutralized. I didn't want to murder someone in cold blood.
David berated me in absolute disgust for my bloodlust before beaming out and leaving me there. I left the body there and beamed back up to my ship to change clothes, while arguing with David over why not ensuring that the man was dead was a bad idea.

Honestly, after all that, the last thing I wanted to do was sit around an empty ship by myself and dwell on how badly it went. I was already worried that this guy might have friends or family that'd come snooping around later. It's a hell of a lot worse if he's with them to ID me as the chick he was shooting at. Veks suggested beaming back to his ship, so I got changed (I hell of need to do some laundry) and hopped over.

The rest... I don't know. Veks seemed insulted by the fact that I had shit to do, I guess. Chastised me for the way I handled things (as if he knows my job better than I do). It got kind of awkward. An empty ship was starting to look pretty appealing.
Of course, David can always be relied upon to break an awkward silence.
In this case, with a lovingly-crafted video of him murdering the guy (I fucking knew he was still alive) in cold blood. With a scalpel. Followed by some instructions and the words, "Don't make me have to do this again."

So, then Veks got to deal with me having a minor panic attack. Fuck me if I didn't expect to have to watch someone I thought I knew slit someone else's throat with a scalpel in cold blood while I was standing in some dude's kitchen, right? At least he was nice about it.
Veks, that is. Not David.

I'm not exactly sure why I did what I did next. Exhaustion, maybe. The tail end of an adrenaline crash. All of the bizarre shit I'd had to deal with already. Residual guilt for shutting him down when he tried to help before. I don't know. I should've just closed the video and left it at that, but... he'd kind of indicated that he'd been following me anyway. Maybe it just seemed "right" to come clean about the situation he was attempting (not entirely successfully) to interpose himself in, in case he ever tried to do it again. So, I spilled.
Not everything. Just the things about Levitz, Julian, Helios, the USCM, Franz. Those parts.
So, basically everything.

I knew it was a bad idea. I told him why it was a bad idea. I didn't tell him what I do, but I explained away what I didn't feel like actually explaining by brushing him off as some hired gun. He shoots people for money. If I do my job properly, I don't leave calling cards. There's a high probability there that he's going to come after me to collect and not even realize it's me until it's too late. If it being me would even matter to begin with.
His response was to wonder aloud if I thought he'd actually go through with it once he found out who his target was. Seemed a bit unnecessarily optimistic to me at the time.

I have to hand it to him, though. He didn't seem to mind babysitting me because I was too much of a chickenshit to go sit on my ship alone for awhile. The conversation even turned to (what's becoming an almost inevitable blend of) jokes, teasing, insults, and mild flirtation, which was definitely an accessory to the premeditated murder of many minutes. I think it was near dawn when I finally left.

I knew David was creepy. I never imagined having him as a friend would be more frightening than having him as an enemy.
"Don't make me have to do this again."
How dare you, David Levitz.
How very fucking dare you.

- A.

 

Stayed up too late last night, courtesy of Mister Private Eye, some Floran, an exploding toilet, and a PDA of creepy shit.
I would've gone to sleep after that, but a friend of mine and his girlfriend(? still not too clear on that part) decided to hole themselves up upstairs for several hours. I decided to lock everything up and have a drink.

Let's see... Saw Leon, saw Lydia, saw Dan for a little bit. God into an argument over an astronomically stupid plan to "take down" the slavers the galaxy's been crawling with lately. Between the "We're going to fund slavery!" do-gooders and the "We're going to fight the slavers!" do-gooders, I kind of wonder when everyone lost their minds.

Even if one lone cabal of slavers is responsible for all this (spoilers: they're probably not all working together), the first group of white knights has done nothing but ensure that they're well-funded and well-equipped. So good job breaking it, guys.
Even if the second group manages to take down said cabal, that does nothing for the slave market itself. All it does it create a (very temporary) vacuum and encourage someone new to take up the mantle.
But, whatever. I have no idea what Dan's been doing with his time, and (judging by the type of insults he immediately decided to throw at me) he hasn't got the first fucking clue what I've been doing with mine.
We were pretty close before, but this is a little bit beyond the pale. I'm not going to stand there and be insulted by someone who a) has no idea what they're talking about, and b) has decided that doing what makes them feel good matters more than doing something correctly and effectively. I don't have the time or the patience, and I will brook no bullshit from him.

You want to end slavery? Find the people creating a demand for it.
Find the people who want slaves.
Make them afraid to buy them.
You don't kill slavers, because there will always be more. You put them out of business.
Attacking slavers without addressing the reason they're in business to begin with won't do anything but ensure his warm, fuzzy, big damn heroes ego trip has a body count. He's no better than the people who buy slaves just to free them... worse, even.
At least they don't get anyone killed.

Speaking of which... I still have all of these pixels. I look at them occasionally to make sure they're still there. Like what I'm saddled with hasn't sunk in yet. Like I'm afraid they're some kind of fairy gold that'll turn to leaves the second I stop paying attention.
Twelve million pixels. A radio. Simple instructions.
I hope you know what the hell I'm doing, David.

- A.

 

((
))

(The handwriting is smudged and distorted, as if it was dragged through and rubbed over by something as she wrote.)

This isn't my fault.
I never asked for this, never wanted it.

Would things have been different if I'd gone with Omega when he asked? If I'd agreed to be with Jackton on his terms? Accepted Silskeer's implication that I should just do security on Alioth Prime? Settled on a colony somewhere, maybe seen if Leon wanted to share an apartment? Agreed with Lorem's suggestion that acting in the service of a faction was a good idea, instead of booking it back and forth across the galaxy like some kind of vagrant?

Of course not, because trouble follows me and there's nothing I can do about that.

There is no Home anymore. The family is broken. Officially, now, which leaves nothing but Dre and me behind now that Dan's decided to be some kind of hero. I have no more team. I have no more fallbacks. Even though I rarely relied on them for anything, it was a safety net-- the kind of thing I hoped to never require, but was nice to know I had. What will I do now if I need someone?

- I still have Dre, I guess. But he was new. He is, still. He can make me whatever I need, and he's never failed me in the past... but, in the end, it's only my finger on the trigger, me who has to make decisions (and, perhaps most notably, me getting shot at). Is a supplier the same as an ally?
- I have Leon. My brother from another mother. It kills me to think of something happening to him, though... There's no way I can count him in, I'd never sleep again.
Was this how Brianne felt about me and Mari?
God, if I go down that rabbit hole may I I may never see daylight again.
- I don't have Remy. He's a friend, but I know exactly where his loyalties really lie. Ironically, this makes him the most trustworthy person I know. He even said I could "talk shit out with him." It killed me to just say "Yeah," knowing it was the opposite of how I felt. He did say that, because of some complicated bureaucratic nonsense that's made me a citizen of the Armada(? I guess?) via my work with Carroli, he's now obliged not to kill me. So that's something.
- I don't have Crimson. We're friends, and I'd do for him what I'd do for anyone I considered a friend, but... I don't know if he can keep his head in the game. I might be able to trust him, but I doubt I can depend on him.
- I don't have Dan. For obvious reasons. I thought I'd end up losing him over Jackton, not like this. Surprise sur-fucking-prise.
- I don't have Jackton. I could've sworn I heard his voice on the radio the other night... I'm not positive, though. It was either him, or I called a complete stranger an ass. He didn't respond to my voice at all, though, so... probably a stranger. Which is just what I need after finally moving on. Strangers that remind me of him.
- I don't have Xeera. I don't even know what she's been up to. From the sound of things, being careless with her own heart in the wake of Malavyi being gone... but, even without that, I don't know if she could handle any of this. And an "I don't know" is as good as a "No."
- I don't have countless others that I consider friends, just not close enough or trustworthy enough to really claim that they really know me. Veronica, Wintermute, Lydia...
Elijah's still an unknown quantity. What is he really after?

Dre pointed out that I'm surrounded by people. Friends in almost every colony. No shortage of couches I could sleep on, basements I could hide away in. And still, despite all that... I think this is the most alone I've felt in recent memory. Because of all that. There is nothing like constant reminders that there are people around you to remind you of how alone you are at the end of the day. Casual friends and acquaintances are a hollow consolation, at best.
Hell, I shouldn't even be writing this angsty horseshit here. I should have another soul I can tell this to, like a normal fucking person would.
Instead, I've got a shotgun, a sleeve of sedatives, bright lights, and my dog. This is the shittiest of sleepovers.

Julian went up on the sales block today, only to have things suspended indefinitely. To say I found it upsetting would be an understatement. Was David listening? Did he hear things go sour? Will he hold me responsible for it? How long do I have to wait to try again?
What's going to happen to Julian in the interim?
What's going to happen to him if I fail?

I don't know what was more worrying. The idea of succeeding and going through with this, or the idea of fucking it up completely. Without anyone at my back in case I did need backup, I panicked. And what did I fucking do?
I called that merc. And I punched the shit out of the bathroom wall, because I am a child.

I mean, Vecks knows Julian's story (or at least all of it that I've cared to relate. The important bits), so maybe it wasn't too insane. I have some of my own money, outside of the pixels I'm sitting on... I only need him to be dependable for one day, and hopefully willing to barter for his discretion afterward. He offered to do it for nothing more than a good reference, but... I feel like I'm in enough debt with him. The sense that he thinks I don't know what I'm about is already abundantly clear to me, I'm not going to reinforce that delusion. I owe him enough already without having him sign on for a pro bono merc job on top of it. No.
I already hate the fact that, out of everyone I know, someone I haven't known long and would need to pay to ensure things go smoothly is literally the first (and, so far, only) person I thought to call.
That's the one thing that's good about mercenaries, though-- you know they'll be loyal as long as you're the top bidder. Or 'til the money runs out, I guess.
In retrospect, considering how many of them I know/have known, it's kind of weird that "merc" has become a four-letter word. I just can't afford the trust issues, I guess. Literally or metaphorically.

He beamed down to the bar sometime afterward. Ended up tending for awhile (which, I fucking hate to admit, was a good thing considering all of the nothing I can do until my hand heals). Ended up splinting my hand for me, too... I didn't need him to, I already had plenty of ice and could've held it together until I got to a medbay. I wanted to protest, even, but had a tired suspicion that it wouldn't do me very much good.
He turned up with a bunch of medical supplies anyway.
I asked him what the hell all that was for.
He called it "Tough love", sat down, and splinted it.
And it hurt. like. hell.
I guess that makes another thing I owe him for... Though he pointed out that he has no idea what he'd call me for (because I'm a dime-a-dozen errand girl, natch), and said to forget about it. With people like that around, who needs enemies?

I wish I knew what was going on with this auction.
I wish I had someone else I could actually confide half of the shit running through my head in.
I wish Dan hadn't lost his mind.
I wish there were more trees around Liberty Mills. Some areas outside the town might be pretty... I need to go to walk somewhere and sit that isn't just concrete and durasteel and belches of steam. Maybe the whole planet was covered in trees, before they paved over it all and factories and mills sprouted like mushrooms (or so the story goes). Maybe there are some still.
I wish I had someone who could just tell me exactly what to do to make everything turn out alright.

Still, would've, could've, should've.
If "if" were a fifth, I'd be drunk.
Get it the fuck together, girl.

- A.

Les jeux sont faits. Nous sommes fucked.​