Chapter 45
Jim Vassilakos
Canon Regimath Forklinbrass smiled as I introduced Commander Nizlich. “The Captain’s right hand,” he even said with a grin as Nizlich sat in the only available chair, which just so happened to be beside me and on my right. In his eyes, however, as she sat directly across from him, I could sense disappointment, as he didn’t want to bring up the Eye of God to anyone but myself and, possibly, Josefeen, who sat to his left, directly across from me.
«He’s right,» Josefeen telepathically voiced as Ensign Urdud entered the room followed by a small gravcart. «You shouldn’t have brought her. How are we supposed to brainrape with her here?»
“Dinner is served,” Urdud said, parking the cart and bringing out our respective dinners.
(Please describe what Gus ordered, and, as usual, let me know what else he thinks, says, or does. And no hurry while you’re on vacation, particularly if you’ve got spotty Internet.)
Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
Canon Regimath Forklinbrass smiled as I introduced Commander Nizlich. “The Captain’s right hand,” he even said with a grin as Nizlich sat in the only available chair, which just so happened to be beside me and on my right. In his eyes, however, as she sat directly across from him, I could sense disappointment, as he didn’t want to bring up the Eye of God to anyone but myself and, possibly, Josefeen, who sat to his left, directly across from me.
«He’s right,» Josefeen telepathically voiced as Ensign Urdud entered the room followed by a small gravcart. «You shouldn’t have brought her. How are we supposed to brainrape with her here?»
“Dinner is served,” Urdud said, parking the cart and bringing out our respective dinners.
(Please describe what Gus ordered, and, as usual, let me know what else he thinks, says, or does. And no hurry while you’re on vacation, particularly if you’ve got spotty Internet.)
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Jim Vassilakos
The Special Galley was nicely turned out for dinner guests with a tablecloth, ceramic dishes bearing the ship’s crest, condiment dispensers, and even a floral decoration. Everything had magnets, of course, even the silverware, but that was standard. Only non-spacers, such as the Canon, would be intrigued, although anyone who’d done any traveling outside of a low berth would be familiar with the concept.
I was in my standard uniform, and Josefeen, seated across from me, was dressed even more casually, given that she was technically off-duty, but she wore uniform trousers and a draped top covering her… uh… assets. The fact that I could detect her mental snigger at my observation while she was engaged in conversation with the Canon was more proof that our durable psychic bond had survived her entering a psi-shielded area, but it had clearly diminished, as I hadn’t noticed when she’d come back out, and, indeed, it wasn’t until she and the Canon were nearly on the other side of the door that I sensed her presence.
They were talking about the additives used with alcohol to forestall liver failure, which had killed so many members of his order back in its early days.
“The problem still exists,” he said, “but nowadays we grow backup livers, although mine is bionic. I burned through my backups some years ago.”
“I didn’t realize religious life is so hazardous,” Josefeen remarked.
“Oh, the real problem is the brain. There’s no backup for that, although who’s to say what the future will bring?”
“You have problems with your brain?”
“Well, as the brain ages, things start to go wrong.”
“Oh?” Josefeen gazed with focus, trying to discern exactly what he knew about psionic orbs. As it happened, she was even older than him, but being the beneficiary of anagathics, she managed to sidestep the ravages of time.
“We were never intended to live as long as we do,” he said. “Our minds are designed to only retain so much information, only so many memories, and after a certain point, dysfunction inevitably begins to occur. Some accept this gracefully, but others… not so much.”
The door slid open, and Nizlich entered.
“Canon, may I introduce my Executive Officer, Commander Stefani Nizlich. Commander, Canon Regimath Forklinbrass.”
“Your Grace,” Nizlich nodded.
“The Captain’s right hand,” he said with a grin as Nizlich sat in the only available chair, which just so happened to be to my right.
“More like my entire arm,” I said.
She smiled, but as she glanced at me, I could sense a certain unease. Somewhere, perhaps long ago, she’d learned to distrust the effusive compliments of men, though she wanted to believe mine. Ever since our exchange of call signs and my recognition of her as a soldier of note (See the 3rd page of Chapter 14 in A&E #562), she’d felt a certain warmth toward me. But she also suspected I’d studied her service jacket prior to that conversation, and though it was true that I had, albeit in a cursory way, I’d not noticed her call sign nor connected the dry facts of where and when she’d served with the semi-famous exploits of Sauerkraut, semi-famous at least to those of us who served in fighter squadrons during the war.
“That is very kind of you, sir,” she said as Ensign Urdud entered the room followed by a small gravcart.
“Dinner is served,” Urdud announced, parking the cart and bringing out our respective dinners.
Given the turbulence of the past few days, I had indulged myself while ordering, so on my plate were a trio of folded cracker shells stuffed with marinated mycoprotein, which had been chopped and mixed with a variety of spicy vegetables and melted cheese and finally topped with a pungent sauce. As for the beverage, I’d stuck with some fruit-flavored carbonated water. Urdad also placed a bowl of dried mushroom dippers and some of the dipping sauces from my personal stash on the table.
As usual, I was observing and evaluating. Urdad had correctly ascertained the pairing of the snacks with my dinner order. He’d used the correct kind of bowls for plating the sauces, and the dippers were just the right level of crisp. He had done his research and served the right combinations to enhance my dinner and offer me the opportunity to share with my table if I so chose. He was definitely going to get a merit commendation for this.
«You missed your calling. You should have been a restaurant critic.»
(Response?)
The Canon smiled as his dinner was put before him, a steaming heap of seaweed in a citrus sauce served over a bed of green rice, but in his eyes, I could sense anxiety, as he didn’t want to bring up the Eye of God to anyone but myself and, possibly, Josefeen. Yet if speaking of it could have unforeseen consequences, touching it, which was his main desire, could wreck his mind to a degree that decades of drugs and alcohol had somehow failed to accomplish. This, however, was his last chance at wisdom. But he wasn’t sure what would happen if he should mention it in front of Commander Nizlich.
«Uh-oh,» Josefeen telepathically voiced «You shouldn’t have brought her. He’s going to start yapping about the psi orb, and how are we supposed to brain-rape him with her here?»
I hid a brief moue of disgust in a cough.
«We are not brain-raping anybody. Keep a civil thought in your head, please. I needed Stefani here to serve as a control and to cover my ass. I’m not letting you get me alone again.»
In the back of my head, I was still thinking of the fateful speeder ride that had made me an unwilling Naval Intelligence asset.
«We’re both on the same team, Gus.»
(Response?)
Timothy Collinson
"Canon, may I introduce my Executive Officer Commander Stefani Nizlich. Canon Regimath Forklinbrass"The Special Galley was nicely turned out with a tablecloth, ceramic dishes with the ship's crest, a floral decoration and a set of condiment dispensers. Nizlich had not dressed for the occasion, but she matched my standard uniform. Josefeen was dressed more casually, given that she was technically off-duty, but she wore uniform trousers and a draped top covering her, uh, assets.The snigger of laughter over the psychic link was just as withering as I deserved.
Conrad Rader
The Special Galley was nicely turned out for dinner guests with a tablecloth, ceramic dishes bearing the ship’s crest, condiment dispensers, and even a floral decoration. Everything had magnets, of course, even the silverware, but that was standard. Only non-spacers, such as the Canon, would be intrigued, although anyone who’d done any traveling outside of a low berth would be familiar with the concept.
I was in my standard uniform, and Josefeen, seated across from me, was dressed even more casually, given that she was technically off-duty, but she wore uniform trousers and a draped top covering her… uh… assets. The fact that I could detect her mental snigger at my observation while she was engaged in conversation with the Canon was more proof that our durable psychic bond had survived her entering a psi-shielded area, but it had clearly diminished, as I hadn’t noticed when she’d come back out, and, indeed, it wasn’t until she and the Canon were nearly on the other side of the door that I sensed her presence.
They were talking about the additives used with alcohol to forestall liver failure, which had killed so many members of his order back in its early days.
“The problem still exists,” he said, “but nowadays we grow backup livers, although mine is bionic. I burned through my backups some years ago.”
“I didn’t realize religious life is so hazardous,” Josefeen remarked.
“Oh, the real problem is the brain. There’s no backup for that, although who’s to say what the future will bring?”
“You have problems with your brain?”
“Well, as the brain ages, things start to go wrong.”
“Oh?” Josefeen gazed with focus, trying to discern exactly what he knew about psionic orbs. As it happened, she was even older than him, but being the beneficiary of anagathics, she managed to sidestep the ravages of time.
“We were never intended to live as long as we do,” he said. “Our minds are designed to only retain so much information, only so many memories, and after a certain point, dysfunction inevitably begins to occur. Some accept this gracefully, but others… not so much.”
The door slid open, and Nizlich entered.
“Canon, may I introduce my Executive Officer, Commander Stefani Nizlich. Commander, Canon Regimath Forklinbrass.”
“Your Grace,” Nizlich nodded.
“The Captain’s right hand,” he said with a grin as Nizlich sat in the only available chair, which just so happened to be to my right.
“More like my entire arm,” I said.
She smiled, but as she glanced at me, I could sense a certain unease. Somewhere, perhaps long ago, she’d learned to distrust the effusive compliments of men, though she wanted to believe mine. Ever since our exchange of call signs and my recognition of her as a soldier of note (See the 3rd page of Chapter 14 in A&E #562), she’d felt a certain warmth toward me. But she also suspected I’d studied her service jacket prior to that conversation, and though it was true that I had, albeit in a cursory way, I’d not noticed her call sign nor connected the dry facts of where and when she’d served with the semi-famous exploits of Sauerkraut, semi-famous at least to those of us who served in fighter squadrons during the war.
“That is very kind of you, sir,” she said as Ensign Urdud entered the room followed by a small gravcart.
“Dinner is served,” Urdud announced, parking the cart and bringing out our respective dinners.
Given the turbulence of the past few days, I had indulged myself while ordering, so on my plate were a trio of folded cracker shells stuffed with marinated mycoprotein, which had been chopped and mixed with a variety of spicy vegetables and melted cheese and finally topped with a pungent sauce. As for the beverage, I’d stuck with some fruit-flavored carbonated water. Urdad also placed a bowl of dried mushroom dippers and some of the dipping sauces from my personal stash on the table.
As usual, I was observing and evaluating. Urdad had correctly ascertained the pairing of the snacks with my dinner order. He’d used the correct kind of bowls for plating the sauces, and the dippers were just the right level of crisp. He had done his research and served the right combinations to enhance my dinner and offer me the opportunity to share with my table if I so chose. He was definitely going to get a merit commendation for this.
«You missed your calling. You should have been a restaurant critic.»
(Response?)
The Canon smiled as his dinner was put before him, a steaming heap of seaweed in a citrus sauce served over a bed of green rice, but in his eyes, I could sense anxiety, as he didn’t want to bring up the Eye of God to anyone but myself and, possibly, Josefeen. Yet if speaking of it could have unforeseen consequences, touching it, which was his main desire, could wreck his mind to a degree that decades of drugs and alcohol had somehow failed to accomplish. This, however, was his last chance at wisdom. But he wasn’t sure what would happen if he should mention it in front of Commander Nizlich.
«Uh-oh,» Josefeen telepathically voiced «You shouldn’t have brought her. He’s going to start yapping about the psi orb, and how are we supposed to brain-rape him with her here?»
I hid a brief moue of disgust in a cough.
«We are not brain-raping anybody. Keep a civil thought in your head, please. I needed Stefani here to serve as a control and to cover my ass. I’m not letting you get me alone again.»
In the back of my head, I was still thinking of the fateful speeder ride that had made me an unwilling Naval Intelligence asset.
«We’re both on the same team, Gus.»
(Response?)
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Jim Vassilakos
«I’m aware. However, you are training me to be a covert psionic asset, so train me. Can I plant thoughts in Regi’s head… or send visions?»
«You can try, but until you’ve been properly trained, you won’t know what you’re doing. My boss indicated you would be seeking a Psionic Master, a Khourzkhoug Kanrrae living in Pitfall. That’s another reason we were both surprised by your decision to run away from Jewell.»
By now, Urdud was finished serving the dinners.
“Sir, is there anything else you or your guests require?”
The Canon, to my left, and Nizlich, to my right, shrugged and shook their heads, but Josefeen, across the table, kept her gaze fixed on me, her expression a deadpan so blank it was at the cusp of boredom.
“This looks excellent,” the Canon said. “Thank you very much.”
(feel free to say something.)
“Before we eat,” the Canon said, “if I may be permitted a brief conversation with the Universe. Let us hold hands and pray.”
(response?)
“Oh, you who are nameless and whose ways are powerful and beyond our comprehension, thank you for your generous sustenance, and please allow me the honor to beseech you for your favor for Captain Plankwell and his crew. May they do what is right, and may they do it well, no matter the cost. Amen.”
«What in Cleon’s left ear is this dude all about?»
(response?)
“I thank you as well, Captain,” the Canon said, grabbing his chopsticks. “And I hope my prayer met with your approval.”
Nizlich smiled as she dug into her salad, thinking it cute that he'd asked.
(response?)
“Don’t feel you have to answer this, but are any of you religious?” he asked.
(response?)
As I listened to the conversation, I dipped and chewed on one of my dippers and sent a tendril out to Regimath to see if I could establish a connection. I placed the image of the orb in his mind and sent the thought: «It is real.»
He stopped chewing his food and just sat there for a moment, looking at me. He had heard my voice in his mind, and now he was wondering how I’d spoken without moving my lips. Did he truly hear that, he wondered, or was it just the slow creep of drug-induced insanity?
(response?)
I sent another tendril over to Stefani, to see if I could get another perspective and see what she was uneasy about. As our minds touched, she glanced up from her salad and noticed my unblinking stare.
Uh-oh, she thought, and quickly resumed eating.
But there was something more, the memory of someone who she’d caught staring at her a few times back in OCS. He was in her class, a competent pilot, and for a while she thought she could trust him, but then he made a sexual advance. Officer Candidate School was the hardest challenge she’d ever undertaken, as well as the greatest opportunity of her life, and she didn’t want to mess it up by having a romance. “Oh, I’m cool with FWB,” he’d said with a grin. Her response was not as diplomatic as it might have been. In any case, he turned on her, began calling her Sauerkraut, and it stuck. There was a process for complaining to the higher-ups, and this included a process for contesting an insulting call sign, but to do so would have went against Navy tradition, and, in any case, she rather liked it in a perverse sort of way, as sourness wasn’t so bad — not really — as it was excellent protection against people like him.
She looked up and caught me staring again.
“Sir?”
(response?)
Conrad Rader
«I’m aware. However, you are training me to be a covert psionic asset, so train me. Can I plant thoughts in Regi’s head… or send visions?»
«You can try, but until you’ve been properly trained, you won’t know what you’re doing. My boss indicated you would be seeking a Psionic Master, a Khourzkhoug Kanrrae living in Pitfall. That’s another reason we were both surprised by your decision to run away from Jewell.»
By now, Urdud was finished serving the dinners.
“Sir, is there anything else you or your guests require?”
The Canon, to my left, and Nizlich, to my right, shrugged and shook their heads, but Josefeen, across the table, kept her gaze fixed on me, her expression a deadpan so blank it was at the cusp of boredom.
“This looks excellent,” the Canon said. “Thank you very much.”
(feel free to say something.)
“Before we eat,” the Canon said, “if I may be permitted a brief conversation with the Universe. Let us hold hands and pray.”
(response?)
“Oh, you who are nameless and whose ways are powerful and beyond our comprehension, thank you for your generous sustenance, and please allow me the honor to beseech you for your favor for Captain Plankwell and his crew. May they do what is right, and may they do it well, no matter the cost. Amen.”
«What in Cleon’s left ear is this dude all about?»
(response?)
“I thank you as well, Captain,” the Canon said, grabbing his chopsticks. “And I hope my prayer met with your approval.”
Nizlich smiled as she dug into her salad, thinking it cute that he'd asked.
(response?)
“Don’t feel you have to answer this, but are any of you religious?” he asked.
(response?)
As I listened to the conversation, I dipped and chewed on one of my dippers and sent a tendril out to Regimath to see if I could establish a connection. I placed the image of the orb in his mind and sent the thought: «It is real.»
He stopped chewing his food and just sat there for a moment, looking at me. He had heard my voice in his mind, and now he was wondering how I’d spoken without moving my lips. Did he truly hear that, he wondered, or was it just the slow creep of drug-induced insanity?
(response?)
I sent another tendril over to Stefani, to see if I could get another perspective and see what she was uneasy about. As our minds touched, she glanced up from her salad and noticed my unblinking stare.
Uh-oh, she thought, and quickly resumed eating.
But there was something more, the memory of someone who she’d caught staring at her a few times back in OCS. He was in her class, a competent pilot, and for a while she thought she could trust him, but then he made a sexual advance. Officer Candidate School was the hardest challenge she’d ever undertaken, as well as the greatest opportunity of her life, and she didn’t want to mess it up by having a romance. “Oh, I’m cool with FWB,” he’d said with a grin. Her response was not as diplomatic as it might have been. In any case, he turned on her, began calling her Sauerkraut, and it stuck. There was a process for complaining to the higher-ups, and this included a process for contesting an insulting call sign, but to do so would have went against Navy tradition, and, in any case, she rather liked it in a perverse sort of way, as sourness wasn’t so bad — not really — as it was excellent protection against people like him.
She looked up and caught me staring again.
“Sir?”
(response?)
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Jim Vassilakos
“It is truly a pleasure to return the hospitality you showed to a stranger in a time of need. I am pleased to offer the thanks of the Navy for the kindness you’ve shown to one of its officers. That the officer offering the thanks is also the one who received the kindness is just one of the little ironies of command.”
“Speaking of irony, before we eat,” the Canon said, “may I be permitted a brief conversation with the universe. Let us hold hands and pray.”
I shouldn’t have been startled, but there was a little shiver in the base of my spine. The phrase, conversation with the universe, struck a nerve. I reached out to take Regimath’s hand, felt Stefani take mine, and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to react to the dead eyes of my intel liaison.
“Oh, you who are nameless and whose ways are powerful and beyond our comprehension, thank you for your generous sustenance, and please allow me the honor to beseech you for your favor for Captain Plankwell and his crew. May they do what is right, and may they do it well, no matter the cost. Amen.”
«What in Cleon’s left ear is this dude all about?»
«Some people are sincere in their beliefs. Come from living at the bottom of a well, or so I hear.»
Spacers came in all varieties, but many ascribed odd beliefs to the phenomenon of living in natural gravity wells, a.k.a. planets. There were some odd beliefs around natural vs. artificial gravity and its effects on human psychology.
“I thank you as well, Captain,” the Canon said, grabbing his chopsticks. “And I hope my prayer met with your approval.”
Nizlich smiled as she dug into her salad, thinking it cute that he’d asked.
“Contrary to popular opinion,” I said, “the captain’s preference is not to be the be-all and end-all rule on Navy ships.” There was a quiet cough from across the table. “Yes, some of them to be sure, but unless the captain has a monster of an ego, it’s just too much work to pronounce on all the various preferences and permissions that sprout up. As long as it does not interfere with operational readiness, I prefer to simply experience it all and let the universe decide things.”
(OOC: The sentence you posted was actually: “As long as it does not interfere with operational readiness, I tend to the school of experience it all and let the Universe decide,” and I had difficulty trying to figure out what exactly you were trying to say, so if you want to restate it, go ahead.)
“That’s a commendable attitude.” The Canon nodded. “Now, don’t feel you have to answer this, but are any of you religious?”
We all looked at each other. Josefeen, I was pretty sure, believed in only two things: duty and pleasure. And, fortunately, they were not necessarily mutually exclusive. As for Nizlich, well, I looked to her, raising an eyebrow as though daring her to answer first.
“I’m technically Aesirian1,” she said. “I’m not a Sword Vorlder, mind you, but I descended from members of the Gram Fleet who first settled Caladbolg, and I grew up in Broken Stone.”
“Broken stone?”
“It’s an asteroid belt.”
That explained, at least in part, why she did so well in the Navy. She was already accustomed to living in space.
“And why do you say technically?” Regimath asked.
Nizlich momentarily pressed her lips together.
“There are two broad groups, devout Aesirians and cultural Aesirians.”2
“Ah, I see. But do you have a patron deity?” he asked.
“Frigg. She’s the goddess of wisdom.3 But I don’t pray to her, at least not as you pray.”
“You’ve never tried?”
“Not for a long time.” Nizlich smiled. “Ve refer to these figures as the gods-that-vere. They are heroes… a source of inspiration, but ve do not think of them as… vell… as beings who vould listen to us or care about our problems.”
“You never know,” the Canon said. “A little faith can work wonders. Would it be all right with you if we sent a message to Frigg?”
“Right now?”
“There’s no time like the present,” he said. “Oh, Frigg, please forgive this intrusion, but we could all benefit from your wisdom, if you would be so kind as to grant it. Amen.”
“That’s it?” Nizlich asked.
“As you speak to her, so too will you speak to the universe.”
“And how do you know Frigg’s not too busy with her own affairs?” Josefeen asked with a smirk. “Being a goddess isn’t easy.”
“And you know this for a fact?” the Canon asked.
“From personal experience.”
As I listened to their conversation, I dipped and chewed on one of my dippers and sent a tendril out to Regimath to see if I could establish a connection. I then placed the image of the orb in his mind and sent the thought: «It is real.»
He stopped chewing his food and just sat there for a moment, looking at me. He had heard my voice in his mind, and now he was wondering how I’d spoken without moving my lips. Did he truly hear that, he wondered, or was it merely the slow creep of drug-induced insanity?
I resent the thought with more emphasis. «It is real! Do not fear.»
He looked at me for a long moment, as Nizlich and Josefeen went back and forth about the social life of goddesses. Of course, he reasoned. It was all so obvious. But are they all psions? He glanced toward Nizlich and Josefeen. We were obviously not Zhodani agents. He blinked for a moment, adjusting to this new reality.
“Is your food okay?” Nizlich asked him.
“Ah… yes,” he nodded. “I’m just… preoccupied.”
“Vith vhat?”
“An epiphany,” he said. “A semi-private one, I’m afraid. I still need to work out the details.”
“A semi-private epiphany?” Nizlich wondered out loud. “Sent by Frigg?”
“Perhaps,” he replied.
“That vas quick.”
“I don’t like epiphanies,” Josefeen said.
“Why is that?” the Canon asked, taking the bait.
“Because they usually mean either I screwed up something so long ago it can’t be fixed, or some religious dude drugged me, and I’m flying on some magic sofa.”
“Does that happen often?”
“No, but it happened recently.”
“Did I miss something?” Nizlich asked.
“People are often resentful at their fate,” the Canon said, “though in your case your wish for a Get Out of Jail card was granted and rather expeditiously, I might add. The universe is apparently keeping an especially close eye on you,” he said, thinking again about the Eye of God. “You should feel blessed.”
“I don’t feel blessed,” she said. “I feel tricked and used.”
What goes around comes around, I thought to myself.
“Don’t take it personally,” the Canon replied. “The universe tricks and uses us all. It may seem capricious, but there is usually an underlying reason.”
Josefeen, of course, could say nothing to this, as she knew exactly what he was talking about, even though he had no idea. But then that was the very essence of faith, to believe without knowing. During all this, I extended a telepathic tendril over to Stefani, to see if I could get another perspective and see what she was uneasy about, and as our minds touched, she glanced up from her salad and noticed my unblinking stare.
Uh-oh, she thought, and quickly resumed eating.
But there was something more, the memory of someone she’d caught staring at her a few times back in Officer Candidate School. He was in her class, a competent pilot, and for a while she thought she could trust him, but then he made a sexual advance.
OCS was the hardest challenge she’d ever undertaken as well as the greatest opportunity of her life, and she didn’t want to mess it up by starting a romance.
“Oh, I’m cool with FWB,” he’d said with a grin. Her response was not as diplomatic as it might have been.
In any case, he turned on her, began calling her Sauerkraut, and it stuck. There was a process for complaining to the higher-ups, and this included a process for contesting an insulting call sign, but to do so would have went against Navy tradition, and, in any case, she rather liked it in a perverse sort of way, as sourness wasn’t so bad — not really — as it was excellent protection against people like him.
She looked up and caught me staring again.
“Sir?”
I blinked.
“I’m terribly sorry, Commander. I was taken by a thought about the universe. I was thinking about when I discovered that you were Sauerkraut, and how I’d been given a gift, an unforeseen discovery about someone whose career I had been impressed by, someone whose actions I had appreciated, and then to find out it was you?”
I smiled, then turned to the Canon.
“You asked if I was religious, and I don’t think I am terribly so. Certainly I have outgrown the spiritual upbringing that I had, but I have seen the infinite and the dark.” I turned a little more to face Regi fully. “I really don’t think there is a higher power looking out for me, but there is a terrible emptiness that is naturally hostile to us, the dark between the stars, and in jumpspace, there is the unknowable unknown. Earlier you called on the universe to favor me and my crew. While I respect and appreciate the sentiment, the universe I know will take us when we let down our guard. We may think we have a good command of living in space, and using jumpspace for our own purposes, but it requires constant vigilance. I recently suffered and survived a misjump, and count myself lucky to be here at all.”
“Being here, as we are presently, is an unlikelihood of imponderable complexity, and yet here we are, and so we make the best of it,” Regi said, and there was again that feeling of the universe as a conscious entity.
“That’s my conundrum. Happy coincidences like Commander Nizlich being on my crew against the terrible emptiness of the dark. I think my solace comes from simply living in the face of a hostile environment and being ornery enough to figure out how to live there so that we can be pleasantly surprised when something nice happens.”
I worried for a moment that I might be rambling, so I decided to smile and sip my drink.
Regi smiled in return. “An ancient Solomani philosopher4 once said — to summarize him somewhat hazardously — the meaning life is the pursuit of the highest good, but that because reality, in and of itself, is unknowable, we can only hope the universe designed the innate structure of our minds in such a way that universal morality can be revealed to us, so that we may act accordingly and within the will of the divine.”
1GURPS Traveller calls them Aesirians, while Mongoose Traveller refers to them as Aesirists. For the purposes of this campaign, I’m going to assume these two names are interchangable.
2Mongoose Traveller: Sword Worlds (2020), page 21.
3GURPS Traveller: Sword Worlds (2004), page 74.
4Immanuel Kant.
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
Reggie smiled in return. “An ancient Solomani philosopher once said — to summarize him somewhat hazardously — the meaning life is the pursuit of the highest good, but that because reality, in and of itself, is unknowable, we can only hope the universe designed the innate structure of our minds in such a way that universal morality can be revealed to us, so that we may act accordingly and within the will of the divine.”1
Needless to say, I didn’t quite know how to respond.
“Not to change the subject,” I said, “but I was hoping to ask you about Jewell.”
“What about it?”
“What’s your favorite natural feature?”
“Favorite natural feature? Of Jewell?” He rubbed his chin. “Speaking personally, I’d have to say Mushroom Valley, but it’s dangerous to visit. Even the guided tours, which are careful about when they go, are not without risk, so I don’t suggest you go there.”
“Any other places?”
We talked for a while about various natural features of Jewell as well as the relative merits of the Navy life vs. merchant spacing. As dinner passed, I kept my connection to Reggie quiescent. Josefeen, however, was growing impatient with the polite banter and began staring at him, unblinking, as she tried gleaning memories off the surface of his mind. In this way, I could sense that he was still thinking about the psi orb, wondering when would be the most appropriate time to inquire about it.
Never, she thought to herself.
I was too engaged in the conversation to join her on her telepathic journey, although I could sense he had a cluttered mind. Every time I tried to get in, however, it’d be my turn to say something, which broke my concentration.
«See if you can get him talking to Stef,» Josefeen sent.
“Commander, you’ve been rather quiet,” I said. “What do you think about all this?”
Nizlich looked stunned for a moment, and I suddenly realized that she was preoccupied with matters related to running the ship and had barely been listening.
“Have you ever been on a merchant ship?” I asked, throwing her a lifeline.
“I’ve been on many, but I’ve never served on one.”
“Go on.”
As she described various details of what she’d observed, I nodded along as if I were listening and followed Josefeen into the Canon’s mind. Both of us now stared at him intently, although he failed to notice, as he was focused on Commander Nizlich, who was sitting directly across the table from him, and although she noticed us, she was the one talking, and so she, at least initially, paid us little mind.
The Canon’s mind, however, I could now see was a spider’s web of aged threads on the verge of collapsing into dust.
«You could probably do a lot of damage in here, if you wanted to,» Josefeen sent. «Memory-fuckery is something that, as an obviously powerful manipulator, you can probably learn to do. Although, not all manipulators have this ability. Some can only influence people emotionally, causing them to, for example, shut down when they’re being verbally assaulted. It’s a great way to win an argument. Cheating, for sure, but very effective, although the degree of humiliation is such that the victim will usually harbor a very deep grudge, so that’s something to watch out for. In any case, if you want to learn how to do all this stuff and discover the scope of your talents, you need to go find Khourzkhoug Kanrrae or some other psionic master. Thinking of which, I may know another, but… you might not want to get trained by him.»
«Why not?»
«It’s Olav.»
Olav? Olav was dead. Wait. «You mean the alpha version?»
«We have a Model X in the Intel Pod.» That the model of computer Zeenye was using to run the Olav simulation.2 Presumably, somewhere there was a backup of the original version.
(Feel free to internally expound on the possible ramifications and/or fire a statement and/or question at Josefeen, if you think Gus would do so at this point. If not, no worries. I’m just trying to give you an opportunity to inject something, even if it’s only a thought.)
The upshot was that I needed training from a manipulation master. In the meantime, of course, I could do some experimentation in the Canon’s mind. But given its state of decay, it would be inherently risky, at least for him. Looking wasn’t a problem, but trying to modify a memory was another matter entirely. I might accidentally sever its connection to his consciousness and leave a dangling thread. Insofar as Josefeen understood it, that could cause all sorts of mental problems, possibly even leading to dementia, delusions, or even derangement.
Of course, given his age and professional habits, a mental collapse would hardly be unexpected.
«Go ahead,» Josefeen sent.
That was the reason psionics has been suppressed. The Imperial government realized it needed to get psionics under control or it would inevitably take over Imperial society, turning the Imperium into another version of the Zhodani Consulate.
Josefeen, being a psion…
«Stop reading me and read him!» “I agree,” she added to Nizlich, “but tell us more about that.”
Back in her early training, when Josefeen had first learned about telepathy, she’d also learned about the excesses of the Zhodani and how basing a whole society’s leadership on psionic potential relegated every other form of leadership potential essentially useless. That, she was convinced, was detrimental for a whole host of reasons, economic, political and otherwise, and would inevitably lead to a form of tyranny much heavier than that alleged by even the Imperium’s worst critics.
«We can go over the Psi-Wars later, but right now you need to focus on what’s right in front of you.»
Did I need to say something?
«No. In the old fart’s brain.»
I looked at the spider’s web and touched one of the threads. It was a sermon he’d given years ago, decades perhaps. In his church, the sermons were often more like lectures, and the congregation was invited to ask questions, to essentially interrupt whenever the priest said something confusing. Due to this way of conducting sermons, they were often constructed with the parishioners in mind, even with specific parishioners, for example those who had sinned but did not fully accept it, though they wanted to atone.
One such case was of a man who’d committed adultery and was planning to do it again. It was complicated, in his mind, by the fact that his wife had refused him sex for many years, so he was going to a particular establishment to satisfy his cravings, and since he was the one who paid the bills in their relationship, it was unlikely she’d ever find out.
“If you don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” Reggie had asked him, “why bring it up in a confessional?”
“Am I doing something wrong?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m keeping it secret from her,” he said.
“Why.”
“Because it feels shameful.”
“Rejoice in that feeling. That’s your conscience, your link to the soul of universe, and the only thing that can ultimately give you the wisdom to save yourself.”
“Save myself from what?”
“From yourself,” Reggie said.
The man, of course, was mystified.
“Just tell me, what should I do?”
“You have two choices. You can tell her and continue, or you can tell her and stop.”
“I’m not going to tell her.”
“Then you won’t do as you should.”
“But I can stop. I can just stop and never mention it.”
“If you don’t have the will to reveal the truth to her, you probably don’t have the will to stop, and, in any case, the betrayal will remain.”
Of course, standing in front of the congregation, Reggie couldn’t mention any of this. Confessions were a private matter. If people did not come to their senses privately, within their own hearts, then no amount of teaching could save them. Ultimately, every person had to save themselves. All the universe could do was prod.
“What is pleasure?” Reggie asked the congregation. “From where does it derive?”
Various people put forward their own propositions, calling them out for all to hear, but the man remained silent, sensing that this would be about him. In truth, it would only partially be about him, for he was not the only one who was cheating on their spouse, nor was infidelity the only issue Reggie wanted to address.
The upshot was that pleasure and displeasure were mere feelings, and more to the point, they were fundamentally subjective. They could be felt but not understood. But right and wrong could be understood, although not with absolute certainty. But they could be sensed internally.
Shame existed for a reason, and when informed by universal morality, it contained a degree of objectivity, perhaps not as much as we would like, but enough to sense when something was wrong. It was therefore of greater value than purely subjective feelings and could even be used for self-training and the ultimate mastery, mastery over pride. But not everyone felt shame, at least not to the same degree, and even for those who did, pleasure beckoned.
“When you trade one for the other,” he said at the end, “pleasure for innocence, it’s like trading away a piece of your soul, a strand of your connection to the universe. Now you have to keep a secret from yourself, a regret you don’t want to think about anymore. Over time, it may become like a shard of glass in your mind. Look upon it and see the path to self-hatred, but if that is the price of wisdom, so be it. You will be blessed to receive it. You will be blessed to bleed.”
You’re reading my mind, aren’t you? Regimath thought to himself, as Nizlich went on about the chief differences between merchant and Navy craft. Rather than allow his eyes to glaze over while he was looking at her, he’d stifled a yawn and glanced to the side, finding my gaze fixed upon him, upon his eyes to be more specific. Have you found whatever it is you’re looking for?
1This is an exceedingly loose and somewhat biased summary of the moral philosophy of Immanuel Kant. He did not merely hope but rather assumed that moral principles are accessible to all rational beings and that, being grounded in rationality and autonomy, they don’t depend on divine will. Although, to be fair, his idea that the existence of a universal morality is suggestive of the existence of God does lend itself to the Canon’s interpretation. But, of course, we must take into account the social mores of the time and place in which Kant lived. 18th-century Königsberg was not exactly a hotbed of atheism.
Conrad Rader
Reggie smiled in return. “An ancient Solomani philosopher once said — to summarize him somewhat hazardously — the meaning life is the pursuit of the highest good, but that because reality, in and of itself, is unknowable, we can only hope the universe designed the innate structure of our minds in such a way that universal morality can be revealed to us, so that we may act accordingly and within the will of the divine.”1
Needless to say, I didn’t quite know how to respond.
“Not to change the subject,” I said, “but I was hoping to ask you about Jewell.”
“What about it?”
“What’s your favorite natural feature?”
“Favorite natural feature? Of Jewell?” He rubbed his chin. “Speaking personally, I’d have to say Mushroom Valley, but it’s dangerous to visit. Even the guided tours, which are careful about when they go, are not without risk, so I don’t suggest you go there.”
“Any other places?”
We talked for a while about various natural features of Jewell as well as the relative merits of the Navy life vs. merchant spacing. As dinner passed, I kept my connection to Reggie quiescent. Josefeen, however, was growing impatient with the polite banter and began staring at him, unblinking, as she tried gleaning memories off the surface of his mind. In this way, I could sense that he was still thinking about the psi orb, wondering when would be the most appropriate time to inquire about it.
Never, she thought to herself.
I was too engaged in the conversation to join her on her telepathic journey, although I could sense he had a cluttered mind. Every time I tried to get in, however, it’d be my turn to say something, which broke my concentration.
«See if you can get him talking to Stef,» Josefeen sent.
“Commander, you’ve been rather quiet,” I said. “What do you think about all this?”
Nizlich looked stunned for a moment, and I suddenly realized that she was preoccupied with matters related to running the ship and had barely been listening.
“Have you ever been on a merchant ship?” I asked, throwing her a lifeline.
“I’ve been on many, but I’ve never served on one.”
“Go on.”
As she described various details of what she’d observed, I nodded along as if I were listening and followed Josefeen into the Canon’s mind. Both of us now stared at him intently, although he failed to notice, as he was focused on Commander Nizlich, who was sitting directly across the table from him, and although she noticed us, she was the one talking, and so she, at least initially, paid us little mind.
The Canon’s mind, however, I could now see was a spider’s web of aged threads on the verge of collapsing into dust.
«You could probably do a lot of damage in here, if you wanted to,» Josefeen sent. «Memory-fuckery is something that, as an obviously powerful manipulator, you can probably learn to do. Although, not all manipulators have this ability. Some can only influence people emotionally, causing them to, for example, shut down when they’re being verbally assaulted. It’s a great way to win an argument. Cheating, for sure, but very effective, although the degree of humiliation is such that the victim will usually harbor a very deep grudge, so that’s something to watch out for. In any case, if you want to learn how to do all this stuff and discover the scope of your talents, you need to go find Khourzkhoug Kanrrae or some other psionic master. Thinking of which, I may know another, but… you might not want to get trained by him.»
«Why not?»
«It’s Olav.»
Olav? Olav was dead. Wait. «You mean the alpha version?»
«We have a Model X in the Intel Pod.» That the model of computer Zeenye was using to run the Olav simulation.2 Presumably, somewhere there was a backup of the original version.
1This is an exceedingly loose and somewhat biased summary of the moral philosophy of Immanuel Kant. He did not merely hope but rather assumed that moral principles are accessible to all rational beings and that, being grounded in rationality and autonomy, they don’t depend on divine will. Although, to be fair, his idea that the existence of a universal morality is suggestive of the existence of God does lend itself to the Canon’s interpretation. But, of course, we must take into account the social mores of the time and place in which Kant lived. 18th-century Königsberg was not exactly a hotbed of atheism.
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Jim Vassilakos
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