Teddy’s New Rules

Report, Session One: March 3, 2007

Now I know why ship captains always look so stressed.

I’ve never been the ‘man in charge’ before. Shit, it’s a lot of work. Keeping the ship space worthy. Keeping the passengers safe (and happy, if possible). Doing the paperwork. Buying supplies. Maintenance. Docking fees, refuelling fees, paperwork. How the frak does anybody make money doing this? How the frak does anybody stay sane doing this?

Start at the beginning, Teddy. Right.

Rule No. 3: Always remember who you’re talking to

Even if he’s your brother. Especially if he’s your brother.

The passengers. I can’t call them crew, because that would imply they were taking orders from me. In fact, they’re not even really passengers, because they’re not paying passage. Entourage, maybe. Not mine of course. Sava’s.

Sava has an Amalthean confessor in tow, a sweet little thing called Shui-Lin Li Halan. She’s very, very religious but she has a carefully hidden rebellious streak that she pretends she doesn’t have. Which explains why I like her. Being a confessor, she’s very good at getting people to talk to her, with the added bonus of a built-in confidentiality clause. It’s sort of refreshing. We started chatting seriously after I got shot on Barter – she saw the scars and just had to ask about them. And I figured it would be churlish to lie outright. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Sava’s bodyguard is a strapping Brother Battle called James. He practically defines the word ‘taciturn’. He’s also terrifyingly good at combat, and ‘behind him’ is the best place to be in a fight. He served on Stigmata and, like Shui-Lin, wouldn’t know ‘fun’ if it took him out dancing. Other than that, he’s a bit of a closed book.

Sava himself (and I just can’t bring myself to use any other pronoun) is quickly turning into a huge headache. I’ve got this stupid hang-up about looking after him (and he needs it, that’s for sure), but he’s a noble first and foremost and there’s so much of him tied up in that there’s not a lot of room for basic humanity. And I have to keep reminding myself to be less familiar with him and to stop treating him like a little brother, because at some point it’s going to piss off another noble, or possibly Sava himself. Also, he’s unpredictable and seriously weird. In an ‘abomination’ sort of way. It’s like I’ve picked up a stray kitten, and on bringing it home, discovered it’s riddled with flees and likes to destroy the furniture. But kittens are such inoffensively adorable things, you just can’t get rid of them once you’ve got one. And I’d feel like a cad if I left. I should have listened to my mother when she told me to stay clear of the Zuvievs.

Though I’d probably be dead by now if I hadn’t hooked up with Sava.

Rule No. 9: Be wary of the ‘simple job’

…because it never is.

I knew there was something fishy about the run to Barter, but what I thought was a single sardine turned out to be an entire school.

Deliver the cargo to Barter, return to Cadavus for payment. Maybe make a little money on the side. Only the making money part isn’t as easy as the captains make it look, and it’s even harder when you’ve got no capital in the first place. A debt hanging over your head doesn’t help either.

The ship is a tiny little blockade runner – a tug with boosted engines. The others call it the shoebox, and not fondly. Her name is the Ill-Conceived Embrace. On leaving orbit, we discovered that Shui-Lin is just a tiny bit terrified of space travel. The cracks in the view screen didn’t help, nor did the lack of safety equipment. I figure the odds of dying in space are no higher than anywhere else, so I’m not much fussed. And anyway, I have a space suit.

The trip out is five days. I’m used to that. I’m even used to being cooped up in small spaces with quietly crazy people for those lengths of time. The passengers are not. They complain about the ship, the food, the lack of safety equipment, the crack in the view screen, the lack of facilities, the lack of space, the dead rat, the lack of alcohol, the stale air, the recycled water, and of course, the company. Unfortunately for them, I flap my mouth off when I’m nervous or bored or even just to fill a quiet space, so they get to hear a lot from me.

Because Shui-Lin was so freaked out by space, I chatted with her a lot, to take her mind off it (she is terrified by the relatively flimsy machinery between her and the void – you’d think a priest would have more faith). I like her. She’s refreshingly unlike my ingrained stereotypes of priests. She’s happy to debate things, even religion in general. There’s a bit more to her and Sava than she lets on, but it wasn’t until later that I found out what that was about.

Rule No. 2: Always remember where you are

…and remember to ask the nice Decados Baron to loan you his golem so you can walk back to the Barter hub without getting mugged.

We arrived without incident, and I set the others up with a guide (a very nice vorox) who took them off for a tour. Which left me to look after the paperwork and the golem and a thankfully very brief meeting with the freakish Decados Baron who owned the box. Stars, but the Decados give me the creeps. I’m beginning to suspect that they put a lot of it on for the benefit of the tourists, the way we Charioteers put on loud shirts and friendly smiles.

I caught up with the others having dinner in a pub, and they were horrified that I refused what they termed a ‘proper meal’ in favour of more food cubes. They couldn’t understand why I’d want to eat food cubes when there was fresh food on offer. Once they’ve had a few bouts of food poisoning they’ll get it.

Rule No. 7: Never forget a favour

…or a set-up.

There were Commerce Guards waiting for us back at the Embrace. And they wanted to arrest me for murder. Yeah, you read that right. Somebody had tipped them off – they’d opened up a smuggling compartment and found the late captain. Not sleeping off a hangover on Cadavus like I’d been told, but stuffed into her ship with a blaster shot in her chest. Bastards.

The cops took us to see the boss. A humourless sort, not that I was very surprised. I explained that the body had nothing to do with me, but that I’d be pointedly pursuing the matter with the proper authorities back on Cadavus. She accepted that, bless her, and ordered us the hell off her station.

Which turned out to be harder than it sounded.

Rule No. 5: Never be the last one to join in a fight

Unless of course, you happen to have a crazy Decados duellist and a Brother Battle with you. In which case, you’re pretty safe hanging back and making sure the Amalthean doesn’t get herself killed taking bullets for people wearing more armour than she is.

You know what? I’m really not used to having people try to kill me. Violence happens, sure, but it’s usually undirected – bar brawls, general disagreements, friendly tousles. Actually having two guys show up specifically to shoot me? That’s new.

Two guys in nondescript grey suits. I think I actually watched them draw their guns. I guess I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought that they were there to kill me. Me, for the Pancreator’s sake! I mean, why?

Thankfully, Sava and Brother James have more combat smarts than I do. I didn’t fire a shot. I didn’t need to. And anyway, I had a bullet in me and I wasn’t in the mood to do much more than look surprised. Shui-Lin patched me up, with what I’m pretty sure was a bit of humour at how much fuss I was making over such a little hole (how anybody can class a bullet wound as a ‘little thing’ baffles me). She noticed my scars of course, but was too polite to say anything. She filed it away for later.

We left Barter with a few hours to spare. Flustered, annoyed, shot up, and with a coffin in the back.

Rule No. 1: Never reveal your true background

…no matter how understandingly the cute Amalthean smiles at you. You’ll regret telling her about it eventually. And probably sooner rather than later.

Naturally, another five days on the Embrace meant more conversation with Shui-Lin. Only this time it was me bitching, not her. Mostly I was bitching about the wound, which was an attempt to prevent myself bitching about the set-up, or the fact that I now had a warrant over my head, or that there was a dead Charioteer in the back. I felt bad for the Charioteer. She deserved a hell of a lot better. I was especially pissed off that another Charioteer was involved in her death. We’re supposed to stick together, dammit.

Shui-Lin kindly distracted me from the bitching by asking me about my scars. She looked a little surprised to see me shut up for once. Well. I told her most of it, omitting names and places. She’s a clever girl though. We spoke in depth about our respective motivations, and she spouted the usual religious stuff about helping people and being a good Amalthean. We were both remarkably closed about our reasons for helping Sava, which is interesting – there’s something between them beyond the religious. From her reactions to my end of the conversation, it’s possible she mistakes my naïveté for altruism, but that’s okay. It might just be the same thing in the long run.

We hit Cadavus in high dudgeon, and took a berth under a false name to avoid tipping anybody off. We caught up with the Boss in her office, which led to a tense little scene wherein I managed not to get shot again, but Sava did. It splashed off his shield of course – nobles are expected to look slick in combat and he certainly pulls it off.

We got the full sordid tale out of her. The captain had baulked at the sealed box – she refused to carry something she didn’t know the contents of, and actually broke one of the seals. The Scraver and Reeve with the Boss promptly shot her. Now on the one hand I can’t blame them for that – she was breaching guild law by tampering with cargo – but what they did next is far beyond the pale. They stuffed her body in a smuggling compartment, slid the box over it to hide the space, and terrified the Boss into silence. They could have just reported the incident. Instead they dishonoured a fellow guildsman. Slimy bastards.

The Boss gave us names and descriptions, and we made her write and sign a confession, which we had a Reeve certify a copy of. With everything in order, we headed out to the base commander’s headquarters to turn over the evidence. The Boss was simply terrified by this point, mostly of Sava, who’d done a good job putting the fear of the Decados into her. We walked out into the sunshine. I was feeling better, I have to say. The possibility of clearing my name was in reach, provided the rot didn’t go all the way to the top.

Then the Boss fell over, and Sava’s shield flared, and we bolted back into the market hall. A sniper had taken the back of the Boss’ head clean off (there’s an image that’ll haunt me for a while). The only good thing was that they weren’t shooting at me. Small mercies. The sniper vanished with the second shot of course, but with the prospect of more attempts on Sava’s life, we decided that discretion was the better part of valour. That is, we bolted. The best I could do under the circumstances was to give the original confession to a Reeve for delivery to Cadavus Guild HQ, and hope that it’s enough to at least put doubt on my warrant, if not clear my name completely.

Incidentally, the pilot I picked up to get us to Malignatius was a bit shocked by the Embrace. I may have neglected to mention the details of the job to him. He’d developed a pretty powerful dislike for us by the end of the trip, though Sava’s vodka softened his opinion just a little bit.

Rule No. 6: Avoid religion and politics

Religion is not something I ever expected to be debating with a priest.

And yet I spent most of the trip to Malignatius discussing just that with Shui-Lin. There was a lot of stuff about masks and perception and reputation, and why we cling to them so tightly. My own personal reputation and that of my guild are very important to me. All these D&Ms with Shui-Lin are teaching me a lot about myself (or rather, they’re putting into clearly defined boxes the things I already know but rarely voice).

Hmm. And I might just have a tiny little crush on her. But the way my luck’s running lately, she’s probably celibate.

When we hit Malignatius, the ship was empty almost as soon as her thrusters powered down. The pilot was just glad to be rid of us, and the passengers made a bee-line for the nearest pub. Which of course left me organising all the stupid minutia of ship ownership. And thank the stars I’d forgotten to hand over the payment box from the Barter job, because I was out of cash. Two thousand firebirds aren’t going to go far, though. I need to get off my arse and earn some money. You know, so I can continue to keep Sava in the style to which he’s clearly accustomed. Kittens. Let’s just pretend I’m not getting bitter about this.

I picked up a mail run and a more-than-normally idiosyncratic pilot and we headed for Istakhr. I was looking forward to warmer climes, both in terms of the weather and the trading opportunities.

Rule No. 4: Never get drunk in a strange town

I’m willing to declare Istakhr an exception.

I can’t even begin to explain where my head’s at right now.

We arrived on Istakhr, where Sava declared that he needed to buy a new dress. Which is about when I noticed what my brain had been politely ignoring up til that point. Sava was wearing a dress. Sitting like a lady. Cleavage, makeup, the whole deal.

I’ll admit to being irrational. It’s not every day your little brother turns out to be a little sister. Or rather, the abomination that is both at once. I’m astonished that Sava is so casual about it. What would he have done if Brother James had cried ‘abomination’ and tried to clean his stain from the Pancreator’s sight? He’s playing a very dangerous game. And I haven’t the first clue how to deal with it.

Shui-Lin (who is now spending more time being my confessor than Sava’s) tried to get me to talk about why I was having such a hard time with Sava’s revelation. Which only made me want to know why she wasn’t having a hard time with it. And more to the point, why she’d kept his secret, knowing that her order would probably be against him. Knowing that in making that choice, she’d betrayed her order. See? I told you she wasn’t as sweet as she pretends to be.

Anyway, we didn’t really get anywhere. She flatly refuses to talk about why she didn’t turn him in (though she denied being in love with him), and I refused to explain why it bothered me so much. I’m not sure I know, really. Maybe it’s the thought that Sava’s genetics have come from the same seed as mine. As far as I know I’m perfectly normal, but now I wonder. Dammit, I don’t want this to be about me. That’s so shallow.

Rule No. 8: Forget the damn rules

…because you’ll only end up re-writing them every damn month.