The tractor beam brought them down to the planet’s surface while they ran around like headless chickens. Derek ended up face first in some of the ship’s cargo containers, frantically searching for anything that could help them in the trials to come. The bikini bimbo took their functioning weapons to the galley’s kitchen table, broke them down, cleaned them, and put them all back together. Mare watched her go, while Derek putzed around in the cargo bay. Although less interesting, he did trip and land on his crotch, on a part of the bulkhead. This caused him to roll around on the floor, cursing for a while.
Mare got up and did a little dance. She gyrated, threw her hips this way and that, and waved her arms back and forth while laughing.
“This is the Dick Dance,” she told no one. “We will be taking a shot and doing the Dick Dance each and every time the Dick gets his due.” She hoped to be doing the Dick Dance plenty.
A short time later, the ship had landed, and the idiotic duo gave Flibbleflarg a stern talking to. She ramped up the sass on the alien, and made him more resistant to the bimbo’s physical charms. Instead he spat at them and cursed their names, but after a few exchanges she had him fall into a sullen silence.
“Good. Silence suits you,” the Bimbo said.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Derek the Dick told their mark. How wrong he was.
Chapter 16 - Memory Lane, Achy Balls
Lakewood was, of course, a swamp planet. It wasn’t quite as bad as that one planet in that one movie, where they had to wreck the ship getting in, but it wasn’t great. A series of rickety boardwalks extended from the marshy landing area, where the landing gear were in at least three feet of stagnant water and muck.
The boardwalk appeared to have been built up about fifty years ago, and recolonized by any number of slimy creatures or gooey plantlife. The level of detail on it was just astonishing (as always) but Derek couldn’t stop himself from admiring it.
Unfortunately, Mare had also jacked up the artificial smell generators in his helmet, which were busy mixing all sorts of noxious little molecules for him to get a whiff of. Gross. Then again, it didn’t smell too different than the hormone-heavy, sweaty mess his high school had been. For of course, one of Derek’s most endearing qualities had always been his cleanliness. He’d been surprised how many of them complained that their ex-boyfriends or later ex-fiancés stank or didn’t shower, and how they enjoyed that… mmm, what aftershave was that? Nuzzle.
They were shortly faced with the local spaceport operator, who Sigourney bribed with one of Derek’s Credits (increased effect and an assist die for her Sway roll, apparently) to leave off regarding the customs inspection. The toad-like creature with no neck, oozing skin and the too-long eyelashes directed them across town, to where ship parts might be acquired or manufactured custom, for a fee.
Sigourney seemed to be either drunk, dizzy, or intentionally bumping up against him more than necessary. He’d bought a rank in Study after leveling up the last time, as Survival hadn’t come in handy even a little bit, and reached up to tap at it surreptitiously, so maybe she wouldn’t notice him checking her out.
Gah, if only he’d done this with Meredith. Clearly he hadn’t paid close enough attention. Whatever he’d done that pissed her off, she hadn’t shared clearly enough. He knew his way with the ladies wasn’t great, but he didn’t consider it all that bad. After all, he’d had an unrelenting string of girlfriends throughout the years. Which meant he had at least a little skill at picking them up.
It was keeping them that he could never quite manage.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
“You just did.”
“Huh? Oh, haha. Right.”
“Go ahead,” she said.
“What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a relationship?”
She stopped. “You generally start off with ‘can I ask you a personal question?’”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. His Study request flashed a warning: A possible consequence of this action is that the recipient is made aware of this attempt. Crap. He really needed to understand women better, and what better way than with the assistance of the game?
He had a Plot Point. He tapped Y, and then followed this up by immediately spending his Plot Point to re-roll the 2, before the game informed her. This was almost as scary as facing off against the NPC opponents. The second die roll came up a 8, which was still not good enough. Crap crap crap crap crap. What was the complication? Crap!
“I had a… complicated relationship a while ago. It… didn’t end well. But we’d been together three years.”
A readout played out at the bottom of his HUD, revealing that Sigourney’s actual interest level in him was ???, but her perceived interest level based on her actions toward him were High, possibly Very High, given that the system couldn’t read the thoughts of other players.
But what was the damn complication?
He stuttered out, “Three… years? Three whole years?”
Her truthfulness level was Moderate to Low Moderate.
“We had blow ups and make ups. It was intense. You know how relationships can go sometimes.” Here she laughed, a forced sound he didn’t trust. “Always either fighting or f… fixing the relationship.”
Just what the hell did that mean? Low Moderate truthfulness? Ugh, this was totally a monkey’s paw moment. He never should’ve made the die roll. What was the freaking complication?
His HUD relayed that the consequence of his roll: a clock sprang to life reading Gary tracks you down. Well that was just as bad. If there was any ray of sunlight to be found, it was that the clock had sixteen segments, and only one was filled in. His HUD relayed that Downtime Phase had been interrupted.
“No luck with relationships?” she asked.
“Yeah, no, that’s not exactly… I mean, I’ve had plenty.”
“But you can’t keep them once you’ve got them.” She gave him a neighborly hip check. “Usually I’d say that comes down to being bad in the sack, but I have a crazy feeling that’s not it.”
Derek blushed, full-on from zero to candy apple red in a heartbeat. “I mean… I can’t really… I’m not… uh, I haven’t had any, uh, complaints?” He’d actually had a couple of repeat ex-girlfriends come back for a little nostalgic roll in the hay, only to leave with most of his valuables, dignity, or friends.
They passed several different alien creatures, some anthropomorphic salamanders with eyes on swiveling stalks, in some amazing skin colors, some insectoid creatures going about on thirty or forty legs while focused intently on their tablets. Just like one of his exes, he thought: very handsy and totally checked out of reality at any other time. He came across more of the bulbous toad creatures, and several small sapients too difficult to see, since they were riding drone-like hover vehicles about two feet long, zipping around here and there.
AND WHAT THE HECK DID LOW MODERATE TRUTHFULNESS MEAN!?
Sigourney gave him some side eye. “Busy place. I think we ought to be quick about this. If there’s a way to get a special navcomputer hack in the gameworld, maybe she won’t be able to mess with it. Higher security, you know? Or we could try and report her to the park authorities and get her fired.”
He flinched. Get Meredith fired? The thought of it made him queasy, given that she’d worked so hard to get him here. And honestly, what was happening was at least partly his fault. Every girl problem he’d ever had generally originated from him. Not that his exes were blameless, but he was far from perfect.
The way into town from the spaceport involved the raised boardwalk becoming wider, sturdier, newer, and scraped free of whatever pondscum had infested the dock walkway. Now Sigourney had little reason to continue brushing up against him, though that still happened, even while the words ‘high interest level’ did battle with ‘low moderate truthfulness’. There were certainly times when you just didn’t want the info you had.
They came upon a series of struts poking up out of the s
wamp. A large platform had been constructed between some of those supports, roughly in the clamshell shape of an amphitheatre, along with the rudiments of what would become plenty of seating. It would’ve been nothing, except for the raucous laughter coming from the work crew, who looked just ridiculous as salamander and toad creatures in hardhats, with the foreman a tiny drone-riding thing flitting here and there, shouting orders through a megaphone built into the drone. It had been, anyway.
Now the megaphone had fallen silent, and instead Derek caught sight of a salamander creature being pushed around and teased and laughed at. He thought the alien had sleek midnight blue skin with bright yellow dots of different sizes, but like the kid they’d rescued from himself, its sour mood caused it to turn a dull brownish color.
Bigger toady aliens, two big red salamander aliens, and one of those millipede things had backed this little slamandar up against the edge of the amphitheatre stage, then while he watched, it lost its footing. With no more stage behind it, it backed right up into nothing, and fell back into the foot deep swampy muck. The poor thing came up sputtering.
“Did you see that?” he asked Sigourney.
“Come on, we’re on a schedule. The more time we waste, the closer that Gary guy gets.”
No. This was too much coincidence. He took a right and headed from the established boardwalk past the construction tape to where the amphitheatre had their temporary boardwalk up, with Sigourney calling after him.
“Hey! Hey!” It’d have to be fisticuffs; blasters would be for later. “What the hell?”
The poor creature just stared up at him with its big eyes on little stalks, and turned a deeper shade of brown.
“This ain’t your business, yooman,” one of the toad aliens said. “Back owaff.”
Derek splashed into the muck, which tried to suck at his boots, but powered through and reached the small creature, then helped it up. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”
A hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to find one of the big reds crouched down and giving him the stink eye.
“Back off,” he said. The Command roll clattered, and flashed a 4. Great.
The thing wrenched him off his feet and a second later, his back slammed into the amphitheatre stage and he slid a few feet. Fine by him. He leapt back to his feet in time to lash out, roll a pair of 9’s on his Skirmish, and swing one of the salamanders by the wrist into one of the toads. Since he was in Controlled, his success downed the two of them at once. Unfortunately, a second segment of the Gary clock had ticked up at his Command failure. He needed to get this done quick.
The other three, along with the tiny hovering humanoid, paused and seemed to figure out which of them had the least amount of courage. This time he charged in for the attack, and somehow ended up with a roll of 2 and 3. They stepped out of the way, and a fist pounded him on the back, slamming him to the stage again.
The situation flashed over to Risky rather than harm him, though it still felt like some of the wind had just been knocked out of him. This time he bounced up to his feet, grabbed onto an arm, and muttered, ‘Wreck this.”
His Wreck roll went 4 and 6, so he took down another one by snapping its amphibian arm. The red salamander with the black spots gave a croaking sort of shriek, like a drawn out duck quack, and lurched away cradling its now useless, floppy, slimy, gross appendage.
“I said back–”
The little drone plowed into his nuts.
Derek gave a strained groan, resisted the harm, taking it down to level 1. He then calmly seized it before it could back off, and used it to bash the toad thing in the face. This time he scored a 10 and a 3, which was enough to take them both out even despite his reduced effect from the Harm. He wished the game had allowed him to buy a third dot in Skirmish, but he had to go up in Access Level for that.
The little drone rider went flying with a teensy squeal, while the toad clamped its webbed hands over its face. Then he drew his blaster and pointed it around at them.
“Go on, I dare you. Go ahead. Somebody else take a junk shot. See where it gets you.”
Well, apparently a blaster could give you increased effect on a Command roll. Good to know. Maybe it was the wild look in his eyes, or maybe it was the 8 he’d rolled on his single die. A third segment filled in on the Gary clock, but that was fine. Thirteen more to go was fine. Just fine.
He turned back to their victim, and a moment of deja vu hit. She was in almost exactly the same position as Meredith had been back in ninth grade. She was the same size and roughly the same shape, minus the short eye stalks. Maybe the game had re-skinned whatever weird memory level she’d programmed. He offered down a hand and pulled her up.
“You’ll be fine,” he said.
In his HUD, a quest appeared in his quest log, then flashed green, to finished. He was awarded one more XP for standing up for the little guy.
The creature threw herself (itself?) into a tight embrace, soaking him further. God, did they have some kind of water reservoir in the haptic suit? Was this real water?
Best not to dwell on it.
“Hey, it’s okay.” he soothed.
The not-Meredith was sobbing for a time, while Sigourney watched from a ways off, arms crossed and looking moderately trustworthy.
“The curse of forbidden knowledge,” he muttered.
The not-Mare finally peered up at him, and when it spoke, it was literally her voice. She’d recorded herself speaking… then tweaked it to make herself sound younger? “Thank you! Gah, those guys have been jerks to me for weeks. I’m just trying to help out, you know? My parents…” She didn’t have to go on. He knew her parents were pretty awful. “Anyway it’s volunteer work, except…”
“These guys have to do community service.” Criminals. Did that mean the hover drone creature was law enforcement?
She leaned back and swiveled her eyes at him. “You’re… you’re…”
“What’s that?”
“...so handsome,” she breathed. “How can I ever repay you?” With that, she fluttered her bulbous eyelids at him. Is this how it had gone back in high school? No, no way. She’d been new in town and far too shy to say anything like this. And, not a salamander creature.
“I’m good. No payment necessary.” He began to peel her off him, which was a bit too literal for his tastes. He was just glad this wasn’t an undersea world and she an octo-alien. “I actually, I have to get going… I won’t be staying on planet.”
“Oh!” she beamed. “I can go with you!”
“I don’t–”
“Please!” Not-Mare begged. “I can’t stand it here. This planet, the food, the people, my parents. It’s terrible, all of it. I can help you! I’ll… I’ll do anything!”
“Sorry, pumpkin,” Sigourney piped up. “He’s with me.” Derek flashed her a look of pure gratitude, until he saw the smirk on her moderately truthful mug.
***
The lights were off in her office now, the digital lock of her door winking red light on and off as Meredith zoomed the flickering game screen in on Derek’s face. She watched his every expression, holding her breath, the stink of hard liquor burning in her throat. What was Derek going to say? Was he going to accept Not-Mare into his team? Would he understand that everything he had done from that moment forward would mean the world to her, and that she would pay him back in kind if he could just grab a hold of her and understand how great they’d be together?
“I can’t stand it here,” Not-Mare begged on her screen. Meredith mouthed the words along with her. They felt cathartic, each one drawing a bit of anger out from her soul.
“Sorry, pumpkin,” Bimbo said from off her screen. “He’s with me.”
Oh, you, you are going to get it.
Meredith slammed her fist onto the desk, grabbed up her shot glass, and whipped across the room. It shattered into a million sharp pieces, each one glittering briefly from the glare of her monitor.
Meredith growled and took a swig direct from her bott
le. Oh yeah, that feels good, she thought as the fizzy energized whisky concoction slapped her brain while kicking up her energy levels. Alright, I know what to do.
She selected a second game scenario from her personal stash and dragged it into the program, selecting an AI autobot to automatically reskin it based on the setting. Then she paused, minimized that window, and opened up a direct command link to Not-Mare, the cute little alien. Sigourney and Derek were walking off deeper into the port, and she didn’t want to regret not doing this later. Taking command via her console, the cute little alien girl plodded after the couple.
“Mister!” Not-Mare yelled as she caught up. Both of them turned, Sigourney with her weapon raised and ready, Derek with a stupid look on his dumb, dickish, handsome face.
“Listen, honey, I’m so-”
Derek dropped to the ground as the little alien girl kicked him as hard as she could in the balls.
“Dick,” she added, then she ran away.
“Oh god! Oh my god! This is hell!” Derek moaned from the ground. Meredith cackled, then zoomed in on Sigourney’s face, looking for any sign of dismay. But there was nothing. Damn.
Jumping back into the little-alien girl’s console, she had the girl run at them again, this time targeting Sigourney. But the woman dropped to the ground, swung a beautiful copper-toned leg out in an arc, and sent the little girl flying. The AI in charge of emotions must have had a hard time parsing what was happening because Not-Mare screamed like Mario as she flew backward to whence she came.
Ugh– Alright, scenario two. She watched and waited as Sigourney and Derek worked their way through the slums of Lakewood, past rickety shanties and shacks made of sodden and decomposing wood, doors covered by dried flaps of lizard skin, and smoke rising from their center. Once they crossed over into the stone huts of the middle-class, though, Meredith sprang into action.
“Stop it!” a salamander in a pretty blouse and purple skirt moaned as two larger ones paced on her, forcing her back into a wall.
“What did we tell you, Meredick?” the one asked. The other laughed and clapped, goading her on.
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