Art:Space Pirates/Gorgeia's Story
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Gorgeia's Story
Gorgeia's Confession
by Pletoo
We blame Prasti, really we do, and that infernal song of hers. The song that changed us in a way science has neither been able to replicate nor reverse. We’ve debated recording these events, but they have had a significant effect on current circumstances and need to be chronicled despite our own personal embarrassment concerning our involvement. This is an accurate accounting of the events leading up to “the Puzzlement,” as it is currently called. Names have not been changed, because no one is completely innocent.
We had just gone through a phase shift when our services were required at Messiinga. It was time to stage another attack, a task the crew of Oliver’s Folly has performed on numerous occasions. We do not know who hired us for this particular job but it is usually someone of influence, possibly the mayor himself. The “dangerous conditions” of the otherwise luxurious moon colony assures the proper funding is sent to protect its citizens, while the deal tends to minimize actual attacks. The timing was such that many of us came into maturity during the crew’s time at Messiinga. Along with that came an intense craving for mellatine chocolow, a sweet delicacy found only in that particular sector. We had bought enough to last us through the next phase shift, or so we thought.
After a few more missions, we returned to our home port, a place which we shall not name, (some secrets are too valuable to be spoken lightly of.) Our supply of mell-choc ran out two days before we ported, and we needed more. At first we believed it was a mere miscalculation and the cravings would pass with the slightly overdue phase shift, but we would soon learn that it was much more, something was changing within.
As is customary, the crew took shore leave in shifts, four remained on board while the captain and the rest enjoyed reckless oblivion. With little else to occupy our thoughts, this 'need overcame common sense, much to our shame. We decided a restocking excursion was in order, and proceeded to convince our fellow crewmates to “borrow” the ship. Del, a man of action and growing restless, readily agreed. Prasti, as usual said nothing, however we knew she would keep tinkering regardless of the ship’s location. That only left Mull, loyal, stubborn Mull.
As expected, Mull was hesitant, but we were very persistent. We argued that it would be a quick trip since it was just a supply run, we could use the portals; the captain would not even know about it until we returned, at which time we would explain everything. In full persuasive mode, we further declared that the captain would not be angry because he understood us and our needs, we were not shirking our duties if we took the ship with us, and we were under orders to move the ship if needed. We mixed in a dose of flattery… Mull IS the best navigator around (outside of battle that is.) Then finally we clinched the deal with four words that really should never be uttered, “What could go wrong?”
The trip there went without a hitch, we bought twice as much mell-choc as before, just in case, and we were headed back when we began to learn what could go wrong. We were inspecting the hold, (okay - for accuracy’s sake, we were indulging our cravings) when we heard a strange sound. We followed the mewling and soon discovered a little bit of white fur followed by lace; lots and lots of lace. We had a “guest,” actually two, but we don’t believe the small one came of its own free will. Stowaways are common enough, there are many reasons not to make oneself known, but usually it is a strictly no-frills mode of travel, this one with her pink ruffles and excessive ribbons just didn’t fit the norm.
We were not prepared for the torrent of tears prompted by the simple question, “What are you doing here?” Several sobs and snuffles later, we were able to piece together enough of her story to know she was simply bored with her life and longed for adventure, a common enough beginning for many in our field, but in our opinion she was not prepared for the rigors of life aboard a space vessel, particularly ours, and we made the mistake of saying so. She begged to be allowed to stay, and then came those words, “What could go wrong?”
We certainly couldn’t let her go back to our home port so we had to drop her off somewhere, which meant turning around and going back to Messiinga, there was nowhere else. Not letting her out of our sight, we marched up to the bridge (well… we marched, we can’t say that she did, we believe the term is “flounced.”) The ship was approaching the portal and Mull had just received clearance to pass through. Suddenly things went haywire. We were surprised by Esme’s tears earlier but her actions on the bridge caught us all completely off guard. Without warning, she grabbed Del, wrapped his arms around her neck, moved in view of the screen and started hollering about being abducted. Alarms went off, weapons were brought to readiness, but Mull acted quickly and slipped through the portal, leading us to safety… in the middle of a meteor shower.
His ears the color of his hair, Mull stammered something about his battle navigation, and worked to regain his composure. The rest of us waited until the ship stopped thrashing about before picking ourselves up off the floor. Mull managed to get the ship out of harm’s way but not before it received heavy damage. There was no option but to land on a nearby (barely) hospitable planet and send off a distress signal. So much for the captain not being angry.
The only signs of life could only be described as a mix of a frog and a monkey, (both creatures are from Earth.) Esme took to calling them “fronkies,” but they were obviously primitives and we had no cause for concern. The ship, with the proper tools, could be repaired, and it was decided that we would all make our way back to civilization and return later to retrieve it. It was unlikely that it would be discovered in our absence, but we wiped the most revealing data as a precaution. Mull still wanted to stay behind, but he eventually listened to reason, the planet truly was unpleasant. Fortune was with us, or maybe it was laughing at us, at any rate, our distress signal was picked up by a derelict of a passenger vessel called Hackney.
Space on board was limited, (I could only bring a small portion of my precious mell-choc.) Mull and Del managed to find some crew members willing to share their cabins, leaving us to share the one remaining passenger cabin available. We did manage to get a message off to the captain, but he found ironic justice when he heard of our current situation onboard the Hackney – we would be paying for our lack in judgment for a long time to come. Two months dragged on, as the ship plodded on its way to Calliope Station. Surprisingly, or maybe not, we found Esme and Mimsy to be better companions than Prasti and that song, that ever-present, never-changing song.
Esme’s dramatic antics actually brought some entertainment into the monotony of the trip. Her head full of romantic mush, she set her sights on Del, the poor man never knew what hit him. She told anyone who would listen (she found a ready ear in the mechanic, Zed) how the first time he saw her, Del threw his arms around her and swept her off her feet, somehow certain details were left out of that encounter. She was relentless in her pursuit, who would have believed that Del would actually be caught?
Fueled by success, Esme then decided that we were lonely and proceeded to concoct ways to throw Sethal, the ship’s engineer, and ourself together. She declared us a perfect match (as she put it, we both had “that octopus / changeling thing” going on.) To our horror, a word we have never used before started making its presence known in our thoughts – “dreamy!” What self-respecting pirate uses the word dreamy?
Of course, Sethal did not know that was our occupation, a good thing, too, as we were talking one evening and his hatred against ALL brigands and pirates was made painfully clear. Though we managed to maintain our composure until later, we have never been so emotional. We polished off the remaining mell-choc and poured out our hearts to Esme; Prasti’s song punctuating the conversation, suiting our mood perfectly.
Not one to give in, Esme spent the next few days prodding and poking until she found the reason why he hated them so. He told her about the devastation they had wrought on his home planet and the resulting collapse of the economy. We remembered this event, but we also remembered it was not the work of pirates but of carelessness – an experiment that went wrong and got out of control. We were onboard one of several pirate vessels in the area at the time and profited greatly for taking the blame for the “mistake.” Esme insisted that we needed to tell him so our “love could blossom in full octopi splendor.” We were wary that he would not believe us, she was sure love would conquer all. She convinced Zed to lock us in the cabin, we convinced Sethal to listen to us. All was well.
Well… almost all. Seven months had passed without a phase shift; we still craved mell-choc (though we managed to control it with discipline.) Furthermore, we found that we could now hear Prasti’s song constantly even when she was absent, it had become a part of us, every note, every inflection passed on from generation to generation without change. Never in our existence has that happened before. We believe that consistency is the reason behind our newfound stability. Predictability is a dangerous trait for a pirate, and we may need to find a new line of work.
We finally arrived at Calliope, determined to complete our mission and restore the Folly back to our captain. An unusual amount of activity had lit up the station with many people bustling about. Apparently a brand new species had emerged on the space scene and they were causing quite a stir. Scientists were baffled. We were curious, but had to secure a ship, so we headed to a docking bay.
There, to our amazement, sat the Folly, swarming with fronkies. We quietly slipped onboard and discovered that almost the entire shipment of mell-choc was gone. One of the fronkies had followed us, and held out a furry, webbed paw, so we handed him a small piece. Words cannot accurately describe the transformation that took place next! What had been a very primitive and unintelligent creature, stood up and proceeded to help us as we set about wiping the rest of the ship’s data banks before the scientists discovered it. The effect was as short lived as it was amazing. We quickly left the ship and melted into the crowd before our presence was known, and decided it would be best not to reveal what we knew.
Predictably, when the captain discovered his ship was the center of attention, he decided it was time to look into getting a different one. Feeling obligated, we found a ship that was far better. The crew (Pasti and Mull, whom have been seen together often with a hint of a smile since she started standing on his left side; Del and Esme, Sethal and ourself) was preparing to board the new vessel when we were approached by a small slip of a presence, a ghost named Lucy. She told us of her situation and pleaded with us to let her come along. “Please,” she said, “I’m smart and don’t take up much room. What could go wrong?”
