- Pronouns
- He/Him, They/Them
“Ahah!” Grohl of Grohl declared as he played a card. “12 exes.”
Assorted grumbling went through the group as one of the small cadre of Grohl sat around their engineering station playing cards.
“There is no universe where Grohl of Grohl has more exes than Grohl of Grohl, Grohl.” Another of the small group stated.
Grohl shrugged their shoulders, emanating smugness. “Challenge the card then, Grohl,” Grohl shot back confidently.
A murmur of disquiet went through the rest of the group. Grohl was not known as a bluffer. A third Grohl, new to the engineering deck, interjected.
“Grohl challenges.”
This was not unusual. What was unusual was that when Grohl turned over their card, the card showed only 6 exes, three less than Grohl of Grohl’s 9. Grohl sagged in their chair, having lost despite their confidence. There was something off about them, one of the others noted. Grohl was more confident in themselves than normal.
“6 exes. And the round goes to Grohl.” Their dealer, the deck’s officer, Grohl, noted, making a mark on a pad. The pad was a record of which Grohl owed what gohl to any other Grohl, payment due upon salary day, or when they hit spaceport, whichever was sooner.
The game started to break up, but Grohl also added a note to the pad - find out what was behind Grohl’s sudden confidence boost. Such things were normally fine and just a result of a Grohl maturing. But maturity and spice-flight can look a lot alike in a Grohl, so it never hurt to be careful.
“Provost on Deck!” Came a shout from the watch officer, an older Grohl, partially crippled from battle against the Kalorians half a cycle ago. Such Grohl were often given non-combat roles, though with advances in cybernetics - and an on the taboo against them - some Grohl were remaining at their posts.
Provost Grohl strode into the engineering station, noting with a single roll of an eye how the less experienced Grohl attempted to hide the game. The Provost turned to Grohl. “Why do they bother?”
Grohl shrugged. “This one hasn’t told them otherwise. Figure they’ll work it out eventually.” Grohl’s eyes narrowed as they continued to scurry around and shook their head. “That was almost a cycle ago. Should this one inform them?”
The Provost snorted, an odd sound for creatures that lack observable noses. “Not here for them. Where is it?”
Grohl knew what Provost-Grohl wanted to see, and led them through the deck. In a side alcove, under scan, was a large jet black object that looked both rocky and smooth. It seemed to pulse gently as they approached.
The Provost-Grohl took a look at the scans. “The humans didn’t know what it was?”
Grohl nodded. “They worshipped it, but knew nothing of its nature. The residual effects of it were still quite potent, even contained as it is. Their minds, of course, are not humanity’s strongest asset.”
The Provost raised an eyebrow. “Odd. They often claim that to be the opposite case.”
Now it was Grohl’s time to snort. “Ha. They’re passable. Some of them verge on brilliant in one area or another. But the average Terran’s main benefit is twofold. Firstly, they make unique and versatile testing vessels for a range of physicochemical and biological treatments. As an aside, there’s a growing current of thought that despite their late arrival to this sector, terrans may be the galactic default species.”
Provost frowned. “Stick to doctrine and facts, for now.”
Grohl shrugged. “It’s a compelling argument.” Grohl stopped themselves when the Provost moved to speak. “Facts. Greck doctrine for the moment.” Grohl pressed a button and a new screen appeared, showing the inside of the object.
“This is mind gunk.” The Provost-Grohl grimaced. “Only name that fit.” Grohl explained. “The ‘experts’ seem to think that it’s run off from a world-mind. A natural occurrence in mature ones, where the process is a lot like a dam being opened to drain a reservoir that’s too full.”
“There aren’t any mature world-minds. We can’t even find a juvenile.”
“Yes. And this has the hallmarks of a proto-world mind, which has the potential to be quite bad.”
“Explain.”
“Proto-World Minds are World Minds that haven’t yet bonded to a psycho-aware being, like a Grohl or one of those Kalorian Shadow Priests. Juvenile World Minds are just that - juveniles. Children. They can lash out and are untamed and offer dangers and wonders in equal measures.” The Grohl explained.
They continued. “Think of a Proto-World Mind like a river that hasn’t been dammed or tamed by engineering. There are no dams, or locks or breaks. So what happens to a Proto-World Mind when it has a build of mind gunk large enough that it needs to expel it?”
Provost Grohl could see where this was going. “Like a river after sufficiently heavy rain, it bursts its banks.”
Grohl nodded. “And in this instance, the Proto-World Mind sends this mind gunk across the sector, on both a psycho and physical level. It can cause any number of effects in sentients, from outbursts of anger to a mellow period sometimes lasting years. With the amount contained within this object, potentially decades.”
Provost-Grohl regarded the object itself now, rather than what was inside. It was of an oddly familiar design, but they couldn’t place it.
“This one… knows this object.” They said it almost as a question, as if unsure in themselves.
Grohl grunted. “This one felt that too. As did every other Grohl that came into contact with it.”
“Why?”
“On that, Provost. We have no idea.”
“No idea? You must have some idea.” The Provost was shocked.
Grohl looked away, frustrated with their team’s failure. “None. Ran it through every test a Grohl normally would. Then every test a Grohl wouldn’t. Then every test a Pahl’Dek would do. Even tried a few Terran tests before we gave that up. One of the Arem said that the Seizons sometimes licked objects to find out things about them. We considered that. Even considered seeing if one of the Moebius chapters had any ideas.”
The Provost snapped away from the object at the mention of the Moebius. Grohl noticed and put up their hands to placate them.
“Dismissed it out of hand. They’re too busy with spice peddling and abducting randos off the street to question. It won’t work. They’re idiots.”
Grohl turned back to the object. “In the end we spoke to the team that recovered it. A group Pahl’Dek salvagers. They claim there’s more of these their kind has found in the regions around the dead zone.”
The dead zone was an area of space that bordered the Grohl of Grohl. It was dead, after the intervention of several local species against the beings there.
“Do they think they came from the Dead Zone?”
“Oddly enough, no. There’s a pattern to the reports. Like someone or something left them there.”
“Who has the rest of these?” Provost-Grohl asked.
“We do. Or will. The Provost-Marshal is about to be redirected to pick them up from a Pahl’Dek transport ship. After that, we are to continue to follow the route the reports lay out, find as many of these as we can, and work out just what they are and where they come from.”
Provost-Grohl narrowed their eyes. “How do..”
Grohl interrupted, holding up a card from the game earlier and handing it to the Provost. The Provost looked at the card, then at Grohl, then at the card, then at Grohl, then at the card again, then at Grohl, then at the card, and finally once more at Grohl, before looking at the card and dropping to a knee.
Grohl of Grohl bodily picked the Provost up before anyone saw. “Tell a soul and this one will throw you out of an airlock, Provost.”
The Provost nodded, muttered something officious sounding about carrying on the good work, and strode off.
Several decks above, Provost-Marshal Grohl watched all of this on a viewscreen in their private quarter, deeply concerned.
Assorted grumbling went through the group as one of the small cadre of Grohl sat around their engineering station playing cards.
“There is no universe where Grohl of Grohl has more exes than Grohl of Grohl, Grohl.” Another of the small group stated.
Grohl shrugged their shoulders, emanating smugness. “Challenge the card then, Grohl,” Grohl shot back confidently.
A murmur of disquiet went through the rest of the group. Grohl was not known as a bluffer. A third Grohl, new to the engineering deck, interjected.
“Grohl challenges.”
This was not unusual. What was unusual was that when Grohl turned over their card, the card showed only 6 exes, three less than Grohl of Grohl’s 9. Grohl sagged in their chair, having lost despite their confidence. There was something off about them, one of the others noted. Grohl was more confident in themselves than normal.
“6 exes. And the round goes to Grohl.” Their dealer, the deck’s officer, Grohl, noted, making a mark on a pad. The pad was a record of which Grohl owed what gohl to any other Grohl, payment due upon salary day, or when they hit spaceport, whichever was sooner.
The game started to break up, but Grohl also added a note to the pad - find out what was behind Grohl’s sudden confidence boost. Such things were normally fine and just a result of a Grohl maturing. But maturity and spice-flight can look a lot alike in a Grohl, so it never hurt to be careful.
“Provost on Deck!” Came a shout from the watch officer, an older Grohl, partially crippled from battle against the Kalorians half a cycle ago. Such Grohl were often given non-combat roles, though with advances in cybernetics - and an on the taboo against them - some Grohl were remaining at their posts.
Provost Grohl strode into the engineering station, noting with a single roll of an eye how the less experienced Grohl attempted to hide the game. The Provost turned to Grohl. “Why do they bother?”
Grohl shrugged. “This one hasn’t told them otherwise. Figure they’ll work it out eventually.” Grohl’s eyes narrowed as they continued to scurry around and shook their head. “That was almost a cycle ago. Should this one inform them?”
The Provost snorted, an odd sound for creatures that lack observable noses. “Not here for them. Where is it?”
Grohl knew what Provost-Grohl wanted to see, and led them through the deck. In a side alcove, under scan, was a large jet black object that looked both rocky and smooth. It seemed to pulse gently as they approached.
The Provost-Grohl took a look at the scans. “The humans didn’t know what it was?”
Grohl nodded. “They worshipped it, but knew nothing of its nature. The residual effects of it were still quite potent, even contained as it is. Their minds, of course, are not humanity’s strongest asset.”
The Provost raised an eyebrow. “Odd. They often claim that to be the opposite case.”
Now it was Grohl’s time to snort. “Ha. They’re passable. Some of them verge on brilliant in one area or another. But the average Terran’s main benefit is twofold. Firstly, they make unique and versatile testing vessels for a range of physicochemical and biological treatments. As an aside, there’s a growing current of thought that despite their late arrival to this sector, terrans may be the galactic default species.”
Provost frowned. “Stick to doctrine and facts, for now.”
Grohl shrugged. “It’s a compelling argument.” Grohl stopped themselves when the Provost moved to speak. “Facts. Greck doctrine for the moment.” Grohl pressed a button and a new screen appeared, showing the inside of the object.
“This is mind gunk.” The Provost-Grohl grimaced. “Only name that fit.” Grohl explained. “The ‘experts’ seem to think that it’s run off from a world-mind. A natural occurrence in mature ones, where the process is a lot like a dam being opened to drain a reservoir that’s too full.”
“There aren’t any mature world-minds. We can’t even find a juvenile.”
“Yes. And this has the hallmarks of a proto-world mind, which has the potential to be quite bad.”
“Explain.”
“Proto-World Minds are World Minds that haven’t yet bonded to a psycho-aware being, like a Grohl or one of those Kalorian Shadow Priests. Juvenile World Minds are just that - juveniles. Children. They can lash out and are untamed and offer dangers and wonders in equal measures.” The Grohl explained.
They continued. “Think of a Proto-World Mind like a river that hasn’t been dammed or tamed by engineering. There are no dams, or locks or breaks. So what happens to a Proto-World Mind when it has a build of mind gunk large enough that it needs to expel it?”
Provost Grohl could see where this was going. “Like a river after sufficiently heavy rain, it bursts its banks.”
Grohl nodded. “And in this instance, the Proto-World Mind sends this mind gunk across the sector, on both a psycho and physical level. It can cause any number of effects in sentients, from outbursts of anger to a mellow period sometimes lasting years. With the amount contained within this object, potentially decades.”
Provost-Grohl regarded the object itself now, rather than what was inside. It was of an oddly familiar design, but they couldn’t place it.
“This one… knows this object.” They said it almost as a question, as if unsure in themselves.
Grohl grunted. “This one felt that too. As did every other Grohl that came into contact with it.”
“Why?”
“On that, Provost. We have no idea.”
“No idea? You must have some idea.” The Provost was shocked.
Grohl looked away, frustrated with their team’s failure. “None. Ran it through every test a Grohl normally would. Then every test a Grohl wouldn’t. Then every test a Pahl’Dek would do. Even tried a few Terran tests before we gave that up. One of the Arem said that the Seizons sometimes licked objects to find out things about them. We considered that. Even considered seeing if one of the Moebius chapters had any ideas.”
The Provost snapped away from the object at the mention of the Moebius. Grohl noticed and put up their hands to placate them.
“Dismissed it out of hand. They’re too busy with spice peddling and abducting randos off the street to question. It won’t work. They’re idiots.”
Grohl turned back to the object. “In the end we spoke to the team that recovered it. A group Pahl’Dek salvagers. They claim there’s more of these their kind has found in the regions around the dead zone.”
The dead zone was an area of space that bordered the Grohl of Grohl. It was dead, after the intervention of several local species against the beings there.
“Do they think they came from the Dead Zone?”
“Oddly enough, no. There’s a pattern to the reports. Like someone or something left them there.”
“Who has the rest of these?” Provost-Grohl asked.
“We do. Or will. The Provost-Marshal is about to be redirected to pick them up from a Pahl’Dek transport ship. After that, we are to continue to follow the route the reports lay out, find as many of these as we can, and work out just what they are and where they come from.”
Provost-Grohl narrowed their eyes. “How do..”
Grohl interrupted, holding up a card from the game earlier and handing it to the Provost. The Provost looked at the card, then at Grohl, then at the card, then at Grohl, then at the card again, then at Grohl, then at the card, and finally once more at Grohl, before looking at the card and dropping to a knee.
Grohl of Grohl bodily picked the Provost up before anyone saw. “Tell a soul and this one will throw you out of an airlock, Provost.”
The Provost nodded, muttered something officious sounding about carrying on the good work, and strode off.
Several decks above, Provost-Marshal Grohl watched all of this on a viewscreen in their private quarter, deeply concerned.