Pher

Tall and tan and young and lovely The girl from Ipanema goes walking And when she passes, each one she passes goes - ah When she walks, she’s like a samba That swings so cool and sways so gentle That when she passes, each one she passes goes - ooh (ooh) but I watch her so sadly How can I tell her I love her? Yes I would give my heart gladly But each day, when she walks to the sea She looks straight ahead, not at me Tall, (and) tan, (and) young, (and) lovely The girl from Ipanema goes walking And when she passes, I smile - but she doesn’t see (doesn’t see) (she just doesn’t see, she never sees me,...) It was Pher’s favorite walking song, rolling through her head. It set the mood. This wasn’t the ideal situation, of course. There was a trick to walking on sand. Tourist girls, used to shoes, used to touching heel to ground first, absolutely could not do the beach walk. That was reserved for the natives, girls who lived barefoot, girls who touched the sand first with the wide soles of their feet rather than their heel. A small part of Pher’s smile was pity for the tourist girls. They’d never get The Walk down. Well, perhaps pity wasn’t the right word. There was just a tad too much smugness and malice in her soul for that. Yet, here she was, on a world horribly short on water and sand, walking on pavement, and wearing shoes. Ugh. Shoes. Ah, well. If it was impossible for a tourist girl to do The Walk on sand, it wasn’t impossible for a New Risan to do a pretty good imitation of it on the hard pavement of a city street. A lot of The Walk’s swaying and motion was unnecessary without the soft sand effecting one’s stride… Not necessary, but satisfying. While the song's lyrics and situation didn’t allow her to appear to notice the craning necks, she had long since learned to detect craning necks from out of the corners of her eyes. While The Walk continued, she reviewed her instructions. The stuff had to get to the ship. She, and presumably the Doc, could not get caught. The stuff was likely hot, and could not be inspected by the Guardians. The Guardians were on an absurd alert level. Trying to get through now would be a significant risk. She had not scouted the scene or spoken with the bribed official. The people weren’t hers, and she didn’t know how good they were. In short, going now was a risk, she couldn’t control or mitigate the risk, and her instructions, if taken literally, didn’t allow for risks and failures. So.. if the box doesn’t look good, think outside the box. The QoB was supposedly working with the Guardians, but at this early phase they could not contact the Guardians and ask them to let the stuff through. However, before going off planet, the Captain would be closer to the Guardians, and able to get an effective pass through airport security. She knew of no reason why the stuff had to be loaded now. Delay seemed to be the answer. She would get a storage area near the airport, but outside the security perimeter. It wasn’t very adventurous. However, the captain seemed to like results more than adventure. It seemed the way to go. Tall and tan and young and lovely The girl from Ipanema goes walking...

Pher's "Yes, Master" came with less that total enthusiasm. Had she been succeeding to often? If she failed spectacularly a few times, might he give her vaguely plausible missions? She tapped Audrey to kill the comm, and considered. All she had on this one was her ability to read people. The smuggler believed. He was risking a lot on success. He believed he could do it. She didn't doubt that in ordinary times he had pulled this off without trouble. Thing is, this wasn't ordinary times. The Guardians wanted Minos bad, and they were about to walk through one of the obvious places Minos would have to pass. The smuggler gave competent vibes, but occasionally the Guardians could be competent too. This would be a risk. The Master had said, "don't get taken into custody." She would assume that command applied to Dash as well. With his leg, he wasn't in shape to evade. With the absolute don't get caught rule, she couldn't afford unnecessary risks. She would have to loose Dash.

The above is right for joining an academy sim. Once you graduate, the process is more complicated. You will be sent a list of ships by e-mail, what time they play, and what positions are open on each ship. You'll be asked for first and alternate choices. It's somewhat more complicated, but instructions are included.

General Information Name : Pheromone of Evenstar Bay AKA : Pher, Annie, Pheromone the Green Species: Orion Age: 23 Years Place of Birth: Evenstar Bay, New Risa Skin Tone: Green Hair: Black Eyes: Violet Height: 185 Centimeters, (6’ 1”) Mass: 63 kg (139 lbs) Marital status: Single Education Evenstar Bay Employee Remedial Program, GQT equivalent Employment History Lifeguard, Evenstar Bay, New Risa, 6 years Chief Lifeguard, North Beach, Evenstar Bay, New Risa, 4 years Research Assistant, Pharmall Pharmaceuticals, Tranquility, 1 year. Lifeguard, Tranquility Central Municipal Pool, 4 months. Security Assistant, Merchantman Qob, 1 year Security Chief, Merchantman Qob, 1 month Health Excellent * Hobbies Traditional Orion dance, Kite boarding, Jet rig fishing, Swimming, Stick fencing, In vivo sperm collection * See confidential medical file for clarification.

I got asked two questions in private messages during last run. Both reasonable questions. The first one was easy. What was Pher wearing? The text answer was casual sort of jeans and tops. The more thorough answer would be... The above represents a middle look. On duty, working around the ship, she tends to wear loose fitting well worn seen too much use coveralls. On the other hand, on evenings on shore leave, or when she is off shift and looking for male company, she has other sorts of outfits. She can and will dress naughty for bar hopping, but the tourists at Evenstar Bay could afford Evenstar Bay prices. A lot of them were old, well to do, had pretenses, and appreciated elegance. New Risa isn't all about rags and cages. Pher is a bit of a chameleon, able to adjust wardrobe and manners to fit the company. The second question asked was a bit more complex. To what degree does Pher's pheromones effect nearby males? The short answer is that in last weeks run, barely at all. I figure I'd best go through a longer answer out of character. You might judge for yourselves how much your characters have encountered Orion Animal Women previously, what rumors they might have heard, and how accurate the rumors. This note is to help make sure we are all more or less on the same page out of character, but culture clashes, ignorance and misunderstandings might be part of the fun as the characters get to know each other. First, races and individuals can be more or less susceptible to pheromone effects. For example, Vulcans can generally ignore them. Human males are by canon susceptible. Other races would vary. Joe and I have considered that the degree of sensitivity can also vary from individual to individual. Thus, if you want your character to be anything from very sensitive to nigh on immune, this could be done. I'd personally like to see a wide variation, but play at your comfort level. Males, I would think, would be far more susceptible than females. There might plausibly be exceptions. The other question is how much pheromones will she be releasing at any given moment. (I'll note that my answers are true for Pher, and will be broadly true for animal women coming from New Risa, but I'm not claiming that the following would be canon for all Orion females.) In general, unless stimulated by interested nearby males, she would release nothing. She would emit pheromones in small to moderate amounts if aroused, depending on how much interest is being shown. She could work herself up into a frenzy, for example by wearing rags and chains while dancing in a cage, but that really isn't Pher's thing. Other animal women do it, and it is part of the animal woman stereotype, but not as common as rumor and legend might have it. Pher will dance, and will respond to audience enthusiasm, but she keeps very aware of ventilation and distance from the audience. Pher would release in very heavy doses if frightened in a sexual context. I'm playing pheromones as evolved to attract and hold life mates. In most cases this is a consensual mating process that can be slow and involve light to moderate honey dust dosages. It normally takes time for the male to become addicted in such a consensual courtship. In the case of rape, of extreme sexual violence, the amounts of honey dust released can be strong enough to create a one dose addiction in a male Orion. The evolutionary concept is that the child of rape shall be provided for by the father. As a broad guideline, the more gently you treat Pher, the lower the dosage will be. It is not difficult to get Pher aroused. A male who stares at her, imagining her undressed, and making no attempt to hide it, can easily set her off. This in turn might start setting off any male who gets near her. As a broad guideline, however worked up a male makes himself, Pher and other nearby males might conceivably follow. How near the others might have to be depends on the environment. In open windy area, the dust would get quickly dispersed. In tight places with poor ventilation, the dust would linger, and the concentrations would grow. Joe wants a PG sim. As a guideline, I wouldn't recommend going beyond a little light hearted flirting with Pher while on duty or in a crowd. If she should ever offer anyone a raincheck, this will be a request to cool it until the pair can get off on their own for a while. Pher generally likes the attention, so long as her partner is willing to follow it up to the natural conclusion, but give her too much attention in a closed poorly ventilated location where other males are present would be ill advised. Let's try to avoid that scene. Pher is aware of the problems, and has tools available to avoid them (including but not limited to her pain stick) but I thought I'd send out a little heads up. And then we have the Deltan... In my New Risan fluff, where some of the resorts try to hire the most erotic females in the known galaxy, I had Orions rated as dangerously easy to get addicted to, but significantly less potent than Deltan pheromones or Elasian tears. We'll have to see how the Deltan is played. I generally play nice girls. Pher was originally going to be very naughty, a change of pace reflecting the darker tone of recent STSF games in general, and Bull's Head in particular. During the preliminary search for the character, things got very naughty. I toned it down considerably when considering how to integrate the character into a PG sim. While a lot of the naughty is still there if you dig deep, she doesn't exactly enjoy people trying to dig deep. She ended up less a bad girl than a nice girl from a not so nice culture, complete with a bad past and emotional problems. She tends to hide her problems by swaying as she struts. Problems? What problems? Nothing that can't be solved with a few touches from a pain stick. Let me know if she is taking anyone out of their comfort zone. Bob / Pher

Ah. It's good to see how well everybody is getting along. :P

“Master? We’ve got something… interesting. I think it’s your call.” As they walked away from the job interviews, finding a small bit of privacy, Pher listened to Captain Joe's firm if exasperated repetition that Pher was not a slave. Of course she wasn't a slave. Still, she liked to hear Joe say she wasn't a slave. She listened patiently, smiled, and answered with a false and flirtatious submissiveness. "Yes, Master." It seemed a proper time to change the subject, “Look, Dash found a dealer, and got the bulk of what we need in for medical and foodstuff. Thing is, we think most of us is hot. The dealer wants to deliver it to the ship without it getting looked at by the Guardians. Claims he can do it too. He’s got a bribed port employee who can supposedly get us to the ship without Guardian escort. Maybe he could do it in normal times, but with the Minos situation, I am not at all confident he'll make it through. “If he can get through, this is a plus for us. It’s base for a rumor that we can and have thumbed noses at the Guardians, and might be able to get stuff off world. Thing is, I’m not sure we should be taking the chance. It might be better to warn the Guardians off, to be sure they let us through. We can give them a smuggler, a crooked port employee and a better chance at their big prize. We can offer them an inspection if they absolutely must. This does assume there are no leaks in the Guardians. “Or we can roll the dice and hope our supplier has a real hole through port security. I've put the transaction on hold waiting on your word, but I don't think we can hold it long. “How you want to play it?”

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a brief kiss, then wrapping the offered skirt around my waist. “Very kind of you.” “Do you want the rest? The top a least?” He seemed eager to be my personal champion. I had to be careful to laugh at the world, not at him. “Look, you could get it all back with your fists, and have some fun in the process. I could get it back with my lips, and have fun in the process. Take a look at the kind gentleman behind the bar. He owns the place. Nice guy. Nice place. Which do you think he would prefer?” “Ah…” He considered. “Lips?” The conclusion disappointed him. I kissed him again. Who says all males are dumb? They’re just… focused. “I think so. Besides, if I didn’t want a chance to say hello to old friends, I am perfectly capable of having my stuff land on the stage instead of in the audience. Buy me a drink, and maybe this time I won’t be remembered as the reason the riot started.” He ordered the drinks, and found us a small table. I arranged my hair for a token pretense of what the human girls curiously call ‘modesty,’ while quietly signing the bar girl that I wanted the alcohol this time. I wasn’t apt to dance another set, and thought it would be nice to relax a bit. Sides, it wasn’t like I was one of the full time girls. I was just stuck visiting old friends while my ship was stuck on the ground. “Your dancing is… interesting.” “Are you a dancer?” He hesitated. “No… A martial artist.” “Ah. Then you noted the dances came from different traditions.” “Quite.” “The first is almost a parody. It’s how Surf Side animal women portray Lee Shore animal women portraying real animal women dancing.” “Surf Side?” “Never been to New Risa?” I changed my voice to assume an autocratic air while raising my nose in the air.” We Surf Side girls have class. The Lee Shore folk do the whole rags, chains and cages thing. I never used to take bump and grind quite to Lee Shore levels, but once you get off New Risa, if the audience sees green skin they seem to expect drooling cave women.” “I was really more interested in the later numbers.” “Of course you were.” This wasn’t entirely fair. He was interested in the middle kata piece. The martial aspects of that one, to him at least, were more significant than the exotic aspects. Still, in love and war, all weapons are authorized. One had to make a token attempt at the high ground. “But… Well. Frankly, you should look into pain stick technology somewhat. If your prop were a real stick, you wouldn’t actually have to touch to get an effect. There is a nimbus around the tip. The way you were handling the stick would have been quite painful.” I gave him my best innocent ignorant little girl listening to wise male look when a pain stick tip suddenly appeared under his chin. Oh, dear. I seemed to be holding it. OK. So, I have the occasional odd quirk. Scorn the girl with a hot libido. Assume a greenie can only earn money one way. Call me Annie like it’s what I am not a job description. But talk about my pain stick with respect, OK? I walked around the table once, watching male pride fight with the logical rational desire to evade. I gave him a bit of hip and a lot of chest, shook my head carelessly, and looped the tip of the stick around my body and his in turn to the applause of sundry and all. Pride he had, and discipline, and that little something secret. For some, pleasure and pain weren’t so far apart. He might almost be green. He might be worth training. I collapsed the stick, settled back into my chair, but didn’t stop smiling. “I have a fine pain stick.” “It’s a wonderful pain stick.” “Power and field projection units are Klingon made. The gems, gold and enamel work are of the finest New Risan craftsmanship. It’s Federation legal… barely.” “Nice.” It’s really easy to be appreciative of my stick when it’s powered up. “You don’t get the second dance at all, do you?” “I wouldn’t call it a dance,” he said. “It’s a martial arts kata.” “It’s both,” I insisted, collapsing my stick and slinging it into it’s sheath on my belt. “Which seems wrong,” he said with firmness. “The purpose of martial art is to defeat the opponent. Does one compromise a fighting style with dance, with entertainment?” I sighed. “Technically, the resort owners don’t own their girls on New Risa. They just own the girl’s contracts. Some consider this to be an important distinction.” “The girls don’t?” I shrugged. “We poor uneducated tramps haven’t the legal training to properly understand the distinction. Anyway, New Risan social mores change one’s perspective. The purpose of gladiatorial combat is entertainment. Some girls might be trained to win, and end up standing at the end of the dance. Others might find themselves on the floor, but are sooner invited to another high stakes fight. Winning and loosing isn’t just about the two girls. It’s about keeping the tourists and suits happy.” “And you’re good at keeping the tourists and suits happy?” I shrugged slightly and shook my head a bit, noting the number of heads that turned as I did so. “I manage.” “And the point of the dance, other than to get the tourists and suits interested, was…” The original mistress of the style didn’t think girls should be down. Down means helpless. Tourists like you helpless, but that doesn’t mean, no mater what position you find yourself in, you shouldn’t be able to defend yourself while shaking your assets. You can’t stop dancing.” “So all the low stances were fighting stances?” “Not first choice fighting stances. I’d far rather argue with someone standing up. Still, it’s a training form. If you’re going to go down, and you are going to go down, it teaches how to get up quickly while defending. It’s also a conditioning form. Maintaing low stances gives the muscles a work out. It’s also aerobic. The way it keeps moving, if you do it several times consecutive you stay in shape.” “And it teaches to whack yourself with your own pain stick?” “Do you stop lifting weights when the reps start to hurt some?” “No…” “Do you slow down when doing a conditioning run, just because breathing hurts a little?” But…” “Now, how would you train for pain stick arena combat?” “That’s… crazy.” “Got to keep those tourists happy.” “That’s sick.” I laughed. “Vulcan have their logic. Klingons have their honor. Humans love to talk of freedom while enforcing their endless rules. Me? Pleasure and pain. Sex and violence. Dance and conflict. Male and female. Master and slave. Coupling and death. None of them are really opposites. They all make each other, complete each other. One is the other. It’s all one dance.” “Or one kata?” “Dance is kata. Look. This sort of heavy philosophical conversation needs privacy and fewer distractions. They keep some rooms upstairs for just this sort of deeply penetrating intellectual pursuit. Interested?” He politely drooled in response. Of course he was interested. This sort of dance and talk always got me going, though I judged he would be roused even without the pheromones. “I’ll be right back.” I stood, arranged my hair again, moistened my lips with my tongue, and glanced about the room. Several of the guys helpfully held up various items of clothing. I slowly strode towards the nearest with a little more hip and upper body action than absolutely necessary...

Pher... on duty and off... I recently upgraded my computer, which gives me the horsepower to upgrade my CGI stuff. As a result, I've redone Pher...

After our breathing settled down to normal, I nudged him off me. He settled on his side, which was fine with me. I spooned up against him, and pulled the covers over us both, feeling his arms pull my body against his. Warmth. Protection. Safety. The itch was blessedly silent. I could sleep. “Now, will you answer my questions?” “Sleep,” I said. “You said first things first. Questions second.” “Questions third? Sleep second?” A girl can dream. Sometimes. If her partner will just be quiet. He began a gentle massage that threatened to reawaken the itch. “OK, OK, questions. You just have to stay until morning. I’ll… sleep better if you stay.” “Who are you? Are you Pher? Or Annie?” “Both,” I replied. “On duty, I’m Pher. Always. When I haven’t a flower behind my ear, Pher. When I am wearing a flower behind my ear…” How did one say it? “Yes?” “Annie is short for animal, Brad. Animal is short for Orion animal woman. Some worlds, calling someone Annie isn’t polite. Some places, you call someone’s girl Annie, that’s a fighting word. It can imply not just race, not just gender, but a girl’s profession, her morality, or her lack of it.” “Oh.” “When I’m off duty... When I’ve got a flower in my hair... When the itch has got me... I’m Annie. If you want me to offer you my flower, if you would accept it if offered, call me Annie. Just be careful of the optional sneer.” “I won’t sneer. I will never sneer.” “A sneer means you are safe. Brad? You do know that I’m addictive? There are limits on what we can do, and how often? Too much pheromone, too much me, your mind will turn to mush. You’ll stop thinking of a good time had by all, and have delusions about little green rug rats crawling around.” “I’m not thinking of little green rug rats.” “Good. Don’t. Should the thought come to mind, just imagine having a daughter with my libido.” There was a pause. “Cured,” he claimed. If only it were that simple.

Think of it as cloak and dagger subterfuge. The STSF personnel department is trying to defend itself from the evil alien invaders from Spam IV. :)

I've got the feeling that we might not have unlimited supplies of the newest Federation toys, anyway?