Mama Duck

[Pher 0]

(While others have been doing stories revealing the background of their characters, I’ve been hoping to slowly dribble out Pher’s background in play. Alas, the action has been a bit rapid paced. Finding time for talk about the past has been hard. Thus, a brief conversation that took place on Pher’s home planet of New Risa not too long before she left for Tranquility.)

 

“Was that... really required? My employer is another Orion, and I don’t think she’ll be pleased if I come back from New Risa with my nose permanently swinging towards her crotch.”

 

“You have some mysterious secret to talk about, right? You’ve got to maintain your cover. Right after your first close up encounter with a real Animal Woman, you should have this real happy dizzy dusted look on your face. That’s been taken care of. Simple.”

 

“And I had to buy you a present?”

 

“I’m the ‘it’ girl this month. You’re OK, but you’re not all that pretty a fellow. If this is supposed to be some sort of clandestine charade, you have to make it believable.”

 

“You have expensive tastes. I’m on a budget.”

 

“If you’re trying to pass as a typical New Risan tourist, remember, budgets are for little people. You yourself don’t do budgets.”

 

“Sorry, Pher, but I was hired by a progenitor, and she did give me a budget. Not your progenitor, but the progenitor of another New Risan… What is the polite word?”

 

“Lifeguard. We Orions on New Risa tend to work as lifeguards.”

 

“Ah, yes. Lifeguards.”

 

“How certain are you of the cloning? We know the same faces and bodies keep showing up from generation to generation, and that there are new faces that show up from time to time. We’ve been pretty sure they’ve been cloning, but we haven’t had solid proof, or reliably identified DNA sources.”

 

“The advertising claims you have the most exotic and beautiful women in the galaxy here.”

 

“And addictive.”

 

“That too. Well, a friend of my client spent more than one night with both my client and one particular and very familiar looking lifeguard. He thought it ought to be looked into.”

 

“I’ll bet he did more than just look.”

 

“No bet. Well, both ladies have unusually intense duck like blue eyes, sway their respective hips like ducks, both have very similar duck like walks, and the DNA signature taken from a pheromone sample I took a few days ago…”

 

“Duck?”

 

“Definitely a duck.”

 

“And how do you expect Mama Duck to respond to this news?”

 

“When she gets confirmation on this, she is going to be one angry duck. I’ll add that she too is an ‘it’ girl, and she doesn’t have any need to sell herself for baubles.”

 

“Are you looking for other progenitor lifeguard pairs?”

 

“That’s part of why I’m here, yes. I’ve been quietly taking pictures, taking dust samples, and we intend a Federation wide facial recognition search. Won’t be easy. Mama duck doesn’t have the slightest clue how the DNA sample was taken. Could be as simple as buying a girl a drink, then palming the glass.”

 

“And just why did you want to talk to me?”

 

“There are stories about something called the Sisterhood, that the… lifeguards have some sort of underground. If one treats a lifeguard too poorly, one has an accident. Security supposedly doesn’t run the place, the lifeguards supposedly quietly police themselves. Every once in the while, out of no where, a lifeguard appears wielding a magic pain stick and righting all the wrongs in the world.”

 

“I hope you don’t believe the stories.”

 

“I was told you’d know all the stories, that you were the ‘it’ girl.”

 

“I don’t have a magic pain stick.”

 

“But you are undefeated?”

 

“Surely, you’ve heard that the arenas have been shut down?”

 

“Yep. You hear that all the time, but it still isn’t hard to learn the odds for the next fight. People all over New Risa are willing to take a tourist’s latinum.”

 

“Fine. What do you want me to do with my special enchanted pain stick? Slay some monstrous beastie so you can rescue Baby Duck?”

 

“Mama wants to tear it all down. The idea of sex slavery is unacceptable in the Federation Core, especially if one’s twin daughter is involved.”

 

“Sex slavery? You gave me a gift of your own free will. I spontaneously showed gratitude.”

 

“Spare me the manure.”

 

“I’m no lawyer, but I know the suits have got em. I also know that this set up was going strong before the Federation left. Prime Directive. Can’t interfere with local customs. Official Federation representatives could look at anything they liked, including the ladies, and it was mostly the ladies they inspected, but somehow things worked backwards. The Fed visitors received gifts instead of giving em. Mama Duck might quack loud and often, but she isn’t going to get Starfleet enforcing the Guarantees out here in Bull’s Head. At least here on New Risa, they never did.”

 

“These stories about the Sisterhood... Are any of them about an upcoming revolution?”

 

“Not to speak of. Most of the stories are about maintaining the Delusion.”

 

“The delusion?”

 

“You’ve seen Evenstar Bay. Lifeguards walk the same beach as the tourists, share the same feasts, play with the same toys, wear elegant gift clothing that would envied by women on many worlds, and we even get to share the same well cushioned beds as the tourists. The difference is that the poor overworked tourists can only afford to stay a short while, while we lucky lifeguards can stay here in paradise forever.”

 

“Does it matter, when you are equitably sharing these all so soft and welcoming beds, who is on top?”

 

“I am not sure you could understand just how much it matters. Mama Duck will. The addictive races, the species with reputations among those who don’t know better for being ever so desirable sluts, are usually deep down in their DNA, romantics. We bond for life. Orion and Deltan pheromones, Elysian tears, the projecting empaths... Male and female are supposed to become One. The First Energy Being owes each and every one of us Prince Charming. If he didn’t arrive on the last starship, he surely has to be on the next one? Surely, the First Energy Being didn’t intend us to let go of our life mate every few days to prevent him from becoming addicted to a highly dangerous recreational drug?”

 

“And this delusion is…”

 

“We are all having fun in paradise. Those who can walk on golden sands with their life mate of the day while smiling get to hang on to the Delusion. There are just so many lifeguard jobs on this side of the island. On the other side of the island, one dances in cages, with tiny little fans distributing dust. Then there used to be these arenas. The fights were on the other side of the island. The Sisterhood? We try to give everyone who deserves it their best possible chance to stay on this side of the island.”

 

“And there are no stories of the Sisterhood and revolution?”

 

“Not to speak of. Look. I get that Mama Duck is going to be pissed. I get that you’re sincere. One of our empaths tasted your sincere, tasted your pissed, and it tasted good. We just can’t afford a Mama Duck who is feeling pissed and acting pissed. Just to hang on to the Delusion is a tightrope act. One mistake and you’re dancing in a cage. I want more friends than enemies, as do my sisters, but it somehow seems that one ends up with too many friends that act an awful lot like enemies. I also want to be owed more favors than I owe, but the people who can really do you a real favor are people you wouldn’t want anything to do with. I want to stand by friends who stand by their friends, but the males around here have odd ideas of friendship. I don’t want to be standing next to an idiot who thinks she can get justice at gunpoint without drawing a heck of a lot of return fire. Naive do-gooders are an endangered species around here. I just don’t want to be standing next to someone with a gun who is too pissed to think of consequences before drawing it. If Mama Bear has just figured out she has a long lost twin sister in hell, I’m the one trying to pretend I’m running hell as a favor for my close companion, the devil. I’ve been trying to keep her sister out of the deepest part of the fire, but I can’t afford pissed off ‘helpers’ who are too angry to think straight.”

 

“Forget about a revolution?”

 

“I can’t afford to talk about revolution. Look. Even if we could topple the suits, the New Risa economy is dependent on the tourist trade. Topple the resorts and cash flow problems would make the Delusion feel good in comparison. You also can’t just target the suits. The tourists would want to play too. They are rich, connected, selfish bastards, and won’t want to lose a favorite playground. Mama Duck should forget about dabbling in violence and invest in marine agriculture.”

 

“Marine agriculture? Any particular company you’d recommend?”

 

“Do your research. Not many companies work in Bull’s Head. There is one in particular that has a practical attitude, though. They’ve figured out that mermaid farmers will need protection from sharks. They’re working on some interesting stuff.”

 

“I’ll look into it. Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

Edited November 13, 2011 by Pher