Sunday November 18, 2001
Narrator:Before our heroes can depart on their quest, they need to know which way they're going...
Tagon:Schlock, How can you possibly not know where your homeworld is?
Schlock:Hey, when I left, I wasn't doing the driving, okay?
Petey:Captain, I suggest we let the sergeant tell us everything he can remember. I'll then cross-reference all data paints with the public wormgate network.
Tagon:Excellent suggestion, Petey. Schlock, tell us a story.
Narrator:It's storytime! Yipeee!!
Schlock:Well, where I come from there is only one space-port, and my people don't have much to do with it.
Schlock:In fact, mostly we ignore it. And the smugglers, pirates, and expatriates who fly ships onto and off of my world mostly ignore us. We're just part of the landscape.
Schlock:Once in a while, an enterprising amorph will decide he wants 'off this rock,' and he'll stow away.
Schlock:Without fail, he's never heard from again. Of course, amorph parents are quick to point that out to wayward youngsters.
Schlock:So there I was, with what passes for a migrane headache among humans. And amnesia. All I knew was that I was being hunted.
Schlock:I remembered a few things, but it wasn't clear. Like how maybe i'd killed a fellow amorph for the eyes I was using.
Schlock:...or how there was this unioc pirate looking for an amorph for his crew.
Schlock:Well, he found me... or I found him. And three worm-jumps later our ship had a hole in it, and I was being shipped off to some circus.
Petey:Oooh, that tale is just chock-full of useful star maps, now isn't it?
Schlock:Artificial intelligence. Real sarcasm. It's so nice to be back on board.