Sunday January 1, 2006
Narrator:We can only hope that at some point Captain Tagon will name the ship he is aboard, thus simplifying the narration.
Captain Tagon:John, what's this resignation you sent me?
Der Trihs:I quit. I figured it all out, and I quit.
Captain Tagon:Figured what out?
Der Trihs:You. . . Me. . . My brain. And how to win.
Der Trihs:ou hired me all those years ago because you felt sorry for me. I can't believe it took me until now to figure that out.
Der Trihs:Or, rather, I can believe it, because my brain hasn't been working right. You know those military surgeons who put my head back together? They goofed.
Der Trihs:There was no Borthwog torturer. I volunteered for an elite intel unit, and their surgeons tried to "upgrade" my brain. When I came out a drooling idiot, they implanted a cover story.
Captain Tagon:You remember all this?
Der Trihs:Pieces. Now that I've figured it out, some of it's coming back.
Der Trihs:Tagon. . . Thank you for hiring me. The military wrote me off as damaged goods, but you never did.
Der Trihs:Of course, now that I've got my brain back, I expect that Joint U.N.S. Command will be looking for me. You're better off if I hide in plain sight.
Der Trihs:If they see their pet project working for someone else's military, they'll open fire before extending job offers.
Der Trihs:I've accepted a position as a consultant to the local police. The Detectives here can't find their butts with both hands.
Captain Tagon:I thought you said you'd figured out a to win.
Der Trihs:I have. The only way to win is not to play.
Jo:Awww. And here you told me you wanted to play.
Der Trihs:Not what I meant.