Startup 78 Turnaround Management

My life is not an easy one, but plenty of people have it worse. I’ve been given the tools I need to handle most situations, I’ve made friends to back me up, and as bad as my situation looked it could have been so much worse. All that is to say that once I got my report from Ve’ra that everything had largely calmed down I felt confident enough to cast Keep Watch on myself and wait. There was no way I was going to sleep, but I needed my “rest” if there was going to be a single drop of lemonade at the end of this.

I’d vaguely expected Linu or even someone sent by Dindreanne to swing by and start yelling at me, but thankfully nobody did. I’m not sure if I would have had the bandwidth to even pretend that I’d been a good boy, so instead I just stood vigil over a handful of bodies and wrote letters while Filli and the goblins kept an eye on Colin. Thankfully, my guards’ lack of professionalism extended to reporting the naked man and pile of corpses instead of interfering. By the time Keep Watch ended and my magic came flooding back, I already had my morning mapped out.

As much as I wanted to send everyone to Jerry immediately, I didn’t get the impression he was an early riser and Narwhal wasn’t getting any more dead. I wouldn’t get a quick response from him about Aaron just because I sent the letter while he was still sleeping. Even assuming Jerry actually had a solution, I suspected that would be more of a back and forth.

Instead, I summoned Dierdre first. I had dismissed her early, once I saw that she’d been knocked out with pixie dust, mostly so she couldn’t be held hostage. Once I’d done that, I’d focused on what I could do in the moment. The ten minutes watching her slowly form out of green light were agonizing.

Unfortunately, Dierdre’s first words were exactly the same ones I’d been planning on.

“What happened last night?”

We stared at each other, and I couldn’t help but giggle. Pure stress, there was nothing really funny about it. She hadn’t even stopped to look around, just snapped out the question. When she did, she’d probably notice the dead men and women laying on a block of ice.

“A lot.” I said, sighing. “I think you may have been the first one hit, but Varossa figured out I was about to dissolve our arrangement and attacked the ship. It… well, it could have been worse, but it’s pretty bad.”

I very deliberately squashed the anger that surged to the front of my mind once the absurdity passed. I’d sent Dierdre to keep an eye on Varossa to avoid this kind of thing, and no matter the reason why she’d failed her assignment. She didn’t even have any valuable information; I’d wasted the spell points.

No. You used them judiciously to make sure your friend was ok, and called in backup tailored for the situation.

I turned about forty five degrees towards a magical diagram I’d drawn on canvas a few weeks back and started summoning my next outsider. I had a lot to get done, and Dierdre knew me well enough to understand. The fact that she’d finally noticed the bodies certainly helped.

“I’ve got to get Narwhal to Jerry quickly.” I explained, “From what he’s told me, a fresh corpse is better to work with. The soul tends to have a strong tether. If he can get the body into a survivable state he can pop Narwhal back in quick and easy.”

“I see, milord.” Dierdre said, “Is there anything I can do? I note that I’ve been placed in a new form. As I recall, we had not settled upon my next body in our discussions. I must say that I’d been rather taken with the possibility of choosing for myself.”

She was another fairy, even shorter than she’d been as an atomie and dressed in a far fancier dress than her earlier bodies. Her skin was a shade of yellow that contrasted with her green hair, but her eyes were golden and catlike. Frankly she looked slightly like a sexy Oompa Loompa, but I wasn’t going to say anything.

“No, sorry.” I said, “I know we were planning on letting you choose, but I really need someone who can help with something specific so… shit. I got wrapped up in things, ok?”

We’d narrowed down her options for her level 7 form to just two, both of which would leave Dierdre mostly as herself mentally: Huldra or Danthienne. Huldra were immensely strong, about as hard to hurt as Filli, and could mostly pass for humans other than the fact that they had fox tails and their backs were open to reveal that they were hollow wood carvings, and they could bless people with good luck. They were even pretty chill, as long as you didn’t ask about their tail or talk about the sketchy legends associated with the species.

Danthienne, like the one I’d turned Dierdre into, had a little more baggage. They tended to be a bit more vain and playful and loved drama, but we thought we could handle it if those tendencies were toned down as much as the Orphne’s murderously narcissistic sociopathy had been. They were smallfolk nobles who loved drifting around courts and social scenes, fey or mortal, and stirring the pot. Their social skills were on point, and their magic made them potentially more dangerous in a straight fight than the Huldra. What I needed from her today, however, was their ability to take someone else under their wing.

“There’s a Gillman in the common room.” I said, “His name is Colin, and I don’t think he’s managed a coherent sentence since he got here. Can you help him?”

Ve’ra had escorted the poor guy back here, and he kept mumbling to himself. If he’d been able to string a subject and a predicate together, that would have been unfortunate but workable. Instead I got “not traitor. That bitch. Big eyes. So big. Eat us. Eat me. Not going. Fuck em.”

“Of course, Milord,” Dindreanne said, “I will of course expect you to repay me for this indignity, but I know your finances are not what they could be. I’ll simply remember the slight and ask for something later.”

If it had been any other fey, that statement would have terrified me. Dindreanne, however, was my friend. Even if she gave me a very hard time, we’d work something out. I agreed to her proposal, and she flitted out through a door that simply opened itself for her.

A few minutes later, while I was busy handing a Devil a letter to give to Jerry with orders to wait for a reply, Colin came into the room with a gun pointed at his back by Rowe. She didn’t trust the guy, and to be fair I’d been bitten in the ass by being too trusting today.

Dierdre was sitting on Colin’s shoulder, and while he winced frequently while he spoke, his capacity to communicate had been pumped up to match Dierdre’s.

“First of all, I would like to impart my utmost contempt for Varossa Lanteri and her whole pack of sycophantic dogs.” He said, “When she approached me with accusations of your supposed misdeeds, it filled me with the utmost displeasure and suspicion.”

I felt my eyebrows raise steadily as he spoke. I hadn’t exactly spoken much to Colin, but when I had he’d come off as more of a pissed off blue collar type. The kind of guy you’d expect to find working on the docks in Goatshead, which if I remembered correctly is exactly where we’d found him. I hadn’t really known what the mechanic of using Dierdre’s social skills would look like, but I guessed this fit the bill.

“For you see, in my experience, including the most reliable tales I have heard of your exploits, a surfeit of cruelty is not among your flaws.” He continued, “Indeed, it is your utter deficit of such which seems your preeminent shortcoming.”

“Right, right.” I said, holding up a hand. “I appreciate it and we will do what we can to get you some help. Can you tell me what happened? I’ve gathered that you died early in the mutiny but please, give me anything that might help.”

“That deceitful strumpet began pouring venom into our ears as early as Port Peril, shortly after your departure.” Colin explained. “For a time Miss Lubo opposed her, but after Dragonsthrall even she came to suspect ill will on your part. Correctly, I might add, as I believe your choice to confine her was indeed punitive. With regards to that, I no longer bear any ill will towards your at times overbearing moralization on the subject of Vishgurv, as-“

Colin suddenly collapsed onto the ground, writhing in pain. I felt like an asshole, just standing there summoning while he was in pain, but Rowe took care of him by rolling him over to make sure he could breathe. I belatedly realized he’d been about to directly shit talk Vishgurv. He let out an incoherent roar of fury, then fell limp, twitching slightly on my floor. Rowe stared down at him with a combination of curiosity and nervousness once he was still.

“Fishy longshanks crazy.” She said, “You think he fit in Lubo cell?”

I sighed.

“Yeah, that’s probably the best we can do for him.” I said. “Dierdre, can you sever the connection? If I remember right it can be bad for the mortal’s mind.”

“Merely atrophy of their own charms.” Dierdre said, waving a hand dismissively. “He hardly has any of those at the moment.”

She seems awfully flippant about permanent charisma drain. Sure it only kicks in if she maintains the link for 24 hours, but I’d better remember that. Danthienne Dierdre is kinda thoughtless. Definitely going to pull for a fey that isn’t a bitch when we hit level 8. Hopefully she wants to be a nymph. They’re hot, powerful, and pretty decent; the only problem is that they are supernaturally hot enough to draw the same kind of attention as Rowe even from normal people.

The few minutes of union with Dierdre and Colin left him with one point of ability damage, but not the drain that the description implied. Danthienne had better social skills than I did, and I got the impression they were just as supernaturally backed as Autopilot’s. Moreso, honestly; she had a few spells for combat but half her magic would mostly be useful for subtly being a weasel at court.

I checked Colin’s character sheet, and confirmed that he wasn’t in any mortal danger. Thankfully the influence of spirits maxed out at pain compliance and a very slow shift towards being more like the spirit in question. He’d be fine, probably, but only after a year in Tessa Fairwind’s prison. Filli hauled him away to his fate, accompanied by Rosie and Dierdre, to sit in his recovery box for a while. Rosie meant they needed an escort, but given that they were going straight to the guard house outside the temple it was probably fine.

I’d made the reservation for Lubo, but he needs it even more. Hopefully he still likes me after that.

He was the only member of Lubo’s cult that was still in my followers tab, which hurt for a lot of reasons. For one those people were my responsibility, and I hadn’t properly protected them. For another, it meant that I no longer had a subaquatic defense ****. The ethical, safe form of binding that Aaron and Cave Mother taught was slow going, and initially much more like match making with a spirit that wouldn’t drive you insane or clash too much. Then you practiced with that one until your soul had a spirit shaped hollow in it that any spirit could slot into without tearing.

There was one, a little dragon spirit named Aza’zati, that could give armored scales and the ability to swim really well. He was getting priority now that Vishgurv was persona non grata on the Enterprise, but it would take weeks or even months to have a formally trained goon squad binding him. Even when that happened, he didn’t actually grant water breathing. They’d be stuck on the surface holding their breath for hit and run tactics, which was a lot better than nothing but still made me feel ****.

Better an imperfect tool than one that turns your crew against you, dipshit. Maybe if you can survive this whole debt crisis you can see if any of Kelizar’s people want to go on globetrotting adventures. A few mermen or mermaids hanging around could be nice.

The lack of underwater capable crew was even worse combined with the last change: those guys hadn’t just died. The dead stayed in my party tab. They only vanished without my say so when they honestly wished to sever all ties. Those newborn gillmen were out there, and they were my enemies now.

I handed the Zebub my letter to Jerry and gave him his overly elaborate infernal marching orders. I’d already managed to send Narwhal and Colin’s corpses along via atomie by the time Filli slipped into the room. Jerry wasn’t solvent enough to give me half of the money he owed me for all these corpses, but that just meant I could send even a mutilated body and he’d fix it up and pop the occupant back in, no questions asked. He could take it out of my tab, and I had every reason to trust him to keep our accounts square.

Don’t try to fuck me, and these fresh, usable bodies keep coming. The real question is if he’ll honor the debt if I lose the ability to keep tossing him bodies. I hope so. I like the guy.

Filli stared at me for a while, and I abstractly wondered what I’d think if I didn’t know her. She was looming in the doorway, towering over me even when hunched over. I knew that she could kill me with as much confidence as I knew that she wouldn’t. When she didn’t look threatening, she came off as more nervous.

“Come on, Filli.” I said, after I started my fifth summon of the day, “I assume you need to tell me something. I’ve got a lot to do, and a letter to read. You can just talk to me. I don’t bite.”

She moved to crouch in front of me, met my eyes, and began.

“I want to be wasp.” She signed, “Not sure if sail until debt paid, or stay here.”

“What do you want?” I asked, “If you really want this, I don’t want you putting it on hold for my account.”

She slashed her hand in a firm negative.

“You need help.” She signed, “I help self when you are not in hole. Does Filli the priestess help Emrys more than Filli the rat on ship? Linu make promises? Can I make sure she keeps them?”

My eyes widened when I realized what she was offering. She was willing to be an enforcer making sure Linu worked hard to pay off my debt. It was as alarming an offer as it was sweet.

“No!” I said, “No, I don’t want you threatening my allies into being better salesmen. Even if you stay here, even if you look for ways to help me while you are in basic training, I don’t want you hurting people like that.”

“I should have hurt fish priestess.” Filli signed. “Remove problem. No fish priestess, no fish men. Maybe leave, but not try to kill. Skinny man still ok. Dwarf still ok. Strong man still ok. White eyes still ok. One ****.”

I met Filli’s eyes. She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either.

“Varossa put together a pretty solid plan.” I said. “It was a bit slapped together at the last minute, but it almost worked. If she didn’t have the cult, she would have probably done something else. Maybe focus all her forces on stealing the horn. If she hadn’t split her team, she’d have almost certainly killed Conchobar and Rowe on the way out. That’s also assuming she didn’t manage to talk the cultists into some kind of **** mission. I get what you’re saying Filli, but no. **** is always an answer but it usually causes more problems later.”

Filli looked away, down at the floor. She thought for a moment before punching the floor with obvious frustration.

“I will stay with you.” She signed, “You need me when wrong again. Now or later.”

She turned and left, and I sighed. She was probably right.

Where’s the line? How paranoid do I need to be to keep my people safe? How paranoid can I be before I hate myself? Is there any overlap?

••••••••••

Sandara sat back on the chair in the corner of the room, and despite the seriousness of the situation couldn’t help smiling at its likely purpose. After all, this was a brothel. There were only so many reasons for a comfortable chair facing the bed. There was no real harm in stepping back at this point; she’d done all she could, so she sat down next to the wasp that stared at Cog the whole time.

She’d channeled every drop of positive energy Besmara had given her into Syl, after making sure Cog took a step back from meeting his goddess. The Callistrians did the reverse, giving Syl only a token bit of healing, so it seemed fair.

Throughout it all, Linu had held onto his hand and cried. She’d clutched onto it so hard that the temple healer had to threaten her with banishment from the room, after which she’d straightened her back. Once she’d collected herself, her terror came out in ways that were more subtle.

“Tell me, what are his chances of recovery?” She demanded, “Isn’t healing supposed to fix injuries?”

The temple healer, bless him, explained as politely as one could hope while in the middle of work. He slowly waved his hand over each part of Cog’s body and jotted down notes.

Poor bastard probably spends most of his days using that spell to check if girls caught something from a client. He’s doing his best.

“Basic healing, the kind any cleric can do, can knit together broken skin, replenish blood.” He explained, “To a lesser degree it can stop internal bleeding by helping with healthy clotting and fix particularly small fractures in bone. The body can only process so much energy when it is applied to areas not already primed for rapid recovery.”

“Then why is he still ****?" Linu asked, “You shouldn’t have put him to sleep in the first place. He doesn’t like being knocked out; he’ll complain about this for weeks.”

“I’m not going to expend energy on removing the sedation; the rest is worth more than anything else right now. This man stopped just short of turning every bone in his body into powder, and most of his muscles and organs are in a similar state.” The healer said, “It is a clear act of providence that he’s still alive; the magic he uses seems to have distributed the overwhelming majority of damage to areas capable of recovery. His heart and brain, for example, are pristine. He will still be in complete agony the moment he wakes up.”

Sandara slipped out of the room and poked her head into a smaller one, a bedroom for acolytes, where one such acolyte was sitting with Syl and keeping her awake at all costs. She had a pretty severe concussion; compared to Cog she’d probably be fine in a few days, but basic magic wouldn’t cut it for the brain. That meant waiting for Sandara to rest.

The clerics here were mostly Garundi style, specialized in one thing or another and better at it than Sandara would ever be. It was a common path, because it let you do big magic like Emrys’s weather control even as a beginner, but that was all they could do. Even if they’d been Thassilonian style like Sandara, preparing spells each morning based on what they thought they needed, not much would have changed. Who asked for a spell to fix brain damage when they were looking at a day full of analyzing documents and pumping clients for information and money through their nethers?

“You ladies doing alright?” Sandara asked. “Already finish your book?”

Syl looked at her with clear annoyance.

“It was useless.” She said, “I couldn’t…”

She frowned, pursing her lips while she tried to find the word. She’d had a lot of trouble focusing ever since she’d taken that knock to the head.

“I lost my place a lot.”

“I’ll get you fixed up in the morning.” Sandara said, “Just stay awake for a while. We’ve got everything handled at the enterprise.”

Sandara didn’t feel like it would be useful to tell Syl that “handled” meant a couple volunteer Callistrian Sentinals, Sosima, and Conchobar holding down the fort. The voice in her head told her that stress was bad for head injuries, and it had a good head on Sandara’s shoulders.

They exchanged a few pleasantries and Sandara slipped out, planning on sleeping through the morning in Emrys’s chambers. His bed was closest, after all.

On the way to the barracks, she heard something she wasn’t used to, which absolutely didn’t fit the ambiance of the House of Stolen Kisses. She followed the sound of a familiar voice sobbing, hidden in an out of the way alcove between two of the buildings in the temple complex.

Fishy was hugging herself, leaned against the wall. She was disguised as some kind of owl creature, probably so she wouldn’t be recognized, but the earrings didn’t change her voice or her flashing golden eyes.

“Sosima.” Sandara said, deciding this wasn’t the right time for the nickname. “You look like shit.”

Sosima jumped, looked at Sandara, and tugged on her ear just long enough to wipe away the disguise. She composed herself very quickly, honestly; she even used her minor healing ability to clean up the puffy redness around her eyes. Less than ten seconds after Sandara arrived, she was back to the same old glaring Fishy Sandara knew.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, voice clear. “Shouldn’t you be looking after Cog and Syl?”

“They’re in good hands.” Sandara said, leaning against the wall, “I could ask you the same question. You’re the most senior officer that could be on the Enterprise right now.”

“Varossa is dead, and the rest of them aren’t about to make another attack when the whole crew is awake and active.” Sosima said, “My presence would have mattered at midnight, but now?”

Didn’t know you cared so much, Fishy.

Sandara walked into the alcove and offered the taller woman her flask. Sandara didn’t actually need to sleep right away; she could afford to delay as long as she didn’t try to do anything exciting.

“I know how that feels.” She said, “You know, I think Linu and Cog might just get back together on their own at this rate. There was no rush; I could have waited for another day.”

Sosima took a swig and mirrored Sandara. She refused to meet Sandara’s eyes.

“I’m the one who convinced you it would be fine.” She said, “You wanted to come back, maybe let Jape have a lovely time.”

“Maybe, but why should he get to have fun?” Sandara said with a roll of the eyes, “Think of it this way: You might have saved my life. I’m an obvious target to someone like Varossa; if I’d been there I’d be full of holes. I don’t think I could dodge crossbow bolts like Syl, and I doubt pretending to be Besmara would do much to someone who can’t be charmed.”

Sosima snorted.

“And all it cost was Syl, Cog, and Aaron.” She said, “Frankly, I don’t like you enough to make that feel like a good trade.”

“And Narwhal.” Sandara said, “Can’t forget him.”

“Quite.” Sosima said, sighing with exasperation.

“You can’t take all the credit, Fishy.” Sandara said, “I’m pretty sure Varossa had something to do with all this as well. Is this how the Chels treat their officers? You’re not at your post so the whole thing’s your fault?”

“Yes, actually.” Sosima answered, passing back the flask and fishing one of her own out of her skirts. “That is exactly how Her Infernal Fleet treats such a failure.”

“Seems like bullshit.” Sandara said, “Good thing you’re not in Cheliax anymore. Sounds like Cheliax is still in you, though.”

“I was in the fleet for quite a bit longer than the Shackles, Sandara.” Sosima said. “It is to be expected.”

“Were you?” Sandara asked. “From the way I hear it, you were on that island for twenty years. That’s more than enough time to be a proper Shackles girl.”

“Twenty years as a ghoul is hardly a formal introduction to Shackles culture.” Sosima noted, “Before that my only exposure to your countrymen was attempting to take their ships and avoid their blockades.”

“Twenty years as the only ghoul that wasn’t trying to eat people.” Sandara said, “We get a lot of religious Rahadoumi folks around here too. Anyone with too much grit to put up with the bullshit they call normal back home. Before that you were a pirate! You’re Shackles to your fingertips.”

Sosima met Sandara’s eyes with a raised eyebrow, straightening to leave. She smoothed her skirts and put on her tiefling face.

“I think you may be oversimplifying a few things.” She said, “Incidentally I would appreciate it if you didn’t share the state you found me in with anyone else.”

“Don’t worry.” Sandara said, “I don’t tell tales.”

That elicited a snort from Sosima.

“Well, not true ones.” Sandara clarified. “Just ones that make the subject look good.”