Turn 10 Advisor Actions
It’s a week after the Bouncy Castle affair that you finally find out the missing bit of information that suddenly makes all of this make sense. And you face-palm some more at it.
The Chairman of the Periphery Studies Department of Griffin’s Roost University is not what you expected.
Dr Henry Waddleston doesn’t look like he’s completely detached from reality, is your initial impression. Then the discussion begins.
“Your great-grandfather realized that the constant fighting to reunify the planet was leaving a small but significant number of his people mentally… damaged. It used to be called shell shock, or combat fatigue, or PTSD, but it was a real issue. As the fighting became more brutal, it became more of an issue.” he begins, after introductions were made.
“At the same time, he was well aware of the stigma of mental health services. One of the major issues facing any mental health professional is that many of the people who most critically need our help do not think they require any help at all, moreover that those on the margins are afraid that admitting they need help would harm them more than their mental issues would. So he got creative.” the slender bespectacled old man explained.
“When the university was established, he also directed the creation of the Department of Peripheral Studies. I’ll get into why it changed to ‘Periphery’ in a moment. Such was the prestige of academia that it was relatively easy to set things up in that way. The administrative staff of the department were the mental health professionals, the ‘students’ and ‘faculty’ were the marginally functional and the completely detached individuals respectively that we were serving.”
“One of the guiding principles of the department has always been to never challenge the worldviews of the patients, to accept them, to permit them the validation that allows us to gain their trust, so when, for example, it’s time for them to take their pills, we can get them to do so without them fighting it.” he smiles slightly at that. “Of course it takes a special sort of person to pull that off, or at least a special sort of training. We’ve had a relationship with the School of Performing Arts since near the beginning, with our staff receiving drama and acting lessons in order to further this principle of ours.”
You listen, frowning a bit. “So in other words it’s a hidden asylum of some sorts?”
“Pretty much. For the ‘students’ it’s a transitory thing, they get the mental health counseling and assistance they need to transition back into regular affairs, and as far as anybody knows they simply took classes from a college department with an eccentric reputation.” he grins a little “In some cases I’m told it serves as a bit of a resume enhancer, in that they ‘survived’ taking classes in our department, which means they must be able to handle stressful shit.”
You laugh at that, realizing the truth of the statement.
“In terms of their latest obsession, well these happen in waves and there’s no real predicting them. The patients have evidently decided that they are all brave heroic political activists fighting against all the bogeymen and only they can convince others to see the light.”
He shrugs eloquently, a sort of ‘what can you do’ gesture. “And at least it’s not as bad as their last mass delusion.”
He smirks, leaning forward. “It would have made a wonderful movie, if we’d ever been able to release it. This started during your grandfather’s reign and was the longest lasting of their mass delusions. It began when a few of them decided that they were actually the exiled survivors of the Star League Defense Force that had somehow been driven from the Inner Sphere into the Periphery…”
You are howling with helpless laughter by the end of the tale, involving airguns firing foam rubber bullets in ritual combat over who got to use the coffee pot in elaborate ‘trials of possession’, totem animals, making up their own language, and other silliness. OK, the wanna be political activism was a doddle after that.
You also find out how the department changed from ‘Peripheral Studies’ to ‘Periphery Studies’, evidently the clerk who transcribed the pronouncement had made a typo, and nobody noticed until all the business cards, signs, and paperwork had been finalized. So your great-grandfather laughingly agreed to change the name.
You aren’t laughing quite as much when word comes down that there was a ‘complication’ with obtaining a grifftiger cub for your kids. The zoology people aren’t more specific than that… and you find out rather quickly what this complication was.
Evidently the sub-adults are sexually mature enough to mate, because what comes off the cargo ship isn’t a cage with a single grifftiger cub. It’s a sub-adult griff-tiger carrying a cub on her back. Mama grifftiger didn’t seem to mind her cub going with the humans, she evidently simply wanted to come along. And when 20 tons of muscle, sinew, bone, and very very sharp teeth decides it wants to do something…
It’s more evidence of just how smart these beasties are, that when the collection crew showed up they didn’t have to go looking. The big one simply walked up to them with her cub at her side, bestowed a slobbering lick on the head of the expedition, and that was that. The team leader is describing it as Rite Of Lick, which has you chuckling a little.
Of course, being face to face with such a massive beast, and knowing that she’ll get far more massive as time goes by, is an experience. The moment is made a bit more perfect when the cub gets rambunctious only to be brought back into line with a negligent sweep of that mighty tail, much like how you’d absently pick up one of your kids when they get over enthusiastic. The comparison is too much and you find yourself laughing before stepping forward and giving the grifftiger a good scritching along the jawline.
So evidently there will be two grifftiger’s at the Palace, one for you, and one for your kids.
[] Write-in name for mama grifftiger
[] Write-in name for baby grifftiger
((QM reserves the right to veto any stupid names))
Holding meetings while absently scritching the most lethal land predator yet known on the planet is an interesting experience. Many briefers seem far more disconcerted by the GIANT KILLY TIGER next to their queen than by you, which is a novel experience to be sure. Your advisors are completely unintimidated.
General Wolf is still looking smug over getting you promoted, and even being licked by a tiger hasn’t seemed to dampened his smugness. Damn it.
“We’re still conducting exercises and such. However this doesn’t reduce the need for us to expand our forces. As it stands we have a few battalions worth of troops, mostly infantry, to secure and defend two continents. We need to strengthen that, badly. This year I recommend purchasing a full battalion, 9 platoons worth, of Foxhound hovertanks, and a flight of Roc assault fighters. Alternately, 6 flights of Falcon interceptors to have a second squadron available.” he looks at you seriously. “In the near future we’ll want to expand our infantry as well, massively. A mix of foot and motorized troops simply to provide us with the numbers to take best advantage of our fortifications.”
Tyler is not only completely unphased by the grifftiger in the room, he bounds right up to her and proceeds to give her a right proper scritching, knowing from listening to his great-grandkids babble just where the best spots are and thus earning instant acceptance from the traitorous creature. She was so hoping for an ally in the never-ending battle against Tylerness.
“We’re almost done with the drop ports and the river survey is departing as we speak. But something crossed my desk that might be either a truly wonderful idea, or a total waste of time. I confess I’m not sure which.”
He slides a datapad over to you and you read it over. A start-up here in the capital is raising funds for a… luxury airship service? The promotional artwork is extremely impressive, to say the least. Massive solar-powered helium-filled airships plying the skies in stately majesty, with luxury cabins with all the amenities imaginable for the wealthy or simply those who save up for an experience of a lifetime enjoying a trip.
They are asking for an investment from the Crown and a Royal Charter.
You promise to think about it and the conversation changes to less important things, all with the background noise of a rumbling purr as a certain black striped cat is getting what it wants…
You get a few memos from Dr Young about progress in establishing the Ministry of Culture as well as a recommendation to form a working group in order to be prepared for when it comes time to establish or host proper embassies. There would be a small up front cost, but after that nothing until embassies are exchanged.
Professor Chapman drops by, bringing an oversized cat treat with her as an offering and getting the Lick Of Approval in return. “Well, the nutcases are back in the asylum, but now a serious political opposition is forming. They are insisting on their loyalty to the crown, merely saying that they feel there needs to be more perspectives presented to the throne than simply those of the advisors. They are far more… cautious in their wording, and it is obvious that these people are serious, both in terms of their convictions but also because they appear to feel that a proper loyal opposition is needed for the health of the state. There’s nothing really to be done about it at this time, they are still organizing, but once they do it might be helpful if you were to invite them to an official meeting and give your blessing to their efforts. A truly loyal party in opposition would be very helpful in both the short and long term in sanity checking situations and giving a broader base of advice.”
You promise to consider that. It seems like a good idea, if you only ever heard from those who already support you you might miss important details.
Dr Palmer shows up with a broad grin on her face. “OK, this is two in a row, the expedition we sent into the ruins just contacted me. They’re wrapping up as we speak, but initial reports are that they found a mostly intact example of a Star League era set of Target Acquisition Gear. Once we have it back in the lab we’ll be able to get started in reverse engineering it. I must caution you, since we’re having to reverse-engineer it rather than finding the research data in a datacore. It will take a long time and be very expensive.”
Juanita sends you a memo with a general situation briefing, recommending no change to Intelligence operations at this time.
Janet bounces in, gives the big cat a cheerful scratch… then leans in and actually licks the beastie before the beastie could lick her, to the grifftigers evident bemusement, then bounces over to the desk, slaps down a folder…
“First, thanks for coming to the wedding! Congratulations, you’re going to be a godmother. Now, while I’m absolutely certain that the big kitties can take care of themselves, there might well be other wee critters that can’t. My staff and I have come up with this as a solution, a National Forest Police, based on Wow to start with, to protect against poaching, smuggling, that sort of stuff. I think it’s a great idea myself!”