P: Peacocks, Posturing, and Planning

This is a continuous story.  If this is your first time reading it, start with the letter A.  You can also find the whole story thus far posted on this PAGE.

Peacocks, Posturing, and Planning

After his discussion with Layla, Adam wished he could focus on the fact that she was nice to him.  He wished he could even indulge in a few fantasies about her.  Not that he expected anything like that to happen, but the freedom to do so would make him feel normal again.  Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of free time.

The Knights of the Order of Knitting came on board, and they were anxious to get down to business.  They all displayed a fondness toward Layla that mirrored Sir Edwin’s.  This much was obvious when they gathered in a conference room for a meeting to bring everyone up to speed.  Three senior Vaaldeen crewmembers were already seated around the large circular table.  The knights, thirteen in total, were filtering into the room.  None of them, however, could sit without in some way attending to Layla’s needs, regardless of whether she had any needs or not.

“Here, my lady,” one of them announced as he pulled out a chair for her.  A different knight took over the duty of scooting her up to the table.  Then another asked her if she needed a beverage, and another offered her a bag of pretzels.

Meanwhile, Adam sat beside her, more than a little annoyed by the throng of chivalrous men in metal armor.  They clinked and clanked as they bumped into the back of his chair, all of them seemingly oblivious to his existence.  George sat on Adam’s other side, smirking at the entire display.  “It’s rather ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“That means it makes sense in my life right now,” Adam replied.

“They’re trying to make up to the loss of chivalry in society, and in so doing, they’re jacking up my blood sugar levels to the point I might end up comatose by the end of this trip.”  George paused as he tapped his chin.  “Then again, that might not be so bad for me.  We’re going to fail anyway.”

Adam’s stomach knotted.  His ribs still ached, reminding him of George’s previous predictions.  “I thought your foreshadower could only see a couple of minutes into the future.”

“That’s true,” George said.  “That prediction is based on my natural pessimism, and it’s fortified by my cynical view of others.  Unfortunately for us all, I’m usually right.”

“Hmm.”  Adam looked over at Layla, who had finally been attended by the final of the thirteen knights.  “Why didn’t you use the contentment nanobots on him?”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling.  “I did.  Nothing changed.  As it turns out, George is perfectly happy being his normal, gloomy self.”

Before Adam could comment, a circular hole irised open in the center of the table.  Moments later, The Great Orator rose through it, seated in a golden chair.  The platform holding the chair clicked into place, leaving The Great Orator to look down on them all.  His back faced Adam, giving him a rear view of the feather plume.  This side was also dotted with little yellow eyes.  A few too many of them focused on Adam for his taste.

“As we all know, we need to come up with a plan to stop Bibble from plundering our galaxy of all that is precious to us,” the Great Orator.  “He has already taken our home, but we will not cede that which is most precious of all.”  A dramatic pause followed.  “Our autonomy.”

“Hear, hear!” the knights cheered in unison.

“We must begin answering the most difficult and important questions we must ask ourselves,” the Great Orator continued.  “That question is this: what name shall we give to this organization?”



Proceed to entry Q.