You decide to head for the meat. Cutting vegetables seems wrong somehow, but meat you don’t mind slicing. You soon become an accomplished meat chef with an artistic flair aboard the ship and all your fellow Pkunk love your cooking. Unfortunately, some of them love it a bit too much. One fine afternoon your ship is blasted into smithereens by the enemy because both gunners and navigators have eaten way too much steak. You die painfully as the vacuum tears your body apart.
You blink and look around you. You’re in a big hall, so big that you can hardly see the roof. There are fellow Pkunk everywhere. In front of you three old Pkunk perch on a bench, looking at you with friendly, yet serious, smiles.
“Welcome to the tribunal, new soul.” the middle one says. “You must be confused. Let us explain what is going on here”.
Then abruptly he burps, shakes his feathers and disappears. Another, even older Pkunk appears in his stead.
“What now, what now? Who’s this young rascal then?” The other Pkunk quickly bend in and whisper something in his ears. He peers at you and hoots in delight.
“That must have been confusing eh! Old Brakky got reincarnated, and I was just killed in combat! This is the Pkunk tribunal. When a new soul enters the Pkunk realm we try to determine how Pkunk it really is. And we’re quite good at it! All we need is to look at four choices, and we can tell if you’re a Pkunk or not. If you aren’t, we’ll send you on to wherever you belong, since we’re wise and old and practically never make mistakes.”
The other birds lean in again, whispering some further instructions.
“Whoop de doo! It looks like you’ve already made four choices and we’ve decided what you are! That’s pretty funny eh? Most new souls come through here a few times before making the big four, but you made them before we could even tell you the rules! Ruffle my feathers and call me a spirit!”
The bird on the right disappears, and is instantly replaced by another. After being brought up to speed it announces:
“You were pretty efficient at combat when you had to, but you chose to do other things when you had the opportunity. You were a proficient and careful chef, yet you only cut meat. You can’t be a Pkunk. When you open your eyes you’ll be among your own, where you belong!”
As you open your mouth to protest, the hall fades, away. The last thing you see are happy Pkunk waving to you and promising to write. Then everything is black. As you open your eyes, things are different. Green sunlight bathes your sensitive face as you turn your head towards it. Your body is slender and frail, yet connected to so many others. You realise that you are a Supox shoot. As your memories of your old life fades, you feel satisfied and happy.
Play again Y/N?
