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For fifty years, the citizens of the new Sixth Key have lived in relative
peace, but always teetering on the threshold of war. The reason it’s taken
this long to come to a head is because this is about as long as most
so-called independent states have been able to manage on their own.
There are some truly independent communities, which utilize the resources at
their disposal, and require no external aid. These are mostly outposts built
deep in outerspace, which subsist on something that some people call dark
hydrogen. It’s no different than any other hydrogen, except that it’s not
supplemented by solar power. They will always have at least two fusion
reactors, using one to jumpstart the other should an issue occur, or if
there’s a need to shut one off for maintenance. So the hydrogen isn’t really
dark; it’s just kind of a nonsensical name that multiple cultures have
chosen to assign such a scenario, even across multiple realities. This kind
of situation isn’t even all that rare, but an outpost of this type is
usually rather small. Some of them only have one family, or even one
individual. There are others who need star power, or external
infrastructure, in order to keep going. They have done okay for the last
several decades, but people are sick of it being so crowded, and some are
looking to start a fight.
That’s where The Rock Meetings came in. Representatives from each collapsed
reality were convened at a neutral location. It was actually sent into the
very distant past, and placed in a time bubble that slowed time on the
inside. This way, no one could argue some imbalance in power from any one
location, according to all four dimensions of standard spacetime. It was an
important milestone in the quest for peace in the Sixth Key. Everyone
watched these discussions on a special cross-temporal broadcast network. The
community’s engagement with each other in response to the streamed
developments slowed down the march to war, and the decisions they made would
have a profound effect on the dynamics of reality once all representatives
were returned home. But it was not a magic bullet. Diplomacy is an
everlasting pursuit, and you can’t ever let your guard down.
Kalea and Nuadu have been returned to their territory, standing in the
executive conference room on Kalea’s homeworld. This was where they happened
to be when the tree god summoned them into the past for the big meeting.
They were in the middle of an internal negotiation back then, but that was
about a month ago. Unsure what’s been going on since they left, they walk
out of the room together, and enter the lobby. The guards posted there stand
up super straight out of respect. Some of them are expressing their loyalty
to Kalea, while others are secretly in favor of Nuadu’s plan to take control
of this universe through force. That’s what he used to want, anyway. He no
longer feels the way he did when the Rock Meetings first began. He’s a much
different man now. He’s still in control of the Resonant Parallel Coalition,
but it’s now going to be a defensive force for all of reality, including
those which he once called his enemy.
Kalea’s partner in the Tanadama, Ramses glides over. “You two are standing
uncomfortably close to each other. I was worried that you would be at each
other’s throats by the time I returned. I nearly went back in time so that I
would have only been gone for a second.”
“What?” Kalea questions. “That was weeks ago.”
Ramses winces. “It has not been weeks for me.” He looks at the guards, still
frozen in place. This is not a figure of speech. A guardsman on this world
is not allowed to leave their post during their entire shift, and is
literally unable to move if one of their charges is within view, except to
follow that charge’s movements. They’re held in place by spatial restraints.
It sounds bad, but it’s actually easier on them. The restraints distribute
their weight evenly, and relieve them of the pressure that would otherwise
come from regular total stillness. They all basically feel like they’re
lying down in the most ergonomic bed imaginable right now. Yet they’re still
alert. “It’s not been weeks for them either,” he continues.
A nearby two-dimensional screen flips on. The tree man from the meetings
materializes in frame. “Hello. My name is Magnolia Tree. That’s not a first
and last name, I’m literally a, uhh...oh, never mind. What you need to know
is that your worlds are at risk of suffering from a great war. You have
experienced a severe drop in resources. Or rather, you’re now being expected
to share the available resources with competing civilizations. I’m not here
to help with that. I’m here to introduce you to the diplomats who will be
representing you in these matters. I’m calling it The Rock...” The tree goes
on to explain what’s going on, but Kalea and Nuadu have already been through
this, so she lowers the volume.
“The meetings he’s talking about are over for us,” Kalea explains to Ramses,
but for Nuadu’s benefit. He has trouble tracking all this time travel stuff.
He’s always just wanted to serve and protect, not worry about things that
have already happened. Kalea goes on, “he broadcasts the meetings for the
people—live and interactive—though I believe he edits for content and...bad
tempers, on the fly. We’ve come to some major decisions as a result of these
talks, but when we were returned to our territories, I guess we ended up in
our subjective pasts.”
“I understand,” Ramses says. “You’ve already filmed all of the episodes, and
now the rest of us need to catch up. We have to find the other
representatives, and sequester them too.”
“Sequester us?” Nuadu questions. “Is that necessary?”
“To avoid a paradox? Undoubtedly,” Ramses answers. “I’m not asking.” He
looks over to his partner. “You’re the only one powerful enough to stop me,
though.”
Kalea sighs. “Harbinger Zima and I were the first to show up in the neutral
zone. Hopefully that means we have some time to intercept the others before
they disrupt the spacetime continuum too much. But it may not be. It’s time
travel, so the others could have been taken years ago for all we know.”
Nuadu pulls out his handheld device. “I have a list of everyone.” He hands
it to Ramses. “I would imagine that you can ignore the delegates from the
territories outside of the Sixth Key.”
Ramses starts scrolling through the list.
Nervous, Nuadu adds, “you can ignore the notes that I wrote on each of them
too. Opposition research; you understand. I’m not proud of every first
impression I received...or made to others.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely be reading those,” he says with a smug look on his
face. There was actually an alternate version of Ramses who served as the
engineer on the Rock host ship, The Vellani Ambassador. The delegates had
little reason to interact with him much, but he was a lot nicer than this
version here, who is no less formidable than a god with an immeasurable
sense of self-worth. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely at no risk of
ever wasting the power that he wields. “Take a shoulder,” he asks of them
without looking up from the device.
The three of them teleport to the Tanadama’s private Nexus building. A Nexus
is a machine capable of transporting matter across vast distances in mere
moments. Given enough power, it could access the far reaches of the
universe, or even other universes. However, there are restrictions on
travel, some imposed by the state, and others by the mysterious secret
entities who invented the network in the first place. Nuadu doesn’t know who
these inventors are, nor whether the Tanadama have any information about
them, though there’s a strong chance of it. This particular Nexus is the
most secure of them all, and the least restricted. No one can come to this
station unless invited, but the Tanadama can go wherever the want, even if
the people on the other end don’t want them there. In fact, no one knows
where this station is located in space. Most trips are logged on both ends,
but there are ways to encrypt or erase the logs from here. Nuadu has no idea
where in the galaxy he is right now.
Kalea steps into the Nexus cavity, and looks up through the window, into the
control room. “We need immediate transport to Hockstep.”
Nuadu shudders. Hockstep is an entire planet of prisons. It’s not just a
penal colony where people are free to move about as they please. It’s
protected from outside interference, and prisoners are genuinely
locked up in prison structures. They’re separated by walls, gaps, swaths of
land, canyons, and oceans. You get sent here, you’re not going anywhere
until it’s time for your release. Visitation is facilitated by an isolated
telecommunications network, limited to a handful of highly secure
interstellar relay hubs. Like the Tanadama base of operations, no one knows
where Hockstep is, and almost no Nexus technician is authorized to send
someone there. An elite division of prison transport specialists are the
only ones with access keys, plus the Tanadama themselves...obviously.
“Come on down,” Ramses encourages.
“Is that where we’ll be living?” Nuadu asks. “It sounds like an awful
place.”
Ramses looks up at the techs. “Clarification: Hockstep W.”
“Yes, sir,” the tech confirms. “Hockstep W.”
Nuada tentatively steps down into the cavity, and looks around in fear. The
building itself isn’t scary, but he’s worried about what will be waiting for
him on the other end. He doesn’t know what Hockstep W is, or how it differs
from any other. Perhaps the planet has multiple Nexa for different
continents, or whatever.
A white light overwhelms the three of them, then fades. It’s usually orange
or red, but white is what appears when the Tanadama outpost is involved.
They have been unwilling to explain why exactly this is. Whatever the
reason, they make it to their destination, but it’s not what Nuadu expected.
Theoretically, a Nexus has to be designed to be identical to all others in
order to connect to the network properly. It’s a rule that Nexus builders
are required to follow. If they fail in the most minute of ways, it simply
won’t work, even if everything else is correct. Those in that line of
business know exactly what they’re doing, and how they’re meant to do it.
This place seems to be some kind of exception. The cavity is about twice as
deep as a normal one. The ramp that wraps around the inside of the Nexus
chamber is totally missing, leaving the stairs as the only way up to the
control room. The drum on the ceiling that actually houses all of the
faster-than-light parts is much lower to the floor. This is wrong. It’s all
wrong.
Ramses chuckles. “Trippy, isn’t it? This one is designed to be incompatible
with the rest of the network. It doesn’t even have a term sequence to punch
into the computer. We’re in possession of a unique positioning algorithm
that lets us beam directly here as a workaround, plus an authentication key
to be let in.
A woman opens a hinge door into the chamber. That’s not where the door
usually is, and the normal ones are pocket doors. The woman stands at
attention, and nods to the Tanadama. “Sirs. Awaiting your orders.”
“Gather the troops,” Kalea returns, “for a prison break protocol...handle
with care. The tech will have your assignments.”
The fugitive recovery agent—as Nuadu is guessing—begins to tap on her
wristband.
Nuadu, meanwhile, follows Ramses, who walks up to the control room, and
hands the tech Nuadu’s device. The tech sets it on the console, where it
immediately begins to sync with the local systems. The list of the other
delegates from the Rock Meeting pop up on a hologram, showing their
respective statuses and locations. Everyone has a checkmark next to their
name, as well as their specific location, except for two of them. Carlin
McIver is the primary representative from the Third Rail, and Cosette DuFour
served as his second. They both have red Xs next to their names, and no
locations, which surely means that they’re missing.
Ramses sighs. “They’re probably in a pocket dimension. They love those
things over there.” He starts to manipulate the hologram with his hands,
separating the delegate pairs accordingly. Two of the delegates don’t appear
to be very close together, so they’re kept separate from each other as well.
There ends up being five destinations, including the blind one for the
hidden delegates. “Break the team into random groups of three to find the
others,” he instructs the tech. “For anyone who doesn’t go in the field,
keep them here to facilitate dropshock orientation. Kalea will lead the
operation. I’ll be personally handling the Third Rail Earth mission.”
“And me?” Nuadu asks, wondering if Ramses even remembers that he’s here.
“You’re coming with. I’m not much of a fighter, and we may encounter
resistance.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nuadu says respectfully.
This surprises Ramses. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”
As they’re walking back out of the control room, other people wearing the
same uniform as the first woman teleport in, scattered around the room,
ready for battle. “You got lead on recovery, Kal. I have a solo assignment.”
He turns his head to face Nuadu. “I mean a duo assignment.”
“See you on the other side,” Kalea replies.
Ramses and Nuada step back into the cavity. There’s a ramp that leads into
it, but on the regular model, you don’t have to use it, because the cavity
is only one step down. He’s always wondered why these machines were designed
to be handicap accessible. It’s not that it’s stupid, but a race of
superbeings advanced enough to have come up with it should be expected to
have priorities so incommensurable that they wouldn’t think to include the
feature. Yet, they did. Unfortunately, Nuadu is used to that regular
version, which only has the one step. He trips, and almost falls on his
face, but thankfully, Ramses catches him. Nuadu clears his throat, and
decides to make a joke of it. “Gravity, right? Like a rock on a cloud.”
The recovery agents laugh, but not too hard, which is nice of them.
Ramses reaches over his head, and points at the Nexus tech as he nods once.
They’re overwhelmed by white light again, and transported to the stars.
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