| Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3 |
Tinaya is in a little trouble. It’s not enough to get her fired, or stripped
of her rank, but she’s been in a lot of meetings over the last few months.
Everyone in these meetings pretty much tells her that it’s no big deal.
Which is weird. Because if they’re being honest, who exactly thinks that it
is a big deal, because someone keeps prompting more
discussions. She thought it was over, and the crew and the council had moved
on, but Captain Jennings is presently walking down Admiral Hall, and she
doesn’t know what to make of it. He might be here to see Lataran instead,
but given the circumstances, probably not. Thistle knows that the man needs
no introduction, so upon Oceanus’ approach, the door opens automatically.
“Captain,” Tinaya says, respectfully with a nod.
“Admiral.” In every single other iteration of organizational ranks that
include captain and admiral, the latter is the superior officer. It seems
obvious. It’s a promotion, after all, and that is no less true here. But the
whole point of the captaincy is to have a singular voice in charge of the
ship. This relegates any admiral to an advisory role. They had their
opportunities to enact policy and procedures, and now that is over. As clear
and unambiguous as the responsibilities are listed in the handbook, it can
make moments like these somewhat awkward. The book doesn’t, and can’t,
encapsulate how these two should behave around each other. If they were
robots, it would be easy and obvious, but at the end of the day, they’re
both just people, and they can’t take emotions, or their history, out of the
equation.
“How nice of you to visit our corner of paradise.” She means this genuinely.
“Yes, that’s what I would like to talk to you about.”
She nods silently.
“We’ve been in meetings for the last million years, but we’ve not had the
chance to talk one-on-one. Where’s Lataran?”
“I dunno,” Tinaya replies. “Somewhere else.”
“I just—can we sit?”
“Of course. Right here.” Tinaya pivots her guest chair so he can sit down,
then instead of going around to the other side of her desk, sits down across
from him in one of Lataran’s guest chairs.
“I wanted to make sure you understand that I am not angry at you, or
embarrassed for myself. I appreciate your candor, and admire your dedication
to transparency. I would like to model my shift on it, and will be leaning
on you for your guidance in such matters.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she explains. “I wasn’t complaining.
Truthfully, I don’t know how we ended up in that part of the interview. He
asked me a question, and I answered it. My only filter was whether it was
classified information or not. I should have been more careful.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Oceanus goes on. “It bothers me
that they kept making you do it over and over again. Every time they brought
someone new in, they acted like the interview was a personal attack on this
person too, and that isn’t what was happening. If I can be truthful,
I didn’t realize that you were missing in my life. Perhaps if I had made an
effort to meet with you once after my induction ceremony, it would have been
encoded in my memory, and I would have come to you more often. There have
been times over the last few years where I’ve struggled, and I could have
used the counsel. I placed too much burden on my lieutenants, and did not
recognize your value. For that, I’m sorry.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Tinaya says, “and graceful.” That doesn’t seem
like quite the right word, but she’s not going to find a new one, and
correct herself.
There’s a brief unawkward moment of silence before Oceanus speaks again. “I
would like to set up regular meetings with the two of you. Perhaps you and I
can talk on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I can have Lataran on
Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays?”
“I’m sure she would be amenable to that,” Tinaya says. While Lataran has
gotten better at busying herself with other tasks, her number one job is to
be available every day, so Tinaya doesn’t have to ask her if the proposed
schedule will work.
“Perfect. And on the seventh day, God rested.”
“Who is God in this metaphor?”
Oceanus averts his gaze to consider it. “The ship itself.” He pauses another
moment. “Or one of the zebra fish that the secondary school first years
genetically engineer to learn about digital DNA.” Now it’s a bit awkward.
“So, uh...it’s Tuesday.”
“Yeah,” Ocean replies quickly, standing up. “Let’s start next week. You can
fill Lataran in, and if she wants to change things up, we can talk about
it.”
“Okay. It was nice to see you, Captain. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Are we okay?” he asks.
“We’re great. Don’t worry. I don’t know if you need to be transparent with
everyone all the time, but as long as you’re honest with me, we’ll be okay.”
“Thanks.”
Lataran walks into the room with her head down as she’s unsealing the front
of her uniform. “Oh my God, the self-sizing function on my suit is acting
up. I can’t breathe.” Finally, she looks up, surprised. “Captain, you’re
here.” She looks back down. “And my bare breasts are out.” She closes her
uniform back up.
“Forgive the intrusion, Admiral.” He starts walking past her to the door.
“I’ll wait one day to file my report with the Conduct Department, so you can
get your side of the story in first.”
“Thank you, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“It doesn’t bother me on principle. I just want to ensure that you feel safe
and comfortable.” He exits.
“Am I in trouble now too?” Lataran asks.
“Exposure isn’t illegal,” Tinaya reminds her, “even in the workplace.
Conduct just needs a record of the incident. I’m more worried about what I
just saw, and what it means. Or what it could mean.”
“What do you mean?” Lataran questions. “What does what mean? Mean.
What did I just say? Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
“We’ve known each other our whole lives, right? Which is why you were
comfortable changing right in front of me, when you thought it was just the
two of us, of course.”
“I should think so. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Exactly. And in that time, your size hasn’t changed much.”
“Are you saying I’m getting fat?”
“I’m saying that...part of you...kind of looks like...it might be.
They...might be.”
“Oh my God, am I pregnant?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m sixty-four years old!”
“I was sixty-four when I had Silveon.”
“Yeah, and that was weird. You’re weird, I’m normal.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Lataran unseals the front of her uniform again, and looks down. “Oh my God.”
She looks up, and covers her chest. Then she pulls her suit away to look
down again, as if she’s going to get different results. “Oh my God!”
“It will be okay, Latty. I figured it out. So will you.”
“You had Arqut!”
“Who’s your Arqut?”
“Some guy. We’re not close.”
“That’s okay. You’re not alone. Whatever you decide, I support you.”
Lataran purses her lips and nods. She’s appreciative of her friend, but that
isn’t the issue. “Thistle? Am I pregnant?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I assumed you knew.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“You had a medical check-up last week, and I am not privy to those
appointments. They would have been able to confirm it for you quite
easily.”
“That’s true,” Lataran agrees.
“Due to her advanced age, however,” Tinaya begins, “pregnancy is unusual.
They would not have necessarily tested for it. You, on the other hand, test
wellness passively constantly.”
“That is also true,” Thistle confirms. “I should have said something earlier. I will be sure to do better in the
future.”
“I hope that future doesn’t involve me getting pregnant a second time,”
Lataran laments. “And I forgive you, Thistle. Perhaps an overhaul of our
medical monitoring program needs to be addressed. I shouldn’t have to ask
for any test that can be detected automatically.” She’s right. Most people
in the stellar neighborhood of Earth maintain persistent diagnostic tools
wherever they go using the medical nanites swimming in their blood. Even
those who don’t want nanites that are sophisticated enough to treat their
conditions automatically have some kind of tracking system in place, like an
implant. Extremus has strayed away from these transhumanistic upgrades
because they could lead to virtual immortality. That would go against the
mandate of this ship, which is that everyone dies, and not everyone will
live to see the home planet. Perhaps that should be reëvaluated too, though,
since it’s a damn lie.
Tinaya doesn’t want to sound critical or judgmental here, but this may be
the most sensitive way to put it. “There are ways to be more careful.”
“I know,” Lataran admits. “I should have kept an eye on it. But my doctor
should have spotted it too. It sounds like there’s a real issue. I may not
be the only one. There could be a bad batch of reproduction regulators for
all we know.” Birth control has long been perfected. Like medical diagnosis
and treatment, the stellar neighborhood has access to nanites to control all
of the body’s functions. Since that is forbidden on the ship, anyone who
wants to have purely recreational sex should receive an injection to
suppress the brain signals that trigger reproduction. It can be turned back
off with a second injection, and will remain in place until such time that
it is reversed intentionally...except in one case. Anyone who is destined to
experience menopause is required by law to switch over to an alternative
variation of the injection which does wear off over time. Well, time isn’t
what wears it down. It’s sex. The more often you have it, the more you butt
up against the neural programming, and the less it resists, so you have to
receive renewal injections accordingly. It’s an unfortunate but necessary
tradeoff. Menopause can’t occur at all with the more robust silencing
enzyme, and preventing menopause has been shown to have negative health
consequences. Just as it has always been, though, women bear the brunt of
the responsibility.
“I assume that you’ve been going to the chief medical officer?”
“Yeah,” Lataran answers. “Well, Radomil hasn’t ever been able to see me
personally. The Senior Executive Physician has performed my last three
check-ups.”
“This is Dr. Gunnarsson?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, he did my check-ups too. It’s unusual. The CMO is supposed to
personally handle all medical needs for admirals, captains, and
lieutenants.”
“Yeah. Do you want me to go over his head?”
“No.” Tinaya shakes her head while thinking about it. She looks over her
shoulder, in the general direction of the secret mini-Nexus hidden in the
floor. “Dr. Cernak is in charge of the entire ship’s medical personnel,
including the passenger side of things. The most removed we can get from him
is the Hock doctor, but they do have regular meetings together, so I’m not
even entirely comfortable with that.”
“What would you suggest?” Lataran asks, not having noticed where Tinaya was
looking.
“You need to go to Verdemus. That is an entirely separate team. They are not
in contact. The more I think about this, the more concerned I become that
there’s something going on. Two old women having babies; as you said, it’s
weird.”
“I don’t think that I should go through the Nexus,” Lataran determines.
“Omega and Valencia never warned us not to, but it just seems...risky.”
Tinaya nods. “You’re right, I agree. I’ll go get whoever it is, and bring
them back here for a house call. We won’t tell anyone else, not even Arqy.”
Lataran has been frowning for a while, but now she exaggerates it. “Thank
you.”
“While I’m gone, pull up the records. Find out how many other old mothers
there are, if any. I’m not saying it’s a conspiracy—it might not be—but...it
might be.”
And so Tinaya goes off to the home away from home planet of Verdemus, hoping
to convince a doctor there to come back and secretly examine a patient.
Everyone there is really helpful, and the doctor in question returns with no
argument. She doesn’t even complain when Tinaya asks to blindfold her, and
teleport her to the Admiral office, which could have been on the
other side of the ship, but in reality, they were already in it. Before the
exam even begins, though, Lataran has news. Women who should be old enough
to be post-menopausal are getting pregnant left and right. They are
crewmembers and passengers alike. It’s a growing trend with no apparent
explanation, and neither of them is sure who they can go to about this,
because they don’t know who to trust. They end up seeking help from the
Bridger Section, but it turns out to be a mistake. They’re not just in on
it. They’re spearheading it.
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