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As far as the Teaguardians—and everyone else, for that matter—knows,
Pribadium is dead. She died in the destruction of Doma Tertius, along with
the Doma Tertians. That’s quite all right. She doesn’t need anyone looking
for her, or watching her as she travels to her secret laboratory. It takes
them a long time, since they have to teleport there without a ship, but
since they’re about to go back in time, it’s fine.
“If it’s a secret, does that mean no one knows, or just not the public?”
Sora asks.
Pribadium looks at him with a side eye. She’s going to be taking him with
her into the past. He can’t know about the hot pocket—how she stores up
waste heat in another dimension, and purges it periodically, perfectly timed
with the transit of neighboring and distant stars. “Only you and I know
about this place. Will I have to kill you later?”
Sora laughs. “Honey, if you can travel through time, I’m not stupid enough
to get on your bad side. I just thought you were immortal, like Tertius and
Aeterna. I had no idea that there was so much more out there. No, you won’t
have to kill me.”
Pribadium starts running her preflight checks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you
about that. Did you name that planet after him? Was he a friend of yours,
or...?”
“It’s a coincidence,” Sora responds. “I didn’t name it myself. Proxima Doma
means next home. Doma Tertius means third home. I tried to
argue, but I didn’t want to tell anyone about the immortals I met, so I
didn’t have a leg to stand on.”
Pribadium nods, then flips the time machine on. She hoped never to use this
thing again. She doesn’t take any of this lightly. It’s only for
emergencies. Messing with the past is dangerous, which is why she rarely
does it. It’s also why she doesn’t spend much time with other travelers. She
will manipulate time and space all day, but she would rather do it in the
present. The circumstances call for an intervention, though.
“It is exactly as I pictured it,” Sora says. “A sleek, well-lit chamber,
about the height of a normal ceiling, wide enough for several people. Like
the old movies.”
Pribadium sometimes gets ultra excited, talking about her science. She can’t
trust very many people. “This works differently than the ones you see in
films, which are powered by radioactive materials or phlebotinum. This is
powered by vacuum energy, which means as long as the universe exists, so
does this machine. Except not for long,” she explains. “Since you know about
it, I will have to destroy it on the other side.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Sora reasons. “I don’t even know where we are.”
“I can’t take that risk,” she says. “You know enough. I shouldn’t even be
showing you at all, but I need you. If I try to go back and replay the
scenario, it will probably end about the same. The Teaguardians have their
own access to certain advanced technologies. Going against their plans
requires finesse. Can you do this, Mr. Shimizu?”
“It depends on what happens to the other me when I go back in time,” he
decides.
“I can’t describe the exact process, because I genuinely don’t know it, but
one of you will simply stop existing. The way I understand it, the one with
fewer memories usually disappears, but I’ve heard of cases where they
sacrifice for their younger selves.”
“That is not always what happens,” a voice from behind her points out.
Pribadium turns around to find an alternate version of herself standing
there.
“Whoa. Did we already do it?” Sora asks. “Did we go back in time?”
“No,” both Pribadiums reply to him simultaneously.
There is a protocol for this. “Report,” the Pribadium who belongs here
instructs.
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