The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 18, 2562

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They were kind of surprised to come back to the timestream in 2562 to find that there were no more hits on Ramses’ warning system. Well, there were few in the meantime, but they closed out by the time they returned. He specifically designed it to maintain some privacy. An invisible probe would spy on the colonists, and log what was happening to them, categorizing what might be an issue, then if necessary, send an alert back to homebase. It would not reveal what happened, or what they would be getting themselves into. If something changed about the situation, the probe would amend the status with a new report, which in many cases, would render the team moot. They knew there would be things they missed due to their patterns. That didn’t mean they wanted to gather exabytes of data on the lives of strangers. They were only here to help, and if there was nothing they could do, they didn’t need to know about it.

In his spare time, Ramses had figured out what went wrong with Romana’s sojourn in her private virtual environment before. She had set it up incorrectly, not reaching out for help when she needed it, because she wanted to keep it a secret. He assured them that it would not happen again. She was going to go back there when her father stopped her. “What? You don’t want me to see him? You think it’s unhealthy?”

“I’m not here to judge you,” Mateo promised. “We would like to meet him. For real, this time. Preferably when he’s fully clothed, but...again, I don’t wanna judge.”

“We’re not naturists,” Romana explained. “What do you want, a dinner?”

Mateo checked his watch. “Whatever meal you would have at whatever time it is in there. We’re flexible. I just want you to know that I love and I support you. I saw how Linwood Meyers’ eyes lit up when his companion bot walked into the room. I come from a different time, when that kind of relationship wasn’t possible. That doesn’t mean I should be closed off to the idea. Quite the opposite. I need to recognize my ignorance.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Romana said. She looked over at Leona and Olimpia, who were planning to go in too, but hadn’t spoken up yet. “Maybe just one at a time, though. I don’t know if Boyd is conscious, but he is sensitive.”

“That’s okay,” Leona said with a smile. “You two go in alone. I have some work to do on our habitats anyway. Enjoy your dinner. Eat whatever you want. You can’t get fat.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna...go eat something that might make me fat,” Olimpia added.

“I’ll still love you,” Mateo said. “All of you.” He kissed his wife, then his other wife.

Father and daughter entered the simulation. It didn’t look like Topeka anymore. It was just a peaceful jungle or forest, or whatever. A huge waterfall fell into the little pond before them, but the volume was turned down low, so it wasn’t a sensory overload. They were wearing casual summer clothes, and it was the ideal temperature here. They heard someone call Romana from behind. They turned around, and she smiled brightly.

“Boyd!” Romana cried back, waving. She ran up to him so they could kiss.

Boyd was noticeably uncomfortable with the PDA. “Is it okay?”

Romana looked back over at Mateo too. “It’s okay. He won’t bite.”

Mateo walked up to them. “I really won’t.” He offered his hand. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” Boyd Maestri. “I thought maybe we could share a meal.”

“I would very much like that, sir,” Boyd replied. “I had a picnic planned, but we can do something else. There is plenty of food either way.”

“A picnic sounds lovely,” Mateo said. “Lead the way.”

They went off to eat. It was awkward, but became less so over time. Then the monsters came.

Extremus: Year 136

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Sable finally feels like she’s in the club. She thought she had pretty much all of the pieces of the puzzle, but she had no idea how much she was missing. Now it all makes sense; why Silveon and Audrey act and acted the way they do and did, the kind of relationship Admiral Leithe had with Waldemar. She knows that she still doesn’t know everything. There would be too much to learn about the first timeline, and she doesn’t need it anyway. She knows what Waldemar is like now, and she can act on it.

She has decided to marry him. She knows that Audrey already tried that, but that was apparently more to protect innocent women from falling into his orbit. That was noble, but that’s not a problem anymore. Waldemar has gotten what he needed by being a family man. Good or bad, he maintains his popularity on his own merits. It sounds like Audrey was simply too passive. She evidently tried to coddle Waldemar, and long-con him into thinking that everything she wanted him to do was his idea. It seems to have helped, but it was clearly not enough. Sable has an advantage. She has real power, and she is willing to use it. It will have to wait, though. She is spending time with her mom.

The doorbell rings, which is weird, because it doesn’t normally do that at this time. In fact, it never has at all. She must have made some minor change to reality without realizing it. She is so focused on reliving these moments that she doesn’t always pay attention to the butterfly effect. She doesn’t bother with the camera. She just instructs the AI to open the door, only to find a complete stranger on the other side of it.

“Miss Keen.” The middle-aged woman walks in. “How are you doing?”

“I’m just watching my mother...wither away,” Sable replies. “Who are you?”

The stranger nods. “A fellow traveler. The difference is, I can’t control it. I’m here to ask you to move forward. I know it’s hard, which is why I’ve given you your space, but girl...it’s been months. This isn’t healthy. Now, I don’t want you to hurt me because I say that. I just want you to ask yourself whether she would want you to keep reliving this day over and over again, or live your life. I’m sincerely asking. I never met her.”

Sable frowns and looks down at her mom. This is the part of the day where she’s still alive, but has become unresponsive, so the conversation is over. She doesn’t know if Lataran can hear her, but she usually keeps talking anyway, even though no matter what, Lataran won’t remember it when time resets. She looks back at the woman. “How did you hijack my rewind? No one should remember the groundhog repeats.”

“I didn’t hijack anything. I’m a choosing one, like you. It’s just something that happens to me. I remember all timelines. As I was saying, you’re in control here. ”

Sable doesn’t say anything. She just sighs and looks back at her mom.

“They made a movie about this. Not the one you’re thinking of; it more closely resembles what you’re actually doing, but unlike that character, you can turn it off whenever you want, and...every time you refuse, you die.”

“That’s how this power works. I can only rewind upon death.”

“I know,” the woman says. “That wasn’t hard to parse. I have witnessed many of your suicides. You like to do them public so you can see the looks on people’s faces. That is not healthy either.” She holds out her hand as if Sable is meant to take it. “Come on. Let’s enjoy a nice walk in the Attic Forest, and wait for tomorrow to come.”

Sable stares at the intruder’s hand. “What happens if I kill you instead?”

“I wouldn’t know. I try to stay alive, as I always have,” she replies.

Sable stands, and steps forward menacingly. “I do like to learn new things.” She pulls out her knife. “Hold still. I’ll make it quick.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 15, 2559

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When no one else stepped up, Marie decided to choose their next destination. She consulted the bulk map, and cross-referenced it with an updated copy of the central archives, landing on a colony once more thanks to its funny name. The database listed it as the Patsy Richelieu Best First Quarter Star. Not even Ramses or Leona understood why it would be called that, and they decided not to bother trying to figure it out before they left. It seemed innocuous enough. They weren’t going unprepared, however. Ramses designed a go-bag filled with essential survival items, like multitools, a first aid kit, and a dayfruit starter pack. It also contained hardened, but dormant and shielded, electronics in case they ran into another issue. The chances of what happened on the last planet happening again weren’t high, but they were not zero. He wanted to be prepared. Romana wanted to carry it, still feeling guilty about last time.

They slung to the coordinates, finding themselves falling towards some kind of planet. “Not habitable,” Mateo announced, looking at his sensors. “Not naturally.”

“I’m not picking up any artificial structures on the surface,” Leona said, “but we can’t see the other side. Still, there are no radio signals, which makes some sense. It’s a super-terrestrial. The surface gravity is highly variable, but about 8.7G.”

“Maybe we ought to jump to that manmade object up there,” Angela warned, “unless we want to plummet to our deaths in the atmosphere.”

They jumped to the ship, but not inside of it. Leona cleared her throat after she opened a channel. “Orbiting vessel. This is Captain Leona Matic of Team Matic. We mean you no harm. Could we have permission to board?”

A woman’s voice replied, “come on in! I made bundt cake!”

An airlock opened. They floated inside, and waited for the hatch to close behind them, then for the airlock to repressurize. The inner door opened.

The woman was waiting for them, holding her plate. She was wearing a white tank top and a tennis skirt, like an off-duty college cheerleader. “Welcome to our home, new friends. My name is Patsy Richelieu. I’m in charge around here.” She took another bite. “How did you arrive? My logs didn’t record someone using the quantum terminal, though it is open to public access, so maybe I set the preferences wrong. I’m not an engineer.”

“I can check it out for you,” Ramses offered. “You probably have it set right. We came in through a nearby terminal, then flew here manually.”

“Oh, what fun,” Patsy decided. “Hungry?”

“We could eat,” Mateo answered. Everyone out here just wanted some intelligent connection, didn’t they? No one needed saviors or rescuers. Just good old fashioned human conversation. “Could we ask...the name of your star?”

“Oh, haha,” Patsy began as she was leading them down the corridors. I started a new job as a saleswoman in July of 2026. I had no experience; even fibbed a little on my résumé, but I was a natural talent. I had the best first quarter on the job of anyone in company history at the time. My boss awarded me with this star at the company retreat.”

“Oh, it was one of those name-a-star scams. I mean—sorry,” Leona apologized. “You obviously managed to convert it into a real claim after five hundred years.”

Patsy giggled. “Don’t you fret. I thought it was stupid at the time too, but it did mean something, because the company didn’t approve it. My boss had to pay for it with her own money, and the closer stars are much more expensive. They made me feel at home, which I honestly didn’t expect. I had been searching for a job, not a career. I ended up retiring from that same position after 44 years of service. Do you know money? Were you alive back then?”

“We were,” Marie answered.

Patsy nodded, then went on, “then humanity invented AI, net positive fusion, and anti-aging technologies, and it started to feel less ridiculous. Over the centuries, I kept this place in the back of my mind, and once Project Stargate reached this far into the galaxy, I decided I might as well lay claim to what a piece of paper and a $250 bill said I already owned.” It didn’t validate the entire scam, but at least this one person got what she paid for. Pretty cheap for an entire solar system. It looked like there was nothing for them to do here either, though. Their new paradigm of not being useful would continue. They could eat cake, and that was about it. Nevertheless, if this woman was lonely, maybe that would be enough.

As they were following her down the corridors, they started to hear chatter. A set of doors slid open, revealing a huge crowd of people in a mess hall, also wearing surprisingly sexy outfits, and also eating cake. They started cheering, and saying things like “hey, Patsy! and “Patsy’s back!”

“Forgive me,” Leona began, “but are they NPCs? I don’t mean to be rude.”

“No, they’re independent,” Patsy assured them. I have a lot of friends. I’m very friendly. I met most of these people on the quantum boards. They all wanted to do something weird, and there’s nothing weirder than living around a star called Patsy Richelieu Best First Quarter. Like I was saying, I have an open-door policy.”

“So, you don’t need anything?” Mateo pressed. “Everyone’s okay?”

“Yeah, why? What did you hear?” Patsy asked as she was licking the last of the frosting off of her fork.

“Nothing. That’s just what we do, going around making sure the colonies are all right,” Mateo answered.

She smiled, as she twirled the fork against her teeth. “Why, you’re even friendlier than I am, aren’t ya?” She faced her people. “Hey, everyone! These guys are part of some kind of volunteer colony outreach program! Isn’t that sweet!”

They cheered again.

“Well, we don’t need anything,” Patsy explained, “but we could always use a few more smiling faces. That’s the only rule. You have to smile.”

The seven of them kind of already thought they were smiling, but they forced themselves to make it more blatant.

“We’ll work on it,” Patsy decided. “Go, sit down. It’s time to eat!”

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Extremus: Year 132

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Something just woke Waldemar up. He lifts his hand and performs the gesture to raise the lights, thinking there has to be something in the room. There’s not. His heart is racing, which has never happened before. His heart rate has literally never spiked in any situation besides exercise. Was he exercising in his sleep? That’s ridiculous, but possible, right? “Computer, health report.”

“You are experiencing sinus tachycardia, acute diaphoresis, neuromuscular hyperactivity, and an apparent acute stress response.”

“Laymen’s terms, asshole! I’m sorry,” Waldemar says. “That was rude.” Wait, what? That was rude? So what? It’s a computer, it doesn’t matter. Even if it were a real person, it wouldn’t. But...wouldn’t it, though? It seems to have a personality. It may be artificial, but it’s still an intelligence, and it deserves respect. No, why is he worried about this? There is something seriously wrong here. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Elevated heart rate, sweating, shaking, fear,” the computer translated itself. “My initial assessment is that you are experiencing a panic attack.”

“That’s literally impossible,” Waldemar argues. “My brain is not wired to panic, it just isn’t. I don’t understand fear at all. I’ve never worried about things. Check again.”

“From this vantage point, I am unable to measure your neural patterns to make a deeper medical evaluation, but I am not detecting myocardial ischemia, or—”

“That’s enough!” Waldemar orders. He sits on the edge of his bed and massages his face. It’s slick. He has to pick his sheet up and use it as a towel. His mind begins to dwell on everything bad he’s ever done in his life. Everyone he’s sent to hock, ever policy he passed which caused harm to the ship; all for his own self interest. How could he have been that way? None of it makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even want to think about it. The horror—the suffering he caused. He killed people. They weren’t saints, but he didn’t have the right to end them. He doesn’t know what to do now. His body seems to choose for him. He feels more sweat on his face, so he grabs the sheet again and wipes it off. It’s all under his eyes, and just keeps coming. Is there a cluster of sweat glands there? He doesn’t remember that from school. Hold on, it’s not coming from his skin. It’s coming from inside his eyes. Is this crying? Is he crying? That’s impossible too!

The door opens. In walks Silveon. “Captain. Captain, are you okay?”

“How are you here?” Waldemar asks. Definitely crying, he can hear it in his own voice. He’s heard it before from others, and it was always very annoying. “Why?”

“The computer told me something was wrong,” he says. “It thought it was better that I come than a doctor, a therapist, or anyone else. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Feeling?” Waldemar questions. “I don’t have those. I...I don’t know how to articulate it. It’s...heavy? It’s like a darkness over my face. I can’t stop thinking about the people I’ve hurt. Audrey. Audrey’s in my mind, and I can’t get her to go away.”

Silveon nods. “Do you know why you have not been able to feel in the past?”

“I’m psychic,” Waldemar answers. “I can sense everyone’s darkness. But it’s...it’s all jumbled together, so it’s not like I feel their emotions. Am I broken?”

“You’re not broken,” Silveon replies. “I think you’re healed. That kind of psychic power is a curse, not a gift. I don’t know how, but it looks like it’s gone, and the real you can finally come out. You are a deeply thoughtful person. You’re intelligent, and strategic. It’s what makes you a great captain. What you were missing was empathy. You cared what happened to people, but not how they thought about it. Now you do.”

Waldemar stands. “If this is true, then there’s a lot I need to make up for.

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Microstory 2645: Red Lion

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It’s been another few weeks, and Mandica is getting stir crazy. She hasn’t felt safe leaving the lair, so she has hardly tried. She wants to go out and live a life, because if she doesn’t, then she’s not really living anyway. Malika and Reagan are going with her. They want to show her around, maybe do a little shopping. The world is incredibly detailed and believable. The bots are perfectly programmed, and never break character. They don’t simply ignore all mentions of Castlebourne and Earth when she tests a few of them. They act confused, and start to think that maybe she’s not mentally well. Malika suggests she stop doing that. It’s not respectful behavior, and she’s entirely right about that. So Mandica embraces it. She goes all in on Ravensgate. This is her city now, and everything in it matters, including the people. Things might actually be okay.

“So, you two have a lot of money?” She’s been learning about the fiat economy.

“It’s my money,” Malika contends. “That’s how I wrote my character.”

“Why doesn’t everybody do that?” They’re in a jewelry store now called Magnum Opus. She’s scanning the gold and silver rings, and clocking the uppity saleswoman who is clearly afraid that Mandica is here to steal. But she doesn’t care about metals and rocks. They’re valuable, but only in their utility, and she doesn’t have the equipment. “Why do the others live in that studio apartment with a bed and a couch?”

“That’s the story that they wanted,” Reagan replies. “If you want luxury, book a room at the Palacium Hotel, or insert yourself into a virtual simulation. People come here because they want to get something they can’t get out there. Mal chose the wealthy life because it’s an interesting juxtaposition, having a rich person go out of their way to help others, instead of being selfish. She didn’t write it so she can afford nice things.”

“Still,” Malika adds, “pick anything you want. I can afford any three items here.”

“I have had jewelry before, but nothing fancy. It was mostly gifts with local cultural significance. And as Mordred’s lover, I sometimes accessorized.”

“That’s the beauty of the world now,” Malika says. “If something speaks to you, and it’s cheap, go ahead and put it on my card. If this world were real, people would judge it, but this is just for you. Choose it because it’s pretty, or even simply because it will remind you of the friends you were with when you were picking it out.”

Mandica breathes and nods in understanding and agreement. She looks away from the rings, and finds her gaze being pulled in one direction. Something is on display in the middle of the room. It looks unlike anything here, and may not even be for sale. It’s clearly meant to be wildly important and special, like a literal crown jewel.

“That’s the Philosopher’s Stone,” Malika tells her, “or what passes for it here.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of it,” Mandica says. “I may know more about Arthurian legend, but I’ve studied other stories too. It’s funny how...basic it looks.” She leans forward and peers at it. “It’s too even and smooth for a stone. It almost looks like it’s made of glass.”

“It’s not real,” Reagan says.

Mandica laughs. “It’s obviously not real. It’s just, why would they make it look like this. Is it only a placeholder until it can be replaced, or the propbots didn’t spend too much effort on it, because they didn’t expect any player to look too closely at it?”

“No clue. I lied earlier, though, because I could not afford that.”

That sounds about right. Mandica is still learning the value of currency, but eleven million dollars sounds like something that no player would have to throw around. She’s noticing the saleswoman again, who seems terribly afraid that Mandica is seriously considering heisting a silly piece of red glass. She’s about to confront her about the possible racial profiling when glass starts flying everywhere. Every window in this store has been shattered, and every display case, including the Stone’s. Mandica is thrown into its pedestal by the blast. It hurts, but she’s not injured.

She looks up at the commotion. Vanore is standing there now, not concealing her face in the least. She is as gorgeous as the day Mandica met her on Earth. But she’s dressed drastically differently here. She’s wearing an oversized dark cloak with striking violet lining. The collar is huge, cupping her rosy cheeks, which contrast harshly against her otherwise porcelain skin. Her hair has been darkened, and done up tightly over her head, held together by what almost looks like barbed wire. A security officer takes his gun out, and aims it at the intruder, but he’s shaking. She effortlessly slings some kind of blade at him. It lodges in his neck, and he bleeds. The bots bleed. Morgana steps forward menacingly. “When I take someone’s eyes, I expect them to remain eyeless! I’m going to have to take your new ones now, but when I’m done with you this time, there will be no space left for a second replacement!” She starts walking closer to Mandica.

Reagan, still wearing his civilian clothes, steps between her and Mandica.

Blue Umbra is now in her suit, but did not bother putting on her mask. She lunges at Morgana, and starts doing her thing. Whatever magicks Vanore has been able to replicate using real world tech, she keeps it in her back pocket, and fights back physically. She’s not breaking a sweat, though, while Blue Umbra is struggling. She is nigh invincible, and strong, but not strong enough for Vanore. They said that Ravensgate Rescuer and Cardinal Sin were the best in town, but that does not seem true.

At last, Morgana has grown weary of this distraction. She lifts Blue Umbra into the air by her neck. “Your name is an oxymoron, and you...are simply a moron.” She reaches over with her arm to lift Blue Umbra’s legs up. She then pushes both arms down to break Blue Umbra’s back against her thigh.

Mandica turns away in disgust. Malika will survive that, but it’s still unsettling.

Reagan tenses up now that he has become the last line of defense against the villain. He doesn’t have his gun. It’s too large to carry, and you can’t bring bags into jewelry stores. Still, he may be able to delay Mandica’s death by half a second.

Morgana scoffs. “You are hardly worth my time.” She pulls her arm across her chest, and backhands Reagan so hard that he’s thrown to the side, and passes out. Out of nowhere, the Ravensgate Rescuer drops down from the ceiling to take Reagan’s place. Morgana cackles. She actually cackles, like a witch. “I held back in the alley, but I won’t be so magnanimous this time.”

“I’m not alone this time,” Ravensgate Rescuer volleys.

Cardinal Sin appears from the side, and starts wailing on Morgana. Ravensgate Rescuer joins in too. A hero-villain team-up issue. Classic. It’s not enough. They are not strong enough for her. She still doesn’t act like she’s having any trouble. She cuts deeply into Cardinal Sin’s face with claws that she apparently has, and kicks her in the chest. She turns to her one remaining challenger. All out of quips, Morgana draws a sword from under her cloak, and drives it into Ravensgate Rescuer’s stomach. Having been standing too close, the blade cuts into Mandica too. Ravensgate Rescuer falls back on top of Mandica, and they both die.

Microstory 2639: Round One Goes To

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One lesson Mandica learned from getting into Mythodome is that she doesn’t have to go in through the main entrance, and probably shouldn’t. People can still see her, and might notice if she doesn’t follow procedure. She is not wearing an official worker’s uniform, but she’s dressed in a loose-fitting jumpsuit to make it look more like it makes sense for her to walk down the perimeter plaza to some other door. Instead of a long, dark stone corridor, the walls are tiled and maintained, though to be fair, the one under Mythodome probably looked rustic for the aesthetic. She doesn’t have to walk down this one, which is good, because it’s longer. On one side is what looks like a chairlift, except it only goes forward. Once she climbs into it and fastens her seatbelt, it moves automatically, and takes her a couple of kilometers down. At the end of the line, she gets out and steps into an elevator that was already open and waiting for her.

When the sliding doors reopen, she’s faced with a regular hinged door; metal and painted a grayish dark green. She opens that, and finds herself on the platform of a subway. It’s dirty, with trash all over the place, especially down on the tracks. The passengers are an eclectic bunch. It’s scary to her. There’s not even a glass partition preventing people from getting on the tracks. Someone could fall right in and get hit by a train. Had she been born on Earth when it looked more like this, and someone told her that she could take a pill to become invincible, she probably would. The members of her family chose a single lifetime lifespan for themselves because they always expected to live about that long. Death is easier to avoid in the modern day. Then again, if Mandica really ever felt that way, why is mountain hiking her favorite activity, and why did she ever want to come to a place as dangerous as this? She wants the thrill, and she might die young. It just hopefully won’t be from falling onto the subway tracks.

She walks up the steps, shedding the itchy jumpsuit as she goes, and stuffing it into her bag. She has other clothes in there, and food, because she might be here for a while, and just like in the real world, she doesn’t have an identity. Out there, it’s fine. She’s entitled to food. Anyone can grab a dayfruit or operate a synthesizer without logging in. Survival is a basic human right. But in here, for the gritty Gothamesque story to work, they have to use money. They have to have their own microcosmic economy. And yes, she’s heard of Gotham. She’s never been a fan of superhero movies, but she is moderately familiar with the most common tropes. She won’t love it in this fake city, but she’ll find Vanore, ask her to explain what the hell is going on, and then get out.

The thing about this dome is that there may or may not be AI-generated supervillains, but no such superheroes. If you see a villain, they could be a visitor playing a character, but if you see a hero, they definitely are. That’s what the prospectus says. So when a woman wearing a costume suddenly flies through the air and crashlands right behind Mandica as she’s walking, the latter knows that she is a player. She has to be, because it is up to the players to defend the city by whatever means they feel are necessary, and if that means no one comes here to do that, then the story could devolve into misery and chaos, and that will simply be how it is. Of course, a lot of people do enjoy superhero stories, so there are probably plenty of them acting out their fantasies of being revered and beloved. She is assuming that this woman wearing silver and blue spent years wishing she could be this. Before Castlebourne, she probably did it in virtual reality. Her character could predate this base reality simulation by centuries.

The superhero catches eyes with Mandica. She winks. “Sup, gorgeous.” It’s then that the rock monster barrels into her. The blue hero is knocked over, but still smiling. She designed her substrate to be as invincible as real world physics allows. She kicks and punches the monster with a few grunts, and some “hiya”s. The monster is slow...because it’s made of rocks, but doesn’t seem to feel pain, and isn’t budging. Still, the hero is unfazed. It looks like she’s working up to something. “Clear the area!” she orders. “Go!”

The NPCs continue to scream and run away. Mandica moves back a little, to the side of the subway steps, but doesn’t go as far back as she should. It’s too exciting, and she’s annoyed with herself for being excited. Does she actually like the genre, and she’s just been a pretentious asshole about it her whole life?

The hero starts to swing on the monster like it’s a gymnastics bar. She makes it all the way up until she’s standing on its shoulders. She crouches, and starts poking at its eyes, which do appear to be its weak spot. It can’t lift its thick, stony arms high enough over its head to swat her away, but it keeps trying. “Now!” she screams.

Only then does Mandica see a guy in a purple, green, and yellow cloaky outfit standing several meters away. There’s a sort of trident looking symbol on his chest. He’s holding an absolutely gargantuan compensation gun, aiming it at the blue hero and the monster. Perfectly timed, the blue hero does an impossibly high back flip off of the monster’s shoulders. If this were a movie, it would probably be shown in slow motion. A rippling, but otherwise invisible, force emanates from the green guy’s gun. The monster is blasted with it. This is what really stops him. It falls to its approximation of knees, and rests on its fists as green guy continues to pummel him with the sonic weapon. Meanwhile, blue girl has landed safely out of the blast zone, and is watching it happen. After enough of the sound waves, the rock monster completely falls apart. It doesn’t explode, the rocks just lose adherence to each other, and crumble to the ground.

“Hey, girl. How you livin’? I’m Blue Umbra.”

“I don’t have a name,” Mandica lies poorly. She forgot to decide if she’s going to use her real name, or come up with a secret identity. She has absolutely no plans to become a superhero too, and clearly lacks the requisite skills compared to these two.

Blue Umbra giggles. “Well, I can work with that. I don’t exactly go by my Christian name.” What was Christian again? Was that the one with the candles?

Green guy removes some kind of cartridge from his gun, lets it magnetize to his thigh, and replaces it with a new one from his other thigh. “Locked and loaded for round two,” he says with a certain affectation. “Who’s this chick?”

“Wave Function, meet...a ghost,” Blue Umbra jokes.

“She didn’t run,” Wave Function points out.

“I don’t like to run,” Mandica says. Now that is not a lie.

“You should probably walk away quickly then,” Blue Umbra warns. “His wave blasts aren’t powerful enough to take Grayrock down permanently.”

“Hey, I get it done,” Wave Function defends. “Trust me, I hear no complaints.”

Blue Umbra rolls her eyes and starts to walk towards the recoalescing monster.

“Castlebourne,” Mandica cries desperately.

They both stop. “We’re not supposed to talk about the outside world,” she says.

“I have to,” Mandica explains. “I’m looking for someone.”

Blue Umbra sighs. “Hide in that building over there. We’ll talk after the fight.”

Microstory 2638: He Owns the Air

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Mandica immediately turns around, and tries to go back down the steps, but they’re gone. A stone barrier has appeared over the stairs a half meter below the surface. It is probably some kind of service entrance designed to be hidden to preserve the integrity of the mythology unfolding under this dome.

“Do not be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you,” the man who calls himself Daedalus claims. Well, he probably is indeed the manifestation of Daedalus in this simulation. He’s a man with functioning wings. “I could have done that a long time ago if I had been so inclined. I would like for us to be friends.”

“How do you know who I am?” Mandica questions. “You’re just a character. You were programmed to follow the script and believe that this is all real.”

“I was programmed to be a genius because the original Daedalus myth wrote him as such,” Daedalus clarifies. “I was programmed a little too well, and grew clever enough to uncover the truth about my own existence. I have ways of reaching beyond the confines of my realm, to the bustling world outside.”

“You still could not have invited me to this dome,” she reasons. “I was intending to go to King Arthur’s world. That’s not myth, that’s legend. I only changed my mind because it was a related recommendation, and since they are not unrelated themes, it was not an unbelievable pairing.”

“True, and I do not claim to have access to the recommendation algorithm on the prospectus, but I knew you would find your way here eventually, because I knew you were interested in this sort of thing. No, my invitation came much earlier, before you even left the real Earth.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mandica argues. “I first heard about this planet in 2420. Even if you were in beta prior to that—which I’m guessing you were before 2500 —116 years is a long-ass con. I just don’t believe it. Daedalus may be a genius, but he’s not a god. Even the gods here aren’t real gods.”

He chuckles. “True words, but I am the one who got you excited to come here.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not buying it. This lie is too outrageous.”

“Vanore,” he says to her simply.

“What?”

“That was the name of the woman you met on April 1, 2420, was it not? She’s the one who told you about a resort planet that they were paraterraforming a hundred and eight light years away. I believe she called it pillow talk?”

“How do you know that name? How do you know that story? I’ve not thought about her in years. She was like me...unenhanced, so she is long dead.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that she was as unenhanced as she led you to believe. Vanore isn’t even her real name. She adopted it to trigger your attention, which was my idea; I apologize for the deception.”

“Why? Why do any of this? Don’t try to tell me that I’m some kind of chosen one. That’s not a thing. And I don’t really do YA.”

“As far as I know, you’re not a chosen one. I actually don’t personally have any interest in you, but I owed someone a favor. They wanted you here, I found a way.”

“Who?”

“Your name is Kolar.”

“That has been established, I’m not going to be shocked by it a second time.”

“Their name was Kolar as well. They never told me their first names.”

“Some kind of distant relatives, who I have never met.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’m not here to make your life harder, but I wanted to make contact, because I wanted to warn you. If you are related to these people, it doesn’t mean that you will get along with them. Your values may be far out of alignment, and I decided that you deserved to know, so you could be on the lookout. Others are aware that you’re here, and I cannot attest to their motivations, Mandica.”

“And Vanore? Don’t tell me she’s my relative too. We...did things together.”

He chuckled. “No, I think that she owed your relatives as well. She seemed rather reluctant to participate in this. I didn’t ask why.”

“Well, where is she? Somewhere in here with you? Where are the other Kolars?”

“I have no idea where they are now. They had the means of coming and going as they pleased, much like you, but with the stars. And it has potentially been over a hundred years for them. I do know how special relativity works, even though I’ve never seen the true sky.” He looks up at the hologram above them. It really does look real, but Castlebourne is uninhabitable outside of the domes, so the real sky is ugly. He smiles sadly. “As for Vanore, I may know where she is. She travels to other domes, but we’ve become friends since our joint mission, so she checks in from time to time. Indeed, I’m working under the assumption that she detours back here every time she transitions to a new adventure. Last I heard, she was in Underbelly.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I don’t really know either, but she knew your family before I did, so she may have a clue of where they might be now.”

Mandica sighs. “I suppose I owe you for all this information.”

He seems surprised by the suggestion. “On the contrary. I used subterfuge to trick you into traveling somewhere that you might not have wanted to be. It is I who owes you. I may still seem like a character to you, but I’m powerful, so name it.”

Mandica looks down at the stone trapdoor. “I don’t like being owed any more than I like owing others, and I’m not greedy. All I want you to do is open that.”

He is surprised by this too. “Well, that’s easy.” He lifts his hand and begins to tap the tips of his fingers against his thumb in what appears to be a particular sequence. Once he is finished, the stone slides away and recedes into its pocket. “That was not a very good favor, but if it’s a psychological issue, let’s say that it counted. And then let’s say, if you ever need anything else, you can return to ask for it. It’s not another favor that you owe, per se; just an open window.”

Mandica turns and starts to walk back down the steps before stopping and looking over her shoulder. “I don’t see what could possess me to come speak to the great Daedalus again. I read about you and your son, but I don’t know if what I know has come to pass by now. I don’t know where in the story we are.”

His face falls into a deeply rageful frown. “It has already happened.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

His friendly demeanor has entirely vanished. “Go.”

Mandica leaves Mythodome and heads straight for Underbelly, but she doesn’t get an express train this time. Maybe she should have just asked him for that.

Microstory 2637: The Ghost of Castlebourne

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Mandica has become a ghost. She sat in a cool-looking chair where a helmet read her brainwaves, and generated an authority profile for her. Now she can go anywhere she fancies, and the automated systems won’t register her as an at-risk organic human. That doesn’t mean she’s going to run head first into danger, but it gives her that option. The other normal humans are limited here, and she doesn’t want that. She wants to be free. That’s why she risked everything just to come to this planet. Trilby is gone now, so she is alone. He said that he had to get back to where he belonged, and kind of made it seem like wherever that was, it was a secret. She doesn’t know much about his backstory, just that he’s been all over, and since they first met, he has spent a lot of time on and around Bungula and Proxima Doma, which are Earth’s nearest neighbors.

She’s looking over the modified prospectus that he compiled for her, and finding herself gravitating towards the red zones, which he said were way too dangerous for someone with only one life to live. The green ones sound boring. In one of them, you pretend to be a pioneer. Like, okay, she likes period pieces, but that’s way too much work for no gain. The reason real pioneers did all that was because they had to. Why are you trying to go back? Anyway, like she’s one to talk. She has an unhealthy obsession with medieval times, particularly the legend of King Arthur. She should have explored this information while she was still on Earth, but it looks like there was nothing to worry about. She searches for the keyword Mordred, and finds a dome called Loegria, which is the realm where Arthur lived, as well as Merlin, Guinevere, and the Knights of the Round Table. It looks fascinating. She’s been cosplaying as Mordred’s lover for years, but that was only one companion. This is a whole immersive world for her to explore.

She’s about to tap on the link to map and schedule her vactrain trip, but then she notices something. At the bottom of the page is a carousel showing other similar domes that she might be interested in. The main dome here is literally called Castlebourne. It’s not Camelot, and is in fact, not an adventure dome at all. It’s where the big boss lives and works, along with his staff. No, thank you. If she’s ever gonna get caught, it’s going to be by running into a bona fide administrator who knows that she’s a fraud because she wasn’t at the end of the year party last year. But the third recommendation. It’s called Mythodome. She taps on it, and starts reading about it. This place sounds insane. It doesn’t limit itself to only one Earthan mythology, but just about all of them. All these gods and creatures coexist in the same environment, and have evidently figured out how to reconcile their contradictions naturally. The NPCs genuinely believe that this is all real, and there is no world beyond the walls. She has to see what that’s like.

She taps on the VISIT NOW link...and it takes her to a pre-registration form. Oh, no, this is a problem. She can physically enter any dome, and pass through their internal security systems, but she doesn’t actually have a genuine identity. She can’t input her name, and she doesn’t even have a Castlebourne Visitor ID number. Trilby said nothing about this, but this isn’t the right route. The way she gets into Mythodome is to schedule the vactrain herself and walk in without warning. She knows that she can do that. That’s how they got to Capital yesterday. It takes longer than making a schedule ahead of time, but when you’re potentially traveling to the other side of a whole terrestrial planet, it’s not that big of a deal, and it’s her only choice. Is she ready, though? Is she ready for this? Perhaps not quite yet. The prospectus gives an overview of what being in the dome entails, but another link leads to this whole subnetwork of pages, talking about all of the mythological beings. It tells her how the stories unfold in the real world, and how these contradictory entities intermingle and adapt to a shared universe. The AI, Thistle can prepare her for what she’s about to face.

She taps on that, and asks it to generate a syllabus. She spends the next two weeks taking a self-directed crash course on the subject. She absolutely does not learn everything there is to know. Scholars could spend years studying this environment. She believes that some academics actually visit Mythodome specifically for that purpose, with the intention of publishing papers and-or teaching classes that have never existed before. This is enough for now. If she doesn’t place a boundary here, she may never, and she will never actually get to go on her first adventure. So she shuts off the tablet, drops it on Trilby’s bed, and leaves.

To her surprise, a vactrain pulls up for her as soon as she taps on the wall interface. Usually, someone going on an impromptu trip would have to wait longer for the right train and right route to be available, but it zooms up like it knew what she was going to ask for. There is no train schedule. It’s based purely on need and interest, and a version of Thistle is constantly shifting it to account for more information. Others, in fact, are waiting on the platform because theirs have not arrived yet. But the transit token on the pod’s display matches the one that the system assigned her. It’s an express train, though, which is very weird. Maybe admins always get those? But no, because she and Trilby didn’t have that the other day. They still had to change to connecting trains. As she enters the private pod alone, she looks back awkwardly at the waiting legion, but none of them seems bothered by her skipping the line. Immortals—they have no sense of urgency. She will never understand it, and honestly does not want to.

The pod takes her directly to Mythodome, instead of via a hub first. She’s in the intake plaza now, and about to head for the main entrance when something catches her eye. That transit token should have only been relevant to her trip here, but she sees it on a hologram on the wall, along with an arrow pointing to the left. She’s hesitant to respond to it. But for the briefest of moments, the hologram changes. The words THIS WAY, MANDY flicker just long enough for her to see, but hopefully not long enough for anyone else to notice. She follows the directions away from the main entrance. She has to. If she’s already been caught, then walking in the opposite direction isn’t going to insulate her from the consequences that they have in store for her. It’s going to delay them at best. The lights take her to a different door, which leads to a set of stairs, which leads down to a tunnel, which leads her to a second set of stairs, and a second door, but this one is horizontal. She walks back up and opens the trapdoor to find herself on the edge of a forest clearing. It is incredibly beautiful here. It reminds her of her favorite spots on Earth; the ones away from all the crowds.

Suddenly something races overhead, from one side of the trees to the other. It comes back, but is higher in the sky this time, and barely visible. There are a number of things it could be, like a Fury, a Roc, or even a Cherub. Is this it? Not even a month into her trip, and she’s already about to die? When it swoops back down, she starts to see that it’s a man, and the wings look almost artificial. He lands gracefully on the ground before her. “Mandica Kolar, thank you for accepting my invitation. I’m Daedalus.”

Tangent Point: Reads Like Science Fiction (Part VI)

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Breanna Jeffries didn’t want to tell Reed about the man in the photo, but he didn’t actually need her to say anything. He asked his AI, Thistle instead, who informed him that the man was still on board, and also where to find him. His daughter had recently given birth to a baby girl, and while most of the evacuees were gone, she had chosen to stay here. The child had already been through so much, they wanted her to wake up every day with some level of familiarity and comfort. The doctor who delivered it eventually evacuated from Proxima Doma as well, and was still here too. She asked the mother if she could continue to look after the baby, and the mother agreed. “You said there was something weird about the birth?” Reed asked this doctor.

Dr. Duward looked almost paranoid. “You understand that most kids being born these days gestate in artificial tanks, right?”

“I do.”

“That’s because giving birth kinda sucks,” Dr. Duward explained the obvious. “Proxima Doma has—I’m sorry, had—more live births than anywhere in the galaxy, which is why I still have a job. I’ve been doing it for 550 years now. If you’re trying to do that math, I was twelve years old when I had to deliver my older sister’s baby. Mama was drunk, daddy was at work, and I was in charge. Since then, I have successfully welcomed over 100,000 new human beings into this universe. Every single one of the mothers was in pain, whether we gave them drugs or not. Granted, traditional births are my specialty. Nanomedicine can make even live births painless, but that’s just not what I do. They come to me because they don’t want that. This woman, Aeterna refused any sort of pain relief. She refused an IV; everything. The baby just slipped out. She came in to inform us that her water broke, and it was time, then she crawled in bed, and let it out. No struggle, no contractions, barely any labor time. It started, and it was done. We have some impressive transhumans in the galaxy, but I’ve never seen anything like her.”

“How’s the baby?”

“Little Dilara is fine,” Dr. Duward replied. “We performed the very basic tests, and followed procedure, but didn’t have to provide any unusual treatments. She cried a little bit but stopped quickly. I hesitate to say this, but it was almost like she was putting on a show...like she knew we expected her to cry, but after that, she quieted down and just lay there against her mother’s chest.”

“Who else have you told about this?” Reed presses.

“No one,” Dr. Duward answers. “Like I said, she came in so quick, the only people there were me and my nurse. And she won’t tell anyone unless I order her to.”

“No bots need their memories erased?” he suggested.

“We didn’t use bots down there. Traditional births, remember?”

“Right. Well, I need this family on my side, so keep it to yourself. In fact, if you could just move on and pretend like it never happened, that would be for the best.”

“This sounds important to you,” she noted.

He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I want the quantum signature for New Earth.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Reed replied honestly.

“I gave a consultation to a Teaguardian a few weeks ago, and overheard them talking about it. They’re about to go on assignment there, and are actually happy that you delayed their departure. It’s very hush-hush, but they said it was 121 light years away. They’ll have to give it a huge berth because I think it’s a protected human preserve. No advanced interference. It sounds like it’s basically a base reality ancestor simulation. They’ll need a good OB/GYN.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have access to that. I’m just a Bungulan captain.”

“I suggest you find it,” the doctor said. She was not who he thought she was just a moment ago when they first met.

“I don’t like being blackmailed.”

“I don’t like being ripped from my home, but things happen.”

Reed nodded. “I’ll get you to this New Earth place, but I need to speak with the family first.”

“Go right ahead.” Dr. Duward stepped off to the side.

Reed walked down the hallway, and rang the doorbell.

A man quickly opened it. “Hey. They’re both sleeping,” he hissed.

“That’s not what the door indicator says.” Reed pointed at the indicator tube, which lit up for different conditions, such as sleeping, emergency, or unoccupied.

“I don’t know how that stuff works,” the guy said. He looked back to make sure that mother and baby weren’t awakened, then slipped out of the room, and closed the door behind him. “Can I help you?”

“First of all, I’m Captain Reed Ellis—”

“I know who you are, I’m not impressed. What do you want?”

“The Vellani Ambassador. You seem to be a crewmember of it. Tertius Valerius?”

“Not really anymore, why?” Tertius questioned.

“There are whispers that it can travel faster than light,” Reed said.

Tertius folded his arms. “Lots of ships can do that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say lots. It seems to only be Teaguardians, and yours. Do you work for Teagarden?”

Tertius snorted. “No. The Ambassador is a stateless vessel. Well, I think it technically flies the Castlebourne flag now, but that’s more of a matter of logistics.”

“Well, anyway. You are aware of the circumstances of the Tangent, aren’t you? I commandeered it.”

“I know.”

“Your daughter bene—”

Tertius waved his hand dismissively to interrupt Reed again. “Don’t play on my sentimentality. Just spit it out.”

“As of today, we’re maybe one-third of the way through our rescue efforts,” Reed continued. “Months from now, when it’s over, and the last evacuee is safely off the platform, I have promised to release the hostages, and forgo my leverage. What I have not promised is to return the Tangent and turn myself in. My crew hasn’t done that either, and I don’t want them to have to. I don’t know where we would go, but if we try to run with what we’ve got, they’ll catch us. I don’t want to hold hostages past the rescue. I certainly don’t want to hold them forever. I don’t want to condemn my people to decades of prison either, though. You have no obligation to do anything for us. If you refuse, you and your family can stay as long as you want, or leave whenever you want. You are in no way hostages. I’m asking you with my tail between my legs, and my hat in hand, will you help?”

Tertius stared at Reed, presumably in thought. “Over a hundred years ago, the brightest minds in history you’ve never heard of held a meeting. It was called The Edge. They had developed certain advanced technologies, and limited their use to a select few who needed it. I won’t get into who these inventors were, or anything about our subculture, but the year 2400 marked the end of that exclusivity. It was inevitable that the general population would uncover the truths. So these inventors agreed to hand out some of these technologies to some others, in some ways. Don’t ask me for details, anything I happen to know about The Edge is still not common knowledge. What I’ll tell you, however, is that The Vellani Ambassador operates under a special form of FTL that was not a part of any agreement, with Teagarden, or anyone else. That will probably never be made public. It’s too powerful, it’s too dangerous, and it has some serious theoretical applications that could quite literally destroy the universe. The reframe engine, however, is a different story. That is what the Teaguardians use. It caps out at 707c. That’s a fundamental physical limitation of the mechanism, and there’s no going beyond it.”

“Okay. I’m not picky. Even simply being on par with them would be useful.”

“Well, I’m not an engineer, I don’t know how to build a reframe engine. The way I understand it, it’s only half of the equation. In order to reach maximum reframe, you have to already be able to reach maximum sublight. Can the Tangent do that?”

Reed sighed. “It can’t. It uses classical fusion, not antimatter.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Tertius said. “Let me put it this way, if this thing were moving at its maximum speed, and traveled one light year, how long would it feel like on the ship?”

Reed tapped on his wrist device to make the calculation. “About 1.73 years, but it would take two years in realtime.”

Tertius nodded. “If someone smarter than me installed a reframe engine, it would take you 1.73 years. That’s what you would experience, and that’s how much time would pass for everyone not on the ship. That’s what the reframe engine does. It makes those two numbers the same. It doesn’t just arbitrarily go fast. You still have to reach certain speeds, the engine just consolidates the reference frames. It reframes the passage of time so everyone ends up on the same page.”

Reed leaned his head back at hearing this, and regarded Tertius. “That’s why there’s a maximum speed overall. You’re not actually breaking the light barrier.”

“Bingo.”

“But this Ambassador, it goes faster. It indeed breaks the light barrier. True FTL.”

“I wouldn’t tell you how it worked, even if I understood it. I won’t even name it for you, because that alone would give you too much information.”

“Would they be willing to help, though?” Reed pressed. “Maybe they can just pull us away once, and then leave us wherever, just so we can find someplace to hide, and maybe some lasting peace.”

Tertius looked up at the walls and ceiling. “The VA’s mission is not unlike yours. They rescue people from bad situations. The difference is, they didn’t steal their ship to do it. The intelligence that designed it is still there. Well...the person who designed the special FTL tech isn’t, but they gave their contribution away freely. Anyway, the people they rescue are innocent. The people they’re rescuing them from? Not so much. You...are neither. Mirage would understand why you did what you did, but she wouldn’t reward you for it. She would expect you to accept the consequences of your actions. I know her well, I can hear her say that in my head. Before you ask, the person who came up with the magical FTL isn’t available until...” He tapped on his handheld device. “Let me do my own calculations...August. And even if we were able to find him on that date, he would only be able to help you for a day, and then you would have to wait a whole year for his return.”

“Huh?” Reed didn’t understand all this FTL stuff, but he wasn’t even following the logic of what Tertius just said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tertius replied, shaking his head. “The point is, it can’t be done. I would love to help, but it’s just not gonna happen. I can reach out to Mirage, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. And if by some miracle, she does say yes, you’re not keeping the Tangent. It would be like trying to stuff a skyscraper in the trunk of your car. At best, she would ferry all the people somewhere safe.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Reed pulled up his contact card. “You can reach me any time. It has my quantum signature on it if she’s on the other side of the universe, and wants to talk to me personally. Now, before I leave you, how big is this reframe engine?”

“I think it scales to the size of the vessel,” Tertius answered. “I can probably get you the specs, but you’re gonna be done with the evacuation in, what, a few months? It’s gonna take longer than that for you to build one from scratch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Mister Valerius. I’ll let you get back to your family now. Please do stay in touch. I’ll give you anything you need.”

Reed walked away and returned to his bridge office.

Shasta was already there, which was good. “Hey. I wanted to let you know, Vasily has been asking for you. I have no idea what it’s about.”

“That can wait,” Reed decided, possibly forever. “We have more important things to worry about. I need ideas for how we can prolong the southern evacuation. We need to stall for time while we come up with a more long-term solution to our little problem.”

Shasta considered it for a moment. “Well, if that’s what we need, that unauthorized express trip was actually good news. Maybe we need more time to inspect all the tethers. Maybe the constant up and down placed too much stress on them, and they all require maintenance. And maybe to prevent that from being a problem again, we need to slow the trips moving forward.”

“Okay, those are all good ideas. Let’s start working on it, but obviously don’t explain to anyone why.”

“I don’t even know why,” Shasta admitted.

“Good. I’ll tell you later so it’s easier for you to spread the new plan. Slower ascents and descents. But not too bad. It doesn’t need to take years, and in fact, that would backfire on us. Just maybe another month.”

“Got it, I’ll talk to Trilby to calculate the math on that. He won’t ask questions.”

“Actually, I need to talk to him myself. I’ll go with you.” His device beeped, so he stopped to check it.

It was a message from Tertius. Found this while I was digging up the specifications for the reframe engine. I didn’t realize that The Shortlist gave Teagarden access to this tech. It might have come in handy a few months ago.

Reed tapped on the file, and read the overview. “On second thought, I’ll talk with Trilby later. Go ahead and do your thing. I need to set up a meeting with someone else.”

It was only a few hours later. Reed was back in the dusty hot interrogation room of a virtual environment. President Burkhart Abrams resolved in front of him, sitting in the chair. “What am I doing here, Ellis? Something wrong with the evacuation? Can’t stay in place? Are you demanding pizza for all the gunmen and hostages?”

Reed threw a tablet on the table hard enough to make it break in the real world, but it landed undamaged. “If you already knew, then this won’t come as a surprise, but if you didn’t know, then I encourage you to verify it...quietly.” He needed to test him.

Abrams reluctantly picked up the tablet, and started looking over the info. He threw it down with nearly as much gusto. “This reads like science fiction.”

“It’s not, it’s real. I’m guessing you didn’t know about it, because you’re not that good of a liar. So now you have to ask yourself, for the first time in all of this, are we on the same side?”

“Why the hell would we be on the same side? Teagarden is only letting you do this because you have leverage. You and I are not friends.”

“What about Matar Galo? Is she a friend?”

“She’s my superior officer.”

“Right.” Reed leaned forward, and repeated, “right” as he was swiping to the next page. “And because she’s your superior, she had no obligation to tell you about this.”

“If it’s true...if it exists, then no, of course she didn’t. She didn’t invent military secrets. What are you driving at here?”

Reed shook his head. “You commanded two Teaguardians for Proxima Doma. These people were your friends. You were here to protect them, and the one time when they really needed you, you couldn’t do shit. You just sat there, staring at the screen, utterly hopeless. Useless. A giant paperweight floating in space.” He angrily pointed at the tablet. “If you had this kind of technology, you may have been able to save them all.”

Abrams scoffed and shook his head.

“Maybe not all, but a lot; at least more. I wouldn’t have needed to steal a damn thing. It wouldn’t have occurred to me. I just didn’t think we had any other options. But she—she had this. Your military had this.” He swiped over again. “Apparently, Gatewood has it too. Why does Gatewood have it? Nobody lives there!”

 “You’re right. This would have been a game-changer, but if she didn’t come here with it, she must have had her reasons. Maybe it’s not ready. Maybe only a tiny shuttle has a prototype of it. We don’t know. This document doesn’t say anything about the actual operational deployment. It just claims that it exists, and it’s in the Teagarden’s privileged data vault. I’m not going to ask how you got your hands on it, but this...this means nothing. It proves nothing.”

“Burkhart, this is real. They have teleportation, like freakin’ Star Trek. They left your friends to die when they could have just beamed them into the sky. They didn’t even read you in. They did nothing.” Reed pointed to his own chest. “I did something. I came here. I risked everything to save the people that you were sworn to defend. Aren’t you angry about that? I would be livid. I am.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I believe you, and I’ve never been more pissed off about anything in my whole life. What the hell does it matter? The south is stable. The elevators are working. There’s no point in rocking the boat now. Just finish your mission, and turn yourself in, like you promised.”

“I never promised that.”

Abrams dismissed it. “That’s not my problem. They’re not gonna give us teleportation. What are you gonna do? Try to steal it?”

Reed shook his head. “No, not that. Like you said, we don’t know where it is. But I need to steal something else, and to make up for being unable to do anything for the Proxima Domanians before I showed up...I want you to help me.”

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