Extremus: Year 99

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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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Extremus: Year 98

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It’s been well over a year, and Audrey Husk has not reached out again regarding her mandate to secretly aid Silveon in his mission to stop Waldemar Kristiansen from growing up to become a violent tyrant. As per Extenuating Circumstances Executive Time Travel Protocol, Tinaya hasn’t reached back either. While time travel is illegal on the ship, the council recognizes that there are situations where it may be necessary. It may not be safe to report such time travel activity, and under those extreme conditions, it is up to the executive crewmember to exercise caution at their own discretion. That only goes for people like Tinaya and Lataran, though. If, say, a passenger were to discover a time travel event, it would be their responsibility to report it accordingly, and they would be just as liable for any damages if caught in the lie or conspiratorial collusion.

They’ve all seen each other regularly. Audrey has maintained her cover as Silveon and Waldemar’s friend. Despite being at wildly different places in their education, they help each other out. Silveon still doesn’t know that Audrey has the mind of an adult, so she pretends to be lacking in certain areas. Silveon, despite not being able to reveal himself as also from the future, has propped himself up to be somewhat of a prodigy. This gives him a decent excuse for being more intelligent than anyone would expect him to be. More importantly, it frees him up to focus on his real work without any questions. As for Waldemar, he’s still struggling. He went the other way by pretending to be dumber than he is because he has an almost total lack of motivation, which is something that neither Silveon nor Audrey can teach him. If he’s not listening to the apparent adults, he’s certainly not going to take advice on self-discipline from a couple of kids that he believes to be younger than him. Again, Tinaya is mostly staying out of it. Her son tells her and Arqut some anecdotes about his progress, as anyone would to confide in someone they trust, but he doesn’t deliver official reports, or anything.

Since the ship is fortunate enough to have two living admirals at the moment, only one of them is asked to attend each daily meeting. That leaves the other one back at the office with nothing to do for slightly longer than on days where she’s in the meeting instead. There’s not really any strategic reason for this. The council seemingly just doesn’t want to hear too many voices in the room. These huddles are boring, annoying, and intrusive for most, so they want to get them over with as quickly as possible. The admirals switch off every other day, and today is Tinaya’s turn to not have to be there. At least that’s how she claims to feel. In reality, she would rather be there every time. She actually misses being involved, and—if she’s being honest with herself—needed. The solution may seem like a no-brainer, but it’s not. She doesn’t want anyone to know how she feels, not even Lataran. So she goes along with the so-called fair routine.

“Sir, I’ve received a request for a visit,” Thistle says from the aether.

Who could that possibly be? Everyone authorized to see her is in that meeting. “From who?”

“Another child.” Oh, God. Not another time traveler. Thistle goes on, “he’s been assigned to write on someone he admires. He’s evidently chosen you.”

That’s flattering. “Does he seem nice?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Have him meet me in the Attic Forest—no, the Central Sequoia, at the base.” Tinaya planted the tree at the bottom of the ship nearly forty years ago, and it has since grown around eleven meters, allowing it to pass through three decks at this point. She won’t live to see its full potential, so she likes to frequent it when she can to get the most out of her masterpiece.

She teleports directly there, expecting to have a little time to herself before the boy arrives, but someone is already there. At this time of day, it’s not very busy. Well, it’s never very busy here, but people are preoccupied with other things, so there’s not a whole lot of traffic going in and out, or sticking around.

A young man appears from the other side of the trunk. “Admiral Leithe, thanks for meeting me.”

“How did you get here so fast?” Tinaya looks down at the boy’s wristband, even though it’s impossible to know from here whether it’s teleportation-capable or not.

“Oh, I’m a Pathfinder,” he answers, both like it’s no big deal, and as if she should know what that means.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I don’t so much as see the future as I know where to be, and when to be there. And I know when someone’s in danger, or when their luck is about to change. Things of this nature. To me, the future is more like a haze, while for everyone else, it’s a darkness.”

“You’re a choosing one. Those are rare. They’re, like, real rare.” Back on Earth, there are people who are born with the ability to manipulate time and/or space in some way or another. There aren’t a lot of them, but they can be anyone. Some of them have full control of it, and some are being controlled by this mysterious force known as the powers that be. They’re practically nonexistent on Extremus, though. Their ancestors were wayward sons and daughters, who found themselves trapped in the universe of Ansutah with all the white monsters. A baby came out stillborn, and this tragedy erased everyone’s powers, whatever they happened to be. They say that, had this baby been healthy, he would have had the ability to control other people’s powers at will, but because of the unfortunate circumstances, his meta-power was only activated once, and could not be reversed. And it had consequences for the future. Not only were the powers stripped from everyone present, but their descendants didn’t have powers. Statistically speaking, over the course of millennia, new choosers should have been born, regardless of their lineage. It’s just something that happens every once in a while. No one really knows why time travelers exist in the first place. But there are almost none on the ship. The real question is actually, why does it ever happen? Why are there any exceptions at all? What makes this boy different?

He shrugs. “Maybe my great great great great grandparent was a space traveler who secretly snuck into the Gatewood Collective, and ended up starting a mixed bloodline of Earthans and Extremusians.”

She narrows his eyes at him. She’s getting the sense that he’s telling the truth, and genuinely doesn’t know why he’s an exception. It’s not like it’s illegal anyway. Nothing is against the law that you’re born with, though if someone made it so that you were born a certain way, that may be cause for a response. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t care. Some people are also born apathetic, and that’s not illegal either. “Maybe...”

He offers her his hand. “Pronastus Kegrigia, secondary school student at Stern Academy.”

“Secondary school?” Tinaya questions. She looks at her watch, again stupidly. She knows the date. “I figured you were in tertiary already. Shouldn’t you be taking your assessments?” That’s one of the reasons why the corridors are so empty today.

He chuckles. “I’ve known my destiny since I was a little kid. I’m going to become the ship’s first—and if the captain has his way, not only—official Pathfinder.”

“They’re expecting you to give direction, I’m guessing when it comes to personnel assignments, and general scheduling? Any policy?”

“Not there yet. Don’t know.”

“So you’re not going to tertiary school, or what?”

“I’m on the civilian admin track. I don’t need any test, I’ve been shoehorned in.”

“Why civilian, and not crew?”

He tightens his lips.

Tinaya lifts her chin, realizing the answer to her own question. “The crew are expected to listen to a civilian voice if their superior officer commands them to. It doesn’t work the other way around. You have to remain a civilian in order to maximize your power and influence.”

“I don’t make the rules, ma’am.”

“You will.”

“I’m supposed to be asking you questions.”

“For your report. Is that in lieu of the placement tests, or did you just make that up to get to me?”

“I made it up, and my instructor approved it. I didn’t tell her that I was choosing you. I did not yet know that I would. We’re encouraged to come up with our own learning tools. I’m sure you remember.”

“It was a long time ago, son. I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

“Why did I choose you?” He doesn’t wait for her to confirm that he guessed right. “You’ve been through the ringer. You were kicked out of the captain’s program, for no apparent reason, except I’m thinking that I’m not the first pathfinder you’ve ever met; built a forest on a spaceship; restructured multiple departments; became First Chair; abolished the Chair system in favor of a more democratic council, even though it caused you to lose your power; disappeared for many years for a secret mission, which evidently lasted longer than the time you were away; and finally, went full circle to become captain anyway, despite the initial setback, which is how you’re an admiral now.”

“That about sums it up.” He doesn’t know the part about her being a secret spy for the Bridger Section, nor the truth about Verdemus. Which is good.

“Satisfying answer?”

“Yes?”

“Would you care to ask me anything else before we continue?”

“I reserve the right to stop the interview at any time, to ask more questions of you, or because I have to pee, or because I suddenly decide to stop making noise between 09:37 and 09:42 everyday.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

Pronatus goes on with the interview, asking all the questions one would expect in this situation. He asks after her feelings on all the dramatic shifts in her life, and whether any of it was planned or predicted. He’s really interested in her time in the Parks Department, and how impressive it is that she came up through there, and accomplished so much, not only afterwards, but also during. Things seem to be going okay with the interview until they start to approach the end. That’s when he throws her a curveball. “One last thing. When you die...are you going to choose to live on, or just let go, and see if there’s a true afterlife?”

Tinaya is shocked by this, and thrown totally off her game. “How do you know about that?” She’s met a number of people who are aware of this secret. She herself found out when she was a rebellious kid who was good with computers. She should be an outlier, though, not a trend. There is no protocol for what to do if someone who knows meets someone else who knows, because that’s never meant to happen. She could deny, and play dumb, but he obviously knows what he’s talking about. He’s not grasping at straws. He’s heard the details.

“I told you, I’m a pathfinder.”

“You said the future was a haze. It sounds like you get clear pictures sometimes.”

“My abilities themselves didn’t give me this knowledge. They lead me to places, and sometimes in those places, I end up overhearing things that I’m not supposed to.”

“You’re an eavesdropper.”

“Not by choice. It’s...an impulse.”

“An impulse that you should learn to control.”

“I can’t. I mean, I could. I could draw upon my willpower, and ignore it, but what if it’s leading me to save someone’s life? The very fact that the path is hazy is precisely why I have to follow-through every time. I never know how important it is. Sometimes, yeah, it’s innocuous, like seeing a guy’s towel fall off in what would have otherwise been an empty corridor, but sometimes, it’s profoundly vital. I don’t know until I get there.”

She sighs. “Have you discussed this with anyone else?”

“Of course not. I don’t even know if captains know. Something told me just now that you do, or I wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Well, maintain that policy. Don’t tell anyone. Leave it out of your report. Don’t even hint at it with colorful language. As for me? I’m obviously not going to answer that question, and even if I did, I could always change my mind, so it’s not like it would tell you where I am after death.”

“You’re right. It was a dumb question. I should have ignored that one. I had enough information to stop myself. I can do better. See, this is why I admire you? Because you’re so...good.”

She has no response for that, so she just moves past it. She stands up from the bench, and sighs. “Is that all you need from me?”

Pronastus stands up too, and folds the cover over his tablet. “Yes, I’ll try to have the first draft of my paper to you tomorrow for approval.”

“Approval? I’m meant to approve it?” She wasn’t expecting this.

“Yes, I’m not a monster, and this isn’t a hit piece.”

“Well, I appreciate that. Give yourself enough time as you need. I don’t do much as an admiral, as we’ve discussed, so I’m sure I’ll be able to read it right away, and get it back to you.”

Everything goes fine in the beginning. Pronastus takes two days to write the paper, and Tinaya is able to approve it with only a few minor grammatical corrections in three hours. She couldn’t help herself, even though it’s not technically her job. The paper’s content is fine, and she has no problem with it being submitted. It’s the instructor who decides that the three of them should not be the only ones to read it, though. She releases it to the public. And it kind of causes an uproar.

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Extremus: Year 96

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People keep telling Tinaya their secrets, and including her in them. She knows about The Question, and the questionable course corrections. She knows about Thistle’s true nature, and their persistent connection to Verdemus, as well as a satellite Nexus. She’s aware of the war against the Exin Empire, a ton of what the Bridger Section is all about, the fact that her son is a time traveler, and even a few tidbits about what’s to come in the future. Now there’s this whole thing with her husband that she has had to add to the pile. Over the last year, the Chief Medical Officer and the Head Temporal Engineer have been working with him to understand his new powers. He is not, as they suspected, a retroverter, which are those who can de-age others, or themselves. What he does has nothing to do with health and vitality, in fact. He’s an old man, and no matter what he does to his outward appearance, he’s not gonna manage to generate extra years to his lifespan.

He’s a chameleon, which is a term that Dr. Cernak had to come up with himself, because this power is not anywhere in the database. There are some people who have time travel abilities so powerful and precise that they can actually transport individual photons of light from one point in time to another. Or maybe it’s more like they’re copying the photons. Tinaya doesn’t know all that much about it, but these are simply illusions. Behind the holograms, the true person still remains. This is not what Arqut is doing. He is modifying the substructure of his skin and skeletal system in order to make himself look different. He can look like himself at a different age, or someone else, at any age. With enough time and focus, he can modify only his face, or his whole body. This is decidedly not a time power, and the experts are at a complete loss as to where the power might come from.

There’s a lot out there that no one on the ship understands. Not even Omega and Valencia have all the answers. There is something of interest in this matter, however, and it involves a fundamental truth about the universe that the database only touches upon. Despite the fact that everyone here is descended from a population of ancestors who lived in a different universe, they actually don’t know much about how the multiverse works. There are more than two; this much is known, and not because Ansutah makes it impossible for there not to be, but because of vague and unrelated reports that various researchers have collected over the centuries. And there is a theory, based on this limited data, that the physics of these other universes might range from a little bit different to unrecognizably so. They may allow for the existence of a person who can shapeshift into others on a purely organic level, as opposed to a workaround via nanite technology, which the experts were able unequivocally to rule out as an explanation for Arqut.

The reality is that they have exhausted all avenues of information gathering that they have at their disposal. If they want answers, they’re going to have to look for them somewhere else. And Tinaya doesn’t have the ability to do that with him. So now they have to make a choice, and it might lead to a premature end of their lifelong commitment to each other.

It’s the Nexus that can potentially and theoretically transport Arqut to another brane, as it’s called by the researchers. The technology apparently comes from one of these other branes, and while they’ve not been able to figure out how to return to that weird waterworld they were sent to as soon as the Nexa were activated, Valencia believes that she has discovered the term sequence to somewhere else that might be of help. She calls it The Nucleus. If anywhere in this universe has the ability to access the full network, it’s there. But if Arqut does go in search of answers, he’ll have to go alone, or at least Tinaya can’t go with him. She has to stay here to complete her duties as a captain, and later an admiral. More importantly, she has to stay for Silveon. He’s getting bigger, but he still needs a mother, if only for appearances. It would be hard to explain where both of his parents went, and why they left him behind. Even if they could claim that there’s some secret mission off the ship that would benefit the Extremus, why would they send both parents of a young child? No, they either have to separate, and possibly never see each other again, or scrap the whole thing. Arqut is leaning towards the latter.

“Don’t you wanna know?” Tinaya asks.

“Where my new powers come from?” he guesses. “Yeah, but...I don’t want to leave Silveon at all, even though you’ll still be here. I may never come back. I may die out there. It’s not worth the risk. It seemed like a decent idea when Valencia brought it up, but there are too many variables that we can’t account for. Yeah, I can feel myself talking myself out of it in real time. This is a dumb idea. Who cares? Salmon go their entire lives not knowing who’s pulling the strings with their patterns. The idea that I could die under a similar looming mystery isn’t as big of a deal as it sounds. I don’t think I need to know any more than I do now.”

Tinaya was secretly hoping that he would say that, but she can’t let on. “Are you sure? I mean...it has to be from somewhere else. Organic shapeshifting isn’t a thing.”

He shrugs. “What good is it? I’m too old to be a spy, and I don’t know that anyone should have this kind of power anyway. What I should do is die, and have my body cremated, so no one has the chance to reverse engineer it, or something. Going out there, I lose control over my own postmortem directives. You can protect me. You can keep this power out of the wrong hands.”

“That’s a good point,” Tinaya agrees, sincerely and gratefully. She’s about to elaborate on her thoughts, but her watch beeps. “Oh. I have to go meet the new captain. Wanna come?”

“Am I allowed?”

“It’s a partially public affair,” she explains. “We don’t want it to look like we’re making some backroom deal. It’s actually better if you’re there...if you’re up to it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They walk over to the port side together. Niobe meets up with them in the corridor with little Silveon, who’s not so little anymore. He’s currently eight, going on eighty. He’s loosening up a little bit around others, creating a narrative that he’s so subdued and unexcitable because of his precociousness. He still has to remember to laugh at childish jokes, and not at jokes that should go over the head of someone his age. He’s considering adding a third friend for him and Waldemar, who is now about to turn sixteen. Their age gap is starting to get noticed, so the idea would be to split the difference, and find a twelve-year-old to bridge the gap. Zefbiri is evidently searching for the right candidate, which is a crazy way to make a friend, but this being an important mission to the future, it might be their only reasonable option.

Lataran was right that the new captain would be a boy. Oceanus Jennings is only 28, having graduated from the captain’s track a few years ago at the very top of his class. He’s bright, professional, approachable, and frankly, attractive. Most importantly, he’s young, which the people have been wanting to see in the chair again, even if they aren’t willing to say the quiet part out loud. He is the kind of candidate that should always have been the only ones considered for the job. Again, he’s the appropriate age, and there’s nothing political about the appointment. Well, that’s not true; it always involves at least some politics, but it wasn’t done as some kind of favor, or with a deep agenda in mind. He’s great on paper, and he’s great in person. He became a natural leader of his peers in his youth, and is expected to do quite well next year. He didn’t campaign, or step on people’s heads to advance his career. He simply put in the work, and now he’s receiving his just rewards.

“Captain-in-waiting,” Tinaya says to him, shaking his hand. There’s no official deadline for when a new captain must be appointed—as long as it’s before the previous captain’s promotion—so captain-in-waiting isn’t an official term, but it’s there if anyone needs it.

“Admiral-in-waiting,” Oceanus replies respectfully with a smile as wide as the breadth of the whole ship. That’s not a term at all, since she has a real rank, but it’s fine. “I look forward to your advisement in the coming years.”

“We’ll see how long I last,” she jokes, self-deprecatingly acknowledging her own advanced age.

He holds that professional smile. “I would like to introduce you to my First and Second Lieutenants, Marlowe and Altin Gibson.”

Boys club. Okay. “Brothers?” she guesses.

“That’s right, Captain,” Marlowe confirms, shaking her hand.

“I feel like I’ve heard that name before too; Gibson.”

“Our grandfather, Hardy was an engineer back in the day,” Altin explains. “He was a pretty big deal.”

Tinaya nods as if she recalls who he’s talking about, but that would have been a long time ago. “Yeah, he was great. I’m sure you’ll do well too.” A boys club, and brothers. Well, hopefully it works out. The ship won’t survive another scandal like Tamm. “Oh, there they are,” she says, one arm open to receive her husband as he’s walking up with Silveon. “May I introduce you to Superintendent Arqut Grieves, and our amazing son, Silveon. Say hi, Silveon.”

Silveon has his whole body pressed up against his dad’s hip, like he’s nervous. He’s not saying anything, but staring at the new Captain and his posse. Hopefully, he’s only playing the part, and doesn’t actually have an issue with Oceanus. Tinaya doesn’t know what she could do with a warning about his future.

“He’s just a little shy,” Tinaya lies.

“Aww.” Oceanus bends forward to get closer to Silveon’s eye level. “Wadya think? Are you gonna follow in your mother’s footsteps, and become a captain too one day? “Silveon Grieves, Eighth of Eleven; how does that sound?”

Silveon just looks away, still shyly.

They go through the motions with this meet and greet, then leave as soon as it’s socially appropriate to do so. “What was that?” Tinaya asks once the door to their stateroom is closed. She’s grown accustomed to speaking to her little one as an adult. It no longer feels quite as weird and disturbing. “What does Oceanus end up doing?”

“He’s not the captain where I’m from,” Silveon answers. “I’ve never even heard of the man. That’s kind of what scares me.”

“Is that why you were acting so childish?” Arqut asks him, not at all meaning that as an insult. He literally has to act childish all the time.

“I don’t know how to be around him. I was thrown off since you didn’t tell me who was succeeding you, mom. I’ve been so focused on Waldemar, and now I’m realizing that we truly are in a new timeline, which I can’t predict anymore. That’s all I was thinking about. What if Waldemar just never becomes captain either? I wasn’t trying to stop him, only change him, but who knows what other changes I’ve made without realizing it? Things could end up worse.”

“I believe that Waldemar will still take the seat after Jennings,” Tinaya contends. “You’re not the only one with future knowledge. The Bridger section was quite convinced that there was nothing they could do to stop it. Of course, they never gave me a name, or even a shift, but based on what little you’ve divulged, I’m confident that you and they were talking about the same man.”

“All you can do is stay on mission, son,” Arqut tries to advise.

“That’s not necessarily true,” Silveon argues. “I knew the man who was supposed to serve between mother and Waldemar. I knew how to control his future too. I don’t know Jennings. I don’t trust him; not because I don’t think he deserves it, but genuinely because I don’t know. I hate the uncertainty. No one told me how much I would hate that from being a time traveler.”

“Well, I’ll be an Admiral, at least for a good few years. Lataran is younger than me, so she can keep Jennings in line after that. We’ll make it work. You’re not alone in this. I think you forget that since you weren’t planning on having so much support.”

“That’s true,” Silveon agrees. “And mom?” He steps over, and takes one of her hands in both of his. “You’re gonna last the whole next shift. You’re healthier than you were in the other timeline, and she made it through.”

“Thanks,” she responds. “Probably shouldn’t say any more.” Tinaya takes a breath, and turns away to walk towards the viewscreen, which is faking an image of outer space.

“What are you thinking about?” Arqut asks.

She turns back and smiles at him, and then down at Silvy. “How lucky I am, to be here, with the two of you.” She stares at the screen again, for a pretty long time. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I feel like you have a right to know. And even though, Sil, you said I was going to live for another two dozen years, you can’t promise that. So let me give you time to prepare yourselves.” She spins around. “When I die, and they ask me The Question...I’m going to answer no.”

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Extremus: Year 95

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Lataran doesn’t call much, but when she does, it’s usually pretty important, albeit not typically an emergency anymore. Tinaya finishes up her scheduled duties, and then walks down to Admiral Wing at a deliberate but unhurried pace. She reaches up to ring the doorbell, but the door behind her opens. “Oh, hi.” What are you doing over there? What’s in that room?”

“Your future office,” Lataran replies with a smirk.

“Huh?”

“When you’re an admiral,” Lataran says as if it’s obvious.

“I thought we would share,” Tinaya explains, gesturing towards the other door.

“You think they would only build one office for all admirals?” Lataran questions. “Captains are supposed to sit down young, and sit back up when they’re still young. There should conceivably be three admirals at once. The much smaller third one, plus an extra space, are down that hallway.”

“Oh.” Tinaya tries to step into her new work space, but remains blocked.

“Don’t just walk in. That’s so unceremonious. I’m here to give you a tour.”

Tinaya drops her face into a sinister grin.

“No, don’t.”

She deepens the grin, then makes a short-range jump to the other side of the wall. She expects to find an office much like the one that Lataran has been working out of, but it’s much different. For one, it’s at least three times the area, and that’s just on the one floor. There’s also a mezzanine that wraps around the whole perimeter. Was this really meant to be an office, or some sort of shared recreational space? It would sure work for that. Part of it is made out of metal and metamaterials, like one would expect out of a transgalactic starship, but there’s also an artificial grass path that weaves through an impressively complex flower garden. It takes her a moment to notice the fountain, which leads to a very narrow stream before being pumped back up through the system. There are several trees known for thriving in indoor environments, but also a couple that are generally limited to the outdoors. Hopefully the Japanese maple and crape myrtle were genetically modified to stop growing before they reach the ceiling. Speaking of the ceiling, hologram viewscreens curve up the wall to meet each other in the center. They were surely an aftermarket add-on that was never in the original designs. Lataran has to have put a ton of work into this project, even if she commissioned someone else to build it all for her.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t involve anyone else. An admiral is not allowed to give orders, so I did it all myself. It’s taken me years to get it to this point. I gave myself a buffer year, but obviously didn’t need it, and was too excited to wait to reveal it to you.”

“This is for me?” Tinaya questions.

“It’s for us,” Lataran clarifies. She glides over to the workstation sector, where two desks are sitting perpendicular to each other on either side of a corner. “Here, the next captain can see both of us at the same time when he needs help.”

“Or she,” Tinaya reflexively corrects. “Or they, or whatever.”

“It’s gonna be a boy, I can feel it.”

Tinaya chuckles, and steps deeper into the office to admire the garden. She takes a deep breath, accepting the sweet scent of the jasmine overpowering all other flowers in the room. There is lavender here too, as well as... She smiles, and gently runs her fingers along the petals. “Lilacs. Nice.”

“She’ll never see ‘em, but I figured I might as well remind you of one of your friends since she’s one of the few people you know named after things.”

“I appreciate that. I can’t believe you did all this.” It’s a little bittersweet, seeing the fruits of Lataran’s solo labor, knowing that in another reality, they worked on it together. But it probably would have been too much, and couldn’t have gotten done, due to her split focus with Silveon, Waldemar, and the ship as a whole. This was likely the best call, and a very lovely gesture. “I love you, Admiral Keen.”

“I love you, Captain Leithe II.” To Tinaya’s knowledge, she’s the only one on this tin can to call her Leithe II. People don’t really talk about the fact that she’s a legacy, and Tinaya doesn’t think too much about it herself. Truthfully, she’s always identified more with Admiral Perran Thatch, who wasn’t even ever a captain. What will it feel like when she reaches his rank, and if he were here today, what would he think of her?

“There’s one more thing that I need to show you,” Lataran says after giving her friend some time to soak in the beauty. She deliberately closes and locks the door to the hallway, even though not many people are authorized to be down here, and even fewer ever actually exercise that authority. She leads Tinaya up to the mezzanine level, and over to what appears to be a random spot along the catwalk, though it does seem to be intentionally behind the canopy of the maple. Lataran carefully looks around, apparently paranoid about looky-loos. No one could be here right now, though. There’s a self-contained teleportation controller on all high executive areas, like this and the captain’s stateroom. You can’t just show up unannounced.

“What are we—”

“Shh!” Lataran scolds in a loud whisper before transitioning into a regular whisper. “This is illegal. Very illegal.” She looks around once more, then kneels down to tap on the wall where it meets the floor. Glyphs glow faintly upon contact, but disappear quickly. After she’s finished inputting the secret access code, a square on the pathway disappears, revealing a hole leading to a very small room below. It’s more like a pod, but maybe for a few people. Minimal lighting flickers on automatically.

Tinaya looks over the edge of the catwalk. She recalls seeing the space under this from below. There’s no room here; it’s just more flowers and fake grass. The pod room must be in a pocket dimension of some kind.

“Trickle charged power reservoir, sourced gradually from the grid,” Lataran still whispers as she’s climbing down the ladder. “Undetectable as long as you don’t operate this too frequently, or for too long.”

“Operate what?” Tinaya asks, respecting the whisper.

“Come down here. And push that green button to close the door.”

Once Tinaya’s at the bottom, she looks down at the floor, and realizes that they’re standing in an undecagon, which is the same shape as the Nexus chamber, though that one is much larger. It’s an atypical number of sides to use for a room, so it’s either only an homage to that, or something more. “What the hell is this?” she questions, hoping that it’s the former.

“Backdoor Nexus access. From here, you can go back and forth to Verdemus without anyone else knowing. I know you left some people there.”

“This is illegal.”

“D’uh, I said that earlier.”

“I thought you just had alcohol down here, or something?”

“What? Gross! No. Omega built this here in case the main Nexus building were ever compromised by a corrupt government, or just some asshole.”

“How is this even possible? I thought that these machines had to be built to exact specifications.”

“They do,” Lataran agrees, “but once you do that, you can add satellite locations. Omega says that one of the floors above the control room serves the same purpose, but you can’t get there unless the gods let you in, or some shit. They have to like you, unless you wanna build your own backdoor, which is what he did here.”

“This isn’t okay, Lataran.”

“Okay, have me arrested,” she goads in a mocking voice.

Tinaya sighs. “You know I can’t do that. But I can’t use this either.”

“You don’t have to, but it’s here, and you had a right to know, and now that you do, you can decide whether anyone else does, like your husband, or your successor.”

“Okay, I’m leaving.” Tinaya reaches back up for the ladder. “Thanks for telling me. Let’s never talk about it ever again.”

“Very well.”

They start to climb back up until Tinaya finds herself face to face with Spirit Bridger. “Oh, crap.”

“Oh, crap, to you too,” Spirit jokes.

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect to find you here,” Tinaya says as she’s pushing herself back onto solid ground, and helping Lataran up behind her. “You were on Verdemus.”

“I was,” Spirit confirms, “but as you know, we have this little thing called a Nexus, which lets us travel back and forth.”

“That’s only become more regulated, and more difficult to pull off over the last few years,” Tinaya contends.

“Until now.” She jerks her chin toward the baby Nexus below them, the entrance of which waits a few more seconds before sealing itself off with its metamorphic nanites.

“You came through here?” Lataran searches through her armband. “I should have received an alert if anyone had done that, and there are a number of redundancies.”

Spirit smiles and slides a finger along the wall next to her. “There’s a direct power connection between the main Nexus and the satellite. We can appear anywhere along that pathway. The fact that you ran it along the scope of almost the whole ship means that’s just about anywhere. Can’t go back from anywhere, though...hence, I’m here.”

“That’s a security flaw,” Lataran points out.

“Indeed,” Spirit agrees.

Lataran looks back down at the floor. “I need to speak with Omega about that.”

“You’re too busy,” Tinaya reminds her. We’re approaching the transitional period, where we’ll end up with a new captain. Spirit can go coordinate with the Strongs to patch the vulnerability. Right, Spirit? You were going back there anyway.”

“Precisely,” Spirit replies.

“Then it’s settled.” Tinaya faces Spirit. “Play it close to the vest, please. We’ll keep the circle tight on our end too. Now, I gotta go. Silvy is getting out of school soon.”

“How’s the little bug?” Spirit asks.

“Precocious,” Tinaya replies, being honest, but still protecting yet another secret.

They say their goodbyes, and then Tinaya does head off to greet her son in the stateroom after school. But then she hands him off to Zefbiri shortly thereafter. It’s date night tonight. A normal couple with a five-year-old child would have to take breaks like this to make sure they don’t get burnt out on parenting, but while they don’t live with the same worries, they do have others. As Silveon grows, he becomes more and more capable of caring for himself, and inches closer and closer to whatever age he truly was when this started, but for now, he needs breaks too. He can be more himself with his parents, but he also has to be a certain way around them. It’s just different when it comes to his aunts. Zef was made aware of the situation a couple years ago. It didn’t make much sense for them to rely on her for guardianship responsibilities when she didn’t even understand who she might one day have to raise. Tinaya and Arqut are also aging, and could honestly be gone someday soon. The whole point is to be prepared.

The two of them are smiling at each other from opposite sides of the table, taking small bites here and there. A white tablecloth is covered in small plates which once held a dozen courses, each one a fairly small portion. A thistle bot has been serving them, and all the other guests are NPCs, which he programmed to ignore the humans. Thistle is still in the closet as a true, independent intelligence, and has been doing well. He can keep a secret, so they sometimes come to this simulation room for private conversations which can look like anywhere. This particular conversation has been pleasant, noncontroversial, and currently in a lull. Tinaya can tell that he wants to say something. “Go on, love. What is it? I know there’s something on your mind.”

He nods, and averts his gaze a small degree to the side. “Do you remember when I disappeared, and had that adventure on Earth in the future?”

“Yes, I remember. I’m constantly worried that that lemonhead will decide to steal you away from us again.”

“I took precautions,” Arqut insists. “It’s not about that. It’s about what happened to me while I was there.” He prepares himself. “I absorbed a ton of temporal energy, which I believed would harmlessly evaporate from me over time. We believe that that’s exactly how it would have worked had I stayed on Earth, but this...ship is a capsule, built with an incidental barrier of temporal energy of its own, zipping through space at hyper-relativistic speeds. There was nowhere for it to evaporate. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt, but I’ve been in contact with Dr. Cernak and Sabine Lebeau. It seems that my body has been metabolizing it, and altering me on a genetic level. They’re calling me a chosen one, though I may be something entirely different since the energy I took came from an eclectic group of time travelers, so we just don’t really know.”

“What does this mean? Can you...do something?”

“Don’t freak out.” Arqut sits very still. As his wife is watching him, the wrinkles in his face flatten out. His skin gets its glow back, and his hair turns dark once more. In seconds, he looks as young as he was when they first met.

You’re a retroverter,” Tinaya determines.

“Hopefully,” he says. “Obviously, I can do it to myself, and Sabine and Radomil are working on making it transferable. They’ll figure it out, and when they do, it means that we could start over. We could raise our son as twentysomethings; healthy and lively again. We may even be able to live forever. I know, I should have told you sooner, but this could be so good for us. What do you think? Are you interested?”

Tinaya daintily taps the cloth napkin against her lips before calmly laying it across her most recent plate. Still, she waits to respond, first staring him in the face for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, she quite confidently says, “no.”

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