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They ran out of time there at the end. Pribadium initially set a very low
differential for the time slowdown, which already made their decision dire,
but it didn’t stop there. What she didn’t realize was that the time bubble
was contracting at the same time, thanks to the pressure of the contraction
of the universe itself. Their localized time was starting to catch up to
realtime, and once that happened, they would either die in the vacuum or be
crushed by the dimensional barrier. There was no happy ending if they didn’t
leave. She didn’t have time to make the necessary calculations.
She couldn’t remember exactly how far back they needed to send their minds,
and even if she did, that’s not how the timechairs work. You don’t just set
a date and press return. It requires very precise parameters to both
make sure her current neurostate maintains cohesion, and that her past mind
gets overwritten entirely, instead of lingering. A lingering partial
consciousness is torturous and unethical. If you’re going to overwrite your
past self, do it all the way, like putting a dying animal out of its misery.
Pribadium hoped that she and Sora would wind up back on Doma Tertia a few
days before the planet was blown up, or even earlier. Instead, they land in
the interrogation room at the very moment when everything changed. In
seconds, a Teaguardian is going to teleport herself into this room, trying
to arrest Sora, while also trying to rescue Pribadium. Not long after that,
the whole planet will be destroyed. They can’t let that happen. It will ruin
her chances to annihilate it the right way, so it doesn’t eventually
recoalesce. She has to put a stop to it. In the first timeline, she and Sora
escaped into..the space. This time, they have to go into the belly of the
beast.
Pribadium leaps over and takes Sora in her arms. She releases the nanites
from her body, and wraps them around him. She is intending to jump them to
the interior of the ship, but if it has an anti-boarding lock, they might
bounce off the hull on the outside. As soon as the nanites finish generating
a spacesuit for him, they disappear.
There was a lock, but Pribadium’s teleportation algorithm knows how
to break through it since she was part of the group who invented the
technology in the first place. They’re now in the firing bay of one of the
ships. The two engineers don’t even notice Pribadium and Sora because
they’re busy powering up the weapon. They shouldn’t be.
“Stop!” Pribadium tries to order. “I am Chief Asset Manager Pribadium
Delgado, and that is my planet. I am ordering you to cease fire! I will
speak with the Klavis, but I demand that you stand down this instant. You
came here to rescue me, and that’s done.”
The engineers only stare at her. One of them reaches over to sound the
alarm.
Pribadium sighs. “We don’t have time for this.” She teleports over to him,
then teleports him away. She then comes back for the other one before
returning to Sora.
“Where did you take them?” Sora asks her as he’s trying to collapse his
suit.
Pribadium smiles, and pulls her nanites back in. “I put them in hock.”
“They’ll just send more people. They probably don’t even need the engineers.
They can control it from the bridge, or elsewhere,” Sora reasons.
“Good point.” She taps on her wrist interface, then places her hand on his
waist.
“Buy me dinner first,” he jokes as his new teleporter belt is formulating
around him. “You always could have used this to escape me. Why stay, to
humor me?”
Pribadium is still watching his belt form. “This will let you jump anywhere,
even through suppression fields. We must throw everyone in hock, and
not just in this ship, but all three.” She looks up at him. “I stayed
because I believed in you...because I believed you could become the man that
you are today. I’m glad I did.” She cups his cheeks and kisses him
passionately on the lips. “Remember, everyone in hock.”
“You take this one, I’ll take the other two,” Sora volunteers.
Pribadium chuckles. “The other way around.” She teleports away.
Together, they throw every single Teaguardian in the cells, knowing that
it’s going to get them in trouble. The thing is, though, there is really
nothing anyone can do to her. She is singularly too powerful. She
will get out of this. She has friends in high places. The Shortlist
gave Teagarden the tech, and they can take it away. They put failsafes in
place to prevent or undo abuse. She doesn’t even have to ask for help.
Someone will simply show up. She could end up in one of these cells too, and
there will always be someone to get her out. She has never taken her
political power for granted before, but she has to save this planet, the
people on it, and the future of the Gatewood project.
Once Pribadium confirms that everyone has been successfully locked up, she
returns to the first ship to address the Klavis, who is in charge of all
three of them. Actually, a klavis should be responsible for four ships,
which is concerning. Strictly speaking, they don’t have to travel in a
formation of four. In fact, they usually don’t. It’s just possible that an
extra one is sneaking around here somewhere. “I’m sorry it had to come to
this, but I couldn’t let you fire those weapons. It wasn’t right, or smart.”
“I understand,” the Klavis replies.
“You do?” Pribadium questions. That’s an odd reaction from a military man.
“Yeah, of course! Why don’t you unlock these cells, and we’ll talk about
it?”
“Oh. I see.” Pribadium completes a short breathing exercise. “Gatewood is an
independent division of the Core World Consortium. We provide more good to
the galaxy than Teagarden could ever dream. That’s why we have so much
latitude to run it ourselves. We do not need your protection, because I’m
here. I had the situation well in hand before you swooped in and screwed
everything up. I’m not going to dissolve the relationship that we have with
Teagarden, but I am going to kick these three Teaguardians out of my
star system for the duration of the obliteration project. You may return
once the planets are destroyed, but you will be taking up a distant patrol
pattern. Again, I don’t actually need you to do anything.”
“You don’t get it,” the Klavis responds. “That is not for you to decide. You
are the Chief Asset Manager, not the emperor of the galaxy. I have my
orders.”
Pribadium nods. “And I have mine. There’s plenty of food in the cell
synthesizers. I’m going to sync your ships, and send them on a relativistic
loop. By the time they get back, the job will be done. We can fight then,
but I won’t let you interfere with Project Ross 154.” She leans in real
close and taps on the glass like a kid with a new pet turtle. “We all answer
to the Core, but the Core answers to people like me. We’re the
drivers. If you take your complaints high enough up the chain of command,
you end up with me. I’m like an undercover boss. So enjoy your vacation.
We’ll be fine without you.”
Pribadium disappears, and jumps to the bridge where she left Sora. “What is
it?”
He’s looking up through the main viewscreen where a ship has just come into
view. “They don’t look like a Teaguardian. I don’t recognize the design at
all. Do you?”
Pribadium watches it too. “Yes. It’s my design. But I never built it.”
Sugar’s face comes on screen. “Captain Delgado...permission to board?”
