The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 9, 2491

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When Team Matic landed on Castlebourne for the second time, they discovered that automators had constructed tens of thousands of dome habitats in Vendelin Blackbourne’s absence. They believed this to be a runaway computer problem, but it turned out that Hrockas was making use of these domes to turn this planet into the number one destination for all vonearthans. Even so, after Ramses halted production in the middle of development, they never restarted building more domes. They decided to focus on the ones that had already been made. After all, 83,838 should be enough to tide over the whole population of the galaxy for decades, if not centuries. That 0.3 dome, which was left unsealed, was the last ever made, and it now served a special purpose. This was now where the Vellani Ambassador landed after each mission. Passengers were unloaded, and moved into a maze of self-contained quarantine habitats. It was here that they remained for a period of forty hours while they were tested for contamination, and to get them acclimated to this world’s surface gravity.

Fortydome was built away from most others, not particularly intentionally, but they were taking advantage of its remoteness to protect the rest of the population. There were only two ways in or out; via the vactrain, or up through the opening of what the refugees were calling The Bowl. Hrockas was considering changing the official name since it indeed resembled a bowl, and wasn’t technically a dome. At the moment, the Bowl was empty. Team Kadiar deliberately made it so by not executing any missions in the days leading up to Team Matic’s return to the timestream. Number one, it was good to have the whole place cleared out for major cleaning and disinfection protocols, and the original crew may need the ship for their own goals while they were around. This appeared to be the case today.

“They didn’t give you a name?” Leona asked.

“They spoke on behalf of their superior officer,” Romana replied. “They were very cagey about it, but it was quite important to them that Mateo be there on this day, and they insisted that their intentions were pure.”

Leona looked over at her husband, who looked intrigued. “You have heard of lying, right?”

Mateo shrugged. “I’ve heard of taking a leap of faith.”

“I’m not going to stop you from going, but I’m not going with you,” Leona said. “There’s a chance that you won’t even make it on time. Ramses and Hogarth have not yet modified the slingdrive to stay out of the fourth dimension.”

“You’re not gonna stop me, though?” Mateo asked, unconcerned about anything else she mentioned.

Leona looked back at Romana. “The VA is theirs now. We have no alternative. A captain without a ship is no captain at all.”

“You have never been the captain of the vessel,” Mateo reasoned. “You’re captain of a crew. We still need a leader.”

“Everyone’s become so capable,” Leona argued. “You don’t need me anymore.”

“I will never believe that,” Mateo tried to explain.

“I appreciate that. At any rate, if you think you should go, I think so too. “You can’t be alone, though. You might as well feed two birds with one worm, and spend some time with your daughter. There...there’s your order from a bona fide captain.” Leona disappeared.

“I suppose we don’t need an engineer anymore either,” Mateo pointed out.

“No, you don’t,” Mirage agreed from her speakers.

“Still...someone should say it,” he decided. “Yalla.”

Mirage engaged the subfractional engines, and launched into space. Once they were clear of the edges of the dome, she activated the teleporter, and jumped right into orbit. She then fired up the reframe engine, and sent them into interstellar space.

“Wait, why are we going so far away?” Mateo asked. “Can’t we use the slingdrive from anywhere?”

Mirage appeared as a hologram. “There’s a lot of quantum interference from Castlebourne, and I want to get away from the other time travelers. We’ve realized how sensitive it is, so this is protocol. It won’t be long now.”

“What about us?” he pressed. “She and I metabolize temporal energy.”

Romana took off her jacket, and plopped it over the back of a chair as she was walking towards a wall. The door of a standing pod slid open on its own, and she stepped up into it as she spun around 540 degrees like a ballerina. She smiled at her father. “That’s why we’re not gonna be here.” She jerked her head over to what looked like another pod. Before Mateo could walk towards it, he witnessed Romana’s door close back up. She quickly disappeared.

“It’s based on Dubravka’s timeslipping power,” Mirage explained. “She’ll be back in five minutes. “You need to get in yours too.”

Mateo did as he was told, entering his pod, and stepping back out of it what felt like seconds later. They were now orbiting an alien planet, evidently 16,000 light years away. Someone intercepted the Ambassador while they were on a rescue mission last week. They relayed a message containing these coordinates, and reportedly fully agreed to let Tertius erase their memories of the meeting from their minds. Mateo watched it through the floor viewscreens. “I think I’ve been here before.”

“The locals call it Ex-18118,” Mirage revealed, now back to her disembodied self.

“Yeah, I left Korali here. She thought she would be dead by now, but...hopefully that’s not true. If I’m not here to reunite with her, I don’t know who it could be.”

“Her child?” Romana suggested.

“Maybe.” He took a deep breath in preparation. “Exact surface coordinates?” They appeared on screen. “Okay.” He spread his arms wide, and wrapped them around Romana. They stood there in the hug for a few moments before he teleported them down to the rendezvous spot.

They found themselves next to a calming clear pond. This was exactly where he left Korali five decades ago. Did she just never leave? “Thanks for coming.”

It was her, still alive after all this time. She looked just as young as she was when he last saw her. To his knowledge these people didn’t have anti-aging technology or powers. They lived and died, just as people on Earth did in the early 21st century, and before. “How are you...?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s great, but I mean...” He trailed off again.

“I know what you wanted to say. How am I still alive? Still young? Still painfully sexy and gorgeous?” She reached behind her back, and came back with one of the standard codexa that stored the central archives from the stellar neighborhood. There was no way to know whether this one was the core compendium, the grand repository, or the aggregate records. Leona gave her a copy of all three, only leaving the virtual stacks out of Korali’s library. “It’s the compendium,” she said as if reading his mind. “This tells me how to stay practically immortal.”

“That’s possible, all the way out here?”

“As it turns out,” Korali began, “the planets in the Goldilocks Corridor were terraformed with the same plant life that you can find on Earth. I have everything I need, right within a few square kilometers. I just needed the information, which you graciously gave me.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing, just living off of the plant life?”

Korali giggled. “No. I’ve been real busy. Once we felt sufficiently powerful, we left this settlement, and returned to civilization. We staged a coup, and literally took over the whole world. They didn’t have weapons, so it wasn’t even hard.”

“That wasn’t our plan for you.”

“I know, but we had to make changes. We read the aggregate records too. Some interesting stuff in there. As it turns out, Oaksent isn’t special. Everything he made he stole from someone smarter. What he’s done here has been done a million times before, just with some extra scifi shit. Same story, different dick.”

“So you’re against him now? Full-on?”

“I probably hate him more than you do,” Korali contended. “You’re just a visitor. I was actually oppressed. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for opening my eyes to the truth. You didn’t have to, you could have just killed me. That’s what he would have done in your shoes.”

“So, this is some sort of resistance base?” Romana asked.

Korali darts her chin to look at Romana like she didn’t realize she was standing there the whole time. “It’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand. “Korali Stinger.”

They shook hands. “Security Officer Romana Matic of the Vellani Ambassador.”

“Any relation?”

“I’m his daughter.”

Korali took a moment to absorb the new information. “Hm.” She went back into the conversation. Not exactly.”

“How do you keep them from blowing you out of the sky?” Korali asked.

Korali held the core compendium codex back up. “Like I said, we learned things. Thanks again for that,” she said to Mateo.

He nodded politely.

“Anyway,” Korali went on, “no, we’re not a resistance base, we’re a refuge.”

Both Mateo and Romana were surprised, and suddenly uncomfortable, because it felt like maybe this conversation was a little less friendly than it started. “Oh.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Why are you worried?” Korali laughed. “Do you think I feel threatened by Castlebourne’s involvement in our affairs? Do you think I think there’s not room for the both of us in this galaxy?”

“Is there...” Romana asked, “room?”

“Of course!” Korali replied. “I’m here to ask you for help! Those motherfuckers are constantly attacking us. They don’t even know where you are. This was a great idea when I came up with it, but it’s a lot of goddamn work. You seem to have some magical form of faster-than-light travel that the central archives don’t even speculate about. You show up daily, and leave mysteriously. I think it’s time we retire Ex-18118, and just let you handle it. But I wanna be involved. I’m not planning on retiring myself.”

“Well, that’s out of my hands,” Mateo admitted. “I’m not part of the project. I don’t exist.”

“I’m aware of that,” Korali said. “I asked you here because I told you that I didn’t want us to wait 47 years to see each other again. We obviously failed that, but at least it hasn’t been 48, right?”

“So this is just a social visit?” he asked.

“Pretty much. I’m glad you brought her, though. Are you who I need to speak with?” she asked Romana.

“The rest of the crew didn’t come with us,” Romana answered. “None of us would be able to make such a decision unilaterally.”

“It’s urgent, but I wouldn’t call it an emergency,” Korali determined. “When you’re ready to discuss a partnership, you know where I live. I’m guessing you’re not interested in telling me where you do.”

“Not my call either,” Romana told her.

“We’ll be right back.” Mateo took Romana’s hand, and jumped them back to the ship.

“Mirage, why have you been so quiet?”

“She has technology,” Mirage said as a hologram. “She would be able to hear us.”

“Even though our comms work through bone conduction?” Mateo questioned.

“Even with an inducer,” Mirage began, “there is some sound leakage. She has a device that can detect faint sounds, and greatly amplify them.”

“She’s trying to eavesdrop on us,” Romana noted. “That’s not a good sign. It sounds like she was one of them. Are you sure she’s switched sides?”

“I’m not,” Mateo acknowledged.

“Her allegiances have shifted, but not to us,” Mirage said. “This is a resistance base, not a refuge. I mean, I suppose you could argue that it is, but its purpose is to consolidate control into a new empire.”

“She’s Bronach 2.0?” Mateo shook his head.

“Not from what I can gather. She wants power, like him, but she doesn’t want to oppress people. She believes that Earthan technology and knowledge is the best path forward for the Corridor. She’s probably brought you here so we stop taking all of her people away. You see, every single person we escort to Castlebourne is a potential member of her army. They’re expressing dissatisfaction with their lives, and that’s who she’s been trying to target. They’re the ones that she could theoretically fold into her competing society instead.”

“We’re in her way, but at the same time, she needs us, because Castlebourne currently has over 300,000 people.” Romana started to work it out in her head. “So she won’t attack, but she’s trying to play us.”

“I don’t understand how her strategy will ultimately lead to you transporting people to her planet, but maybe I’m not smart enough,” Mateo said.

“No, I don’t know either,” Mirage said. “She may be intending to change her tune after developing a rapport, and arguing that people from the Goldilocks Corridor belong in the Goldilocks Corridor. I don’t think she knows how far away we are, she may just be guessing that we’re near Earth.”

“This is good to know,” Mateo began, “but I meant what I said down there. This isn’t my decision. We have to go back so you can brief your team.”

“You’re right, but we can’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“I’ll handle that,” Mateo glanced over at the local readout for the slingdrive’s coherence gauge. “Just plot a course to safe territory with the reframe engine so we can wait it out until it’s time to make another jump.”

“Aye, Captain,” Mirage joked.

He smirked, and saluted her.

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The Third Rail: Rock of Ages (Part I)

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Cosette DuFour is much older than she appears. When the temporal dam in her reality broke in 2399, she was on her deathbed. The doctors didn’t think that she would survive the night. A wave of temporal energy spread all over the globe, changing some people into something new, and giving them extraordinary abilities. At the eleventh hour, she was granted new life. Her body and mind were reverted to that of a newborn infant. She believes that this was no coincidence, and that time chose her specifically to absorb this kind of power. She was turning 100 at that very moment, and very well could have been breathing her last breath had the wave not miraculously saved her. It took a few days, but her memories started coming back to her, and she was able to muster up enough brainpower to age herself back up again. She wasn’t 100 years old anymore, but she wasn’t a baby either, who couldn’t string two syllables together. It was time to get back to work.

Cosette served as the longest running Ambassador-at-Large of the Global Council of Earth in what would come to be known as the Third Rail parallel reality. She was well-respected by members of competing religions, nations, and independent sociopolitical factions. That was how she made it to such an esteemed position, because the appointment-election angered the fewest number of people around the world. She retired from the job when she grew too weak and old, but after her physical rejuvenation, there was a rejuvenation in her support. The world had changed, and quickly changed again when reality quite literally collapsed, and the whole planet was shunted off to a new universe. The people overwhelmingly chose her to lead them in these difficult times. That was why she and her second-in-command were picked to represent the interests of the Third Rail population during the Rock Meetings.

Everyone thought that Carlin was in charge here, which is exactly how she liked it. She found it easier to allow others to believe that they had some control over her, and the rest of the room. She regularly employed this as a strategy in her past as a negotiator. In any good negotiation, all parties leave disappointed. But in a great negotiation, they all leave thinking that they came out on top. There was no one better in the world at making this happen than Cosette. When the realities combined during the Reconvergence, and she found out just how many people there were out there, she learned that her expertise extended above them as well. She continued to be the best of the best, and despite the fact that the Third Rail had the second smallest population of all, her people regularly won out over the opponents. They didn’t know it, though. They all thought that they had won, whatever they had negotiated, but the truth was that the Third Rail Earth held so much more power than anyone realized.

Time powers were the best thing to happen to the Third Railers, especially for the Ambassador-at-Large during her second term. Her age-shifting ability came in handy quite a bit, before the Rock, and during. Cosette sometimes needed to be taken seriously, so she turned herself into an elder, but she sometimes wanted to be underestimated, so she showed up as a teenager. Most of the time, she just wanted to feel healthy, which meant being in her mid-twenties. That’s how she is at the moment, back to where she feels more comfortable. She’s also finally back home right now, in her own personal pocket dimension that very few others have access to. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to place her head on her favorite pillow, and she certainly deserves the break.

The interdimensional intercom beeps. “Sir?”

There ain’t no rest for the wicked. Cosette lets out a frustrating sigh. Then she swings her arm over, and smashes the intercom button on the wall. “What?”

“There’s someone here to see you. It’s the representatives from the Parallel.”

“Tell ‘em to bugger off.”

“Um...you just did,” her assistant replies.

“Great, then it looks like we’re done here.” She turns over to her other side. “DuFour out.”

“They say that they have the tools necessary to access your pocket.”

“Let ‘em try,” Cosette offers. “Having the power to do something doesn’t give you the right to do it. It will still be breaking and entering, and I will be within my rights to protect my home by force. You’re in the Third Rail now, kids, and you’ll honor our laws.”

“They say—”

“Goddammit, never mind!” Cosette growls, and hops out of bed. She wraps a robe around herself, then reluctantly walks over, and out the door. “What do you want?”

“Um.” It’s the rep from the Parallel who wasn’t in the Rock Meeting. He is half of a duo who call themselves the Tanadama. They lord over their people like gods. It all sounds very sacrilege. “We were looking for the Ambassador?”

“That’s me,” Cosette explains.

“You’re not a little young?” the other guy questions. She can’t recall his name at the moment since she’s so tired and drowsy, but he was at the meeting instead, and is responsible for a profoundly huge army. 

Cosette grabs her assistant’s desk mirror. They’re right, she looks about eight or nine years old at this point. It’s only now that she realizes how big the robe feels on her. That’s the point, not for the robe, but for the bed. A king-sized mattress feels even more gigantic when she’s under four feet tall. Her body must have reyoungified itself automatically. “That’s a little embarrassing.” She transitions herself to age 24 instead. “There. Now what do you want?”

“You’ll have to come with us,” Ramses Abdulrashid claims. “You’re in the past, the Rock Meetings haven’t happened yet for the population as a whole.”

She looks over at her assistant, who confirms this, mostly with her eyes, but also a nearly imperceptible jiggle of her head. “Well, what are you gonna do about it, send me to the future?”

“That’s illegal on all worlds,” Ramses reminds her.

“Then I suppose you’re going to put me in protective custody?” Cosette asks, using air quotes. “I’ve heard many a dictator use that as an excuse to get rid of their political enemies.”

“I assure you, they are quite comfortable accommodations,” Ramses insists. “It’s important to prevent a paradox. The meeting only lasts a month. Then you’ll go back to your life. Just think of this as a long vacation.”

Cosette laughs. “Why is it I understand time better than you? The diplomatic discussions lasted a month from our perspective. We talked for about eight hours a day. We received regular input from our constituents during that time.”

“We really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Ramses urges.

“I’m trying to tell you that the talks last longer for these people than for us. The Magnolia Tree didn’t broadcast for eight hours every day. He broke it up into smaller episodes, to give people time to digest the information, and give well-thought out feedback. You’re gonna be putting us in isolation for a lot longer than a month.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ramses questions his General, or whatever the guy’s military rank is.

“I didn’t know,” Zima answers. “I suppose it makes sense. Looking back, it would have been practically impossible to sort through the public responses as quickly as they were coming in for us.”

Ramses shakes his head like there’s a bug in his hair. “It doesn’t matter. It may actually be even more vital now that you hide yourself away. Isolation is the only answer to this, again, since time travel is illegal everywhere.”

Cosette sighs. “I suppose you’re right. There’s a protocol for this. When leadership becomes unavailable, the next in line will step up.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Ramses says graciously.

“My primary assistant’s coming with me.” She faces Ayata. “You think your intern can handle the office while we’re both out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Ramses says. “What about your boss, Carlin McIver.”

Ayata can’t help but snort at the suggestion that Carlin is Cosette’s boss.

Cosette smiles at her, then looks over at the Parallelers. “Mr. McIver is not my superior. I’m his.”

“That’s not how I was to understand it,” Zima argues.

Cosette ages herself up into her eighties, and pats him on the head. “That was quite the point, sonny.” She goes down to her early forties. “Just let me go get dressed, and pack up my house.”

“You can’t take your dimensional generator with you,” Ramses tells her. “It’s a security risk.”

“Oh, I understand,” Cosette begins, “you thought I was asking. Let me say it slowly. I’m packing my house, and taking it with me. I had to spend a month in the garbage template dormitories that the Vellani Ambassador provided us. I’m not going through that again, now that I know it’s coming. I’ll be sleeping in my bed, in my house, and if you don’t want me taking it to your prison world, then I’ll just stay here. We’re not in the Parallel anymore, and you’re not a real god. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Zima holds her arm out to block Ramses from stepping up, even though the latter had no plans to do such a thing. “Could I please come in and inspect it, from a security standpoint? You have experienced security sweeps, haven’t you?”

Cosette closes her eyes, and nods her head at an angle. “I appreciate the need for caution.”

“First,” Ramses jumps in before they can leave. “We still need to know where Carlin McIver is.”

“The way I understand it, he stayed in Stoutverse.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ramses admits.

“It’s another universe, not Salmoverse, or Fort Underhill.”

“Right, I didn’t get to that point of the story yet,” Harbinger Zima says apologetically. Yeah, that’s his military rank. Harbinger. What an odd choice.

“Are you sure he never returned to the Sixth Key,” Ramses pressed.

“It’s time travel, Mr. Abdulrashid. “No, I’m not sure. He could have been gone for trillions of years, only to finally return five seconds ago. I’m not in charge of his daily routine. He operates mostly independently. I have too many other responsibilities to worry about his whereabouts.”

“We don’t have to find him,” Ramses explains. “We just need to make sure that he doesn’t create a paradox. If he’s gone, it should be fine.”

“Great,” Cosette says before leading Harbinger Zima into her pocket.

“How expansive is this?” Zima asks once they’re inside.

“The interior is roughly 300 square meters. The garden is about 150. It uses artificial grass, and doesn’t have any real trees. If you’d like, I can turn off the holographic projections, so you can see it all at once after you sweep the rooms.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he decides. He begins to go through all the rooms, looking in closets, and under beds. He’s very thorough with it, making sure there isn’t any eavesdropping equipment, or people hiding in dark corners. She follows him the whole way, making sure that he doesn’t plant his own devices, or do anything with her belongings. Finally, at the end, he asks her to take him to the back. Once they’re in the simulated outdoors, he stares at the beautiful false environment, including the fake sky above.

“It’s overcast. Is it overcast outside in this area of your Earth?”

“It’s not based on real world conditions,” she responds. “I just like the gray. I find it to be a calming presence after a long day. It feels like the clouds are protecting me, even though of course, they’re not really there at all.

He nods, and continues to enjoy the view. “May I ask, ma’am, how old are you? I only ask because you have the ability to shift your apparent age. Verters are a rare breed where I come. Most applications for age-shifting are rejected due to the sheer number of requests. I’m not sure why they don’t adapt the process to mass-producible technology.”

“I had to go on a diplomatic mission in the 2430s without an FTL ship. They put me in stasis for a couple of years, so I reckon I’m 147.”

He nods. “Me too. How did I know that? It’s like I could sense a kinship?”

“I thought you people were all thousands of years old.”

“We keep making babies. My dad chose to make a new clone 147 years ago.”

“A clone? Are you just a younger version of him?”

“I am no less a son—and an independent person—than you are a daughter to your own parents. I don’t share his memories. I think he’s just a narcissist who likes the way he looks too much.”

Cosette giggles, hopeful that she isn’t being rude and inappropriate. “Are you satisfied with the security of this home? Can I pack it up?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I didn’t notice you, during the Rock. You were just a kid, and you never spoke.”

“That was by design.”

“I must say, I prefer you like this.”

“Okay.” That was a weird thing to say.

“Is it hard?”

“Is what hard?”

“To find companionship? You can’t relate to anybody? I mean, no one else is as old as you are. I don’t mean to say that you’re old. I mean, by a lot of people’s standards where I’m from, you’re super young. Not to say that you’re too young. But, I mean, you were a teenager when we met. Which makes it a little weird. I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just a little nervous around you.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Nuadu.”

“Nuadu,” she echoes. “I was married for seventy years. They died of age-related diseases. I haven’t even thought about dating since then, even once I gained the ability to shift my age. I’ve been too busy working.”

“I see.” He nods. He’s worried that he’s crossed the line.

“I suppose I can’t rule it out.” Cosette turns around, and places a hand upon his shoulder for a few seconds. “Come on. Your god-leader must be waiting. Let’s go to prison!”

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The Parallel: Steady as a Rock (Part II)

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For fifty years, the citizens of the new Sixth Key have lived in relative peace, but always teetering on the threshold of war. The reason it’s taken this long to come to a head is because this is about as long as most so-called independent states have been able to manage on their own. There are some truly independent communities, which utilize the resources at their disposal, and require no external aid. These are mostly outposts built deep in outerspace, which subsist on something that some people call dark hydrogen. It’s no different than any other hydrogen, except that it’s not supplemented by solar power. They will always have at least two fusion reactors, using one to jumpstart the other should an issue occur, or if there’s a need to shut one off for maintenance. So the hydrogen isn’t really dark; it’s just kind of a nonsensical name that multiple cultures have chosen to assign such a scenario, even across multiple realities. This kind of situation isn’t even all that rare, but an outpost of this type is usually rather small. Some of them only have one family, or even one individual. There are others who need star power, or external infrastructure, in order to keep going. They have done okay for the last several decades, but people are sick of it being so crowded, and some are looking to start a fight.

That’s where The Rock Meetings came in. Representatives from each collapsed reality were convened at a neutral location. It was actually sent into the very distant past, and placed in a time bubble that slowed time on the inside. This way, no one could argue some imbalance in power from any one location, according to all four dimensions of standard spacetime. It was an important milestone in the quest for peace in the Sixth Key. Everyone watched these discussions on a special cross-temporal broadcast network. The community’s engagement with each other in response to the streamed developments slowed down the march to war, and the decisions they made would have a profound effect on the dynamics of reality once all representatives were returned home. But it was not a magic bullet. Diplomacy is an everlasting pursuit, and you can’t ever let your guard down.

Kalea and Nuadu have been returned to their territory, standing in the executive conference room on Kalea’s homeworld. This was where they happened to be when the tree god summoned them into the past for the big meeting. They were in the middle of an internal negotiation back then, but that was about a month ago. Unsure what’s been going on since they left, they walk out of the room together, and enter the lobby. The guards posted there stand up super straight out of respect. Some of them are expressing their loyalty to Kalea, while others are secretly in favor of Nuadu’s plan to take control of this universe through force. That’s what he used to want, anyway. He no longer feels the way he did when the Rock Meetings first began. He’s a much different man now. He’s still in control of the Resonant Parallel Coalition, but it’s now going to be a defensive force for all of reality, including those which he once called his enemy.

Kalea’s partner in the Tanadama, Ramses glides over. “You two are standing uncomfortably close to each other. I was worried that you would be at each other’s throats by the time I returned. I nearly went back in time so that I would have only been gone for a second.”

“What?” Kalea questions. “That was weeks ago.”

Ramses winces. “It has not been weeks for me.” He looks at the guards, still frozen in place. This is not a figure of speech. A guardsman on this world is not allowed to leave their post during their entire shift, and is literally unable to move if one of their charges is within view, except to follow that charge’s movements. They are held in place by spatial restraints. It sounds bad, but it’s actually easier on them. The restraints distribute their weight evenly, and relieve them of the pressure that would otherwise come from regular total stillness. They all basically feel like they’re lying down in the most ergonomic bed imaginable right now. Yet they’re still alert. “It’s not been weeks for them either,” he continues.

A nearby two-dimensional screen flips on. The tree man from the meetings materializes in frame. “Hello. My name is Magnolia Tree. That is not a first and last name, I’m literally a, uhh...oh, never mind. What you need to know is that your worlds are at risk of suffering from a great war. You have experienced a severe drop in resources. Or rather, you’re now being expected to share the available resources with competing civilizations. I’m not here to help with that. I’m here to introduce you to the diplomats who will be representing you in these matters. I’m calling it The Rock...” The tree goes on to explain what’s going on, but Kalea and Nuadu have already been through this, so she lowers the volume.

“The meetings he’s talking about are over for us,” Kalea explains to Ramses, but for Nuadu’s benefit. He has trouble tracking all this time travel stuff. He’s always just wanted to serve and protect, not worry about things that have already happened. Kalea goes on, “he broadcasts the meetings for the people—live and interactive—though I believe he edits for content and...bad tempers, on the fly. We’ve come to some major decisions as a result of these talks, but when we were returned to our territories, I guess we ended up in our subjective pasts.”

“I understand,” Ramses says. “You’ve already filmed all of the episodes, and now the rest of us need to catch up. We have to find the other representatives, and sequester them too.”

“Sequester us?” Nuadu questions. “Is that really necessary?”

“To avoid a paradox? Undoubtedly,” Ramses answers. “I’m not asking.” He looks over to his partner. “You’re the only one powerful enough to stop me, though.”

Kalea sighs. “Harbinger Zima and I were the first to show up in the neutral zone. Hopefully that means we have some time to intercept the others before they disrupt the spacetime continuum too much. But it may not be. It’s time travel, so the others could have been taken years ago for all we know.”

Nuadu pulls out his handheld device. “I have a list of everyone.” He hands it to Ramses. “I would imagine that you can ignore the delegates from the territories outside of the Sixth Key.”

Ramses starts scrolling through the list.

Nervous, Nuadu adds, “you can ignore the notes that I wrote on each of them too. Opposition research; you understand. I’m not proud of every first impression I received...or made to others.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely be reading those,” he says with a smug look on his face. There was actually an alternate version of Ramses who served as the engineer on the Rock host ship, The Vellani Ambassador. The delegates had little reason to interact with him much, but he was a lot nicer than this version here, who is no less formidable than a god with an immeasurable sense of self-worth. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely at no risk of ever wasting the power that he wields. “Take a shoulder,” he asks of them without looking up from the device.

The three of them teleport to the Tanadama’s private Nexus building. A Nexus is a machine capable of transporting matter across vast distances in mere moments. Given enough power, it could access the far reaches of the universe, or even other universes. However, there are restrictions on travel, some imposed by the state, and others by the mysterious secret entities who invented the network in the first place. Nuadu doesn’t know who these inventors are, nor whether the Tanadama have any information about them, though there’s a strong chance of it. This particular Nexus is the most secure of them all, and the least restricted. No one can come to this station unless invited, but the Tanadama can go wherever the want, even if the people on the other end don’t want them there. In fact, no one knows where this station is located in space. Most trips are logged on both ends, but there are ways to encrypt or erase the logs from here. Nuadu has no idea where in the galaxy he is right now.

Kalea steps into the Nexus cavity, and looks up through the window, into the control room. “We need immediate transport to Hockstep.”

Nuadu shudders. Hockstep is an entire planet of prisons. It’s not just a penal colony where people are free to move about as they please. It’s protected from outside interference, and prisoners are genuinely locked up in prison structures. They’re separated by walls, gaps, swaths of land, canyons, and oceans. You get sent here, you’re not going anywhere until it’s time for your release. Visitation is facilitated by an isolated telecommunications network, limited to a handful of highly secure interstellar relay hubs. Like the Tanadama base of operations, no one knows where Hockstep is, and almost no Nexus technician is authorized to send someone there. An elite division of prison transport specialists are the only ones with access keys, plus the Tanadama themselves...obviously.

“Come on down,” Ramses encourages.

“Is that where we’ll be living?” Nuadu asks. “It sounds like an awful place.”

Ramses looks up at the techs. “Clarification: Hockstep W.”

“Yes, sir,” the tech confirms. “Hockstep W.”

Nuada tentatively steps down into the cavity, and looks around in fear. The building itself isn’t scary, but he’s worried about what will be waiting for him on the other end. He doesn’t know what Hockstep W is, or how it differs from any other. Perhaps the planet has multiple Nexa for different continents, or whatever.

A white light overwhelms the three of them, then fades. It’s usually orange or red, but white is what appears when the Tanadama outpost is involved. They have been unwilling to explain why exactly this is. Whatever the reason, they make it to their destination, but it’s not what Nuadu expected. Theoretically, a Nexus has to be designed to be identical to all others in order to connect to the network properly. It’s a rule that Nexus builders are required to follow. If they fail in the most minute of ways, it simply won’t work, even if everything else is correct. Those in that line of business know exactly what they’re doing, and how they’re meant to do it. This place seems to be some kind of exception. The cavity is about twice as deep as a normal one. The ramp that wraps around the inside of the Nexus chamber is totally missing, leaving the stairs as the only way up to the control room. The drum on the ceiling that actually houses all of the faster-than-light parts is much lower to the floor. This is wrong. It’s all wrong.

Ramses chuckles. “Trippy, isn’t it? This one is designed to be incompatible with the rest of the network. It doesn’t even have a term sequence to punch into the computer. We’re in possession of a unique positioning algorithm that lets us beam directly here as a workaround, plus an authentication key to be let in.

A woman opens a hinge door into the chamber. That’s not where the door usually is, and the normal ones are pocket doors. The woman stands at attention, and nods to the Tanadama. “Sirs. Awaiting your orders.”

“Gather the troops,” Kalea returns, “for a prison break protocol...handle with care. The tech will have your assignments.”

The fugitive recovery agent—as Nuadu is guessing—begins to tap on her wristband.

Nuadu, meanwhile, follows Ramses, who walks up to the control room, and hands the tech Nuadu’s device. The tech sets it on the console, where it immediately begins to sync with the local systems. The list of the other delegates from the Rock Meeting pop up on a hologram, showing their respective statuses and locations. Everyone has a checkmark next to their name, as well as their specific location, except for two of them. Carlin McIver is the primary representative from the Third Rail, and Cosette DuFour served as his second. They both have red Xs next to their names, and no locations, which surely means that they’re missing.

Ramses sighs. “They’re probably in a pocket dimension. They love those things over there.” He starts to manipulate the hologram with his hands, separating the delegate pairs accordingly. Two of the delegates don’t appear to be very close together, so they’re kept separate from each other as well. There ends up being five destinations, including the blind one for the hidden delegates. “Break the team into random groups of three to find the others,” he instructs the tech. “For anyone who doesn’t go in the field, keep them here to facilitate dropshock orientation. Kalea will lead the operation. I’ll be personally handling the Third Rail Earth mission.”

“And me?” Nuadu asks, wondering if Ramses even remembers that he’s here.

“You’re coming with. I’m not much of a fighter, and we may encounter resistance.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nuadu says respectfully.

This surprises Ramses. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”

As they’re walking back out of the control room, other people wearing the same uniform as the first woman teleport in, scattered around the room, ready for battle. “You got lead on recovery, Kal. I have a solo assignment.” He turns his head to face Nuadu. “I mean a duo assignment.”

“See you on the other side,” Kalea replies.

Ramses and Nuada step back into the cavity. There’s a ramp that leads into it, but on the regular model, you don’t have to use it, because the cavity is only one step down. He’s always wondered why these machines were designed to be handicap accessible. It’s not that it’s stupid, but a race of superbeings advanced enough to have come up with it should be expected to have priorities so incommensurable that they wouldn’t think to include the feature. Yet, they did. Unfortunately, Nuadu is used to that regular version, which only has the one step. He trips, and almost falls on his face, but thankfully, Ramses catches him. Nuadu clears his throat, and decides to make a joke of it. “Gravity, right? Like a rock on a cloud.”

The recovery agents laugh, but not too hard, which is nice of them.

Ramses reaches over his head, and points at the Nexus tech as he nods once. They’re overwhelmed by white light again, and transported to the stars.

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The Parallel: Hand That Rocks the Cradle (Part I)

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One day, a bunch of people started fighting over the timeline, and all of reality. They each had their own idea of what should have happened, what should be happening, and what should happen in the future. A group of innocents got caught up in the middle of this battle, and ended up being forced to make the decision for them. One man reached back to the moment that time travel was born, and prevented it from ever occurring. But this was a paradox, because time travel was required to even make it possible for him to attempt such a thing. To avoid the paradox, time itself simply split into two parallel realities. The main sequence, as it was called, went on as normal. The new one was deemed The Parallel. This implied that it was the only concurrent reality, or at least that it was the first, but that’s not the case, especially in a universe where first is a nonsensical abstract concept. In the original timeline, the Parallel started out much like its twin, but without time travelers making small beneficial changes to the past, humanity was eventually wiped out. The team that accidentally created it found themselves stuck, unable to fix matters in a reality where temporal powers were never created. So they found a loophole.

The team went in search of someone who could help them, and found her on a rogue planet in the main sequence. Kalea Akopa had the ability to give others temporal manipulation abilities. They chose Ramses Abdulrashid to be the one to be granted the powers necessary to correct their mistake. This is how the Parallel became one of the most powerful forces in the universe. Ramses and Kalea didn’t just go back to save humankind. They created a society free from death, pain, and regret. That’s what they were going for, anyway.

The two of them have managed to maintain pretty strong control over how the Parallel functions, naming themselves the Tanadama as father and mother. They are not, however, the only leaders in the local group of galaxies. They’ve obviously had to delegate responsibilities to billions and billions of people to manage the undecillions of those living under their domain. For the most part, despite the ungodly numbers in this civilization, peace remains the default setting for every star system and fleet. They want for nothing, so they fight over nothing. But that doesn’t mean they don’t know how to fight. The people of the Parallel have incidentally created the most powerful military force in the whole universe. Their advanced technology makes them practically impossible to defeat. There has been no opposition for the last several thousand years, but it has come for them now. Harbinger Zima commands a contingency known as the Resonant Parallel Coalition. About 480 billion people are prepared to follow him to their true deaths, though they likely would never have to, because as stated, death has been all but cured. The Tanadama wish to hold onto peace, but the people are losing faith in them, so they are losing control.

In the year 2400, the Reconvergence destroyed all of the parallel realities, leaving the main sequence the only one left standing. Along with the Parallel, the Third Rail, the Fourth Quadrant, and the Fifth Division were snapped shut like a book, unable to be opened again. Anything left inside of them when that happened was destroyed. To save lives, a mysterious someone transported almost literally every living soul to a completely different universe, and named it the Sixth Key. No one seemed to know who to thank for this, but the results were not ideal. They didn’t transport everything. Suddenly, all these realities who were once separate, with their own separate cache of resources, have to compete with each other in a universe fit for only one of them, if that. Tensions are mounting, and it’s looking like war is inevitable. The Parallel’s only noteworthy competitor should be the Fifth Division. The problem is, most of their weapons were left in their former cosmic corner. They’re still powerful, and they still command this room, but they’re a shadow of what they once were. So they need to be extra careful to make sure that no one finds out how weak they’ve become, especially not the Fifth Divisioners.

Each reality has been allowed to send two representatives to advocate for their interests. Harbinger Zima is sitting next to one half of the Tanadama, Kalea, and he’s getting very impatient. She’s the boss of the two of them, but she’s not showing enough strength. She needs to let him speak. He’s been doing well so far, biting his tongue, but he can’t take it anymore. “This is outrageous!”

“Nuadu,” Kalea scolds. “Wait your turn.”

“No. Why are we even talking about this? There are so many more people from our reality than anyone else’s.” He tries to start counting them off on his fingers. “We have the most number of planets, the most number of mouths to feed, the largest military force—”

“Debatable.” Ingrid Alvarado is here to represent the Fifth Division. It’s true that the Parallel has more soldiers, but she commands more powerful weapons. They were at war when all this happened, which means that almost all of their weapons were live, and inhabited. The Parallel only built theirs out of an abundance of caution. Nearly all of them were offline, and tucked away, which was why they weren’t rescued from the destruction of the realities. A few of them came through the magical portals because some people just happened to be in the middle of training exercises, or construction.

“Not debatable,” Nuadu argues. “You don’t know what we can do.”

“We know that every skill you have is purely theoretical. My people have real world experience.”

“Yeah, because their number one purpose in life is to fight with each other.” Andrei Orlov is in charge of the Fourth Quadrant. At first, his reality was nothing more than a pocket dimension which only housed the population of the Kansas City Metropolitan Area. Over time, other disparate regions were banished to the same dimension until it became overloaded, and broke away as its own reality. The regions were few and far between, separated by a vast ocean, and have only recently made contact with each other. Their inclusion in these discussions is fair, but not technically useful for anyone else. There is little they need to survive, and nothing they can contribute. Mostly, they need to be protected from the bully realities, and have a right to advocate for themselves towards this end. “They still are, and are dying by the day.”

“We’re in the past, remember,” Carlin McIver of the Third Rail reminded him. His reality was also limited to only one planet, but that version of Earth currently boasts the greatest number of people with temporal powers, which makes them the dark horse threat of the room. They were also granted a formidable defense contingency by someone who knew that this was going to happen, so they’re nothing to scoff at.

“Whatever,” Andrei responded.

“That’s enough,” Marie Walton of Team Matic jumps in, hoping to keep the peace. “General Medley, you were saying something?”

“No, I was not.” There are two Bariq Medley’s here. One is from the main sequence proper while the other is a copy of him from the copy of the main sequence that ended up in the Sixth Key. It has so far been very confusing, and neither Bariq is happy about it. They need to find a way to distinguish themselves from each other, but they can’t agree on how that would work, because every suggestion makes it sound like one of them is more important than the other.

“I mean the other General Medley,” Marie clarifies.

The main sequence was an interstellar civilization when the Reconvergence fell upon them. However, only Earth was incidentally copied into the Sixth Key. They also need a distinguishing name for that. This other Medley sighs. “I think I was pretty much done. I’m just trying to advocate for fair distribution. We’re very used to growing our crops ourselves, and we have not yet harnessed the full power of our sun. We are prepared to isolate ourselves, but would very much still like to be part of the conversation. We know less about how the cosmos works, but we’re quick learners, and we may have ideas that you have been blinded to from living with more information.”

“Gee, thanks for that,” Nuadu says rudely. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Nuadu!” Kalea cries. “Sit! Down!”

He sticks his tail between his legs, and does as he’s told. For now.

Kalea stands in his place. “I believe what my associate is trying to say is that we have a lot to offer. Our people are mostly immortal. We didn’t have very much death where we came from. My partner and I saw to that. We would be willing to share our methods with you, but I’m afraid that we would not be doing it for free. To make our technology work, we need first priority on all power systems, including host stars.”

The crowd goes wild, shouting at her, and apparently at each other, for some reason. How dare she make these demands?

“You are all so used to dying,” Kalea continues. “You don’t know how much better it can be when you’re facing trillions and trillions of wonderful years ahead of you. I’m trying to help, and the least you could do is give us the literal power we need to do that. We’re not asking for control over your civilizations.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Ingrid contends. “You’re in possession of a commodity. It is, by most metrics, the most precious commodity around. You offer us life. That means you own our lives. We’ll be indebted to you forever. As long as you’re telling the truth about it, forever really is forever; not just a lifetime.”

“And you think you should have political control instead?” Kalea questions.

“We do have the most experience with it,” Ingrid confirms. “You’re a loose affiliation of random peace-loving hippy subcultures. We are an actual galaxy-spanning civilization. We know how to run a tight ship.”

“You don’t even have FTL, you dumb motherfucker!” Nuadu screamed. “We can offer that too!”

“Magnolia, please,” Marie requests vaguely.

This is a little confusing too. There’s a woman who’s nicknamed The Overseer whose real name is Magnolia Quintana. This is not who is sitting on the other side of the table right now. This is an actual sentient magnolia tree, who has taken the form of a human named Tamerlane Pryce as its avatar. It was its power that brought all of these people together for these diplomatic discussions, if you can even call them that. The Magnolia has no personal stake in what happens here, but it came up with the rules, and it has the power to enforce them. The tree nods. “Take some time to cool off.” It lifts Tamerlane’s hand, and spirits Nuadu away.

Nuadu is in hock now. It’s pretty nice for a holding cell, but he still can’t leave, and that’s super annoying. Mateo Matic is here, reading a book. His wife is the Captain of the ship that’s serving as the host for the discussions. He doesn’t serve much purpose himself, which is why probably sitting here with nothing better to do.

“Are you my jailer?”

“I’m just in this room,” Mateo answers. “I can leave, if you want.”

“Or you can let me out,” Nuadu offers, hoping that Mateo is as dumb as they say, and equally gullible.

“I’m sure you’re in here for a reason, and anyway, I don’t have the authority to do that. I literally can’t break the plasma barrier.”

Nuadu sits down to pout. “Likely story.”

Mateo smiles, and turns his book off before setting it on the counter next to him. “Lemme guess, you want them to give you everything, and leave the rest with nothing.”

“Quite the opposite,” Nuadu argues. “We’re the ones who already have everything. All we ask is that we get to decide how it’s distributed.”

“How it’s distributed?” Mateo echoes. “Evenly.”

Nuadu shakes his head. “It’s not that cut and dry.

“Cut and dried,” Mateo corrects. “Fittingly enough, I just read that idiom in my book. Heh. Time, right?”

Nuadu shakes his head again.

“Look,” Mateo begins, “I’ve been to your reality. I was actually there at the beginning of it. What you might not know is that I personally created it. With one bullet. You wouldn’t exist without me. You people have taken the life that I bestowed upon you, and done a lot of great things. You eradicated death, conquered war, and shredded money. You know what that sounds like to me? A big brother. My advice? Stop acting like an entitled child. The whole point of a post-scarcity society is that you don’t have to fight over anything anymore. No one needs to be in charge of jack shit. This isn’t Jupiter Ascending; it doesn’t hurt you to make someone else immortal. It doesn’t lessen your own immortality. Just help them. The Reality Wars that we’re all worried about; they’re exactly like any other in histories, just on a larger scale. The only way to stop it is to remove its causes. You want power? Help the people out of the goodness of your heart. I promise you, they will take notice, and they will listen. You don’t have to demand anything ahead of time. People always feel indebted from receiving gifts. Just don’t say the quiet part out loud, and you’ll be fine.”

Nuadu stares at this idiot of a man whose words actually sounded quite logical, and a little devious? Perhaps he’s not been told the truth about who Mateo Matic is. Perhaps he’s smarter than people give him credit for. Before Nuadu has the chance to respond, he finds himself back in his seat around the deliberation table. People barely notice that he’s returned, except for the tree-person, who is smiling at him knowingly. Nuadu takes some time to absorb Mateo’s advice, and process it in his strategic mind. It’s time for a new tactic. It may not work, but the old ways haven’t been working so far, so he might as well try something radical. He listens to everyone else arguing for a few more minutes to catch up with what he missed. He looks over at his superior officer, who appears to have forgiven his outburst, probably because she knows that the tree wouldn’t bring him back for no reason.

Okay. Let’s try this again.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 29, 2481

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It took Leona a hot minute, but she came to realize that they were no stranger to the ship looming over them. Well, they were still strangers, but they had seen it before. Seventy-two years ago, it appeared to them near Earth while they were still getting around on the Phoenix shuttle, Dante. It pulled them into its cargo hold, and either held them in place for a whole year, or attached itself to their pattern, and only had to keep them for a day. They were never entirely sure of the truth, but all evidence suggested the latter. How did it get all the way out here, and what did it want now? Its cargo hold opened up again, apparently beckoning them inside.

Leona reached over to the console, tapped a few buttons, then typed in a message that read NO THANKS.

“How are you sending that?” Mateo asked.

“Hologram,” she answered. “They didn’t respond to our calls before, but as long as they can read English, they’ll see this, plastered on the hull of our ship.”

The mysterious other ship used its maneuvering thrusters to draw nearer.

“Ram, do you detect any lifesigns in that hold?” Leona asked.

“Negative.”

“Then fire a warning shot right down its throat.”

“We don’t have weapons, sir.”

“The hot pocket,” Leona reminded him. “Purge it.”

Ramses sighed. “There’s not much energy in there.”

“Good, I don’t wanna kill them.”

“Purging hot pocket.” Ramses expunged the heat from the dimensional reservoir, and lit the potential enemies up.

“What the hell was that for?” a voice asked through the speakers.

“Oh, so it speaks!” Leona exclaimed with an attitude.

“We figured you were derelict, and in need of assistance.”

“Last time we met, you kidnapped us, and then spit us out without a word.”

There was a pause. “We have never encountered your vessel before.”

“We were in a different one back then,” Leona clarified. “April 18, 2409 Earthan Common Era.”

Another pause. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “You’re Team Matic.”

“What do you want?” Leona questioned.

“Nothing. We only attached ourselves to your pattern back then to outwit our pursuers. They’re long gone. Now we’re back on mission.”

“Which is...?”

“Classified.”

Olimpia’s voice suddenly took over to say, “Captain, there are only a handful of people on this thing, and I think you should come over to see it.” She was apparently on the ship right now.

“Who the hell is that?” the stranger asked. “Where are you?”

“Stay on board, Rambo. Anyone else is welcome to come.” Leona disappeared, to be followed by Mateo and Angela.

“You’ve never heard of invisibility before?” Olimpia brought herself back into view. “You’re not as informed as we guessed.”

A man was sitting at the communications console, still shocked and nervous. “That’s not my department.” He pointed timidly. “I just push the button and talk.”

“I am Captain Leona Matic of the Castlebourne Sanctuary Ship Vellani Ambassador.” Wow, they were no longer a stateless private vessel. “Who is in charge?”

“That would be me.” A thin, busty woman in a tank top and tight pants came in from the hallway. There were numerous tattoos and scars on her body. Her hair was too short to reach her shoulders, and buzzed to a fade on the sides. “Captain Lusine Cross of the Astral Military Force Fireship Lusine.”

“You named your ship after yourself?” Mateo questioned.

Lusine laughed. “Every fireship is named after the person who is to die on it.”

“Fireship,” Angela began. “Historically, these were obsolete vessels that were literally set on fire, and steered into the enemy fleet to cause disorganized destruction. No one was supposed to die on them, though. A skeleton crew always escaped on a smaller vessel.”

“That’s not how we did it where I’m from,” Lusine said. “Any one hundred percent unmanned vessel could be deflected or outmaneuvered by the enemy one way or another. I was sent off to keep my foot on the gas until the very last second.”

“How are you standing here?” Leona asked. “How is this ship intact?”

“Our enemies ran,” Lusine recounted. “We pursued. They opened one of their little portals, and we found ourselves falling through it. That’s how we ended up here.”

That was enough for Leona to figure out what she was talking about. “The Ochivari. You’re from another universe.”

“I didn’t know you would understand the concept,” Lusine said with a nod. “We’ve been trying to get back ever since, and those damn bugs keep trying to stop us, because we have vital information that the Stalwart Porter needs to know to defeat them. We have to strike the enemy where it lives, but we can’t do it alone.”

Leona nodded, understanding more that Mateo couldn’t catch. “You think this brane is their base of operations.”

“It is,” Lusine said with a laugh. “We’ve been to Worlon. That’s where they retreated to.”

“That’s the homeworld. They don’t operate out of there. However many you discovered living in that system is a rounding error compared to their numbers in their new universe.”

Lusine frowned. “You’re lying. You’re lying because you think your own worlds will be destroyed if we bring our war here to your front.”

“Nah,” Leona began, “we can protect our people from that. There’s a reason the Ochivari don’t come after our version of Earth. We’re time travelers, they know they’d lose. They’d lose in any time period, in any reality. So will you if you threaten the safety and security of our most vulnerable and innocent. I suggest you go home. The Transit Army will handle the Ochivari from here on out.”

“I don’t know what the Transit Army is,” Lusine argued. “But it’s meaningless. We’ll protect our people as fiercely as you. I signed up for a suicide mission. You think I’m worried about what you’ll do to me?”

“You are not the first person to feel that way, and you will not succeed where the others lost,” Leona reasoned. “Turn around. Go home.”

“Not until we know where the Ochivari come from. If you’re right, and it’s not this universe, then tell us where it is.”

“I don’t have the coordinates. All I was able to learn from the interrogation logs in Stoutverse was that they call it Efilverse. Trust me, the only thing capable of doing real damage there is the Transit. It’s best you leave it to them.”

Lusine was frustrated, but appeared to be processing what Leona was saying. “We can’t go back anyway. We need the bugs to open another portal.”

“Let me see your Nexus. You may have to leave your ship behind, but I know someone who can return you to your world.”

“We don’t have a Nexus,” Lusine claimed.

“I know how to detect them. It’s here.”

“Part of it is,” Lusine confirmed. “We use it for power.”

Now Leona was frustrated. “Vacuum generator. You’re the one who stole it from Antarctica. Why would you do that?”

“We needed it.” Lusine was not apologetic about their thievery.

Leona’s watch beeped. “Crap, we must be too close to a black hole.”

“Yes,” Lusine said. “We’re hiding out here on purpose, again to avoid detection.”

We only have half an hour until we make another jump. Will you be here in a year?”

“We don’t stop moving,” Lusine explained. “If you’ll allow it, we should like to absorb your energy again, and jump with you. But you’ll have to come inside again, so we can sync up.”’

Leona weighed her options. “Vote.”

Everyone said aye—in person, or through comms—except for Ramses. He didn’t want to get involved. According to him, this one Fireship posed no significant threat to either galaxy, and could only waste their time when they should be trying to find Romana. He felt so bad for losing her. He had to get her back, and as quickly as possible, to make up for that mistake.

Mateo jumped back to the Ambassador, even though the vote didn’t have to be unanimous. “Do you have the data you need?”

“I’ve not had any time to look over it,” Ramses replied. “We’ve been dealing with this since we arrived ten minutes ago.”

“Then do it,” Mateo encouraged. “We’ll deal with this other thing, and meet back up on the other side.”

“I’ll need an assistant,” Ramses said just as Mateo was trying to walk away. “Who in the group can you spare?”

Mateo turned back around. “Who we can always spare...me.”

Shortly thereafter, they jumped to the future, their pattern having been interfered with by the black hole they were orbiting. To free themselves from the gravity well, Leona piloted the VA into the cargo hold of the Lusine, and allowed their new friends to fly them out of the singularity’s relativistic grasp. They used a weird engine, which wasn’t surprising seeing as they were from another universe, but it reportedly didn’t operate the same as it did back where they came from. The laws of physics were different here. Leona was surprised that it still functioned at all. They didn’t have a name for their brane, or of course, the path back. Hopefully Venus Opsocor, Keeper of the Nexus Network, would know what to do.

Once they were sufficiently free from the black hole, they decided they needed to wait for Ramses to study the results from their last jump. Jumping again could throw off his conclusions if he was still in the middle of formulating his hypotheses. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait too terribly long. Unluckily, he turned out to have been wrong before. He could still not find Romana with what he had here. One final, highly directed, jump to a new location could do it, though. Luckily again, they needed to go somewhere anyway. They synced the Vellani Ambassador up to the Lusine’s systems, just as the latter had done before with the Dante. Then the Ambassador took over, and initiated the slingdrive. They made it, all the way to Dardius in the Beorht system.

The planet owners were busy with affairs of the state, but Vearden was available. He saw nothing wrong with granting them access to the Nexus building, as long as they didn’t make any attempt to address the public, or engage with anyone besides the Nexus technicians. They also needed to limit their numbers, so Leona and Lusine teleported to Tribulation Island alone, leaving most everyone else up in orbit. While they were waiting for that, Mateo continued to be Ramses’ guinea pig. As instructed, he teleported to various points on the surface of the planet, and through space. He carried sensors with him sometimes, but not always, which apparently generated some sort of map of the region of space where they appeared.

“Come back in,” Ramses said.

Mateo was currently on Lohsigli. While Dardius remained as the seat of power in this solar system, Lohsigli currently boasted a population of tens of thousands of people. Many had emigrated here over the last several decades, following an enemy invasion that the team didn’t have time to learn about right now. It seemed to match up with what Romana told them about her own past. They accepted a data drive as a gift, so they could update their central archives. They would read about what happened when they had more time. Mateo finally returned, tired from all the jumping, and needing some water.

“I’ve figured it out,” Ramses said, quite pleased and relieved.

“Did I help?” Mateo asked, trying to lean back in his chair, though unable to with his armor module still on.

“Immensely,” Ramses answered. “So did the, uhh...alien people. The Ambassador has been stealing information from their computers, giving it insight into a realm of physics that I never knew existed. They use quintessence where they’re from too, though only as a raw power source, not as a shortcut from Point A to Point B. That’s what I was missing; perspective. I can’t go into detail about what I learned, because you wouldn’t understand it, but to simplify, we have all the tools we need; we just have to put them all together, like ingredients. First, we need Romana’s biometric data, which the ship absorbed passively the first time she stepped on board. Second, we need her quantum signature. Every object, or living thing, vibrates at a certain quantum frequency. The ship doesn’t automatically log that for everyone who comes here, but my machine picked it up from her specifically when we linked to each other through the Livewire tethers. Third, we need a way to measure her signature across vast distances. It would be easy if we knew she was on the same planet as us, but she could be anywhere in the universe, which is why the slingdrive is so important. Now, there’s a bit of an issue, which is that a person’s quantum signature shifts over time, but I should be able to write an algorithm that predicts what it’s become since we lost her.”

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t find her before. We’ve had all those ingredients the whole time, even before her signature had time to shift. What exactly has changed?”

“Well, our jumps have given me a clearer picture of how to navigate; that’s one. Also, perhaps I’m downplaying how much the Lusine contributed. I still don’t understand it, but based on what I was able to glean, it comes from a galaxy where you can’t just fly in any direction you want. You’re limited by these sorts of...shipping lanes, which control their routes, even through the ocean of outer space. Again, I don’t really know why it’s like that, but the Lusine is different. It can subvert that limitation. It can go wherever it wants. My impression is that it’s illegal. Anyway, I turned their exploit into my exploit. Obviously, we don’t have those crazy cosmic shipping lanes here, but I was going about the search all wrong. Now I know how to head straight towards Romana, and find precisely where she is. Give me just a tiny bit more time, and I’ll be able to isolate her signature from the cacophony of noise vibrating between us and her.”

They gave Ramses more time, which Leona spent dealing with a rather difficult Venus Opsocor. She did agree to help, though, when Leona reasoned that the crew of the Lusine didn’t belong in this universe. It was logical to help them return home to maintain a kind of multiversal balance. Hopefully this gambit didn’t come back to bite them in the ass, such as when they found themselves in need of traveling to a different brane. But for now, it was necessary. The Dardieti agreed to hook the ship up to their Nexus for a peripheral transport, allowing Team Matic to check this tangent mission off the list, hopefully for good.

“Are you sure?” Leona asked in regards to the search for Romana.

“Certainty is one of those abstract concepts that doesn’t exist, but which we can draw nearer. Am I sure? No. Am I as confident as I can get? Yes.” Ramses nodded, satisfied with his own CYA response.

Leona looked over at Mateo, who nodded too, but for a different reason. “Very well,” she said before a pause to make sure there weren’t any objections. “Yalla.”

Ramses pushed all the buttons, and sent the slingdrive soaring through the quintessential firmament.

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