Extremus: Year 97

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Admiral Tinaya Leithe. That’s what it says on her name plate. She has one more job to do before she can rest in peace, and if what her son from the future told her is true, it’s going to be her longest job yet. That’s exciting—she wants to be alive, of course—but it’s also pretty stressful and scary. She’s already so old, and so tired. She’s really gonna be leaning on Lataran to take the brunt of the work here. Which should be okay. She’s still youngish, and is showing no signs of slowing down. It might not matter anyway. Captain Oceanus Jennings hasn’t sought either of their counsels. Still, day in and day out, they come to their giant joint office, and make themselves available.

Tinaya sighs. “What am I doing here?”

“Hold your fingers up like this.”

“Okay.” She mimics Lataran’s gesture. “Then what are you gonna do?”

“Try to flick the football between your thumbs.”

Before Lataran could do what she proposed, Tinaya drops her hands, and reaches over to her docked tablet. She puts in her search parameters. “Uhh...is this meant to be association football, or North American football? Or foosball. Are you sure it’s not foosball?”

“It’s none of those things. It’s paper football.”

“That explains why it’s a triangle, and it’s not a triangle in any of these reference photos.”

“Do you wanna play or not?”

“Not,” Tinaya answers. “You’re the one who asked, not me.”

“Well, I’m tired of RPS 101 Plus. I was just trying to change things up.”

“You could always get into Quantum Colony, like everyone else.”

“No, that game gives me the willies.” Lataran shivers. “There’s something too real about it.

“Yeah.” Tinaya stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk on the trails.”

“You do that,” Lataran replies. “You’re welcome, by the way!” she calls up after Tinaya is some distance away. She never lets her friend forget that she’s the one who built their little corner of paradise as a gift.

“Thank you!”

Just as Tinaya is reaching the entrance to the path, the doorbell rings. “Thistle, who’s that?”

A floating hologram displaying the doorbell cam appears right in front of her. “Audrey Husk. She does have Admiral Hall clearance, so she didn’t break in.”

“She’s a little young to have clearance for anywhere on this ship besides home and school.”

“I can’t explain it. Her authorization didn’t come through me. It’s just there,” Thistle replies. That’s weird. He’s meant to know everything that happens on this ship.

While Lataran has seniority here, they treat it as a democracy. She’s standing by the door, waiting for Tinaya’s go ahead. When she gets it, she opens it up, and greets their visitor.

The little girl, Audrey takes one step over the threshold. “Admirals Keen and Leithe, my name is Audrey Husk, and I’m here to speak to you regarding Silveon Grieves and Waldemar Kristiansen.”

“Oh, are you their new little friend?” Leithe asks, gesturing to her to come on in.

Audrey accepts the invitation. “Little is the right word, because I’m shorter than I will be.”

“Uhh...”

“That is, I’m shorter than I’m used to being...”

Tinaya widens her eyes, and looks over at Lataran in fear.

“She needs to know what’s going on anyway,” Audrey claims dismissively. “So go ahead and give her the deets.” She crosses her arms like she’s going to wait for it. But it’s not her call. It’s not even Tinaya’s.

“I’m afraid that I would need to consult both Arqut and Silveon, as well as maybe Zefbiri.

“I don’t have time for this,” Audrey says. “Admiral Keen, Silveon is a time traveler who sent his consciousness into his younger self’s body so he could fulfill a mission to protect the future from a violent dictator.”

Lataran absorbs the information for all of four seconds. “Got it.” To be fair, she’s a time traveler too, and it was this whole thing.

“I’m guessing something went wrong, and you’re here to give the timeline a third chance,” Tinaya says. She’s not happy about this kid spilling the beans, but she knows that they can trust Lataran, so everything will be okay.

“Oh, no, I’m not from a different timeline,” Audrey begins to explain. “Silvy and I were contemporaries. He chose to send himself back alone, believing it to be a solo mission. The others and I disagreed. I secretly sent my own mind back at the exact same moment. I’ve been watching over him without him even noticing.”

“How is that even possible?” Tinaya questions. “If he knows you in the future, wouldn’t he notice you acting weird in the past? Surely you’re making choices now that he wouldn’t predict, unless you’re a really good actor.”

Audrey chuckles. “He is a singular man of singular focus. That is precisely why we decided to do this behind his back. He misses things sometimes. He needs others more than he will admit.” She smiles, presumably remembering something from their future. “But yes, I am a good actor. I recently successfully inserted myself as the third leg of their friendship tripod, but things immediately got complicated.”

That sounds gross. “Don’t tell me there’s something going on between you three in a...romantic sense.”

“Oh, God, no. It’s nothing like that. I was chosen for the supervisory mission specifically because there weren’t any feelings in the first timeline, and because I’m the right age. I came at this mission as a total professional, as did your son. Waldemar, however, knows nothing about what’s to become of him. To him, this is just life. I’m afraid that your son’s interference with Waldemar’s childhood development has had unforeseen consequences. As I believe you know, Waldemar is incapable of love. His brain isn’t wired for it. He is also a man of singular focus, and his drug of choice is ambition. But Silveon has been teaching him to assimilate better into society, allowing him to approximate—read: fake—emotional connection. I’m trying to tell you that Waldemar has found a love interest, and I don’t know what it means.”

“Why come to me?” Tinaya questions.

“I don’t wanna out myself to Silveon if I don’t have to, but I require advice. That is your job on this ship anyway, but I am well aware that Captain Jennings is not the type to ask for it, leaving you with a lot of...” She looks over at their desks, which are mostly there as decoration. “...free time.”

“Who is this love interest of Waldemar’s? Do they reciprocate?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He chose a female, I believe, to later set himself up as a nuclear family man with biological children. I know, that’s disturbing, but I knew Waldemar very well in the future. Everything good or normal about him was fake. I don’t think Silveon really sees it, but he’s falling into the same patterns, just with a faster timeline. He had a family before. It was inevitable that he would learn to fake human characteristics, like love and empathy. That’s what sociopaths do. I’m afraid that your son’s efforts may not be doing us any good.”

“He fears that as well,” Tinaya acknowledges. “I don’t know if there’s anything that we can do about it, though. Let’s imagine taking this girl out of the equation in whatever way, so she can never become his wife. He’ll just choose someone else, won’t he, even if it’s not for a few more years?”

“That’s why I rang your doorbell,” Audrey says. “I can’t see a solution.” She looks away, almost in shame. “And I don’t wanna go to Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

Audrey takes a moment to respond. She turns her head back to face them with dignity. “Waldemar will be an adult in two years. Both Silveon and I have been given the greenlight to take care of the problem permanently any time following his eighteenth birthday. It’s a last resort, but it’s not out of the question.”

“Yes, it is,” Lataran insists.

“I told you, I don’t like it,” Audrey reminds her, “but we can’t go back to the way things were. One life to save thousands.”

“No, I mean, it won’t work. I assume you know of The Question?”

Audrey is surprised that she mentioned this. “I do. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Death is not the end on this ship. What you’ll be doing is making him mad, and if anyone can find a way to return to base reality with a new substrate, it’s a man dangerous enough to warrant two time traveling assassins in the first place. Killing him will not have the desired effect. We’re not that lucky.”

Audrey considers Lataran’s position. “You may be right about that. I just don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure if I should do anything at all. Maybe I’m wrong, and Silveon is skillfully leading Waldemar down the right path, just as we planned, but I can’t see it, because I’ve had to keep my distance to protect my own cover.”

Tinaya sighs. “This girl, is she being abused, or will she be?”

“That I don’t know,” Audrey admits. “I was relatively close to Future!Waldemar, but not family close. If there was abuse with his wife, it wasn’t made public, or even an open secret. It didn’t seem like his wife could ever tell that he didn’t love her, but this new girl might suspect, and that may place her in danger eventually. I can’t predict her actions, nor his reactions to her actions.”

“I have an idea,” Lataran says, “but it’s not pleasant.”

“What is it?” Audrey asks. “What is it?” she repeats herself when Lataran hesitates to elaborate.

“I’m still new to this whole situation, but you’re only about four years younger than him. At the moment, that’s disturbing. In the future, it won’t be that big of a deal. If you really wanted to stop some innocent person from getting caught up in his lies, you could...take the job for yourself. Again, you can’t do anything like that yet, but...”

Audrey stares into space. “No, that’s a good idea. In six years, I’ll be 18, and he’ll be 22. If I play my cards right—as long as he isn’t in too serious of a relationship with someone else—I can step in. I can be a shield for any other potential mate of his, because I know what I’m up against, and I know that I can handle it.”

“No,” Tinaya says, throwing up her hands. “No. I know you’re not really twelve, just like my son isn’t really eight, but I can’t listen to you talk about this. You’re planning to gaslight a human being into pretending to love you so no one knows that he has a social disorder. You’re saying it while looking like a twelve-year-old, with your twelve-year-old eyes and your twelve-year-old voice. Jesus. Did you not study ethics before you left the future?”

“No, I didn’t!” Audrey argues. “It was banned from the curriculum...by Waldemar. This is the sacrifice that we make. I promise, I won’t do anything until I’m legally an adult, and then it won’t be so weird for you. We don’t even have to speak to each other again until that day comes, or maybe ever. But I have to do something. The ship and its total population aren’t the only concerns. The girl he’s dating has a name, and if he’s not hurting her now, he might. I have to take that bullet, because I’m the only one who can. The alternative is ethically worse. We already agreed on that, didn’t we?”

Tinaya shakes her head. “Don’t make any plans yet. As you said, you have six years before it’s even remotely okay for you to start dating. I mean, goddammit. You look four years younger, but you are several decades older. That makes it even weirder, and gives you a level of power over any partner you may choose that I am not comfortable with.”

Audrey nods. “That’s true. I don’t think that my consciousness is quite as old as you may suspect, but I see your point.”

“All right, this has been a very heated discussion,” Lataran points out. “You better get back to whatever life you have. I’ll scrub you from the logs so no one finds out that you were here.”

“Already done,” Audrey says as she spins around and heads back towards the door. “Thanks for your help!” She exits.

The two admirals look at each other, neither one entirely sure what to say after all this. “Welp. We’re not bored anymore, are we?”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 6, 2399

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Kivi tries to sit down on the retaining wall, but it’s too high for her, and she doesn’t want to climb, or try to jump up awkwardly, so she moves down a meter. It too was an awkward move, but the job is done now. She takes in a deep breath, and pushes it out. Team Leader Alserda breaks from the group, and approaches her. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Not really.” Kivi looks up at her. “Oh, you mean physically? I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think it’s possible that we’re done?”

“The bounty on Leona’s head was raised to fifty million dollars. Do you think we’re done?”

“Well, we haven’t found anyone in the last two days.”

“You mean I haven’t found anyone.” Kivi realized a while ago that her psychic ability to find people that fall under the criteria of needing to be rescued or stopped was only locating those who were seriously attempting to assassinate Leona Matic in order to receive the reward money. That’s what matters to her, so the team hasn’t been concerned with anything else since. But recently no one has appeared on her radar. No one is calling to her. She’s tried to force it, she’s tried to not force it. She’s tried to trigger it by following down leads that were uncovered using more traditional investigative methods. Nothing has worked. She’s not sure she has her power anymore.

“Well, you have been operating at a hundred percent for weeks. Perhaps you’re simply exhausted. You have nothing left in the tank.”

That’s true, she has been nonstop for who knows how long. She can’t remember. She can’t even remember how long she’s existed. That’s a bad sign, and probably indicates that her performance is about to suffer, if it hasn’t already without her noticing. Even if her power were still working, she could be placing the team in danger by continuing on like this. If it’s wearing her out, someone is going to get hurt. “I don’t know what to do about that.”

“I do, it’s called leave,” Alserda says.

“You want me to leave?”

“No, it’s leave time. It’s...a vacation.”

“Oh. We can’t just stop on my account.”

“The rest of the team could use some time off anyway.” Alserda looks back at the group, which does look a little aweary.

“What happens to all the people who haven’t been caught yet?”

“Other teams within SD6, and other agencies, are on the hunt for those people. Killing your friend would be a crime, and the planning and preparation of it is also a crime, so don’t you worry about what kind of resources are being devoted to this. There’s plenty of effort, and they’re all happy to do it, because most of the contenders have committed other crimes in the past anyway. The bounty has inspired legislators to pass new laws regarding how agencies are allowed to go after criminals. That’s the silver lining, I would say. Now come on, I know of a great place to eat in this town. Then you can call your friends, and tell them that you’re coming home.”

Extremus: Year 39

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“Good late night. My name is Taila March, streaming live from a secret section of the ship that you’re not allowed to go to. Pause of laughter. The time is midnight central according to the Earthan clock, on September 12, 2308, and you’re watching Extremus Measures. If you’re under sixteen, maybe you wanna shut your eyes, and cover your ears—or just go to bed—it’s about to get real.”

She walks up and over to her desk, forgoing her usual slew of topical jokes. It’s not the first time she’s done it. She alters the format when she’s going to be discussing some more serious topics. She sits patiently as the band completes its song, pretending to read through notecards and the show’s agenda. She goes on when the music stops, “tonight, we have two very special guests. The first is our very own Captain, Kaiora Leithe. This is a real treat, guys, I hope you’re tuning in. Traditionally, members of the executive crew don’t do civilian streaming, but she wants to clear the air on a few things, so she’s agreed to come talk with us. Second, former First Lieutenant Rita Suárez is here. She returned to the ship about two years ago after having been missing for over thirty years. She’s spoken up a little about what she went through in that time, and has suggested that she didn’t experience the same amount of time apart as we did, but tonight, she says she’s ready to provide us with a bit more information. I hope you all have, and will continue, to show her a warm and caring welcome. As always, this stream is live, and any form of recording is forbidden. We’re off the cuff here; unadulterated, unedited...and sometimes unprofessional, but always respectful.

“That all being said, please welcome my first guest, Captain Kaiora Leithe.”

The studio audience cheers.

Kaiora steps through the curtain, and waves to them as she approaches her chair. It’s true, being on this show is very unorthodox. But it’s not against the law, and as long as she doesn’t reveal any sensitive information, everything should be fine. She’s here to discuss her personal life. As the most famous person on the vessel, she doesn’t have the luxury of privacy. Sure, she has the right to keep some things to herself, but if the captain is going to be dividing her attention between the ship, and a love interest, it’s not outrageous for people to question her competence. She didn’t want to come on here and talk about it, but as the last nine months rolled by, it became clearer that the less she said, the more the public made up about her and Ima. It’s time to take control of the narrative. “Thanks for having me, Miss March.”

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with us, Captain, we’re all very excited.”

“Oh, please, we’ve known each other for over twenty years. Call me Kaiora.”

“Is that true? Do other people who happen to have known you for so long get to be on a first name basis with you?”

“That’s a good point. I suppose it will have to be more of just a you thing.”

“Hear that, kids.” Taila holds her cards to the side of her mouth. “Don’t call her by her name, or it’s off to the hock with ya! Oh, I joke, I joke. But seriously, Captain—Kaiora, you’re here to officially announce a personal romantic relationship, right?”

“Well, I think that ship has sailed,” Kaiora replied. “We’ve been open with everyone since day one. We didn’t hold a press conference, but it’s been out there.”

“But of course, this must have begun before. I mean, you didn’t just fall in love on day one. You had been working together for years.”

“No, it kind of was a sudden thing. The feelings were there, yes, and we exchanged some glances, but neither one of us had anything close to confirmation of mutual attraction. Then, one night, I had a hard conversation with someone else, and I just...felt like I had to take a chance. I raced over to Ima’s office, and we started talking. So it wasn’t love at first sight, but it wasn’t a long courtship either.”

“Is love the right word to use, or no?”

“It’s what we use, but not in the beginning. We both felt it was our responsibility to be honest with the crew and passengers regarding our connection. Not only was it better for the health of the mission, but keeping it secret would have made it—I think—less real, like we weren’t fully committed. So you’ve all been with us as it’s evolved. Though, of course, we do keep some things to ourselves.”

“Of course, of course. Now, you said you had a hard conversation, which somehow inspired you to have this epiphany. Can you tell us anything about that?”

No. She definitely can’t drop Daud’s name, but she doesn’t even want to give the audience a hint about what might have gone down. This isn’t about him, and he deserves to remain anonymous. “That’s internal, and classified,” she states simply, hoping to imply it was just some kind of random crewmember behavioral issue.

“Very well.” Taila clears her throat to continue. “I understand that Dr. Holmes is here with you tonight, but she won’t be coming on stage?”

“No, she has chosen to let me take the reins on this one. She’s here for support, but she prefers to stay off camera. I’m the one who signed up for public scrutiny.”

“Well, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to appear on screen like this. We all really appreciate the candor. Don’t we?”

The crowd claps at an appropriately subdued volume.

“Lovely. Perfect. Not to cut us off, but it’s time to bring out our second guest. We would like you to stay here, and keep talking, though. And obviously you’re always welcome to come back to the show anytime you want. Is that okay?”

“I blocked the time for it,” Kaiora replies with a half smile. “For tonight, that is.” She recognizes, however, that Taila is ending the interview before getting to the real questions, because it will prompt the audience to complain about it, forcing the Captain to return for a second interview. It’s just a coincidence that this will result in another ratings boost.

“Great, so that will be your new chair,” Taila says, pointing before turning back to the camera. “Crew and passengers of Extremus, please welcome Rita Suárez.”

The audience claps subdutifully again, giving Rita a standing ovation in deference to her. She comes out of the curtains unsmiling, and more slowly. Wearing a flowy, robey sort of outfit, she carefully climbs the two steps, and crawls into the chair like she’s worried it’s going to change shape on her. She had to notice Taila’s attempt to shake her hand, but acts like she doesn’t know what it means.

Truthfully, Kaiora hasn’t been keeping track of Rita’s life back on the ship. She’s really relied on the expertise of the people trained to handle this sort of thing. They never said she was a threat to the mission, so it wasn’t the Captain’s business. Rita hasn’t expressed a desire to be reinstated onto the crew, so the crew hasn’t needed to be involved. Even so, she seems different now, like she’s regressed. According to the limited psychological reports that Kaiora has received, she should have improved more by now. It’s been two and a half years, and nothing she’s heard would suggest she would behave like this.

Taila doesn’t seem to notice, though who knows how well she knew Rita before today? They don’t exactly run in the same circles. “Thank you for coming, Miss Suárez. How are you feeling?”

“I’m great,” Rita says unconvincingly.

“How have you been adjusting to life?”

“It’s been wonderful.” She’s saying the words, but she doesn’t seem to believe them. It feels like she’s reciting from a script.

Now Taila seems to be picking up on the same awkwardness that Kaiora is. “Care to elaborate?”

Rita runs her fingers through her hair as she looks up at the lights, as if she didn’t even hear the question. “No.”

“Okay,” Taila begins, hoping to salvage this interview. “Could you tell us what happened to you after you disappeared back in 2272?”

Rita smiles. “I saw the light.” She’s still literally looking at the lights, which is presumably why she finds her own answer amusing.

“You did? I was to understand that it was a harrowing ordeal, full of constant dangers, and even some near-death experiences.”

“Yeah,” Rita responds lazily. “That’s what happened, but it’s not what happened, ya know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I don’t understand.”

“I know.” Now she’s acting like a frustrated and sad child, but not angry. “No one understands. You haven’t seen the light.”

“Rita,” Kaiora steps in. “What’s going on?”

Rita jerks her face around to face the Captain, like she didn’t remember she was sitting next to her. “Everyone’s always calling me that. It’s dreadful, don’t you think? Rita Suárez,” she mocks. “It’s sooo...human.” She’s so disgusted by this.

Kaiora stands up. “Security,” she prompts rather quietly.

Rita stands up too. “Yeah,” Rita agrees. “The more the merrier, as you people would say.” She reaches up to her shoulders, and removes the outer layer of her clothing, revealing a suicide vest. Because of course there’s a suicide vest.

The three members of civilian security rightfully stop, and take a half step back in shocking unison. Without hesitating, Kaiora reaches for her teleporter, and tries to banish Rita off the ship, but she’s unable to. Something’s blocking her. She keeps pressing the button, but it still doesn’t work.

Rita turns around and smirks. “You think I didn’t prepare for that?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“This is exactly what I would do in this situation,” Rita contends. “You don’t even know me.”

“Rita,” Taila tries. “Please.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Okay, what do you want us to call you?”

“I...” Rita takes hold of what’s most likely the detonator. “...am Oblivion.” She presses the button with her thumb. Instead of her blowing up, though, she just disappears. Was that it? Was it not a bomb at all, but a bizarrely intricate transporter?

Kaiora looks over and sees Daud between cameras B and C. He’s holding a sort of tennis racket sort of thing towards the stage, and panting a little. “Did you do something?” she asks.

“Cut the feed,” Daud demands.

Taila swipes her fingers in front of her neck. The broadcast lights turn off.

“Report,” Kaiora says.

“You remember when we found her?” Daud asks as he approaches. “We finally figured out that she was in another dimension, which only made her appear to be a teeny tiny person?”

“Vividly,” Kaiora recalls. It was a traumatic experience.

He waves the weird racket thing around. “We also figured out how to replicate that.”

“Why? I didn’t give you authorization to conduct such research.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kaiora says, changing her tune. “You just saved our lives.”

“Why did he need to do that?” Taila questions. “Why would Rita Suárez want to kill the two of us, and herself, and this randomly selected audience?”

It wasn’t her. It was just someone posing as her, so they could gain access to the ship, and move about at the lowest clearance level possible. And to what end? To assassinate the Captain? What would that accomplish, besides ushering in a new captain? If that’s the case, this secret organization—be it new, or still the same old True Extremists—would have to have a candidate in mind who would be more amenable to whatever insane agenda they have. Rita is presumably dead now, so they can’t ask her, but they will have to begin a formal investigation to make sure nothing like it ever happens again. People have always called Kaiora a peacetime captain, but now she’s starting to think that designation will have to be amended.

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Microstory 1463: Switcheroo

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The last Remanoir in Durune history was Marley Allen, who was a member of the super secret organization that never bothered coming up with a name for themselves. They were friends who all believed that the system should change, and include women as equals. They did not meet each other by accident. They were brought together by a man named Anchor Nielsen who had the mage remnant power to witness events remotely by opening time windows. These windows could only transmit light in one direction, so he couldn’t use it to communicate with others, or share any other information, but he could spy on others. He used this ability to find men he knew wanted the same thing. He was no leader, though. His life was under too much scrutiny to let himself be too involved with their efforts. In fact, the rest of the people in the group never even knew who he was. He sent them messages to meet at a single location, where a single note was waiting for them, letting them know that they were safe to discuss their feelings about the government together. It was the few men here who started working on the plans to make changes, and Nielsen never had anything else to do with it ever again. Neifion Summerfield, Eskandar Aljabari, Marley Allen, and Amrit Bax weren’t the only members, but they were the only ones who ultimately became the primary leaders of government. It was an impressive feat, to say the least. Each candidate won their respective race, and two of them were joined by a second-in-command who was also a member. In the Republic, primaries and secondaries ran separately, and winners will often have opposing viewpoints. If the primary leader has radical ideas about how to run the city, then the second leader usually balances them with some moderate thoughts. They executed their lies about as perfectly as they could, knowing that they would not simply be free to take over the world, and run it however they liked. They were prepared for the backlash, and were not surprised when Allen was assassinated before he had even been in office for a year. It was time for his second, Amrit to take the reins.

Amrit Bax didn’t know what was going to happen to him, but after his predecessor’s death, security was tightened. The assassins, and their co-conspirators, were quickly found by a couple of mage remnant detectives, and locked up. Though law enforcement and the military didn’t agree with Allen’s policies, killing the primary leader was illegal, so they had no choice but to take action, and to let Bax take over for him. Bax was just as progressively radical, and he wasn’t about to let power slip through his fingers in the same way it had for all his friends before him. This was pretty much the last chance they would get to destroy the phallocracy, so if he didn’t throw down the gauntlet, no one would, unless whomever brought them all together managed to do it again with a new group. As soon as he secured loyalty from the security team, which he hand-picked himself, he went hard. He started passing executive order after executive order, changing everything about how the Republic was run. He ceased all operations against the Thicket, he reopened employment opportunities for women, and for the love of God, he let mothers take care of their own damn children while their husbands were away. People were pissed, but he wasn’t going to let anybody get in his way. They would have to kill him too if they wanted to replace him with someone else, and even though his security team wasn’t comprised of the most progressive men in the world, they stuck to their posts, and showed that they would not let anyone take their leader down. Now it really felt like a conspiracy, which was what the small group wanted at this point. They had to seem so large and daunting that there was nothing the old guard could do to stop progress. If this many men trusted women, had they lost the war already? Essentially, they had. There was still one more absolutely vital step in finally ending the Republic’s misogynistic ways, and no one saw it coming, not even Bax and his friends.

Microstory 1462: Sic Semper Honestus

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Marley Allen was next in line out of the small and secret group of friends who were interested in making the world more like it was before the misogynistic Republic took over. People were not happy with the progressive decisions that Remanoir Aljabari made during his relatively short time as the main leader of the planet. It wasn’t enough to get him kicked out of office, but it was certainly too much to let him be reëlected. That was not only okay, but completely part of the plan. Aljabari never intended to campaign again, but would step aside so that Allen could take over for him. It was his responsibility to give the people a taste of what the world could be like if they let go of their prejudices, and returned to a system of equality. Now it was time for the next step. When Marley Allen replaced him, he believed he would have to lay low for a while, to backpedal on a few of his predecessor’s policies, and make himself out to be the loyal Republican everyone thought he was. It seemed he didn’t have to do that, however, and it was all thanks to Aljabari’s wife, Ceri. Ceri Aljabari was a mage remnant, who had the ability to manipulate other people’s emotions. Very few people were aware of her power, however, as they thought it was Eskandar Aljabari himself who possessed such talent. They didn’t believe that a woman could be so powerful, which gave them leverage, and even plausible deniability. During Eskandar’s administration, he urged congress to agree with the changes he wanted to make, and they didn’t push back as much as one would think. Ceri altered their state of mind, so they would be more open to new ideas. She simultaneously worked on the city residents as a whole, though to a far lower degree, because her ability was only so strong, and it wasn’t like she could create a planet of obedient zombies. By the time Remanoir Allen took his seat at the top, most citizens of Aljabara were willing to consider the possibility that women were perhaps not quite as wholly devious and dishonest as the Republicans had made them out to be for the last six decades.

Unfortunately, most does not ever account for all, and there were more than enough people who never wanted to see the system be replaced. Even if an individual didn’t personally feel any animosity towards women, the phallocratic government was beneficial to them. Women’s rights weren’t just limited, but men’s rights were raised. It was good to be a man on Durus during the first half of the 22nd century, and some weren’t willing to give that up, even if it was better for the planet as a whole. A few of these people got together, and they started plotting. They decided there was something fishy going on with their elections. Summerfield, Aljabari, Allen. Three out of the last four leaders were progressive, even though they claimed not to be. They had lied about themselves the entire time, and there was no reason to believe another election wouldn’t make the same thing happen again. When Summerfield was recalled, Poppet Drumpf took over, but when Drumpf stepped down himself, his entire administration was drained from the proverbial swamp. So what could these people do to fix this? They didn’t want Allen’s second-in-command to take over, because that caused problems before, but a special election was also a travesty in their eyes. They kind of had to pick the lesser of two evils, and hope that Allen’s second, the Prime Minister wouldn’t turn out to be quite as bad as Drumpf. Unlike with Summerfield, however, they did not have the people’s support. If they wanted to get rid of Remanoir Marley Allen, they would have to take care of it themselves. They would have to assassinate him. Fortunately for them, they were radicals, so they didn’t have any problem with killing. The mission was successful, and the Prime Minister took over primary leadership duties, but he would turn out to be just as progressive as his secret friends.