The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 25, 2569

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Romana had gotten out of control. Her father, and everyone else, fully understood where she was coming from—she was lonely, and she needed companionship—but she was playing with fire. They blamed the progression and simplification of technology. A lot of what Ramses did involved temporal manipulation, which most researchers and users didn’t have access to, but a lot of the rest had become ubiquitous. Their advanced substrates were quite common these days, except for the bit about being able to teleport, and their attached pocket dimensions. The computing power and the detail of simulations; the whole galaxy had it, or at least it was available to them.

Downloading what began as a programmed intelligence into a mobile body was nothing new, but it had certainly become easier over the centuries. And that was what a lot of the development focused on now. All everyday problems had been solved, so the primary changed involved removing friction from the processes. You used to have to know how to program a dayfruit with the right ingredients. Now you just told it what you want, and it grew. It even did it faster than the original species could be produced. It used to be that if you wanted to give a digitized consciousness a body, you had to have the education and experience for it, and to account for all sorts of variables. Now you pushed a button. All Romana had to do was push a button, and Boyd 3.0 was just there.

But Boyd was not perfect. She wanted him to be just like them, which meant he had to skip a year at the end of every day. That was time tech, and not in the central archives, so she had to come up with a workaround. According to her, every day at midnight central, his brain went dormant, and didn’t come back online until midnight 365 days later. This was the only way she could do it. If she had asked, Ramses would not have helped her, so she probably made the smart call in that regard. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a problem, though. If his mind could be switched off like that, he could be switched back on. Where were the safeguards? What if someone else showed up during their interim year? What if Boyd got tired of skipping time, and turned himself back on in the middle of a cycle? Did he even want to skip at all, or did he want to leave this planet, and go find his way elsewhere? Romana still hadn’t thought this through.

“I have thought it through,” Romana insisted. “You are just not listening.”

“No, you’re not listening,” Ramses argued louder when Mateo tried to. “Sorry, Matt, but I’m gonna have to take this one. She’s old enough to make her own choices, and suffer the consequences beyond a scolding from her parents.” He looked back at her. “This is dangerous stuff. There was a reason I was quarantining him, and I know you knew that. This was reckless, childish, and stupid, and there will be consequences.”

“Oh, you’re just mad because you’ve become irrelevant,” Romana contended. “Now suddenly the great Ramses Abdulrashid isn’t the only one on the team who can create life. I’m sorry science caught up to your genius, but it was inevitable. Get over it.”

“No.” Ramses was generally a chill guy. He usually only had anxiety over his own insecurities, but he was livid today. “You may not have used my personal lab, but you used equipment that I fabricated.” He stopped her before she could interrupt, “don’t bring AI into this. Of course I didn’t program them character-by-character. They are still mine, and you abused my trust in you by doing this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you and your parents, but there may be something seriously wrong with you, so you’re going in hock.”

“You can’t do that.” She laughed it off. No one else was laughing. “No, he can’t do that. I’m an equal member of this team!” No one said a word. “Dad! Moms! Stop him! Stop him!” They didn’t. The time bullet hit her, and sent her straight into lock-up.

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Microstory 2754: Starting Line

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Elise opens her eyes. She’s floating in artificial amniotic fluid. No, that’s not what it is, it doesn’t taste right. It tastes more...leafy? Like spinach that’s gone bad, or kale that hasn’t gone bad, because kale is the worst food God ever created. She’s trapped. She’s trapped in something opaque, which is not how body switching works. You’re supposed to be in a glass box, or in more advanced equipment, a clean and sterile pod. It’s not this, whatever this is. This is all wrong, and she’s panicking. She squirms around, looking for a way to escape, but doesn’t find it. She’s going to have to make her own.

She tries punching and she tries kicking, but neither of them work. That’s what makes her realize that this isn’t simply a pod. It’s a chrysalis. And that’s not how butterflies get out of their chrysalises. Elise feels around to make sure she knows where down is, and then she starts to spit. Opening her mouth amidst all this goo necessarily forces more goo back into her mouth. She thought it tasted bad before, but now it’s making its way down her throat. She starts to retch, and then she vomits. Even though it’s disgusting, the bile, saliva, and other fluids accelerate the mission.

The enzymes in Elise’s saliva weaken the chitin enough for her to tear through it. She can see light now, and feel the air. She vomits more so she can start breathing again. She continues to tear at the chrysalis until the opening is wide enough for her to get through. She tries to aim away from her own sick, but that’s stupid, because she’s already covered in filth. Elise reaches out to the floor with her hands, clumsily slipping on the fluids, but it slows her down enough to keep her from faceplanting.

She’s on her back now on the cool white floor of a small room. It’s not too small, though. It’s big enough to fit ten other chrysalises. Her whole team is here, plus the other team. Wait, there should be twelve in total, so who are we missing? She frantically starts knocking on the other chrysalises. “Jolanda? Rage? Is that you? Who’s in there?” she starts to say, looking for her people.

She can hear them moan back to her, but no one replies with words.

In the real world, with a real butterfly, you don’t want to help it get out of its chrysalis. The struggle is real, but it is not pointless. It’s a crucible, which strengthens the insect so it can literally spread its wings and fly. But they’re not in the real world, they’re in a simulation. It may be a base reality simulation, but it’s not natural. The others don’t need to go through what she just did. Elise stumbles over to a wall and wrenches a sconce from it. She starts tearing at the nearest chrysalis. Yeah, sometimes you gotta spit on that thing, but sometimes you need good old fashioned brute force.

A woman tumbles out of the chrysalis. It’s Miracle.

Elise catches her, and gently lowers her to the floor.

“Oh, thank you,” Miracle says. “I’ve forgotten what this feels like.”

“You’ve used this form factor before?” Elise has never even heard of it.

“Yeah, buncha times,” Miracle replies. As she’s resting on her hands behind her back, she looks around before her gaze returns to Elise. “You take left, I take right?”

They divide and conquer until the other nine hunters are free. Thankfully, all of Elise’s teammates are here. It’s Miracle who is missing one of hers. The girl she was trying to safely fly down to the ground, and who was wearing her shirt on backwards on the football pitch, is missing. Miracle says that she had an emergency mind transponder, which she probably used before she hit the ground. There was no way to know that they would survive it.

It’s different, though. Elise feels weak, and not just because she just had to force her way out of a chrysalis, and then help five other people do the same. Her vision isn’t as strong, her joints are achey, and she feels hunger in a way that she hasn’t since she was a kid, before she became immortal. This is a regular body, like the kind everyone had back in the days before humanity had even reached the longevity escape velocity. Her consciousness stream isn’t just unlinked. It doesn’t exist. There’s no backup plan now. If she dies, she truly dies, and she’s guessing the same goes for everyone else.

Once the last person is on his feet, the ceiling lifts up and to the side like the lid of a cardboard box, revealing only a dark void above them. It begins to rain once more, but this time, it’s just regular water, instead of acid. Well, it’s also a bit soapy. The room fills up around ten centimeters of water and suds before the drains open up and start to wash all the gunk and junk away. Next come the blowers to dry them off. They all just stand there and accept it, because there’s no door to exit, and they want to get cleaned off, even if at the end of this is, they get decapitated by a Jigsaw wannabe. They are here to play a game at any rate, and this appears to be the start of it, for whatever reason.

After they’re sufficiently dry, seams appear on the back wall. They slide upwards, revealing eleven chairs in front of eleven lockers. Each one is labeled with one of their names. The hunters proceed to their assigned lockers, retrieve the generic clothes that were placed there for them, and get dressed. But nothing happens after they’re done.

“I think we’re supposed to sit down to trigger the next phase,” Elise figures.

They follow her advice, and once that last butt hits that last seat, the wall in front of them transforms into a monitor.

A man appears on screen. “Hello, and welcome to Treasure Hunting Dome. My name is Hrockas Steward, and I own the planet of Castlebourne. Now, you may be wondering why I would record this message, and whether I do it for the other 69,814 domes presently in service. The answer is no. This is only for you. You twelve—forgive me, eleven—contestants have selected our Premium-Ultra Package. This is the rarest of hunts, which will take you on a journey few have traveled. In regular hunts, you would be out in the open, encountering Ambients who are simulating locals from various locales. You will not be doing this. You are on a special mission to find a unique prize.

“It’s important you understand that I am not admitting that such a prize exists. This is confirmation of absolutely nothing. You are being isolated from the other players so your hunt does not influence or interfere with anyone else. Everyone who expresses serious interest in this track experiences the same thing. Or do they? You may never know. You may not even survive. You have become decoupled from your consciousness streams so if you die along the way, your alternate selves will move on with their lives with no memories of these events. Even if you do find what you’re looking for, you might never be able to reveal its secrets. Thousands before you may have succeeded, but never returned to tell the tale. You will receive your next clue on the other side of this door.”

The seams of a door appear on the third wall.

“Oh, and one more thing. Those teams you worked so hard to build? They’re useless. Only one person can win this hunt. Good luck to one of you. Aaaaaaaaaand go!”

The door opens.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 24, 2568

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The technology that Leona used to boost Kayetan’s merging ability was the same she used to get him back home. That way, they didn’t have to make yet another sling there. Once he did return to Earth, though, he would not be able to return. They were many light years away, and he couldn’t usually travel that far. Of course, he was at hers and Mateo’s wedding, where he managed to merge people from all over the bulk, so how was he able to accomplish that? She forgot to ask. They’ve changed realities and timelines so many times since then, though, so he might not have even ever done that.

As it turned out, the fire that burned down the crops was a total accident. There was technically an arsonist, but it was part of nature. The team didn’t have much time to study it, but there was a special type of alien beetloid which could start fires by rubbing its legs on stones. It must infuse the right kind of metal into its diet, and spark a reaction through some kind of chemical that it also produced. It might do this to clean, or mark its territory, or maybe as part of a mating ritual. Some of the endemic plant life could handle it by dispensing a natural fire suppressant. It appeared to be a symbiotic relationship, actually. The beetles cleared the brush for whatever reason they had, and the fire-resistant plants got to keep all of the soil’s nutrients for themselves, against the burnable competitors. The grapes would obviously not survive over in their territory.

The solution? Plant the grapes on the other side of the river. This caused some uproar in the population, but they agreed to it, because it was the only answer that made any sense. And it would probably help in the long run. Since they now had no choice, this was where they were going to live. Everything Ramses’ computer was afraid of, with two factions growing apart from each other, was no longer an issue. Well, it could still happen, but it would not be because of grapes. They would survive this crucible at least.

When they finally reunited on Ramosus in 2568, they found themselves trapped in the in-house slingdrive. Romana was on the other side of the plasma barrier, holding her hands up defensively. “Now, I know that you’re mad, but don’t you feel fulfilled? You completed your tasks. That’s all we’ve been wanting, right? You’re not here to seek out new life and new civilizations. You’re volunteer fixers. I just gave you a little nudge. I know you didn’t want to do it like this, but I’m hoping you’ll forgive me one day, if not outright thank me. I just...I wanted you to stop worrying about me, and to move on.”

Mateo tried to push his hands through the plasma. It gave, but it didn’t break. “Why are we locked up in here? Did you think we were gonna hurt you?”

“No, I didn’t think my parents, aunts, and uncle were going to physically cause me harm, but I thought you would punish me. I wanted to see Boyd again, and you wouldn’t let me. I figured I would feed two birds with one worm. You six get the satisfaction of saving two colonies from themselves, and I get to spend time with the one person who is only for me. The barrier is just so I could gauge your reaction upon returning.”

Leona placed her hand on the barrier too, but to try to reach out to Romana, not to escape. “Our reaction is that we love you, and that the Boyd program is dangerous until Ramses makes sure it’s safe from the dark particle corruption. It was never permanent.”

“Well...” Romana seemed bashful now. “That wasn’t all I wanted to do with Boyd.”

“What did you want to do with him? Meet him in immersive VR?” Mateo pressed.

“No.” She opened her arm to present a young man who was walking into the lab. “Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you, Boyd Nieman...literally in the flesh.”

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Microstory 2718: Whatever it Takes

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Isavet has been allowed visitors, but she hasn’t allowed anyone in. She said what she wanted to say to her family, and heard what she wanted to hear from them. She may see them again one day, but she might not. Until then, she wants to be alone. That is evidently not an option this time. The so-called owner of the entire planet is here. He wants to speak with her personally, which sounds incredibly ridiculous to her. She has to remember, though, that genuine murder is all but impossible these days, out here in the real world. The fact that she attempted it probably shook everyone to their core, so it makes some sense that he would want to meet the killer.

“May I sit?” a man named Hrockas Steward asks. He’s flanked by his personal bodyguard, Azad Petit, who is the one who warned the family about Talus’ indiscretions.

“It’s all yours, sir,” Isavet replies. The way she sees it, the sentence has been handed down. She’s going to the same place where her brother is. She doesn’t have to pretend to be unhinged anymore. She can be polite and cordial.

While Azad remains a statue next to him, Hrockas sits and adjusts his outfit. “Has anyone ever explained to you where you’re going in terms that you understand?”

“A friend of mine told me about Varkas Reflex,” Isavet begins, referring to Caleb. “It’s not like a regular prison. For most people, only their minds are there. They convert your thoughts and memories into tiny flashes of light, and throw your body away.”

Hrockas smiles, and doesn’t quite chuckle, but he clearly wants to. “That’s one way to put it. If you choose the right simulations, you will one day understand it even better. And I do hope you do that. I know that Danmörk speaks to you, but there is so much more out there, and you can have it all without moving a centimeter. Miss Truett, you’re special. That body you’re in right now is the only one you have ever had. It is for that reason that it is illegal for anyone to destroy it. Even if your mind is safely uploaded to a server, it just can’t be done. So where you’re going, you get to keep it.”

“Yes, my friend told me about that too, before the lawspeaker explained.”

Hrockas nods and leans forward. “On the planet in question, there are very few people in quarantine. It’s just not something that needs to be done. The majority of the population are there for recreation. It’s not unlike Castlebourne, except you the world can be anything you want, even if it would break the laws of physics. Honestly, it’s technically better than what we have. One day, my planet will be shut down. It’s cool, doing all these things in base reality, but it’s not gonna last forever. In millions of years, the idea of having a physical body at all will probably seem quaint. Until then, if you want your pick of VR, you go to Varkas Reflex. The initials are a very lucky coincidence.

“Anyway, the quarantine zone, as you might imagine, is far separated from everyone else, and it’s quite small. They anticipated a few guests such as yourself and your brother, but not many. My primary adjudicator has a particular affinity for it. There actually are still physical penal colonies for those who have also not been digitized. She almost sent you to one of those. I’m glad she chose otherwise.”

“Sir?” Isavet asks. Why would he care where she goes?

Hrockas leans forward even more. “I know what your plan is.”

“Sir?” she repeats.

“You are not as opaque as you believe. Don’t worry,” Hrockas assures her, “I don’t think your family sees it. They’re young. They don’t know what life was like when we had scarcity. They tend to see the best in people. I’ve seen the darkness. I see it in you. And you’re smarter than they give you credit for. I know you knew what would happen when you killed that couple. I know you wanted to get sent to Varkas Reflex, and I know why.”

“I just want to pay for my transgressions,” Isavet lies.

He doesn’t hold back a laugh this time. “The Viking boy must have told you a lot about virtual quarantine. When you go there, you will not be in the same room as the younger Talus. You will not see him unless I let you. I’ve made quite a name for myself in this galaxy, so I have friends. I can give you what you need to do what you are hoping to do, but in exchange, I’m going to need something from you.”

Oh, there it is. “And what’s that?” Isavet asks.

Hrockas turns his head towards his bodyguard, but doesn’t actually look up at him. “Plausible deniability.”

“Sir,” Azad protests.

“I’m backed up. Go,” Hrockas insists.

Azad clears his throat, and looks at Isavet. “I have a license to kill. I’ll need it to fight in the war that’s coming, but I’ll use it now if you give me a reason, even if he survives anyway. So think about that before you do something stupid.” He disappears.

Isavet is so shocked. Are they already in the mind prison, or is there more going on with this world than she understands?

Hrockas turns back at her. “You and Talus Junior are not the only people in quarantine. Most of the people, I don’t care about, but there is one which threatens every living being in the universe. She’s smart. She was born in a virtual world, and she is incredibly patient. She will find a way to break out one day. What I need you to do is break out first. You can kill your brother, but I need you to kill this other entity as well. It won’t be easy, but I can give you the tools. Are you up for it?”

“This feels like a trick; like you’re waiting for me to confess to my intentions so you have a reason to imprison me somewhere else,” Isavet worries.

“I own the planet. If I want something to happen, it does. I don’t need a reason. This is real. You don’t have to admit to anything. Just submit to a simple procedure.”

“What kind of procedure would this be?”

“An undetectable implant in your brain,” he answers. “When you’re digitized, you become code, and killing code isn’t easy, but it is possible. With a zero blade.”

Isavet leans back and eyes this strange little man. She has met many strong and powerful men in her day, but none who owns a planet. Everyone she has talked to about him says he does. That obviously doesn’t mean he can be trusted, but he should definitely be respected. Even if there is only a remote chance that he’s being truthful, she has to say yes. She always knew that she might need help. Caleb acknowledged only knowing so much about the prison. “Okay. Show me.”

Hrockas snaps his fingers, and they’re suddenly in a different room. A doctor there named Telman explains the procedure. He can cut into her brain, insert a hidden, dormant little bead, then seal it back up like magic. It sounds crazy, but necessary, and Hrockas says it will help her with Talus too. As long as it gets her what she needs too, she’ll do anything he wants, or anyone else for that matter. So she lies back in the chair, and accepts whatever weird thing they’re going to put in her head. She’s not scared. She and pain go way back. After she’s settled, she breathes deeply. “Do it.”

Extremus: Year 126

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Admiral Oceanus Jennings stands between Captain Kristiansen and his bride, Sable Keen. The audience is noticeably uncomfortable, if not outright disgusted. Even Waldemar’s sycophants don’t like what’s happening in this holographic grand cathedral. They won’t do or say anything about it, but they’ll have their private thoughts, and maybe share a few whispers. As for the happy couple, they couldn’t be happier. The Captain has become much better at feigning emotions. It almost looks like he’s in love with this girl. Oceanus hasn’t been made privy to all the secret meetings that Admiral Keen has with her daughter, and the rest of the braintrust, so he just has to hope that this is all part of some elaborate plan. There’s no way she actually likes this guy. She’s so sweet and intelligent. Even if her mother never told her anything about what he really is, surely she would just pick up on it.

The Admiral obviously doesn’t want to be here, let alone be officiating, but it’s his responsibility since this such a high-profile event involving a crewmember. There’s only one other person here qualified to perform the ceremony, and no one bothered to ask her. She’s not even here, which is understandable, and really not a scandal. Or if it is, it’s cancelled out by the reason she declined the invitation. Sable is an adult now. There’s nothing illegal about this. But it makes people feel icky. Not only is there a significant age difference, but he’s also in an immense position of power. There are protesters, but they have not been allowed into the auditorium. Oceanus passed a message onto them, begging them to stay quiet. He can’t tell them that it’s because he fears for their lives, but there is only so much he can do. He doesn’t outrank the Captain. He’s only an advisor, and it’s time for him to begin today’s responsibility.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,” Oceanus begins. It’s an uncommon turn of phrase on the ship. Waldemar evidently heard it in a movie or two, and he has a fixation on tradition—not Extremusian traditions, specifically ones that they don’t typically follow. He proceeds to drone on and on about love and loyalty, following the script that Waldemar handed him word for word, including the few typos. If asked about it later, he’ll just say that he’s become so accustomed to speeches that the words travel right from the screen to the microphone, bypassing his brain entirely. It’ll be fine, they’re not that bad, and people have bigger things to worry about.

After the ceremony comes the reception. Oceanus thought he was done with his part in this charade, but Waldemar surprises him with a call to toast. He didn’t prepare anything, so he has to wing it. Other toasters dropped subtle clues about the extent of their disapproval, but he was entirely noncombative, because what would be the point? How does it help anyone, getting yourself chucked into hock? Errr, rather, the brig. He mostly sticks with love and loyalty, and drives home how lucky Sable is to find someone so amazing, adding in some anecdotes about Waldemar’s work ethic and tenacity. Fifty points to Oceanus, he didn’t throw up even once during the entire ordeal. When it’s a feasible time to duck out quietly, he goes back towards the bow, but instead of going to his quarters, he heads for the office that he shares with Lataran. Waldemar has made a lot of changes to Extremus, but Admiral Gardens remains untouched. Oh good, she’s here. “I want in.”

Lataran is busying herself with nonsense work. Waldemar has his own advisors, and has never asked to their help with anything. “You want in to what?”

“Whatever you, Silveon, Audrey Husk, and even Sable are up to, I want to be a part of it. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore. I want you to tell me the plan.”

She sighs, and returns to her tablet. “There is no plan.” This may not be the right time to talk to her. Her daughter just married a monster, and she couldn’t bring herself to watch it happen. It must have been so difficult for her, being unable to stop it.

“Please. You can trust me,” he insists. “I know you know that. We may not have always gotten along, but we can agree that we have to protect the ship from him.”

She sighs again, more annoyed this time. “I’m not icing you out. There really is no plan. We did have plans, but Sable ruined them when she married him.”

“That wasn’t what you all wanted?”

“No,” she begins to explain. “That was Audrey’s job. She’s...older than she looks, and knew what she was getting into. Sable doesn’t understand what’s at stake. I don’t know why we agreed to let her be part of this at all, but this wedding was a bridge too far. So I’m out. I’m old and dying, and she has to make her own choices. I’ve already talked to her about it ad nauseum. I guess they were more like fights. But either way, whatever we were trying to do together, that’s over now. She’s made it clear that she’ll be pivoting him away from us, so she can have him all to herself. There’s nothing left to do but accept it. Whatever Extremus becomes, that will be what it is.”

“So we just fade into the background?”

“While we’re alive? Yes.” She shakes her tablet slightly. “I’m writing a book. It outlines the truth—my truth, and will be published posthumously. I’m still deciding who will be responsible for that. It could place those who survive me in danger, including my daughter. But I can’t sit with these thoughts in my head anymore. I have to get them out. If you’re struggling with the same hopelessness, you might look for your own outlet.”

“I prefer to fix things while I’m still alive,” he says.

She presses a button on her desk, causing the walls to start to extend and wrap around her work area. She never used privacy mode when Tinaya was working alongside her. Now she activates it all the time. “Good luck with that,” she says just before it seals her up completely.

Oceanus moves on to Silveon. He basically asks him the same thing, and Silveon basically responds the same way that Lataran did. “My mission had an expiration date. I didn’t know it when I started, but I’ve lost my way in. She has taken over everything. We did not factor in the possibility that someone new in this timeline would usurp control over the situation. It was always a possibility, of course. That’s what happens when you change history. I suppose this might have even been inevitable, thanks to my actions. One thing that Waldemar was not in the old timeline was welcoming. He didn’t have close advisors, or personal relationships. He only had loyal subjects. I gave him this. I taught him how to connect with others. I showed him how to marry a girl. I don’t know if I should regret it or not, because the plan was to make him more human. Unfortunately, this is what that looks like.”

He goes to Audrey now, who he expects to find distraught in her new quarters. They are a far cry from the luxury of the Captain’s Stateroom. She doesn’t seem to care, about her living arrangements, nor Waldemar’s new wife and life. “Sable has powers.”

“What?”

“She has time powers.”

“Which ones?” Oceanus presses.

“I don’t know, but she was a kid when we brought her into the fold. We shouldn’t have done that. She somehow made us. When we switched bodies—”

“You switched bodies?” he interrupts.

“Yes, I forget who knows what. She doesn’t know how to paint.”

“Oh, right. She did that portrait. It looks good.”

“It shouldn’t,” Audrey counters. “I had only started when she forced her way back into her mind. When I say we switched bodies, that isn’t entirely truthful. I took over hers, but we placed her in a constructed dream, made to look exactly as the Extremus was when she went under. We took sensor data from all over, and fed it into the program. It extrapolated what would happen if Sable were really still there. She somehow broke through the illusion, and took back over. I don’t know how she did that, and I don’t know how that painting got finished.”

“It sounds like you’re done with the mission, like Lataran. That’s how she put it.”

“That’s how we put it to each other,” Audrey tells him sadly.

“Do you understand Sable’s motives? Did you get anything from the experience? If she learned to paint, did you learn to...use whatever gifts she has?”

“Well, I felt her power, before she proved she had it. And at the same time, I...”

“Go on. You can trust me. I want to help.”

“I felt something else,” Audrey finally says. “I don’t know how to articulate it. It was...ambition? Or maybe yearning? I don’t know, but she wants something. She is singularly focused on it. Honestly, it reminded me of Waldemar, sometimes when I’ve looked into his eyes. I’ve never seen it in her eyes, though. She’s either good at hiding it, or I’m crazy. But it scared the shit out of me. I wouldn’t recommend consciousness transference tech unless you really know the person you’re switching with.”

Oceanus nods, taking in all the information, and trying to fill in the gaps. It’s not much to go on. Even if no one else is trying to fight it, he can’t stop. He’ll go it alone if he has to. He cares too much about Extremus, and the mission. He cares about it at the expense of himself. “You can’t really know anyone, can you? Except for yourself.”

“Maybe,” she answers. “Maybe not even then.”

“You did once; trusted yourself. You went back in time, to your younger body.”

“I was desperate.”

“I am too,” he states plainly.

She shakes her head. “Don’t even think about it. You don’t have enough information. Silveon and I spent years curating historical variables, and we still missed things. Time travel is never the answer. The teach that in school. I wish I had listened.”

“Give me the key,” he asks, calmly and dispassionately, but not hostilely.

“You know what? What does it matter? We might as well give it a second shot. I’m not gonna remember doing this, so here are the directions to the tech room.” She flings the data to his device. “Here are the codes.” She flings those too. “When you get to the past, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my primary objective.”

She chuckles. “Don’t tell me or Silveon what you are, or anyone, really. If you have to tell us anything, just say you got intel from the Bridger Section, or something.”

“I promise, he lies. He walks out without saying goodbye, because she won’t remember it anyway. He walks down to the deepest bowels of the ship, and unlocks the room where the secret insurgent tech is apparently stored. He doesn’t know how to work the equipment, but it’s sufficiently self-explanatory. After making sure he has all the settings right, he climbs in the chair, and sends his mind back to his younger body.

Its over a year in the past, in 2394; the day of the portrait. It all started to fall apart here. Oceanus has to immediately break his promise to Audrey. The first thing he does is go to the Captain’s Stateroom to tell her to not go through the plan to force Sable into a virtual environment. Whatever she does in the real world, it’s better than pissing her off, and pushing her away from the group. He doesn’t even think he needs to know what exactly she’s after. Anything has to be better than letting Waldemar Kristiansen run around unchecked, unbalanced. They have to put up a united front, and that means being honest with each other.

Since he was never a part of any of that, he has no idea if it turns out all right. Like Audrey said, he only knows so many facts about the situation. He just has to hope that she listened to him. Telling her that he spoke with the Bridgers was never going to be enough. To be absolutely sure she believed him, he had to reveal that he knows about the secret room, and the secret portrait plan. He couldn’t be cryptic or vague. Now, whether she, Silveon, and Lataran actually listen to his advice is another story.

He returns to his stateroom to mourn the loss of his past self. It’s only hitting him now that he essentially murdered someone. He overwrote someone else’s consciousness. The fact that it was technically him, and not someone else, doesn’t really help. It was still a death, and one that he caused. That version of Oceanus is gone, and he will live with that guilt for a long time. The doorbell rings. He opens it without checking the feed. “Captain, this is unexpected. How did the portrait go?”

“Swimmingly,” Waldemar replies as he’s letting himself in without an invitation.

“How’s your wife?”

“Funny you should ask, because I was about to ask the same thing.”

“Sir?” Oceanus questions.

“I hear you stopped by for a visit.”

“Oh, yes. Briefly. We hadn’t spoken in a while. I just wanted to see how she was. I thought we might grab some tea, but she wasn’t up for it.”

Waldemar nods. “My secret service agents say that it wasn’t all that brief, that you were acting unusual, and that Audrey was rather upset when you left.”

“I’m sorry if she was, but I saw her in high spirits. I assure you, I didn’t hurt her.”

“Why would you even put such a thought into the universe? I didn’t suggest that.”

“I can see that you think something happened which didn’t. Your agents interpreted something that wasn’t there. Please don’t make this a thing.”

“It may be a thing, it might not. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk a scandal. I don’t care about her, but I care about my reputation. You’re endangering that. So you got to go.”

“You can’t kill me. I’m an admiral.”

Walder sports a feigned frown. “Aww, it’s cute that you think that matters. Admirals have never mattered. I never intend to become one. I will be the captain forever. And you’ll be dead. If you don’t fight it, it won’t hurt. You’re old. That’s all they’ll see. I’ll scrub all contradictory records.”

“They will see what you really are. Before you can start getting anything real done, beyond renaming the hock and Chief Medical Officer, they’ll see you.”

“That’s what they all think. Just before I end their life, everyone thinks they know me. But Admiral Jennings, I’m here to tell you...I’m not about to start making real changes. I’ve already begun.” He kills him.

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Extremus: Year 125

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Sable Keen opens Audrey’s eyes. She looks over at the chair next to her and sees Audrey opening Sable’s eyes. It was a success, they’ve managed to switch bodies. Now when Waldemar is standing there in his royal pose, it will be Audrey who is painting his portrait. Sable is slated to stay safe and sound somewhere else, the target being the Captain’s Stateroom, playing the part of the dutiful housewife. It’s not to keep her safe, though. She just doesn’t know how to draw. There are some skills that she can’t pick up from others. She doesn’t understand how it works, and doesn’t have anyone to talk to about it. But this is good. This sort of thing makes life more exciting. If there’s one thing she hates more than anything, it’s boredom. She lives for the drama.

Silveon reaches over and takes Sable by the hand. “Slowly. Slowly now,” he encourages softly as he’s helping her get onto Audrey’s feet.

“You know I’m Sable, right, not your girlfriend? I only look like her right now.”

Silveon looks over at Audrey, who Lataran is helping stand. “We’re not together. You do realize that, right? It’s important you know that we’re not a couple in any way shape or form. We work together because we have the same goals, and know what the stakes are.”

Of course Sable knew that, she’s just gauging their reactions. She always felt the chemistry between the two of them. They’re the same age, and they’ve been through a lot. In a perfect world, they would be together. But she knows enough about what that world looks like to know that Sable is not in it. She would not have been born if they hadn’t come back in time to stop the evil man, Waldemar Kristiansen. That name. It’s like his mother wanted him to grow up to become a villain. The way Sable sees it, Calla brought this on herself; her own death, and everything that has happened since. “I’m just messing with you,” she replies, having spent too much time in her head to respond any other way. This ends the follow-up conversation. “I can do it on my own.” She effortlessly steps over to the mirror and tests out her new look. Audrey has been practicing Sable’s mannerism so she can impersonate her. Sable has not been doing the same. At least that’s what she wants them to think. She has her own agenda.

“You are not to do anything as Audrey,” Lataran warns her. “If Waldemar comes to you, you will do as Audrey would do, and say what she would say, but you are not to interfere with their lives. You’re not there to make changes to their relationship, or try to get him to make certain administrative decisions for the ship, its crew, or passengers...”

“I know, mom. He doesn’t listen to Aud any better than he listens to me. It’s not about me becoming her, it’s about her becoming me. Stop going over it.”

“Okay, okay,” Lataran says in that voice she uses when she remembers that Sable is a big girl now. She was the hardest to convince to help Sable join the fight. She loves Sable too much, which is understandable, but that makes her less pliable. The further removed she is from someone, the easier it is for Sable to control them. Unless they have psychic powers, like Waldemar. That’s the biggest reason why Sable pushed for this assignment, because he’s a challenge. He really doesn’t listen to her. Unlike any rando in the hall whose sandwich she wants, he doesn’t have to comply.

Audrey checks Sable’s watch. “Okay. We cut it close, so I have to run.” They only had a short window to complete the body swapping procedure, but Waldemar is expecting to begin the sitting soon. She steps over and gives Sable a hug. She doesn’t struggle at all. That’s how Sable walks. Without hugging anyone else, she disappears.

“That was weird, don’t you think?” Sable asks Silveon and her mother. “We built in a little time for her to practice in my body. But she’s such a natural.”

“She’s transferred her consciousness before,” Silveon reasons. “It gets easier each time you do it.”

“I bet it does.” She turns around and looks back in the mirror, frowning at the boring clothes that Audrey picked out, probably because she knew Sable would end up in them. “Bye.” She jumps to the stateroom, where she has already stashed her backup watch. She switches them so everyone with the ability to track her location thinks that she’s still here when she’s not. They don’t have authorization to teleport directly inside to check on her, and would have no good reason to give the secret service for ringing the doorbell. She finds something sexier in the closet, then heads out with it.

The three agents guarding the door nod at her respectfully. “First Lady of the Vessel,” they each recite.  Yeah, Waldemar is really leaning into the idea that he’s not a captain, but a president. He sees it as a stepping stone towards becoming a king, and then an emperor. He feels the need to ease the people into accepting more and more of his power over them. He’s correct. If the team weren’t here to stop him, it would work.

She’s been studying the agents, and lucked out today. A few of them have expressed a deeper loyalty to Audrey than to Waldemar himself. They can’t say it out loud, but she sees it in their eyes. This particular guy is in love with her, and would do anything she says. She insisted on going about her business without constant protection, but she can request it anytime she wants. Sable looks the right one in the eyes, doing her best to give him the sense that, in another life, they could be together instead. “I would like an escort today. Only one.” Wait, she needs a cherry on top. “Only you.”

“Very good, Madam.” He’s trying to keep it together. He professionally begins to walk with her down the corridor while the others remain at their post.

“Laventry,” she begins to say once they’re out of earshot of the others.

“You know my name, Madam?” he interrupts. “I mean, I’m sorry, that was rude.”

“It’s okay, Lav.”

His face melts at the sound of the nickname. Perfect.

“Yes, I know your name. Lav, there are secrets on this ship, you know that?”

“I do, Madam.”

“Please. Call me Audrey,” Sable insists. Okay, she can see that that’s too much. He’s still been trained to bow before her and show great deference. “Or not. It’s fine.”

“Thank you, Madam First Lady of the Vessel.”

She laughs. “The secrets. There are places on this ship that not everyone has access to. I need you to take me to one of those places, and I need it to stay between us. Now, I understand that you have sworn and oath to preserve the captain’s chair, but there are things that not even my Waldemar needs to know.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I feel comfortable doing anyth—”

She interrupts him now to say, “you recall my child.”

She thought he was frowning before, but now he really is. “Yes, ma’am.”

“There is a place here where time tech is stored, are you aware of this place?”

“I am, Madam First Lady. It’s the old Temporal Engineering lab.” Waldemar did away with the position of temporal engineer. He doesn’t seem to care about it one way or another on principle, except when it comes to his pursuit of immortality. He shut it down, however, because it threatens his hold over Extremus. It leaves the possibility open for someone to go back in time to stop him from ascending. It didn’t seem to occur to him that it’s already happened.

She stops walking, and tugs at his upper arm. “There is something in there that can let me see my child.” Here it comes, the tears. She didn’t even have to drop a tearitant into her eyes, which is good, because he would have noticed that. “It’s not...real, but I can see what she would have looked like had she grown up. I just want to see, Lav. I want to know what I missed.”

“Yes, ma’am, I can understand that, ma’am.”

“Will you help me? Will you get me into that room, and tell no one else about it? Can I trust you, Lav?”

He stares at her and breathes deeply through his nose. She can hear the desire echoing off the walls of his full heart. “Yes, I will help you...Audrey.”

She smiles and places a hand upon his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers.

He gently takes hold of her hand, palm to back. He pulls it away, and puppets her to wipe the tears from her own cheek.

She smiles wider, and turns away shyly. “Sorry.”

Now he touches her chin, directly with his finger, turning it back towards him. “You can show your true feelings around me. I’m very emotionally intelligent.” The members of the secret police are absolute morons. It’s a wonder they manage to put their own shoes on them in the morning. Some of them probably have help. But the secret service agents? They truly are smart. That’s why she had to pick him carefully. She could not have grabbed any one at random. Anyone else would see right through her manipulation. Anyone would reject her control. It’s only working on him because of his connection to Audrey. If Sable had tried to do this as herself, she would have failed miserably, and it could have gotten her found out. “Let’s go.”

They continue through the ship until reaching the sealed off temporal engineering sector. At the door, he looks at her and chuckles. Then he lifts his hand, and smashes the side of his fist against the security panel, breaking it open.

“Oh. Strong.”

Yeah, he liked hearing that. Centuries of gender equality progress, and men are still driven to impress women with their skills and prowess. They’re all peacocks. He chuckles again as he starts to mess with the wires and miniature power crystals.

This is it. Sable is finally going to get what she needs. She can do a lot with what she has now, but she wants more. She has to have more, and she’s willing to go to great lengths to get it. It was not Waldemar’s idea for her to paint his portrait, or even for her to do it. He definitely thinks it was, which is exactly how it should be. Without being able to control another psychic’s mind, she had to use old fashioned conning techniques, and her feminine wiles. Again, het men are all the same. Does she feel bad about treating people like game pieces? No, because she’s not hurting them. Silveon and Audrey weren’t making any progress without her. They’ve been doing this almost literally their entire lives, and were floundering. They never would have let her help if she just let them make their own choices. People are stupid, prideful, and in these cases, protective. So it took a little coaxing. It’s true, that’s what Waldemar would do in the same position, and she has had to accept their similarities. She is more like him than she is willing to let her family and friends know. To be sure, she wants to stop him from destroying the ship, but he’s not crazy. He has some good ideas. It’s more that the ends don’t justify the means. She has better means. It’s her responsibility to use them, starting with this room.

Laventry cracks it. The door swings open, but it’s nothing but darkness. It’s a totally empty void.

She reaches out. As her hand passes over the threshold, it starts to de-resolve, breaking apart into a million pieces. She pulls it back out, watching her hand gradually reassemble itself.

Laventry is just standing there, still proud of himself.

“Did you see that? Did you see what happened?”

“Seems normal to me,” he replies.

“Stick your hand in there,” she orders.

He does as he’s told. He too watches his hand fall apart, then come back together once she pulls at his arm, and brings him fully back into the rendered environment.

“That doesn’t seem weird to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“God...dammit!” She turns around and lets out an incredibly loud scream as she’s beginning to walk away.

He hops up to her and clutches her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong. I can help. I told you, I have high emotional intelligence.”

She turns back, scowls at him, and screams again. “Argh! Fuck you!” She pushes the NPC by the chest with both hands, right through the world boundary, killing him instantly. She starts to walk again, foaming at the mouth, utterly incensed at her so-called team. How dare they trick her? It’s a violation. What, did they not trust her? Did they know she would do something like this? Do they know she has powers? If they even know a little bit, that could be a massive problem for her. She screams again. She screams, and she screams, and for a moment after that, she yells, but then she goes back to screaming. She’s out of breath and exhausted, but not actually at all. She can’t feel anything. None of this is real, not even her. She hasn’t been walking for the last several minutes. She’s been sitting in a chair, painting Waldemar’s portrait. Audrey has been in the driver’s seat, and never gave up her own body. Why? Why do it like this? Ugh, she’s not gonna find any answers here. And she’s not going to get out of it by screaming.

She closes her eyes and begins to control her breath. The first step to breaking out of a mind prison is understanding the true orientation of your real body. This is virtual reality 101. Everyone learns that in school so they never become too immersed in the games. Normally, that would be pretty easy. She should be lying down at a 45-degree angle, her arms at her sides, or resting on her chest. But Audrey is making that more complicated, so Sable has to find it. She sits down on a cargo crate. She closes her eyes, and starts by guessing. Audrey is probably sitting like this, with her knees tight together, but her feet wide apart, so she can lean over to see her subject past the canvas. Which hand is dominant? She tries both, pantomining holding a brush. It’s up, it’s down a little, it’s up higher. She keeps moving with these microadjustments, lowering her fake heart rate, and keeping herself calm, breathing like a woman in labor.

The brush materializes in her hand. The real environment resolves, and she’s back. She’s in the art studio, sitting behind the easel. The painting has barely been started, and it may never be finished. The plan has changed. She stands and looks at Waldemar. He’s dressed ridiculously, and posed on a holographic mountain, like he’s nearly at the summit. “I’m not finishing this until you divorce your wife.”

He turns his head slightly to look at her, but maintains his pose. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised, or annoyed at her. “Consider it done.”

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Extremus: Year 123

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Waldemar teleports right into the room. He aimed perfectly so he’s standing right before the stasis pod. He looks down at the man inside. It’s unsettling to see this, even though he knows it’s not really him. It’s really about what the future holds, or rather what it might hold. When this mission was being planned over 120 years ago, their ancestors decided to ban most transhumanistic upgrades. That was stupid. It was a total mistake. He can’t go back and change that now, because he would not have been born in such a radically different timeline. He doesn’t really even care whether anyone else lives forever anyway. He only cares about himself, and maybe Audrey and Silveon. And this woman too, because she’s so loyal to him, and she practically begged him to be loyal right back. He will be, as long as she does what she’s told, but if she ever steps out of line, she’ll become one of his enemies. She knows this, and probably won’t do it.

“Oh, sorry,” Sevara says from her bedroom in her bad sexy voice. She’s wearing a silky pink robe, and nothing else. It’s hanging open, and barely showing him the goods, which she knows he likes. She’s such a thirsty bitch. “I was waiting for the doorbell.”

“Is it time?”

“It can be. If we revive him right now, he’ll die in a matter of hours. If we wait another couple of years, he’ll only last minutes. So it’s up to you.”

“Why did you call me then?”

She puts on her pouty face as she’s very slowly walking towards him, lifting her legs high. “I wanted to see you. It’s been so long. You’re always with that little whore.”

“Sable is not a whore,” he spits angrily.

“Sable?” Sevara questions with a tight frown. “Who the hell is Sable? I was talking about your wife. Audrey? Are you stepping out on me?”

“I chose you to torture Pronastus for me,” Waldemar argues. “I reached across time for you. This has never been about sex. You mean nothing to me. Once his torment is over, and he’s dead, I’ll be done with you.”

He forgets sometimes that normal people don’t like to hear the truth. She moves briskly the rest of the way, and backhands him against the chin. She is incredibly strong, so he drops to the floor. By the time he stands back up, she’s hovering her finger over a button. “When you contacted me from the future, I felt honored, but I was alone with this thing for years after I stole it from AI!Elder in the Frontrunner, and I have my own allies. Say one more unkind word to me, and I’ll clutch the son of a bitch. He will be just as young as you are today, and can go right back to impersonating you. We’ll put you in this thing instead so you can see what it feels like. Is that what you want? Do you want to throw everything we had away?”

Waldemar stands and wipes the blood from his lips. “Do you know the problem with walking around with only a sexy robe on?”

“That it’s wasted on a psychopath like you?”

“No, it leaves you unprotected.” He reaches for his sidearm, but succeeds only in palming his own hip. He looks down out of instinct, but he already knows it’s because his gun is no longer there.

Sevara swings her arm out from behind her back, and points his weapon at him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reminds her. “They’re DNA-locked. Only I can fire that.”

She glances down at Waldemar’s clone in the pod, where Pronastus has been going insane for the last 114 years. “I know, dumbass. I have your DNA.” She shoots him in the gut and chest four times.

Waldemar, meanwhile, tips over again, but doesn’t fall to the floor. He’s on a bed, though it is not his own. It’s Silveon’s. He’s the only person he can trust, except for Audrey, but he certainly doesn’t want to bloody up their shared sheets. He’s not very comfortable in this position, and is about to slide off the edge. He pulls his injured body backwards to get more horizontal, then starts to remove his uniform. “Argh! Stupid bitch almost hit my heart! Argh!”

Silveon appears. He’s the only one who Waldemar exempted from the no teleportation rule, as long as he only ever does it where no one is looking. “What are you doing here?”

“I got shot, can’t you see?” He winces in pain. Is this what people feel like when they get overwhelmed by their emotions? Silvy tried to explain it to him once, and likened it to physical pain, but until now, Waldemar had never experienced quite this much pain.

“I can see that. I mean, why aren’t you in the infirmary? I’m not a doctor.”

“No one can know I got shot,” Waldemar argued. “I need you to get me into your parent’s Admiral’s Stateroom. I know you turned it into some kind of shrine, but if you left any surgical instrumentation in there, I need the codes.”

“It’s not a shrine, and there is no medical equipment in there. They took all that back after my parents died, so others could use it. Others...like you. You have privilege. The Chief Medical Officer has to keep your status confidential.”

“Unless my condition threatens the security and continuity of the mission,” he argues. “I need total privacy!” He doesn’t know why he’s yelling. If the locked stateroom doesn’t have what he needs, then it doesn’t have it, and that’s not Silveon’s fault. Waldemar knows that. He’s just in so much pain right now, and can’t think straight. At least one of the bullets is still in there. He can feel it, picking at his insides.

Silveon sighs. “Okay, I’m gonna teleport you somewhere, but it’s probably gonna hurt more than it already does.”

“Just do it!” he commands.

Silveon slides his arms under Waldemar’s back and knees, triggering more screaming. He doesn’t pick him all the way up, he just needs to make enough contact to execute a safe teleportation. They jump to a small room. The lights are only now starting to turn on. They’re entirely alone. Waldemar is lying in a medical pod now. He’s never seen anything like this before in real life, though he recalls studying them in Earthan Developmental History class. His friend is tapping on the interface, starting to run the procedures. “I hope you’re not married to that uniform, because it’s gotta come off.”

Lasers appear from all angles, and begin to burn through Waldemar’s clothes. Claws come out of the walls and pull pieces of the fabric away, stuffing them into a little slot at his feet. He’s fully naked now, and can really see the damage. It’s a huge mess, there’s blood everywhere. It all goes away quickly, though, when more little tools come out and start cleaning him off. What’s left are four little holes which, given the size of a human body, make Waldemar almost feel like it’s not that big of a deal.

Silveon tilts his head at the screen. “It’s detecting that the bullets are ferromagnetic. Most aren’t, but yours are. Did you shoot yourself?”

“Of course not!” He sighs before adding, “but it was my gun.”

“Who shot you?”

“Would you just get them out? Why does it matter?”

“The tool matters,” Silveon explains. A very thin cable with a light on the tip emerges from the wall now, and bobs around like a snake threatening to strike. It dives into one of Waldemar’s wounds, returning rather quickly with one of the bullets stuck to the end. It didn’t even hurt coming out. It’s very precise. It dives in two more times to extract the other two bullets. The fourth must have gone through-and-through. “Ultra-advanced, or advanced?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want the treatment process to be ultra-advanced, or just advanced?”

“What’s the difference?” Waldemar questions.

“They’re both illegal, Silveon begins. “But one involves more probes going in to make repairs, and the other is simply an injection of nanites, which make those same repairs internally, and if necessary, harvest your waste tissue to replicate themselves.”

“How did you find this pod? How do you know about it?”

“Do you want treatment, or not, and if so, what kind?”

Silveon has always had his secrets. Even though Waldemar doesn’t understand emotion, he is a student of behavior. His friend was extremely precocious as a child, which is why they were even capable of getting along despite a significant age gap. Since he’s been so helpful throughout his life, Waldemar generally lets him keep those secrets, but this is a big one. As he said, this technology is illegal on Extremus, and more than enough to put Silveon in hock for the rest of his life. Waldemar doesn’t want that, and won’t let it happen, but he has to give him something. He has to provide answers. First things first, though, he needs treatment. “Let’s split the difference. Let the pod itself fix my outside wounds, but then give me those nanos to finish the job.”

As the glass lid curves around him, more tools come out. One sticks him in the arm, and recedes again. Waldemar begins to feel very hot. Even when cooling nozzles turn the environment into a refrigerator, the instruments are generating more than enough heat to keep him from shivering. He doesn’t know precisely what’s happening inside his body, but he knows that these little machines are doing something.

“The immediate threat will take eleven minutes in your condition,” Silveon tells him through the glass. “As for the deep tissue and muscles, it will take another couple of hours. I know you’re strong, but people will notice if you don’t rest while it’s happening. You just need to be patient. Once they’re done, it will be as if nothing ever happened. Tell me who shot you, so I can remediate the situation out there.”

“I need you,” Waldemar ekes out. Okay, he’s shivering a little now.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Silveon replies, a bit annoyed.

“I mean, I need you to be my personal steward. I should have promoted you a long time ago. No one else has been more helpful. Damn the optics.”

Silveon shakes his head. “We can talk about this later. Who shot you?”

Waldemar smiles. It must come with some kind of pain management drug. “I shot myself. I’m such an idiot.”

He’s irritated. Waldemar recognizes that emotion. “This pod is also a diagnostic tool. It scanned your body, and measured the trajectories. There’s just no way that you shot yourself, unless you have telekinesis, or you can make bullets curve.”

“It doesn’t matter, they won’t get another chance to hurt me.”

“Waldemar,” Silveon warns. “There are other ways to hurt you. Is Audrey safe?”

That’s a good question. “She might not be, but I’m not as worried about her as I am about Sable.”

“Sable? Sable Keen?” he questions. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“She and I have been...” He doesn’t wanna say. Silveon would not approve.

“Jesus. Double-U, she’s 23 years old.”

“Which is an adult,” Waldemar defends. “Don’t tell Aud. She would be devastated.”

“I know. I’ll place them both somewhere safe, but separately. Then we’re having a longer conversation about all of this. Don’t get up. You could do permanent damage to your body if you don’t let it finish the work. You are more than superficially hurt.” Silveon disappears.

The door swings open. “Ugh, I thought he would never leave.” It’s Pronastus. He’s still wearing Waldemar’s clone, but it’s no longer the old version of him. They look virtually identical now. She did it. That bitch Sevara really did it. Now this asshole can go right back to impersonating him. He worked so hard, rebuilding his image, and none of it matters. He made one mean comment to one of his sidepieces, and she completely derailed their plans. Emotions only screw things up. What more proof do you need?

“I should have killed you before. I should have taken the pod from her, hidden you somewhere else to serve out your sentence, and ended it on my terms.”

“That never could have happened,” Pronastus claims. “No paths lead to my death. I will always come back. I will always—” A fist comes out of nowhere, and jacks him in the temple, sending him hard into the floor. He never stands back up.

Sevara chuckles once as she looks down at the guy. Waldemar can see that she’s holding his sidearm loosely towards Pronastus, but he can’t see the man himself from this angle. “Thanks for finding him for me.” She shoots four more times. Waldemar doesn’t hear any coughing or gurgling, so he’s guessing it’s a headshot. She steps over the body, and leans towards the glass to tap on it with her finger. “Hey, there, fishy. Feeling trapped in your little bowl.”

What would Silveon do in this situation? Him, with all his rules about how to behave. He would say something sappy, like forgiveness or compassion. No, that doesn’t sound right. It’s close, but not quite there. Let’s think...right, forgiving her won’t work. She thinks she did nothing wrong. She thinks that Waldemar is the bad guy here, so he needs to let her think that. But how? Again, what would Silveon say? “I’m sorry.”

“What?” She was not prepared for that.

“I am sorry for hurting you. Our relationship means more to me than I was willing to show. I’ve just had to keep people at arm’s length my whole life. You know, because of my mother? She was an abusive drunk.”

“Oh, save it. You don’t have feelings, and you’re terrible at faking them.” She looks over at the control interface. “Let’s see, does this thing have a self-destruct, or can I suck out all the oxygen perhaps? What does this one do?” Music starts playing. “Ah, not that. Oh, whatever, I’ll just shoot you.” She points his gun at him once more.

“Exterior seal complete. Prioritizing internal regeneration,” the pod announces.

“What does that mean?” Sevara questions.

Waldemar pulls the lid open, and grabs her by the neck. “It means you’re dead.”

The fear in her eyes, it’s intoxicating. “I’m sorry for interrupting you earlier. You were in the middle of apologizing?” She gasps for air, but her trachea is being crushed.

“Not anymore. I’m done pretending. The real Waldemar has come out, thanks to you and Prony. Everyone on this ship will get on board with my new rules, or they’ll end up like you both.” He squeezes the life out of her. He forgot how good it feels.

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