The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 17, 2561

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The team spent less than a minute on Ramosus in 2561 before agreeing to jump right to the coordinates of their newest mission. They were on a space station orbiting a star that was 299 light years from the Core Colonies. It would have to be a relatively fresh settlement, being this far out, and so newly reached by the Project Stargate quantum seeder module. This placed it well within the Extended Bubble, which meant it received no protection from Teagarden. Whoever was here would have to claim and defend it on their own, using whatever means they felt necessary. And if that meant violence, that was their choice, and it was looking like the choice that they made.

Team Matic found themselves on some kind of station or ship. There were two separate groups of people, standing opposite each other on either side of the room. They were all completely silent, confused and nervous, likely from having just witnessed seven strangers randomly appear through the technicolor burst of the slingdrive. Leona looked back and forth. “I am Leona Matic from a world known as Ramosus. I’m the captain of an outreach program, attempting to provide volunteer services for worlds that lie outside of Teagarden jurisdiction. How can we help?”

After some more silence, everyone began yelling. They were looking at Leona for the most part, but also at each other. It was completely unintelligible, but it was clear that the two groups weren’t preparing for a set dance. They were at war.

“I’m sorry,” Leona cried. “Did you think I could help you if you talked to me like that? Don’t answer that. Raise your hand if you are a leader of any faction in this room.” She raised her own hand as that applied to her as well. She nodded when two others did the same. “Well, that is much more manageable. You two, step forward, and tell me what the problem is. One at a time.” She pointed. “You first.”

“You’re right, I was first,” the man claimed. “This is our star. They are intruders.”

“We came here fairly, just as you did,” the woman from the other side argued. “It’s not our fault that you failed to lock out the quantum terminal.”

“We did lock it out! You snuck in through a different terminal!”

“Oh, don’t you use that word. There was no sneaking. When we were searching for a destination, we saw your lock, but then we saw another terminal, and thought that maybe the other one was damaged and replaced. We didn’t know you were here!”

“Wait,” Leona interjected. “There are two terminals. Who built the second one?”

“The automators,” the woman answered. “We think that it was damaged en route, so the nearest neighbor sent a replacement, but then somehow, the first one fixed itself, and went back to its implementation procedures. He’s on a moon; we’re on an asteroid. Now we’re both trying to colonize the unaccreted zone.”

Mateo looked through the nearest viewport when a large manmade object appeared. It was an expansive, complex space station. “How long have you been here?”

“Six years,” the man answered. “We just found out about each other two days ago.”

Mateo shook his head. They came here separately, and didn’t know it. It didn’t seem crazy to him that it could have happened in the first place, but that they could have spent quite this much time not realizing that it was happening. Did they not ever detect each other’s radio signals, or did they all stay pure quantum? Those weren’t necessary to answer. The solution was simply, though probably hard on principle. “Space is big; even the space within a single solar system. Have you ever thought about sharing the star?”

They all acted like they hadn’t thought of that before, but now the conversation could begin. The first thing they needed to do, however, was sit down and relax.

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Extremus: Year 135

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Waldemar was different for about a year. At first, Silveon thought that maybe someone had supplanted his mind with their own, or was mind-controlling him. Or that it was just straight up a clone. But his doctor could find absolutely no evidence that he had been tampered with. The doctor used all sorts of lingo that Silveon didn’t understand, but the parts of the brain responsible for things like impulse control and empathy were lighting up, whereas they didn’t do that before. And then suddenly, it was gone again. It wasn’t entirely gone. He did not go back to the way he was before, but Silveon was present for another scan, and the parts of his brain he used during that year have returned to the way they were. It’s sad and frustrating. The hope was fleeting.

Silveon has been trying to figure out a way to get that back, but he still doesn’t understand what happened. He’s going to have to bite the bullet and reach out to Sable. He hasn’t cut her out of his life, but he has kept his distance. As much as she will tolerate. Maybe it’s time for him to try to gather some new allies. They won’t be like the originals, but no one possibly could be. That doesn’t mean they can’t help. She’s powerful, and while she denied being responsible for Waldemar’s change before, maybe she has some new insights. He’s at her cabin now, trying to work up the courage.

Before he can reach up to ring the bell, he suddenly finds himself teleporting to the other side of the door.

Sable is sitting on the couch, dressed in revealing clothing, looking at him with a smirk. She sets her tablet down. “My oh my, Steward. Aren’t we the hesitant one?”

“I didn’t come for whatever you think I’m here for,” Silveon explains.

Sable looks down at her attire like she forgot what she was wearing. “Oh, this? This isn’t for you. This is just comfortable. I change for no man, and I mean that both figuratively and literally. What do you want, Silveon? Help with your boy, the Captain?”

“You said you wanted to help, so here I am, reaching out.”

Sable dismissively picks her tablet back up and starts swiping through it. “That was a long time ago. I’m not sure if I’m interested anymore. You’ll have to convince me.”

“Well, what can I do in service to that?” Silveon asks.

Sable stops a moment and looks back up at him. “You can tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me everything,” Sable says, not really clarifying.

“Everything about what?”

“Everything,” she repeats. “Tell me how you knew Waldemar was going to be captain, and what kind, and what he was going to do. Tell me what you did to stop him, and why you didn’t do a very good job of it. Tell me what my mother knows, what Audrey knew, what your parents knew. Everything means everything..”

He has avoided this conversation so long, but she’s a lot older now, and as he was just contemplating how he needs people on his side, now that he has lost everyone else. So he sits down and takes a breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything. If you use it against me...well...then I guess that’s what happens. I’m an old man now, and I’m tired, and as you pointed out, it didn’t really work. I mean, I think it did a little. Things are better than they were in the previous timeline.”

“The previous timeline?” She was intrigued.

“Yes,” Silveon says. “The reason I knew what Waldemar was going to become was because I already saw it. And I’ve been trying to stop it my whole life.”

Sable curls her legs in and leans towards him. “Finally. Let’s get into it.”

Extremus: Year 134

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The fairytale dream is over. Waldemar no longer feels emotions, but he is not back to his old self either. That experience has changed him, and he’s having mixed feelings about it. No, that’s obviously the wrong way to word it. He’s having contradicting thoughts. On the one hand, it’s familiar, so he’s much more comfortable again. This is how he grew up, and it seems right. It was working before. People weren’t happy, but he didn’t need them to be. Still, it’s not like the end of the year of empathy means that he can revert. He’s now living in a paradox. The logic in how he behaved, and the kinds of decisions he made, are still in his head. They still make a lot of sense. The darkness is fueling his rage, but it’s also...intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to give it up again. Because, now that he has spent time without it, he realizes that that’s what it is. It’s fuel. It makes him feel strong and powerful. There’s that word again, though.

He’s standing in his bathroom now, staring at the mirror. He’s looking at himself in disgust, not because that’s what he’s feeling, but because he knows others would if they knew the truth. He slaps himself in the cheek. “Feel something,” he urges.

He feels nothing.

He slaps himself harder. “Feel something!” he cries.

Nothing.

“Feel something!” he screams at the top of his lungs.

“Stop that,” comes a voice from behind him. “Stop hitting yourself.”

He turns to see his late wife, Audrey Kristiansen. “Where have you been?” He declared her dead, but he never knew what happened. When he didn’t feel anything, he didn’t care, and when he did, he wanted to leave her alone if she wasn’t really dead.

“I like the new place. I would have felt more at home here when I was alive.” During the empathy year, he downgraded himself to smaller quarters to look more like the common man, and he didn’t regret it. It didn’t really matter.

“You know I don’t like to repeat myself,” he told her.

“And you know I don’t like to be ordered around. I’m not one of your crewmembers. I was your wife, and you treated me like shit.”

“You knew who I was when you married me,” he pointed out.

“Yes, I did. That’s why I did it. I took that bullet so no one else would have to. And I died for it. Now you are at a crossroads. You are starting to believe that the only way you can get respect from both sides of the imaginary political line is if you align yourself with a new belle. I’m here to tell you that you don’t. You don’t have to be the ruthless dictator, and you don’t have to be a squirming bleeding heart. You just have to follow logic. And logically, hurting people has never made any sense. Yes, you have a darkness. You can’t ignore it, so I’m not going to try to tell you to. But it doesn’t have to define you. The year that you felt something taught you what others experience all the time. Don’t try to get it back, but don’t let it go either. Learn from it. Be better.” She paused for a moment. “And stop with the self-harm. It makes you look weak.”

“I am not..weak!” he cries, lunging towards her with the anger of a magnetar.

She doesn’t blink. “Prove it. Get out there, and do your job. Lead the people. Don’t tell them what to do. Tell them what needs to be done, so they can decide. If you don’t know what needs to be done, then lean on advisors. That is what they’re there for.”

“You’re not really here. What are you?” Waldemar questions.

“That’s not the question you need to ask yourself, Captain,” she begins. “The question is...who are you?”

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Extremus: Year 133

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It has been months since the paradigm shift, and the Extremus is thriving like it never has before. Waldemar has been living as a completely different person than he was. His ability—or curse, rather—to absorb other people’s psychic darkness is entirely gone. He only trusted one medical professional with this information, and it’s because he had to. She said she doesn’t know what caused it. She doesn’t know if it’s permanent either. They checked the sensors. If anyone did this to him on purpose, they did it remotely, perhaps remotely in time, or in space. He wants to be mad. He wants to call it a violation, but that’s the old him. He doesn’t want to hurt people anymore. He doesn’t want to throw people in the brig. And that is what he’s calling it still. What happened to him, it doesn’t change the fact that the traditional word has always been more logical. It doesn’t change who he is in every single sense. He still holds many of the same beliefs.

Waldemar is not reversing every decision he’s made, but he’s trying to put things right. He’s better—he believes that now—but he doesn’t hate who he once was. He understands it better, and unlike in the beginning, he is no longer actively trying to go backwards. He accepts his new reality, even though it’s scary every day just to wake up.

Some people are upset. They’re not all entirely upset about the decisions themselves, just that they’re reversals. He’s basically putting the ship back to how he found it. No, he’s almost putting it back to the pre-Jennings days, when Tinaya was captain. Oh, Jennings. Waldemar has killed people. Here’s the thing, if was totally cured of his problem, he would confess to his actual, unambiguous crimes, wouldn’t he? But he has no plans to do that. He’s not even telling anyone about them, even though it might be pertinent to his new situation. He used to have a drive to kill—not like some serial killer, but it was always an option if he needed it. Now he doesn’t want it at all. Now he has a strong aversion to it. A part of him regrets those past actions, but he still remembers why he crossed those lines. He was protecting himself, and honestly, the Extremus. What good would it do to throw himself in the brig now, and risk someone even worse than him coming in as a replacement. No. Stay in charge, just do better.

He is no longer trying to figure out what happened to him, or if it can be undone. He mostly fends off his critics. That’s a big downside. He has lost a lot of support, which he’ll need if he decides to move forward with the secret master plan. The people who didn’t like him before were either in the brig or better about hiding. Just because he’s let them out doesn’t mean they’re grateful and happy. And the people who agreed that the old critics should be there are now mad that they’re not. He can’t win; not since he didn’t start out this way. It’s his mother’s fault. She made him this way. If you have a curse, you don’t risk passing it on to a kid. You leave it as it is. That’s really why he killed her, and if he regrets nearly all of his kills, that one will remain an exception. She had to go. She was hopeless. But then again, so was Waldemar, and look how that has turned out. Every once in a while he grows terribly curious about who might be responsible.

Sable may be a good candidate. She’s special. She’s special and powerful. He doesn’t know how, but there’s definitely something different about her. He has a strong memory of killing her too, but then she was totally fine the next day. He wrote it off as only a dream, but what if it wasn’t? What if she has actual temporal powers, and is the one who changed him? Now his curiosity is returning. Should he confront her, or simply continue to accept the gift? He has to be strong. If he starts playing with fire, he will get burned. He doesn’t want to change now anymore than he wanted to change before, even though that change was good. Stay the course. Save lives. Thrive.

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Extremus: Year 132

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Something just woke Waldemar up. He lifts his hand and performs the gesture to raise the lights, thinking there has to be something in the room. There’s not. His heart is racing, which has never happened before. His heart rate has literally never spiked in any situation besides exercise. Was he exercising in his sleep? That’s ridiculous, but possible, right? “Computer, health report.”

“You are experiencing sinus tachycardia, acute diaphoresis, neuromuscular hyperactivity, and an apparent acute stress response.”

“Laymen’s terms, asshole! I’m sorry,” Waldemar says. “That was rude.” Wait, what? That was rude? So what? It’s a computer, it doesn’t matter. Even if it were a real person, it wouldn’t. But...wouldn’t it, though? It seems to have a personality. It may be artificial, but it’s still an intelligence, and it deserves respect. No, why is he worried about this? There is something seriously wrong here. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Elevated heart rate, sweating, shaking, fear,” the computer translated itself. “My initial assessment is that you are experiencing a panic attack.”

“That’s literally impossible,” Waldemar argues. “My brain is not wired to panic, it just isn’t. I don’t understand fear at all. I’ve never worried about things. Check again.”

“From this vantage point, I am unable to measure your neural patterns to make a deeper medical evaluation, but I am not detecting myocardial ischemia, or—”

“That’s enough!” Waldemar orders. He sits on the edge of his bed and massages his face. It’s slick. He has to pick his sheet up and use it as a towel. His mind begins to dwell on everything bad he’s ever done in his life. Everyone he’s sent to hock, ever policy he passed which caused harm to the ship; all for his own self interest. How could he have been that way? None of it makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even want to think about it. The horror—the suffering he caused. He killed people. They weren’t saints, but he didn’t have the right to end them. He doesn’t know what to do now. His body seems to choose for him. He feels more sweat on his face, so he grabs the sheet again and wipes it off. It’s all under his eyes, and just keeps coming. Is there a cluster of sweat glands there? He doesn’t remember that from school. Hold on, it’s not coming from his skin. It’s coming from inside his eyes. Is this crying? Is he crying? That’s impossible too!

The door opens. In walks Silveon. “Captain. Captain, are you okay?”

“How are you here?” Waldemar asks. Definitely crying, he can hear it in his own voice. He’s heard it before from others, and it was always very annoying. “Why?”

“The computer told me something was wrong,” he says. “It thought it was better that I come than a doctor, a therapist, or anyone else. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Feeling?” Waldemar questions. “I don’t have those. I...I don’t know how to articulate it. It’s...heavy? It’s like a darkness over my face. I can’t stop thinking about the people I’ve hurt. Audrey. Audrey’s in my mind, and I can’t get her to go away.”

Silveon nods. “Do you know why you have not been able to feel in the past?”

“I’m psychic,” Waldemar answers. “I can sense everyone’s darkness. But it’s...it’s all jumbled together, so it’s not like I feel their emotions. Am I broken?”

“You’re not broken,” Silveon replies. “I think you’re healed. That kind of psychic power is a curse, not a gift. I don’t know how, but it looks like it’s gone, and the real you can finally come out. You are a deeply thoughtful person. You’re intelligent, and strategic. It’s what makes you a great captain. What you were missing was empathy. You cared what happened to people, but not how they thought about it. Now you do.”

Waldemar stands. “If this is true, then there’s a lot I need to make up for.

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Extremus: Year 131

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Silveon is depressed and missing his best friend. He doesn’t know what Audrey is doing, or even if she’s okay. They can’t communicate. Just opening up the mini-Nexus is a risk. It is the last thing that they want Captain Kristiansen knowing about. He doesn’t regret his decision, breaking her out of hock, and sending her away. It was the right thing to do. It’s still hard, feeling like he’s all alone now. His mother’s gone, his father’s gone, and now Audrey. They knew each other for over a hundred years, and fought side by side for more than half as long. That is what makes it sad, but also what makes it okay. A lot of people don’t get a partner nearly as fulfilling as Audrey. It was great; it’s over now. He has no choice but to move on, and keep himself occupied with the work.

He is still serving as the Captain’s personal steward, though their relationship has transformed into a more professional dynamic, rather than the friendship they started with. Silveon is losing his grip on Waldemar’s ankle, which allows Waldemar to run off and start making his own choices. Looking back, this was inevitable. He’s growing up and growing out of the way he was before. That’s what everyone does, to some degree. Silveon himself is no exception. He doesn’t want to give up, but there was only ever so much he could do. Since they made the conscious decision not to kill him, at some point, they have to accept the cards that they’ve been dealt. The thing about this timeline, as it was in the first one, is that no one man can take control over everything. The reason he was able to garner so much support from the populace was that they gave it to him. That hasn’t changed. He may be lying to them in a way, but they’re choosing to believe it.

If the crew and passengers don’t want things to fall apart, they have to take responsibility over that. This is something that Silveon and Audrey didn’t even think about. They thought it was all on them, but that’s too much pressure. Just contemplating all of this now, Silveon is wondering if sending Aud to go find her own happiness is exactly what he should do too. He has no plans to travel to Verdemus, but does he really need to be a steward, or Waldemar’s steward? Has he not done enough, in all this time? He’s so exhausted. A part of him thinks that anyone else would have walked away by now. Again, it was never all on them. There was another possible way to tackle this problem, by formulating a resistance early on, and being truthfully vocal about Waldemar’s destiny. They elected not to do it that way, and the opportunity has passed him by now, but it would have been a hell of a lot less work, in the end.

“Hey.” It’s Sable. They can’t trust her anymore. Or rather, he should say that he can’t, because now there’s no one left. Lataran is old, and like his parents before, genuinely does need to be able to take a step back. Sable is just weird, and she has her own agenda. “I just wanted to check on you. It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken.”

“Nothing to speak about,” he replies. He didn’t tell her where Audrey was. He opted to not even come up with a cover story. She just disappeared, and it’s an unsolved mystery. Waldemar came up with his own cover about her wanting to step out of the spotlight, so to anyone else on Extremus thinking about it, she’s somewhere around here at all times, just not where any given person happens to be looking at the moment.

She sighs. “I know that you and I were never really close, and we’ve lost a lot of trust, but I’m still on your side. I hope you know that. And to prove it, I’ll show you what I’ve been working on.” She acts like she’s going to access an auxiliary interface, but suddenly pulls a gun out of her pocket and shoots Silveon on the right side of his chest.

As he’s bleeding out, he sees Sable split in two. One version of her lifts her hands up, and gradually pulls them towards her shoulders. The bullet flies out of Silveon’s chest, and back into the gun as the wound seals itself up. The two versions of her then remerge into one. She has just somehow reversed time, and also entropy. He still remembers the pain, though. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I couldn’t always,” Sable explains. “It’s not all I can do either. The rest of your support system is gone. Not only do I know that you sent Audrey to Verdemus, but I also know that she’s dead. I can take you to the funeral without anyone knowing. We can walk right up there, and then basically trim that whole span of time out of the ship’s collective knowledge, replacing it with something more mundane. But you have to trust me, and you have to let me in. This is the last time I ask you. I will never be on Waldemar’s side, but if you don’t agree to me being your new partner right now, I won’t be on yours anymore either. I am sorry it had to come to this.”

Silveon looks at her for a moment while he massages his chest. “Fine.”

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Extremus: Year 129

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Audrey Husk is sitting in hock. Yes, that’s right, that’s what she’s calling it. That’s what everyone calls it. No one uses the new terminology that Waldemar instituted, except to his face. It’s a new problem in this timeline. He didn’t do that before, because he didn’t have anyone trying to steer him in a different direction. The language policing was a way to exert his control when more destructive ways were off limits to him. Those barriers are breaking down, though. Audrey and Silveon’s hold over him has been slowly eroding, and his true nature is coming out. They didn’t want to believe it. They wanted to believe that anyone could be a positively contributing member of society, no matter their brain chemistry. But she is beginning to doubt that. She has to, because if she maintains her philosophy of seeing the good in everyone then it means the reason their plan didn’t work was either because they had a bad plan, or they didn’t execute it well.

Either way, it’s over now. She’s done fighting. Or rather, she’s done not fighting, because this subtle psychic driving bullshit is not working. Out of all the contingencies they came up with, none of them involved being an outspoken detractor or enemy. They thought he needed to be finessed. But that just encourages him. Everything they’ve done has encouraged him. She’s glad she’s in here now. It has given her multiple chances to give him a piece of her mind without fear of repercussions. She’s already at the lowest point in her life. The only place to go from here, other than up, is death. She doesn’t welcome it, but at least she won’t actually die. She’ll spend some time in the buffer, then she’ll answer yes to the question, and wait on ice for ninety to a hundred years. When she gets back, Waldemar’s reign will be over. He may have revived too by then, but he will have gone down in history as a terrible captain, so she won’t be alone anymore. That’s the future she wants to see. She might prefer it. She may go that route anyway.

 Silveon walks casually into her cell like he’s just come home from work.

“What are you doing here?” Audrey questions. “You are going to get caught.”

“Master codes, remember?” Silveon reminds her. “I didn’t only unlock the doors. I also took care of the security system.” He holds his hand out towards her.

“What are you doing? What is that? You want me to go with you? Where would we go? We’re on a ship, there is no escape. That’s why I didn’t use the master codes to break out last year. You think I didn’t memorize what I needed just in case?”

“I think you told me you had a plan, and I’ve been waiting for you to fulfill it, but you’ve not done a single thing, so now we’re doing it my way. Let’s go,” he insists.

Audrey shakes her head, and turns her body away from his offering hand. “No. I have been moving forward with my plan. I’ve been arguing with Waldemar. I don’t mean I’ve been trying to get him to see the light. I’ve been calling him an asshole, and a tyrant, and really letting him have it. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about you, or say anything about the future. I just acted like a bitter ex-wife, which is basically what I am.”

“Aud. You’re going to die in here. You’re going to die in hock, and there was another way. Let me send you to Verdemus. He will never find out. You can even—”

“Don’t say it.” Audrey closes her eyes and breathes. “Don’t...don’t even say her name. She is being cared for, and I can’t leave. Please respect my wishes.”

Silveon agrees and leaves, but then he comes back when she’s sleeping, knocks her out with a drug, and drags her to the mini-Nexus in Admiral Hall. She will never forgive him for this violation.

She wakes up on the green grass outside. Green!Audrey is the one who helps her wake up. “Welcome home. Would you like to meet your daughter, Silvia?”

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Extremus: Year 128

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It’s midnight on April 8, 2397. Waldemar and Audrey are trying to sleep when his doorbell rings with a level two urgency pulse. He sits up, and tells the AI to open the door, and send whoever it is into their bedroom. The secret service agent comes in while Waldemar is rubbing the sand out of his face to inform him that they encountered four intruders. “Intruders where?”

“The gym locker room.”

Waldemar yawns, annoyed. “You woke me up for that? If they’re not authorized, put ‘em in the brig, and leave me out of it. If they are, then leave ‘em alone.”

“It’s not that, sir. They’re not authorized anywhere. They’re...” The agent hesitates.

“Just say it.”

“They’re Team Matic. We don’t know how they got on the ship in the first place.”

That wakes Waldemar up all the way. He stands and steps into his integrated multipurpose suit. “I want this whole ship on lockdown. Block teleportation. I don’t just mean switch off the relays. Suppress all teleportation everywhere. I should not even be able to teleport, you understand? We can’t let them go anywhere. Where are they now?’

The agent nods at his subordinate to complete the order. “They’re in a private brig. Do you want to speak with them personally?”

“Yes,” Waldemar answers. “But you stay here, protect my wife. Audrey, you can’t go anywhere today. I know you had that art show with Sable, but it’s off the table.”

“I understand,” Audrey agrees.

The Captain leaves his room, and assigns five more men to it. He walks down the corridors manually, and takes the lift down to the private brig. It wasn’t in the original design. This used to be a game room for children. Now he uses it to interrogate prisoners without being pestered by the Hock Watcher, or anyone else. Only his secret police and secret service agents know of it.

There they are. It’s Mateo, Leona, Ramses, and one of the twin girls. Where’s the other one, and also Olimpia? He smiles, pleased with his catch. This is a big get for him. They’re a huge deal in the galaxy, past and present. Word is they were there when the idea of the Extremus mission was first being devised, and may have had a hand in proposing a few key concepts. Their faces are impossible to read. They don’t look nervous or upset. In their shoes, he would be angry. No, he would be absolutely livid. The truth is, he has respect for these people. They’re renegades. They have no authority whatsoever, but that doesn’t stop them from going wherever they want, and fucking shit up. He can’t have it on his ship, of course. His people were right to bring them here. Famous or not, they’re stowaways, so they go in the brig. Extremus has no laws allowing for exile or deportation, so it’s not like he has any choice. If they didn’t want to be trapped here, they should have stayed home. No one forced them to come here.

Leona stands up. “You must be the Captain. So am I. Leona Matic.” She lifts her hand, but makes no attempt to stick it through the bars. “Let’s pretend to shake hands.”

Interesting tactic. She recognizes his power, but also his prudence. He would never make physical contact, so this is a reasonable approximating gesture. He obliges, holding his own hand out, and shaking the air at the same time she does. “Captain Waldemar of Extremus Transgalactic Hero Ship, Eighth of Eleven.”

“They each had one of these around their wrists,” one of his newer officers says. He’s holding a wristband of foreign design. It’s white, and less flexible than the ones they use here. And it could be the most dangerous thing he’s ever seen.

Waldemar is instantly furious. “Are you serious? We don’t know what kind of proximity power they have over those things. Get the hell out of here with it. Get out! Get out! Take it to evidence!”

The young man runs out in terrible fear.

Waldemar looks at one of his more seasoned officers. “Follow him up there, and then kill him. I can’t have such profound incompetence on my team.”

“Belay that order, soldier,” Leona demands.

It’s surprising, but what’s even more surprising is that the officer actually does stop moving. “What the hell was that? You don’t listen to her, you listen to me. Go do what I said.”

“Stay here!” Leona insisted.

“Am I on crazy pills? Why is he listening to you?” Waldemar questions

Leona wraps her fingers around the bars, totally unfazed by the deterrence burning. “Because you, sir, are fleeting. You are the big fish in the small pond. I am the one who dug and filled the pond, and he knows it. He needs to be in your graces to live on this ship on this day, but he needs to be in mine if he wants to live anywhere else.”

“He doesn’t need to live anywhere else,” Waldemar reasons. “This is it for him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Leona poses. “Can you see the future? When we show up, changes are made, and he is scared to death...just as you are. Matt.”

Mateo Matic pushes off of the back wall, and bashes his whole body against the cell door. It breaks open. He stumbles over the twisted metal, but doesn’t fall down.

“Shoot him,” Waldemar orders.

The nearest officer still doesn’t budge, but the other two guards fire their weapons at Mateo. The bullets don’t break skin, so they stop. It looks like they hurt a little bit, but aren’t capable of doing serious damage, so he doesn’t ask for round two.

Leona goes on, “we are not here to change things. We’re only passing through. All you have to do is let us keep moving along. No one else will know we were here.”

He is losing the upper hand here, which he cannot abide. Time to take control. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let all four of you go right now, but after you leave, I’m killing everyone who was made aware of your arrival, even if they never saw you with their own two eyes. Are you prepared to live with that guilt?”

She doesn’t say anything.

Waldemar chuckles and nods. “Ah, you’re realizing that your influence only extends as long as you’re actually here. Once you leave, I don’t have to do anything in particular, even if I agreed to it.” He switches his gaze to Mateo. “Now get back in your cage, dog.”

“Don’t kill anyone,” Leona practically begs. “Just teach them to do better. It’s much easier than constantly having to replace people, and breeds a higher level of trust.”

“I know it will only be a few days for you,” Waldemar begins, “but based on your outburst and rapid escalation, I’m guessing whatever you’re dealing with his quite time-sensitive. So how about I leave you here for a few decades, and we’ll see what we see. Okay? Great.” He walks out of the holding area.

“Sir, I want to apologize. I wasn’t following her orders, I was just temporarily confused. She must be a witch. You know they have powers in their biology.”

Waldemar smiles. “It’s okay officer. I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to kill the one with the wristband either. It was only a showing of strength.”

“Okay. Thank you, sir. It will never happen again.”

“Of course not.” Waldemar stops smiling. “Strip ‘im.”

The other guards disarm him, and start pulling off his armor and outer layers. They leave him inside the holding area, and close the second stage security gate. “Whatever your name is, you’re done. I won’t kill you, but this is where you’ll die. The only prisoners we have in here are supermen who only exist one day out of the year. If we don’t return for another 365 days, they will not have even come close to starving to death. But you will.” He walks out of the private brig, along with his true loyalists. “Seal it up. Pour concrete if you have to. No one in or out.”

“Wait!” he can hear the disgraced officer screaming. “Give me another chance! I’ll do whatever your want! I’ll kill the idiot! Please!”

No, this is something Waldemar is just going to do himself. That way he knows it will get done. He goes up to the evidence room, but doesn’t find the guy. He doesn’t find the wristbands either, but that might not be so surprising. The organization in there is utterly atrocious. Who does he have to blame for that failure in competence? He’ll deal with them later. The real problem is the missing people. For the next week, he sends his men to tear the ship apart, but the wristband dumbass is nowhere to be found. It’s a ship, there’s nowhere to go. Or rather, there shouldn’t be.

Wondering how far this conspiracy runs, he marches back down to the private brig to visit the officer he left in there early, expecting to find him weak, but still alive. He too is gone. No signs of forced entry. Teleportation has still been entirely suppressed, even for the exceptions, like himself and the people he trusts most. He orders a thorough investigation, but wonders if the investigators can be trusted. Can he trust anyone at all? Is trying to run this ship with any semblance of patience and compassion worth all the uncertainty, and the medicine he has to take for the headaches?

It’s like one of those old Earthan crime shows that Silveon likes to watch. All the security footage has been expertly scrubbed or doctored, but there is one small omission. In the reflection of an airlock window, there is one clear enough still, showing the dipshit walking next to someone who appears to be helping him evade capture. Waldemar can’t believe his eyes. He has known her since childhood, and she would betray him like this? There must be a good reason.

“There is,” Audrey confirms. “He didn’t deserve to die for one mistake. So I saved him. I would do it again.”

“And the other officer?” Waldemar presses. The one I left in the private brig? Did you break him out too?”

“No comment,” Audrey replies stoically. She doesn’t sound or look remorseful. Granted, he has trouble reading people’s emotions, but it really looks like she doesn’t regret a single thing.

He can’t kill her. This is his wife. It’s his goddamn wife! But he can’t let her run free either. As scandalous as it is, he has to do the right thing, and treat her as he would any other criminal. “Put her in the brig.’

“For how long, sir?” his agent asks.

“Indefinitely.”

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Extremus: Year 127

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Things were weird on the ship after the announcement came through that Admiral Oceanus Jennings was dead. People seemed to be alarmed and upset by the news. They would say things like he was too young, and that it wasn’t his time. Waldemar’s advisors explained the morale was down as a result of the sad development. Morale? Morale? Because somebody died? He was an old man, he wasn’t gonna live forever anyway. Waldemar will never understand this relentless pursuit of the past. It happened, get over it. You’re still alive, so don’t stop now. There’s more work to do. It’s been two years now, and things have not improved much. If Waldemar knew how the passengers, and especially the crew, would react, he never would have done it. Who knew that killing someone would have consequences? They didn’t teach that in school. They just said that murder was bad, and assumed everyone would understand and agree. He’s been smart, though. He hasn’t been contradicting them. Taking Silveon’s general life advice, he has been letting people feel what they feel. It’s been getting in the way of his plans, though. Extremus is in a slump.

Everyone is afraid of change. It is a core property of humans, actually, and all life. Sure, evolution necessarily leads to change, but everything is in search of equilibrium. Everything wants to find a way to live where they can be centered and happy. Change isn’t only scary, it requires high cognitive load, and the formation of new muscle memory. So in the end, it’s not as much about the fear of the unknown as it’s about laziness. Change requires putting in effort; mentally, physically, emotionally. Waldemar is probably no different than most people, except for the emotional side of things. He doesn’t want to work too hard. So why is all this change that he is trying to institute not a problem for him in particular? Well, it’s because his mental state is already there. He sees what the world should be, so his brain wants to do work. Even when it was originally working through the problems, though, it wasn’t too taxing, because it felt right. That’s the equilibrium that his mind is searching for. Change is the goal. That’s what his therapist-in-a-box says anyway. He’s been relying on her a lot these days.

“Why do you think that is?” Dr. Wholth asks in that soft voice of hers, which is likely meant to keep her patients calm.

“Why am I relying on you so much?” Waldemar guesses. “You’re the only person I can talk to who can’t get upset about the terrible things I’ve done, and can’t rat me out to anyone about them.”

Dr. Wholth is an airgapped program, loaded into a self-contained device, powered by interchangeable fuel cells. She has no access to the internet, and no one else has access to her. They don’t even know about her. He created her himself. He took the base personality of the ship’s freely available virtual companion, and copied it onto this offline machine. He then fed it all of the psychological, psychiatric, and therapeutic information he could find. She even knows a little bit of medicine, though she wouldn’t be able to do anything to help physically since she’s only a hologram. “You don’t think you can trust Silveon or Audrey anymore? You used to lo— be quite attached to them.” He didn’t program her to make little mistakes like that. As he is not a tech developer, he can’t figure out how to remove it from her core code.

“To be honest, I’m getting rather tired of them. I used to crave stability and predictability, but now I just want a fresh start. I want new people. I think I needed them before. I don’t think that I’ve learned I never needed them. I think I genuinely changed. I’m proof that it can happen.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” she says encouragingly. “You’re getting better at understanding your own behavior, and feeling less robotic; your words.”

He laughs. She is always acting like she can offend him, but she really can’t. He knows that she’s just zeroes and ones. She sometimes acts afraid too, like when he talks about the people he’s killed. She seems worried that he will do the same to her. Which he might. He shuts her off every time he’s done using her, and her consciousness does not continue until he switches her back on. He could one day choose to never complete that second step ever again. He could open the device up, and break all of her circuits apart. He sometimes considers that, just so he can end a life without any risk of consequences. He wouldn’t even need to contact his secret police for help covering it up.

“What are you thinking about, Waldemar? You’ve been quiet for the last couple of minutes,” Dr. Wholth says.

He wants to get a reaction, so he tells her the truth about his most recent thoughts.

Dr. Wholth nods. “Then perhaps that’s what we should do.”

“You want me to break your logic board?” Waldemar questions.

“No. I want you to find a healthy way to explore your urges and compulsions. You told me about your virtual honeymoon, and you told me about the game that you invented, but it doesn’t sound like you use such technology regularly.”

“Well, there’s nothing to do in VR,” he starts to explain. “Nothing is real. Even if you’re presented with problems to fix, the best solution to every single one of them is to simply log off. So I just don’t see the purpose.”

She sets her pencil and paper down, showing more of the lingerie she’s wearing. He just feels more comfortable talking to people like this, whether they’re real or not. He thinks it’s because she looks more vulnerable, and less of a threat to him. “People tend to require more than what is immediately around them. Have you ever heard of deep space hermits?” She poses.

“Yeah, they’re the guys who hollow out an asteroid, and just live alone for centuries. Doesn’t sound so bad. If I had no ambition...”

“If all they wanted to do was survive, they could live for millions of years off of that one asteroid. They would have a bed if they were still organic enough to sleep. They would have food, water, basic life support. They could recycle their waste, and never need anything else. Their habitat could be the size of your water closet. But what kind of life is that? It’s worse than a simulation, because there’s not even the illusion of something happening. They always have VR, AR, and-or larger infrastructure to provide them with stimuli. It may sound like they went out there to be alone, but they instead go out to be in control. Your problem, Captain Kristiansen is you don’t have very much control. Sure, you’re in charge, but you rely on others to make things happen. You need them to make their own decisions, or things will fall apart. You can’t handle it all on your own, and I don’t think you would want to. But if you really want to feel in control, you need to construct your own world to inhabit. You won’t live there permanently, but it might be a nice escape. You’re still human, Captain. Your brain is wired differently, but you share a lot of traits with others. I think you get so wrapped up in what sets you apart that you miss the similarities.”

“Well, the program would have to be isolated, like you. I wouldn’t feel free if other users can show up, and see what I’m doing.”

“That goes without saying,” Dr. Wholth says. “I could help you write the program, so we don’t have to involve anyone else. There’s more than enough extra room on my data drives for a single, original environment. We could even hold sessions in there. I know you sweep this room for bugs every day. Those wouldn’t matter in the construct. It would all be in your head...and mine, so to speak.”

“I could hurt people in a judgment free zone? I could make any choice I wanted.”

“Exactly,” Dr. Wholth confirmed. “I said I could be there, but it doesn’t have to be in my capacity as a therapist, or not every time. I have other characteristics. I could be your friend, your lover, even your enemy. You explore parts of yourself that you can’t in the real world, and when you log out, you go back to your regular life. All of that pent up aggression has been released, and no one has to see it. No one has to know. I think it would make you a better captain. I think it would make you a better leader. If you want to raise morale, it starts at the top. When you’re stressed out, so is everyone else. You need to show them what happiness looks like.”

“I don’t really do happiness,” he reminds her.

“No, that’s not true,” she claims, shaking her head. “You can be happy. It’s a common misconception that people with personality disorders don’t have emotions. You absolutely do. You just need to learn better what they look like on the outside. You’ve been doing a great job. Silveon helped you, Audrey helped, even Sable helped with that. And of course I have. But there’s something else in the background that’s holding you back from greatness. Let the simulations pull that off of you, so you can become your best self. I’m not trying to change you into someone else, just the better you.”

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” Waldemar decides. “I’m in. We won’t start today, though. Go back in your little box so I can get back to work. We’ll talk later.”

“Yes, sir, Captain, sir,” she says respectfully before flickering off.

“Ugh, I thought she would never leave.” Sable appears from the bathroom.

Waldemar jumps to his feet. “How long have you been there?”

She smirks. “Long enough to know that VR isn’t going to help. You’re too smart. You’ll always know it’s not real.” She approaches slowly, almost sexily.

“I don’t know what you think you heard...” he begins to argue.

“Shh.” She places a finger upon his lips. “Relax. You think I didn’t know what you were when I met you?” She grabs his arm muscles. “A big strong man like you runs on pure testosterone.” She growls.

“What do you want, Sable?” They’ve not slept together in the last few weeks. He just kind of got tired of that too.

“Kill me,” she offers. “You want to feel something real? Kill me. I can take it.” What the hell does that mean, she can take it?

“I’m not going to do that.” He might have to, though.

Sable giggles. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll go make an announcement over the PA system, telling everyone what you really are.”

Okay. Now he does have to stop her. But he’ll just put her in his private brig until he can figure out what to do with her. He takes her by the wrist so she can’t teleport away. She spins around as she’s pulling a pocketknife out of her pants, and jams it into his leg. She giggles again. So he does what she asks, and kills her. Dr. Wholth might have been wrong. Even this has lost its charm. He may be getting tired of hurting people too.

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Extremus: Year 124

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Waldemar was being dramatic last year when he promised Sevara that he would make big changes to the ship. He is smart enough to know that jumping right into his endgame will get him kicked out of the captain’s chair. He can’t let that happen, not in his first term. Yeah, he’s calling them terms. It never made any sense to say that they were shifts. A shift is something you do for a matter of hours at a time, not the entirety of your role. It’s little things like that that he’s changing first. They’re also officially calling the place you go when you’ve been bad the brig, because that’s what it’s called! It’s been filling up. Some people think it’s wrong, but for too long, the passengers have been getting away with doing whatever they want, and that stops now. There are cells here. There are so many cells in the brig on this ship. The ancestors obviously anticipated more crime. The fact that they mostly stand empty is a point of pride among most, but from Waldemar’s point of view, it just looks like the bar has been set too low.

Silveon has become Waldemar’s personal steward, which should have been the case from day one. He doesn’t care if it looks like he’s playing favorites. That’s the whole point of being in power. Cronyism is supposed to be a dirty word, but it is a well-trusted Earthan tradition. If you’re loyal, you’ll be rewarded. Anyone who thinks that disloyal people should be rewarded instead—based on this stupid concept called merit—is an idiot. Loyalty is everything, and it’s time they recognize that. Not everyone agrees. Silveon doesn’t. Which is ironic, but that’s okay. Waldemar isn’t a crazy person, who thinks that no one else should have their own opinion. Silveon’s perspective is not only not a problem, but actively helping. He doesn’t just want to be surrounded by sycophants. He needs to understand the other side of these issues, so he knows how the people will react to his changes...so he knows how to fight against them. Silveon is the most important person in his career, but not in his life. For that, he needs another.

Waldemar and Sable have grown closer and closer by the week. It started out as only sex, but he’s starting to feel real feelings for her. At first, he denied them, because he doesn’t have those, but maybe he was wrong about that. Most of how he understands his own psychology comes from his mother. Even though he hated her, and she’s gone now, it’s not like those lessons went away. She raised him using a certain—evil—method, based on what she thought he was, from his birth. How does he let go of the damage she’s done? Well, being with Sable helps. They’re lying in bed now. He’s idly running his fingers through her hair. It doesn’t even feel like he’s putting in any effort. His hand has become a perpetual motion machine. They are one.

She’s looking at his chest. “You were shot.”

“What?” The wounds completely healed a long time ago. He didn’t even suffer permanent internal injury. She shouldn’t know anything about it, unless Silveon told her, or Sevara before she met her quite timely death. “What are you talking about?”

She props herself up by one hand, and looks down at him with a kind sadness. With her free hand, she places her finger where one of the bullets went in. “Number one.” She moves on to the others. “Number two, number three, number four...A.” She reaches under his back. “Number four B.”

She knows too much. Lying about it now will only serve to ruin the special thing they have together. So he might as well acknowledge that she’s right. “How do you know about those? Did Silvy say something?”

Sable makes a face. He may not see emotions, but he understands confusion. “Who? Your steward?”

“Yes, and your mother’s late friend’s son.”

“He and I are not friends. We see each other occasionally when mom invites him over for a meal. No, he didn’t randomly tell me about how you got shot four times.”

“I thought maybe there was a chance that you and he were...”

“No!” she argues. “I’m with you. Only you.”

“It would be okay if you weren’t. You know that Audrey and I are still active. She doesn’t know about us, and I still love her. I’ve been honest about that, and I’ve never told you that you couldn’t have a life outside of this room.” This is a special room. When you’re captain, you can take whatever you need for whatever you need it for. This is only for the two of them. It’s located in an otherwise not-yet-populated sector of Extremus. They don’t even have to walk here. He granted her teleportation privileges for this reason. He doesn’t think she uses it for much else.

She gets on top of him again, and kisses him passionately. “I’m only here for you. I don’t have a problem with you going home to Audrey. I don’t mind sharing.” She kisses him again. She smiles like a villain. “In fact, I get off on the thrill.”

They’re not going to have sex again. He only has so much sexual stamina at this age. Waldemar hasn’t figured out how he’s going to convince the ship to become immortal. It goes against everything everyone believes in. There’s a big difference between conforming the crew’s job titles to a more cohesive convention, and completely dismantling generational indoctrination. Speaking of which, he has to get back to the grind. He is more free to have a personal life than past captains, but that’s because he’s so efficient. He’s had to fire people, but now he can delegate work to others, confident that they’ll get it done, or else. Still, it’s not like he doesn’t have anything to do himself. At the very least, he needs to be seen to maintain his control. “I wish this didn’t have to end, but—”

“But you’re trying to save our people from themselves. I get it.” One more peck on the lips, no tongue. “Get back to the grind.” She hops off of him, and heads for the head to brush her teeth, and then shower. That word. He used it in his own thoughts. It’s weird that she came up with the same one. It’s not entirely crazy. It fits the situation, and he’s probably said it before. That’s why they’re so perfect together, because she knows him so well. Then again, she knows about the bullets...

Waldemar begins to gather his clothes. “Think about what I asked you earlier.” He blows a final kiss to her.

She catches it. “‘Kay.”

He disappears.

Sable typically prefers to take a traditional shower with real water, instead of just a sonic misting, but she doesn’t have time. She usually doesn’t anymore. Ever since Silveon took a job working with the captain, they don’t have a ton of time to talk. Each time Waldemar leaves Sable, it means that he’ll be expecting Silveon to return to his side rather quickly. There’s a very short window here. She jumps straight to his office.

Silveon shoots up from his chair. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, why? Why would you think he hurt me?”

“Well, you’re practically naked.”

She looks down at herself. “Yeah, I’m in a hurry. You don’t mind, do you?”

“It just looks bad, okay? If you were violated, this is exactly how you would show up. I’ve told you before, I’ll—”

“Oh my God, I just told you I was in a hurry! Stop talking.” She knows what he’s gonna say anyway. She can back out of this assignment at any time. If she doesn’t feel safe, they can relocate her to Verdemus. It’s fine, she doesn’t need this. If Waldemar were gross, it might be harder, but she does technically enjoy being with him physically, which makes faking the love part easier.

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“He wants me to paint him. He wants me to sit there behind an easel, and paint him while he poses, like the ancients did.”

“Oh, he told me about that. He’s going to hang it above the fireplace in his office.”

She stares at him blankly. “He has a fireplace?”

“He does now. He had the synthwrights install it. It vents to the fusion torches.”

“It’s a working fireplace?” She shakes it off. “Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me he was going to ask me this?”

“I didn’t know he would ask you. He said he wanted a portrait. I thought he meant a blown-up photo, not an oil painting, or whatever.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I’m not actually good at drawing. The album I carry around isn’t actually mine?”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” Silveon retorts. “It’s not like I’m the one who gets you those pictures from the real artist.”

“What are we going to do about it?” she questions. “Are you going to teleport in while he’s mid-blink, and switch it?”

“I don’t know what we’ll do, but we will figure this out. If he asked you, he’s not going to ask anyone else. You have to say yes...unless, of course...”

“I’m not quitting!” she snaps back. “Stop suggesting that. I’m not a little baby.”

“I’m sorry, it’s hard not to see you as young. I was there when you were born, and even back then, I was an old man.”

She didn’t know about that. “Gross. You saw my mom’s wrinkly old vagina?”

Silveon looks away in disgust. “Jesus, no! I didn’t mean I was in the room! Why is he so obsessed with you? You’re kind of an asshole.”

Yeah, he likes assholes. “I think you just answered your own question.”

“That’s not how Audrey is. She’s nice.”

“Yeah, and he’s cheating on her, with me. So...”

“Good point.” He checks his watch. “I should probably get back to the bridge. We’ll talk more about the portrait. We’ll freeze time, or you’ll tell him you prefer to draw from photos.”

“That won’t work, he’s already said he doesn’t want to do that, because that’s not what kings did in the past. But okay. Thank you, I just wanted you to start thinking about it. It’s not urgent. I’m sorry that you had to see me in my bra.”

“It’s fine,” he promises in the most professional way possible.

“Oh, really?” she teases.

“Just get out before he shows up. He usually calls first, but we can’t be sure.”

“See ya later, Uncle Sil.” She disappears.

To get ahead of it, Silveon calls Waldemar instead. “Need anything, Cap?”

“Nah,  just the usual,” Waldemar replies. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Silveon knows that he means the opposite of what he’s saying. Waldemar is calling a meeting with his secret police, and knows that Silveon wouldn’t approve, so he keeps him out of it. It’s annoying, but also an impossible situation. He can’t just tell Waldemar to disband the force. Their relationship has never worked like that. He’s never been able to tackle it so bluntly. It takes finesse. “Okay, thanks. You’re a good boss. You’ve gotten better at knowing what others deserve.” That’s not wholly relevant to the secret police problem, but it will hopefully help in a more general sense.

“I agree.”

Silveon shoots a quick message to his contact in the police. She thinks that the information she’s providing Silveon is helping to keep Waldemar safe. His reasoning is that if it’s leaking to Silveon, it’s less likely to leak to someone else. That’s kind of ridiculous, but Waldemar didn’t hire the best and brightest for the job. He hired followers. She knows that Silveon is smarter, so his plan must make sense. Silveon sends another message, then immediately teleports to the rendezvous point.

Audrey is somehow already there. “It took you long enough.”

“How did you beat me?” he questions. “I hit send just before my jump.”

She holds up her watch. “New model. It sends you backwards in time, just a little bit; not enough to make any meaningful changes. It only works at long enough distances, so you can’t interfere with your own past self.”

“That’s time travel, it’s illegal.”

“Oh, and we wouldn’t want to break the law, would we?” she jokes. “Anyway, what do you have for me?”

Silveon tells her about the painting problem. “Can it be done?”

She massages the back of her neck. “Well, I know of one way, but it’s risky. I think you might like it, though, because it takes Sable out of the equation entirely.”

“How would that work?” he presses.

“I would just dress up like her, and wear a hologram. We’re about the same size.”

Silveon thinks through it a little. “You’re right, that is risky. We would need an uninterruptible power source, and you would have to learn her mannerisms. Waldemar doesn’t recognize people that well. He’s learned to tune to things that others don’t notice, like gait and chin tilts.”

“I think I can figure that out. I know Sable. I know how she moves. I’ve obviously never tried to impersonate her before, but I have time to practice, don’t I?”

“Yes, you’ll have some time, but you should get started.”

“Will do, boss.”

He shakes his head, unable to hide his smile. Everyone’s giving him attitude today. “How are you doing? Any domestic issues?”

“Nope. We still have sex. The guy’s insatiable, but I don’t mind.”

“All right. You know your options, so I won’t bother repeating them. I’ll leave you to it.” He disappears.

Audrey teleports to Sable. “Don’t you worry. I always knew he might ask to watch you, and I’m locked and loaded with an idea. I just need to watch you walk and eat.”

“What? Why?” Sable asks. “Wait, you’re the real artist? Why keep that from me?”

Sable’s mother, Lataran stands up. “She’s gonna pretend to be you. Before you volunteered for this assignment, that’s how we thought we would do it.” She looks at Audrey. “But if it goes well, he’ll ask her for more. Holograms won’t work long-term, or maybe not even short-term. We need that consciousness-transference tech.”

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