All the truths came out after the debacle at Taila March’s broadcast. The
passengers knew a little bit about the True Extremists, but there was so
much more that Halan, Olindse, and Kaiora chose to keep from the majority.
After Nuka Bloch completed their maximum term limit, a new first chair took
over, but he didn’t survive the issues that the fake Rita Suárez caused. The
December election saw him lose his seat to a man named Jepson Sandor, who
quickly pivoted his campaign to a sentiment of governmental transparency. He
vowed to combat the opacity that his predecessors supposedly laid between
them and the people, as well as the secrecy of the crew. He shot up in
popularity overnight, and won by a landslide. Unlike other politicians, he
wasn’t talking out his ass either. He began to make real changes to the way
the civilian government was run, and then he went after the other side.
For the most part, civilians have no control over the inner workings of
running the ship itself, however there are exceptions to this division of
power, and it has to do with preventing any one power from overtaking the
other. A system of checks and balances would allow a captain to take
emergency action if they should find the government becoming unfair or
tyrannical. Likewise, the government can do the same, and through a
convoluted system of loopholes, First Chair Sandor was able to create an
entirely new bridged position. Similar to how the Hock Watcher serves
equally both governing bodies, the Ship Superintendent has been given the
latitude to make decisions that affect the staffing conditions throughout
the whole vessel. He can fire, hire, replace, reassign, or even do away with
a position altogether. Again, like the Hock Watcher, the way he was
elected-slash-appointed was complicated and drawn out, but once the process
began, it could not be stopped. Someone had to get this job, and as much as
Kaiora fought it, it was going to happen, so their best bet was to find
someone who everyone could trust.
Be not confused about the rank of Ship Superintendent. We are not talking
about The Superintendent, who lives in another universe, apparently created
all of these individuals as characters, and literally wrote the words you’re
reading right now. Hey there. Superintendent Calixte Salmon is just a man
who was born on Extremus shortly after it launched, and has always wanted to
do something like this. Be not confused about this either. It’s a
coincidence that he shares his surname with a subspecies of human who travel
through time against their will. Or maybe it’s not so much of a coincidence.
There was no one named Salmon when a fairly small group of humans first
settled in the universe of Ansutah. Everyone here is descended from them,
and the reason there aren’t only a couple hundred names is because over
time, people began to choose their own to distance themselves from the
original family tree. It made it easier to avoid worrying about committing
incest after several generations passed, and it probably wasn’t a problem
anymore anyway. It’s possible that someone chose the name on purpose at some
point. Such historical records were hard to maintain while the ancestors
were trying to hide from the white monsters in caves.
Calixte Salmon has not been given carte blanche to make any changes to the
crew that he wants, but neither does he have to get approval for every
little thing he does. It is in this gray area where doubt regarding his
mandate lives. It’s going to take work for him to convince others that it’s
not his job to drain the swamp, or alter the balance of power. He’s not
there to change everything, but there is a lot of room for improvement, and
finding ways to optimize is exactly what he was appointed to do. The
Captain—and the captaincy—are fine, but the rest of the crew needs an
overhaul. This is gonna hurt. It’s his first day on the job, and if the
looks he’s getting from the crowd as he’s trying to explain his purpose are
any indication, he will be met with much resistance. He needs help. It’s
unclear whether Captain Leithe is approaching the podium in order to provide
him that, or if she’s going to throw him under the bus.
She lowers the microphone, and clears her throat with purpose. “I understand
that you’re all upset and concerned. I can’t guarantee that this is going to
be easy, but we have been discussing this new dynamic for months. I have not
been left out of the loop. If this weren’t the only way to overcome our
obstacles, I wouldn’t let it happen. This is the first step towards solving
the True Extremist crisis, figuring out whether the faux Rita was part of
them, or some other faction, and if it’s the latter, solving that one too. I
won’t lie to you. Some people may see their shifts cut short. But what I can
promise is that each one of you will enjoy the compensation you always
expected at the end of those shifts, whether they ultimately last as long as
you expected, or not.” She held up her index finger to add, “with a caveat.
He is here to help us, and you are here to help him do that. If any of you
resist these changes—to an unreasonable degree at least—you run the risk of
not only precipitating the deterioration of our society, but also of losing
all of your benefits. I’ll throw you in hock if I have to. If anyone is
going to revolt, I will be the one to lead, so as long as I’m okay with the
state of things, you automatically know that you’re okay with it too. Pretty
easy, knowing that you can relax, and accept reality, isn’t it? So check
your attitudes, and follow my orders, as well as the Super’s. Understood?”
The crew lifts their knees and drops their feet back down in a stomp pretty
simultaneously, though not perfectly. It’s a formal gesture of respect and
attention.
“We’ll work on that, so you don’t embarrass me at our next presentation,”
Kaiora says. She steps away from the mic, and nods at her new colleague.
“Super.”
“Captain,” he replies. “Thank you.”
She solemnly motions for him to return to the podium.
“Thank you, Captain Leithe,” he repeats for all to hear. “I do understand
that you’re all nervous about the upcoming changes, especially since you
don’t know what they’re going to be. I want you to know that I haven’t
decided anything yet. I’ve not had enough time to conduct a thorough
assessment. Still, I may be able to answer some of your questions, so I
would like to open up the floor to those. Please raise your hand, and stand
once picked by the microdrone, which I control. For all not picked that
time, please lower your hands and wait to put them back up until I’m
finished providing my answer. Sound fair?”
Dozens of people raise their hands, most of them quite earnestly.
Meanwhile, downstage, Second Lieutenant Lars Callaghan is talking out the
side of his mouth to his superior officers. “I know it’s gonna be me.”
“What will be you?” First Lieutenant Corinna Seelen questions.
“I’m gonna get the boot,” he answers.
Kaiora sighs rather loudly. She taps on her watch, and activates a sonic
barrier, so they can talk freely without anyone else hearing them. “What are
you going on about?”
“It’s the Second Lieutenant curse,” Lars tries to explain. “We always get
screwed over.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Corinna presses. “You’re only the
second L-T-two this ship has ever seen.”
“Yeah, and look at what happened to the last guy. He’s in hock. I’m next,
it’s a pattern.”
“That’s not a pattern,” Kaiora argues. “It’s not even a coincidence yet,
because Calixte hasn’t even mentioned you to me. It’s just something that
happened, and what happened is not that Ovan Teleres was screwed over. He
attacked the crew, so the rank isn’t cursed unless maybe you decide to do
something similar. Are you planning something, Callaghan?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then shut the hell up and listen to the Q and A!” She makes a point of
showing him her watch as she deactivates the barrier.
They listen quietly for a little bit. Lars nods at the good question about
whether Superintendent Salmon is planning on merging crew and passenger
responsibilities, or if there would remain a clear distinction. “I just
think back to how there was never really supposed to be another lieutenant
in the first place, and how Captain Yenant only instituted it in order to
try to take Ovan out of power in the first place.”
“You can’t prove that,” Kaiora says legally. “And shh!”
Lars continues to try to take his mind off the future of his rank, but he
can’t stand it. After a few minutes, he has to get back to it, “some of the
things he says he’s gonna do are things that I’m supposed to be doing.”
Kaiora sighs again, and reactivates the sonic barrier. She also includes a
visual time loop, which makes it look to people on the other side like the
three of them are still sitting in their respective chairs, and not arguing
with each other. She stands up to cover the gap between them, hovering her
chest in front of Corinna’s face. “Lars, you are a member of the executive
crew. As such, I get last say on what happens to you and your rank. He
cannot override any decision of mine when it comes to that.”
“I didn’t know that. Good.”
“No. It’s not good,” she maintains. “Because he doesn’t know you, and
probably wouldn’t think to do much with you. But I know you, and I’m pissed
at you. You’re annoying, and sometimes you don’t do your job. So I’m
thinking about dropping you anyway, just to make this whole process easier.
I could probably blame it on him. If you don’t want that to happen, I
suggest you keep your mouth shut, keep your head down, and take stock of
what value you add to this mission.” She moves her hand through the air to
illustrate a vertical spectrum. “Here’s neutral zero, otherwise known as
mediocrity. Way up here is going above and beyond people’s expectations of
you, especially mine. Down here is dead weight, we gotta throw you out an
airlock. At the moment, you’re right here.” She adjusts her hand to slightly
above the lowest point on the scale. “I think you know what to do to climb
back up, mostly because I’ve told you.”
“Shut up, will do. Right, sir, thank you. Sorry.”
Kaiora sighs one last time, and sits back down. “It’s going to be a little
jarring when I take us out of the loop. Time is going to jerk your body to
where the audience thinks we were, so they don’t notice we’ve moved.” She
raises her arm to look at her watch, but it’s not on the menu that she
expected it to be. It looks as though the barrier and loop weren’t put up at
all. She slowly lifts her eyes, and looks forward. Calixte has turned, and
is leaning against the podium, staring at them. The audience is quiet.
“Shit.”
Calixte pushes off, and walks towards them. “I can undo this.”
“Undo what?” Kaiora asks.
“This little interaction,” he clarifies. “I can send all four of our
consciousnesses back in time a few moments, so no one else remembers that it
happened.”
“That’s an illegal form of temporal manipulation.”
“Not for me.” He shows them his blue retractactable keychain. “They gave me
this so I can try out different ways of dismissing a crewmember, in case the
first time doesn’t go so great.”
“Then you would just be using it illegally.”
He shrugs. “No one has to know.”
She crosses her arms, and studies his face, hoping to ascertain if he can be
trusted, or if this will come back to bite her in the ass. “Fine. Do it.”
