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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Microstory 2669: I Thought it Felt Light

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From the shadows, Resi watches Speaker Lincoln wake up in the middle of the night in reaction to a notification. She blinks rapidly as her eyes adjust to the harsh light of her device. “I’ve stolen the Kidjum elixir,” she reads out loud. “What the hell? I never told you to do that,” she whispers loudly. She scrolls a little. “Someone hacked my account!” she complains to what she thinks is an empty room. She dials a number, and holds it up to her ear. “Get security to the Tadungeria lab. We have a breach. Aether is going off script.” She hangs up and rolls her nightgown up and over her head.

Resi taps on his own device, careful to not let the light give away his position yet.

Lincoln’s device dings again. “Oh my God.” She opens the drawer of her nightstand and takes out a gun. She checks the magazine to find it empty.

Only now does Resi flip on the lamp in the corner. He’s sitting comfortably in her armchair, trying to look menacing but authoritative. He saw this in a movie once. Actually, it’s been in a few movies. “The first to raise a hand in violence dips one foot in their grave,” he recites calmly.

Lincoln looks down at her half naked body. “You like what you see?”

“Relax, I’m asexual. Go ahead and cover up.”

She wraps herself in a robe. “You must have Bungula tech if you could teleport here that fast.” She jerked her chin towards the device that she tossed onto the bed. “I just read your message that you’re gonna poison me with an overdose of elixir.”

“You think I would order one of my people to do that in the same second that I decided to just do it myself? You got security all riled up for nothin’. No one from my House is anywhere near the Tadungeria. Your elixir is safe, and so are you, physically speaking. I won’t hurt you, but I wanna know why you’ve been impersonating me, and sending my people orders that I would never give. You want us to stop. You wanted to bring the Kidjums back, so why are you undermining those efforts?”

Lincoln breathes through her nose as she regards Resi with a facial expression that he is unable to read. She’s trying to look calm too, though. She thinks she’s still in control here. Bizarrely, she lets the robe drop from her shoulders again. She then starts to remove the rest of her clothing.

“I told you, I’m asexual. I feel nothing. Seducing me will not work.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you,” she explains as she’s crawling back into bed and neatly rearranging her belongings on the night stand. “I don’t have to tell you anything. I just need to let you step both feet into your own grave, which you have done quite nicely by breaking into my house tonight.”

“I’m having signals blocked. If the answers you give me are satisfactory, I’ll leave before anyone notices. It will be your word against mine. If you lie, I don’t know what will happen. I want to know why. It makes no sense. Do you want a fifth House, or not?”

“I don’t care about the houses,” she admits. “It’s an arbitrary stratification that most cultures don’t have and do just fine. Divide into fourths, divide into eights, just have one united peoples; it’s irrelevant. The total population is the same.”

“So the Kidjum is fake, and it’s all about control? Do you just want to decide who goes where? Worker bees versus drones, as long as the queen stays on top.”

She smirks. “It’s not fake. It’s not about control. It’s about human lives, and the Garden we were promised. The Kidjum is very real. It’s the easiest and most reliable way for us to know what you want. Everyone has a place, and everyone chooses. Again, it’s not about that. But anyway, I’m tired, and I just want to end it all. I won’t be answering any more of your questions. It’s your turn.”

He sighs and grunts. This isn’t doing any good, and who knows where they go from here? So he’s proved that she’s a bad guy? She didn’t do it on her own. Anyone or everyone on the Assembly could be a part of it. The best he can hope for is that the other two nations hear him out. Maybe they’re not a part of the conspiracy. Or maybe they are, and House Kutelin really does need to revolt. He’ll have to just go out and try his best. Staying here, listening to these lies and vague answers, isn’t going to pay off, so let’s be done with this quickly. “I’m an open book. I’ll answer any questions you like.”

“Have you ever fired a gun before?” she asks, picking hers back up, and sliding three of her fingers across it like it’s her pet.

“No, but I know that that’s a projectile weapon. It needs bullets, not a maser charge, or whatever. I already took the mag out, and checked for extras.”

She smiles and nods, still looking at it admiringly. “Did you check the chamber?”

He jumps up in fear, now remembering other movies, where yeah, the bullets aren’t only stored in one place. There’s also this other thing on the top. 

Instead of aiming it at him, she points it at the side of her own head, as far from her temple as her bent arm will reach, and squeezes the trigger. Blood goes everywhere.

He’s seen it in those movies before, but it’s a different thing, being in the room when it happens. He’s frozen, though he doesn’t know for how long. People don’t really die around here, except peacefully in their sleep, or in a hospital bed. They’re not immortals, like the colonists, but life is pretty safe. They’ve built out the infrastructure, and everyone knows what they’re doing. The Kidjum doesn’t just choose what you want, but what your mind knows it would be good at doing. Everyone is professional and skilled. That’s why he doesn’t know history and geography, because their nation doesn’t value those things. It places all of its focus on people who can get work done. If they need to know anything about how the universe works, they can ask the Bungulans. Leave science to people who’ve been doing it for millennia.

Why the shit is he thinking about any of this right now? They’re hauling him out of the bungalow by his upper arms. He’s not resisting, he just can’t move his legs on his own. He feels the splinters catch on his toes as they drag across the old front porch. They throw him into the wagon, and drive off. He realizes that they never bound his limbs. He could jump out, and run away. But where would he go? They would look for him at the dorms, and then his birth parents’ home. It’s an island, and it’s probably being locked all the way down. This is the first murder he’s ever heard of, so the whole planet is probably freaking out. He could try to swim it. How far is Anchor Island again? Only forty-some-odd kilometers? Easy, he could do that in one breath.

He’s in a hardback chair now. When did they pull him out of the wagon? They’re asking him questions. He can’t really hear them. They say something about already finding his prints on the gun, which makes sense, because he had to take that magazine out. The chamber. The goddamn chamber. How could he be so stupid? That’s why the action stars are always pulling that thing back while they’re making their snide remarks. He thought he had it all figured out. The honeypot was brilliant. His people were on the ball. Like he was saying...trained as professionals. He’s the one who screwed up, and it’s gonna land him in prison. House Kutelin will fall, and she’ll get away with it. Oh wait, no, she died. She killed herself. Why? Just to frame him? What an asshole.

Microstory 2664: It’s Like a Caucus

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Rumors spread across the island fast, but it’s only been a few hours, so there are still a lot of questions. Resi is dead tired, because he hasn’t slept for real since two nights ago. The Kidjum is an induced sleep state, which keeps the mind active, and doesn’t result in any rejuvenation. Indeed, it’s one of the most tiring experiences in an islander’s life. Catching up on rest is one of the first things a graduate usually does once they choose their House, right after a nice, big meal. Because of his unique position, he never had that luxury. He has to speak with the next batch of sixteen-year-olds, who spent their whole lives thinking that they were going to decide their own fates on this day. If the world doesn’t go Proxima Doma and explode in the next decade or so, having five Houses will become the new normal, but for now, he can only imagine what they’re feeling. As shitty as he thinks his own situation is, there’s an argument to be made that they’re worse off. Some of these kids are only a few hours younger than him. What gives him the right to choose for them?

It’s a relatively small class this time, with only twenty-four kids. Two of them are going to be sent off to House Ilah, specifically to live with Resi’s birth family. Whoever these girls are, they’re not going to like it. He’s determined to ask everyone where they would like to go, but those two could become terrible exceptions. Or maybe not. Only eight of them are girls, so the chances that any two will want to volunteer aren’t the best, but maybe he’ll get lucky. He’s looking at the roster now. Only one of them is originally from Ilah, but that is no big surprise. Each House celebrates a different fertility season, so birthdays are not evenly distributed throughout the year. Most are from House Maing’aing, which is where Resi’s older sister is now. He needs to broach the subject delicately. If this girl—oh, no, she’s looking at him. Shit, they’re all looking at him. How long has he been standing here, not saying anything? “Welcome to your Kidjum.”

“It’s not a Kidjum anymore, is it?” one of the boys asks. Fair point.

“It’s true, you won’t be going to the cots tonight to commune with your subconscious minds,” Resi admits. “But that word really only means sleep. Our ancestors on Earth didn’t practice House reassignments. They didn’t even have Houses. So Kidjum has already changed meanings. I see no reason why it can’t change again.” Whew. He really pulled that one out of his ass. In reality, he didn’t have time to think about whether they should start using new terminology. He isn’t a linguist at any rate, and wouldn’t know how to go about finding a good replacement. Why did they choose him, and why did they make him start immediately? That’s right, he doesn’t believe that this had anything to do with his subconscious. He thinks it was all orchestrated. In fact, he’s doubting now that anyone here makes their own House decision. Was it all a lie?

“I don’t care what you call it. Just tell us what’s gonna happen.” It’s the one girl from Ilah. Her arms are noticeably uncrossed. Most of the others are guarding themselves, even the guys. They’re wearing unnecessarily thin cotton...sheets. There’s no special name for it, but that’s literally what it is. You’re handed a sheet, and it’s up to you to tear the holes for your head and arms. Some forget to be mindful of the arms, and it makes for some rather awkward interactions. She remembered how many tears to make, but she made them too large, so she’s showing more skin than she should be, and doesn’t seem bothered. Fortunately, she dried off rather well, so it’s okay that she’s not trying to cover herself up so much.

Should he pull her aside and ask if she wants to stay? Probably not, because he still needs one more girl anyway. Could he talk to all the girls separately? No. Transparency. If this has been one giant conspiracy, then he needs to actively combat that by being as honest as possible, and giving them all the information that he has about it. Geeze, it’s hot in here. Has it always been hot? What is this, the fire ceremony, am I right? He clears his throat, only to find that it’s only made it worse. He should have grabbed some water beforehand. “Believe it or not, you all probably know about as much as I do,” he struggles to say. He clears his throat again. Nope. Even worse. Cool.

His sister walks up from behind him, and slips her water bottle into his hand.

He takes hold of it. “Thanks, little one.” He made the right choice, bringing her along. He drinks then looks back at the crowd. “As I was saying, I was not given a handbook for this job. The Assembly hasn’t even reached out. I’m gonna do my best, but I’ll need your help. I don’t know what you expect here, but I’ve been told that everything is my decision now. You don’t get any say. Your subconsciousness doesn’t even have a voice. Well, if that’s true—if I’m really as powerful as they want me to be—then I can choose not to choose. It’s estimated that 83% of dreamers end up in the House that they thought they wanted before they went into their Kidjum. Most of you know what you want, so let’s lean into that. Tell me. What do you want?” Two girls. Please let there be two girls who want to go to Ilah. That’s all he needs. Make it easy on him. Hell, he’ll take two guys, and maybe negotiate with Father. It’s the 26th century, it’s not like there’s a real difference between boy work and girl work. That’s all just nonsense tradition.

The room is quiet. No one is answering. Okay, that’s on him. He didn’t make it a very orderly vote. “Um...” he begins as he’s looking around. “Okay, yes.” He goes over to the two tables that were used for handing out the sheets, and separates them from each other. He grabs the leftover sheets themselves, and walks them over to a separate corner to throw them on the floor. Then he starts to point. “Enaiyo, Maing’aing, Naino, and if you stay where you are, you’re choosing House Ilah. There. It’s like a caucus. Have you heard of those? Doesn’t matter. Just, uhh...go.” He waves his arm to release them. When they still don’t move, he balks. “You all want Ilah?” Holy shit, this is gonna work out. “Or do you not understand the assignment? I get it, this isn’t what you trained for, but they didn’t give me any of the elixir. We literally can’t do a real Kidjum. I’m sorry, but—”

“You forgot one House,” another girl says. “You forgot Kutelin.”

He’s so thrown off by that. “Well, I...it’s just...” Huh? “I didn’t think anyone would want to join that. We don’t have anything. I have an apartment that I’ll be sharing with my sister. But we don’t have any farms or infrastructure. That might sound like it means no work, but the work families do isn’t random or arbitrary. It provides for them. I’ll be eating from the Market Collective. I don’t know that they’ll afford you the same courtesy. We don’t know where this is going. Like I said, they’re being real cryptic about it.”

“We’ve already talked about this, the Ilah girl says. “We didn’t have a fifth choice before. We wanna start something new.” They aren’t in a Fold together, but since birthdays are a matter of public record, they all know each other. Many groups who share the day, until their Kidjum, operate in a very Fold-like way. If this is what they want, he can’t deny them. They answered his question. So all right, the first members of House Kutelin. But wait, what about Father’s demand? No, screw that, Father can sow with his toes. Resi has a Fold of his own now. He has a family. He has protection.

Tangent Point: Pulling it Together (Part IV)

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Ajax immediately ran over to the second shuttle. Reed wasn’t sure if Vasily hadn’t noticed that there was another one in this bay, or didn’t think that they would have time to catch up. But as the true, legitimate captain of this vessel, Ajax had the authority to skip all pre-flight procedures, and just go. Reed tried to follow him and Shasta up the ramp. Ajax turned around, and held up a hand. “No. You don’t have a local back-up body. This could be a suicide mission.” He turned back around and started powering up systems.

“Why would you be concerned with that?”

Ajax just kept working. “Because I secretly agree with you. Don’t tell anyone. Just take this thing, and go save our neighbors. I’ll be on the ground. The Tangent is so new that I only had one local back-up.”

“Shasta,” Reed said simply as he was backing away on the ramp.

“I’ll be here to help the Captain if he needs it,” she replied. “Now go so we can close the hatch.”

Reed stepped all the way out, and let them launch without him. It was frustrating, sending people on missions, placing them in danger. But that was the burden of leadership, and it was a lot better in real life than in the space operas, where death was usually permanent. He watched the shuttle for as long as possible until it disappeared around the bend. Then he just kept staring through the transparent plasma barrier. Bungula was beginning to shrink as they were breaking orbit. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then opened his comms. “Ellis calling the bridge. Seal the bulkheads in this shuttle bay and shut off the plasma. We need to save power.”

“Belay that order,” Shasta’s voice came on. “I’ll be coming in with the elevator pod shortly.”

Reed switched to a private channel. “You survived? How did you stop Vasily?”

“I’ll explain when I get back, but Ajax is gone. It’s just me, so have a security team on standby to secure the VIP hostages.”

Reed went back to the main channel. “Send a security squad to Shuttle Bay Four. We got the pod.” He could hear them all cheering on the radio, but he couldn’t celebrate with them. There was still one more loose end to tie up. Vasily was about to be resurrected in the crazy new chrysalis thing, and had to be dealt with too. If he told his people what happened between them, it would cause some internal conflict. Some here would be okay with murdering a human, and might end up siding with Vasily on this matter. Reed could stick him in hock, but there was no guarantee that he would stay there for long. One ally would be all it took to set him free. This was a very delicate situation. He had a number of options, and each came with advantages and disadvantages. He could even just pardon the guy, or straight up keep it all a secret in order to maintain peace. Even if he found a way to transport him off-ship far enough to shift his consciousness stream from the Tangent to Bungula, he might become a martyr. Vasily was a permanent problem no matter what. “Also, send one team to the chrysalis room to escort someone who is about to respawn.”

“Aye, captain,” his Head of Security acknowledged. “Alpha-Gamma squad, go to the shuttle bay. Beta team to the chrysalis room.”

“Hey, Thistle. Report,” Reed asked his AI as he was starting the long trip back up to the bridge alone. The summary ran for as long as it took him to reach his destination. Everything was going all right. Auxiliary engineering was holding the platform together, the security sweep of the tether complex didn’t turn up any other traitors or spies, and the bridge crew was establishing themselves, and settling into their new roles. The biggest job was the cleanup. There were a lot of dead bodies scattered all over the place, which needed to be disposed of respectfully, according to the user’s own personal wishes. Some of these could be found in the database, while others might have to be contacted later. The mutineers responsible for this work knew who they were, and were doing it without being asked. That went for everyone. Nothing was being neglected. Nothing was falling apart. They might actually pull this off.

“Captain,” his pilot began, “we’ve started acceleration. We’ll be on our way in six minutes.”

“Thanks, that’s good to know.”

“Sir,” his comms officer said, taking her turn. “Mediator Fenwick is on hold for peaceful negotiations.” She used airquotes.

“You didn’t alert me right away?” Reed asked.

“We figured you would want to make him sweat,” she replied.

Reed smiled. “Good call.” He took a deep breath, then did a 180. “On screen.” The image appeared. “Kemper, how the hell are ya? Long time, no blackout hock.”

Mediator Fenwick was already frowning, but deepened it now. “You have the audacity to criticize our judgment after what you’ve just pulled? What I did when I ordered your consciousness frozen was an executive decision that I take responsibility for, but it only affected you. You killed dozens of people—”

“Wait, we didn’t kill anyone. We destroyed some people’s substrates. You’re the only one here who has conspired to murder anyone.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Fenwick contended. “Did someone die in the drone strike? That was only meant to disable propulsion.”

“Now, Kemper, we’ve known each other for decades. There’s no need to play coy with me. I know about your spy.”

“We do not have a spy. I will not stand for this projection. It is you who infected our ranks insidiously, and instituted a mutiny. Now, we all have empathy for the Proxima Domanians, and we recognize where you’re coming from, but making us out to be the villains is reckless, and the history books will not remember it that way.”

“Well, I don’t agree with your prediction, but I’m not talking about the kinetic drone, and I’m not talking about you fighting back against the mutiny. I don’t even blame you for that, your people had every right to defend their post. They will be treated with the utmost respect while they’re on board my new platform. No, I’m talking about Vasily.” Everyone within Reed’s field of vision winced at the accusation, and probably everyone he couldn’t see too. “Now, I don’t know how you got to him, but he placed the VIPs in the elevator pod in grave—”

“Executor Ellis,” Fenwick interrupted. “I do not appreciate being accused of something that I had nothing to do with. If you suffered a betrayal, then I would call that an internal matter. I’ve never even heard the name before, so unless you are not done fabricating tall tales, I would like to move on to the matter of the hostage crisis. For the safe return of all hostages, we are prepared to offer the Tangent passage to Proxima Doma without any interference from the Bungulan military, or the government. It is all you need, let those innocent people go.”

Reed chuckled. “Nice try, Kempy, but I caught your sneaky little semantic trick. The Bungulan military is symbolic at best, which is why you were woefully unprepared for our takeover. Teagarden, on the other hand, operates under an entirely different jurisdiction, and would be under absolutely no obligation to uphold any promise of amnesty that the Bungulan authority might offer. I doubt you’ve even mobilized your own forces. I’m sure your first call was to that Teaguardian I see matching our speed on the port side. Are we quite finished joking?”

Fenwick knew that he had been made. “Reed, you don’t wanna do this. Even if you make it out of Bungulan space—even if you make it all the way to Doma—how do you think you’re gonna pull this off? What, you’re gonna hover over one of the poles for years at the shortest, and then you’re gonna fly to the other pole and do it again? And throughout all of that, the Teaguardian isn’t gonna figure out a way to rescue the undigitized humans, and then blow everyone else out of the sky? You won’t survive that. You’ll be too far from any back-ups. You’ll just be dead. We’ll rebuild the Tangent, and the galaxy will move forward.”

“You still think you’re the good guy here?” Reed questioned. “The people next door are dying. You really wanna do the right thing? Tell that Teaguardian to give us whatever magical engine they use to travel faster than light, so we can get this done, and get out! We will bring the Tangent back. Every single one of my people fully recognizes the consequences of our actions. No one is thinking they’re just gonna go back to their lives as if nothing happened. We’re doing it because no one else is. We’re doing it because you’re a bunch of self-obsessed, elitist nutsacks!”

Mediator Fenwick shook his head. “This is the last chance you will get to talk to me, Ellis. If you finish breaking orbit, it will be out of my hands. The Teaguardians will take over the case, and they won’t be as nice. They may not care about the VIPs. Their ancestors pioneered neural digitalization, and it’s been centuries. A lot of people think we should stop worrying about humans who willfully reject virtual immortality. I’m not one of those people, but you’re about a minute away from it being out of my hands. Abort the burn, come back down. I’m not asking for any hostages yet, or for you to surrender. Let’s just talk about this some more.”

“No more talking,” Reed decided. “I tried talking to you for a week. You offered airdrops—airdrops! A coward’s hollow gesture. I’m sick of looking at your face. Tell your Teagarden contact to bring it on!”

Without his order, his comms officer cut the call.

Reed took a breath, and looked over at his weapons officer, Aletha. “I already know the answer to this, but maybe there was some faulty intel. Does the Tangent have a weapons system?”

“No,” Aletha said. “It’s not a battleship. The only things keeping us from the next salvo of kinetic drones are in that elevator pod that we hooked.”

Reed nodded, then looked back over at comms. “Shipwide message.” He waited half a second. “New crew of the Tangent, Phase One is complete. Aletha will be coming around to collect your weapons from you, and check them back into the system. Only designated security personnel will be keeping their sidearms. Thank you for everything you’ve done. I hope you’re ready to keep going, because there’s no going back now.” He double checked the screen. “We are officially on our way to Proxima Doma.” He could hear more cheers over the radio, and out in the corridor.

“Congratulations, Captain,” Transdimensional Regulator Van Horn said.

“Thanks, Amulet,” he replied, “but I didn’t do it alone. In fact, I took a nap earlier today while everyone else was getting in place.”

Everyone giggled at that.

Reed breathed deeply, and sat down in the captain’s chair for the first time. That was when Shasta walked in, so he jumped back up. “Ajax?”

“He didn’t make it,” she replied.

“In here,” Reed decided, gesturing towards the captain’s bridge office. They went inside for a private conversation.

“It happened quite quickly,” Shasta began. “Vasily was able to send the shuttle forwards, but not particularly fast, so we were able to catch up before it could collide with the pod. I programmed our shuttle to match vector with the target, flying above it, while Ajax sealed the airlock. He wasn’t even wearing a suit. He tethered himself to the wall, and then swung down. I don’t know exactly what happened then, but he immediately broke the synchrony and altered course. He eventually burned up in the atmosphere. I think he killed himself so there would be no question who was in charge here. He did it to protect your authority.”

“No one can know,” Reed determined. “The official story is Vasily, delirious and dying, fought back, and the shuttle was lost. On the record, Ajax must be our enemy. Maybe we’ll be able to thank him one day.”

“I’ll fill out the report. And Vasily himself?” she asked

“He’ll be in hock alone. We need to minimize the amount he interacts with others so he doesn’t influence and infect my crew.”

“Understood.”

The doorbell. “Enter,” Reed offered.

The door opened. A security officer was standing next to—not only a VIP—but the most valuable hostage asset they had on board right now. “Sorry, sir. She insisted. She threatened to kill herself.”

“It’s all right, officer. Delegator Jodene Chariot, it’s an honor,” Reed said without a hint of sarcasm.

She sighed exasperatedly. “Report.”

“Six months. With only two operational fusion torches, it will take us six months to get to the Proxima Centauri system. Once we’re there, we’ll hover over the poles one at a time, and transport as many as we can off of the surface. Once the job is done, I will hand the reins over to you, and you can do whatever you want with me. We’ll negotiate specifics...in six months.”

“When I was in the elevator pod, we only saw one torch get hit by a drone,” Jodene said. “If you absolutely must do this, and no one can stop you, I would like it to get done faster.”

“You can thank the military for the delay. Without that fourth torch, propulsion is out of balance. We can only actually use the two opposing each other. The third one will just be sitting there, doing nothing.”

“Can the fourth one be fixed en route?” she pressed.

“Yeah,” Reed answered. “It’ll take about six months.”

“Why bother?” Jodene questioned.

“We’ll need it,” Shasta interjected. “When we get there to hover over the poles, we will need as much power as we can muster. The repairs will not be a waste of time.”

“Your crew is not equipped to handle such an undertaking.”

Reed smiled. “I’m not allowing anyone else on board. We will be releasing some hostages as a sign of good faith, but my people know what they’re doing. They can handle it. That’s why they’re here.”

“Still, you could use some extra manpower,” Jodene reasoned. “I just so happen to know of a bunch of people who were literally enrolled to work on the Tangent, and could expedite the work, as well as make sure it lives up to code.”

Reed nodded. “You’re just talking about the other hostages. You want some kind of work-release program? You just got on board, and you’re already negotiating?”

“No time like the present,” Jodene said. “Immediately acknowledging the value of the regular crew will go a long way to earning their trust.”

“It will be hard to trust them,” Reed admitted. “It would only take one person to sabotage a vital system function, and take us all down.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Jodene volunteered.

He gave her a funny face. “That doesn’t help. I would have to trust you too.”

“I can’t tell you what to think, but you should know that I have a neural suicide inducer. I can simply deliberately transfer my consciousness in full to a back-up without having to shoot myself in the head, or whatever. I don’t have to stay here.” Jodene pointed to the viewscreen on the wall that was showing the port side live feed. “That Teaguardian over there is fully ready to receive the digitized mind of anyone who dies. They don’t have to have a substrate waiting for them. They’ll just hang out in a virtual environment until a new body can be built.”

“All right, no need to make threats,” Reed contended. “We can make this work. Let’s head to hock right now, and address the crew together, so it’s clear that we’re on the same page.”

They did manage to make it work. It wasn’t easy, and there was plenty of friction, but the two separate crews fell into a routine, and eventually became one. It was difficult to remember which of them was part of the mutiny, and who belonged there legitimately. With the extra hands, they were able to rebuild the fourth fusion torch, negotiating for rare materials by releasing some non-essential crew to the Teaguardian escort, including a couple of VIPs who had almost nothing to offer. While some crewmembers were working on that, others were fabricating the hundreds of pods that they will need, or braiding tethers together. When you’re over the equator at geostationary orbit, the tethers can be fairly thin, but must be ultra-long. Over a pole, it’s the opposite. The strain causes a demand for extra strength, but they can hover closer, so the tethers don’t need to be as long.

They arrived in the Proxima system within five months. By then, the Domanians had been suffering their own socio-political issues. Low resources and high waste heat led to raised tensions, and muted morale. Reed now faced the first actual dilemma to come out of this whole thing. Should they rescue the refugees from the southern pole first, or the northern pole? The people on the ground sure had their opinions about it.

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Tangent Point: Death Spiral (Part III)

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Shasta is a very capable woman, but she is not a pilot, nor an engineer, nor a mechanic, nor anything else that they would need to get them out of this mess. She was able to fire the three torches because that much was obvious from the console. Since it had been almost a minute now, and no more kinetic drones had destroyed any part of the platform, or the propulsion attachment, they were guessing that her initial act had worked. But they were still in trouble, and something had to be done about it. They needed their pilot back at his workstation. But that seemed to be impossible. The platform was spinning like a carnival ride. Artificial gravity was down, and they were all pinned against the wall. No one was going anywhere. Shasta was barely holding onto the console, even if the pilot could somehow walk her through whatever procedure needed to be done.

Suddenly, however, they found themselves slowing down. They were still rotating, but their eyes were no longer bulging out of their heads, and what food remained in their stomachs wasn’t threatening to follow what had already come up. “Grab my ankle!” Shasta cried.

The pilot jumped over and took hold of her leg. He climbed her body until he could hold onto the console himself. “Someone is controlling this,” he announced, looking at the screen. “I can’t pinpoint where, but it’s not remote. They’re somewhere on this ship.”

“Get me AG!” Reed ordered.

“That’s my job,” his specialist insisted. Her official title was Transdimensional Regulator, and Reed did not understand what exactly her job entailed. He just needed her to make it work again. She was crouched on the wall, tapping on her tablet. “I’ve been trying to fix it this whole time. It’s giving me so much shit!” She growled as she continued to work on it. “I need more power. I need someone to reroute it from non-essential systems. I don’t care which, but the portals are closed. I need one burst to reopen them, and then they should draw normally.”

“Climate control,” Reed decided. “Reroute from climate control.”

“On it.” Shasta swung over to environmental control, and gave the Regulator what she needed.

“Ramping gravity to thirty seconds,” the Regulator informed them. “I would make an announcement if I were you.”

Reed placed his wrist in front of his lips. “This is Acting Captain Reed Ellis, calling all hands. We are restoring dimensional gravity. Relocate the floor, prepare for a sudden shift.”

“Sudden shift,” the Regulator mumbled. “There’ll be nothing sudden about it. I do my job.” She stood up on the wall, and deftly walked back down to the floor with perfect timing. Everyone else tumbled towards it with varying degrees of gracelessness.

Reed got back to his feet, performed the Picard maneuver, and cleared his throat. “Report!”

“We’re still spinning, sir,” his pilot answered, “but gradually regaining attitude control. Soon enough, we’ll still be plummeting to our deaths, but doing so straight as an arrow.”

“Arrows spin,” the Regulator argued.

Reed ignored her casual combativeness. She was one of the most important people on this platform. Of course, everyone had their own job to do, but transdimensional gravity was incredibly rare, and one could count on their fingers how many people were qualified to operate it safely and effectively. Again, he had no clue how it worked. Some unnamed singular genius invented it, and doled it out very selectively. At the end of the day, his Regulator could do or say whatever the hell she wanted, because everyone here was replaceable...except for her.

“Did you find out who fired the thrusters to control our spin?” Reed asked the pilot.

“Not who, but where. They’re in main engineering.”

“That should be impossible.” Reed pointed out. “I was told that it was not survivable.”

“It might be temporarily survivable,” the pilot reasoned, “and the person in there is about to die, or already has after fixing the issue.”

“Good point. Stay here, and get us the hell out of this gravity well. Fire all three operational thrusters if you have to. It doesn’t matter if we have our own gravity working.”

“It’s the elevator pod, sir,” the pilot reminded him. “They don’t have AG, so they’re in danger as long as they’re still out there.”

“Then reel them in!” Reed turned to face Shasta. “You’re with me.” He started walking away. “I also need one engineer.”

“Sir!” an eager young engineer said, literally jumping at the chance. He would learn these people’s names eventually.

They walked in silence for a moment before Reed was finally ready to ask, “how are you here?”

Shasta shrugged. “We’re immortals.”

“I didn’t ask how you were alive,” he snapped back.

“I had a back-up in a respawn sector. Not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. I had to bring you into this. You didn’t have Tangent clearance. I’ve never actually been up here before, yet you’re telling me that you had time to construct a clone of yourself? You would have had to do it months ago at least.”

“I had this substrate made while you were in blackout hock.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. No one can clone or print a body that fast.”

“They can on Castlebourne,” she contended.

“Yeah, they use special technology that we don’t have. We got artificial gravity, they got rapid bioprinting.”

“We got both,” Shasta insisted. “You just need to know where to look.”

“How did you know where to look, but I don’t?”

“You were asleep,” Shasta tried to explain. “There were many last-minute details that you don’t know. We recruited others that you are not aware of. Someone from Castlebourne came here to help. We don’t know how they knew that we needed it, but we didn’t question it after they proved their worth. I watched a copy of her materialize in a pod in seconds. It was phenomenal. I’ve never seen anything like it. It does not look like what you’re used to.”

“However it looks, it would not have been a software issue, but a hardware issue,” Reed said. “You would have needed to get this mysterious savior on the Tangent to make the secret upgrades.”

“She said that she would take care of it, and she did,” Shasta replied. “We decided to trust her. I don’t know if she magically made her way onto a secure yet to be operational space elevator platform in record time, or if she already had someone on the inside, but it obviously worked.” She swept her hands down in front of her chest illustratively.

They were back at main engineering, so Reed couldn’t press the conversation, but he was determined to get more answers later. Random people didn’t just help like that, and they certainly didn’t show up unprompted. He pointed at the dented door. “I need you to tell me what’s happening in there without any of us going in there.”

The engineer’s fingers were dancing in the air before her. She was controlling an augmented reality interface that they could not see as it was being projected directly into her pupils. These weren’t too terribly common, probably because it was a little awkward, pressing buttons that you couldn’t feel. People tended to prefer the haptic feedback of more traditional form factors. “This way.” She walked off. They followed her around the corner, and around the next corner, to the opposite side of engineering. “This door is fine, but I don’t have authorization.”

“Are you sure it’s not gonna boil me alive?” Reed asked the engineer. He glanced over at Shasta for a second. “I don’t have a magical back-up body.”

“You would if I had had time to ask for your consent,” Shasta claimed.

“I’m sure,” the engineer said. “This door doesn’t lead all the way into engineering. It’s just a mechanical service terminal, but it’s undergoing unusual power spikes, so I would start there. I promise, it’s safe.”

Reed opened the door.

None other than their shuttle pilot, Trilby was on the other side. He was elbows deep into an access panel of some kind. Wires and power crystals were hanging out of other panels behind him. Trilby looked over at them. He quickly pushed his steampunk goggles to his forehead before going back to the wires.  “Cap’n. Nice to see you again.”

“What are you doing?” Reed questions.

“Fixing your ship,” Trilby answered.

“It looks like you’re taking it apart.”

“Oh, no sir. I couldn’t get into engineering, so I’m piloting ‘er manually.”

“Those are just the power relays,” his engineer said. “How the hell are you doing anything from here?”

“Power is everything,” Trilby said. “It’s all just ones and zeroes, on and off, stop and go. You can make a machine do anything if you pull the right connections in the right sequence.” He let go of the wires, pulled his arms out, and faced the three of them.

“That’s ridiculous,” the engineer retorted. “You would have to have an insane amount of intimate knowledge of this platform’s systems to exercise any semblance of control over it. Not to mention the fact that the fusion torches are an attachment, not tied directly into the infrastructure.”

“Is the platform still spinning?” Trilby posed.

“No,” the engineer admitted.

Trilby showed a cocksure smirk that was eerily serious. “You’re welcome.”

“You were supposed to leave,” Reed reminded him.

“I got held up,” Trilby replied.

“Good, I’m glad,” Reed said.

“No, I literally got held up at gunpoint,” Trilby clarified. “But then someone shot them, and I ran off. I’m not sure whose side they were on.”

“It’s all settled now,” Reed determined. “Please report to auxiliary engineering. I know you didn’t come here for this, but no one gets in and no one gets out. We won’t begin hostage negotiations until we’ve broken orbit, so you might as well keep yourself busy.”

“Aye, aye.” Trilby began to walk away, but stopped. “Hey, you know you have five hours to keep from crashing into the atmosphere, right?”

“Yes, we’re working on it,” Reed concurred. “Thanks for helping with that.”

“Sir, I think...” his engineer trailed off.

“You should go to aux engineering too,” Reed interrupted. “Keep and eye on him for me, but don’t get in his way. We may really need him.”

“Aye, sir.” The engineer left.

Reed turned back to Shasta. “I need to see this crazy advanced bioprinter.”

“I can take you to it,” Shasta promised, “but I warn you, it’s not going to make sense. It’s not just the same ol’ technology made faster. It’s entirely unrecognizable.”

“Stop teasing me, and let’s go.” Reed went down the hallway, figuring that he had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing the right direction.

“It’s this way,” Shasta countered.

“That’s all you had to say.” He spun around, and followed her down.

As they were walking, they listened to updates from engineering, the bridge, and other sectors. It wasn’t going to be easy, but they were making it work. They would get out of this mess and finally be on their way to the Proxima system. Everyone was doing a fine job, and the hostages weren’t giving them trouble after having reawoken from being stunned. The two of them ended up in the bowels of the platform; precisely where you would expect to find a secret respawn chamber. It was dark and damp, until it wasn’t. They entered a different section, and found it to be pristinely new, sleekly designed and sparkling.

Shasta stopped. “Okay. I warned you that it was different, but nothing can prepare you for actually seeing it with your own two eyes. Nonetheless, I assure you, it works. I woke up not an hour ago, and I’m fine.”

“Just open the door,” he urged.

She punched in the code. The door slid open.

Reed walked in first, slowly, and very confused. He was looking at something rather gross hanging from a pipe on the ceiling. It had come out of there apparently, and grown afterwards, and according to Shasta’s claims, it had done it impossibly fast. “What is that, a cocoon?”

“A chrysalis,” she corrected.

“It’s organic?”

“Yes.”

“That’s even more outrageous than I thought,” Reed began. “If anything, something like this should be slower.”

“The Castlebourner said the growth acceleration was a separate thing from the medium. It doesn’t have to be that fast. In fact, it usually isn’t. As a senior...rebel, I was granted the fastest development time, but not everyone has that luxury.” She jerked her head over to another empty chrysalis a few meters away. “I didn’t have time to learn who this was, but it was sealed up when I was here, so they must have eclosed since then.”

Reed stepped over to the second open chrysalis. He looked around it, and on the ceiling, but didn’t find any sort of interface, or anything that might point to who this would have been. “Wait. Are all of our people in the system?”

“Almost. Notable exceptions include you. Our mysterious benefactor said that she wouldn’t allow it since you couldn’t give your consent in person. A few others just straight up refused, since it freaked them out.”

“What about Vasily? Was he a holdout?”

“No,” she answered. “He was a junior rebel, so he qualified for fairly fast growth time; just not as fast as me. Why, did he die in the fight?”

“You could say that. Vasily, this is Ellis, report in,” he spoke into his comms. “Vasily, report in. Where are you?”

“Why do you look so nervous?”

“He murdered someone,” Reed explained. “A normal human.” He went back to his comms. “Vasily, report in right now!”

“Captain, sorry, I know you’re looking for Vasily, but we got a major problem on our hands,” Sartore, the elevator tech interjected. “The tethers have snapped. The pod is in a steeper decaying orbit. I hesitate to say, but...I think they were sabotaged.”

“Sabotaged by someone here, or in the pod?” Reed asked.

“Definitely here.”

“Security, get to the tether sector,” Reed ordered. “Search the entire complex. Shoot anyone who isn’t a part of our group.” He paused. “And if you find Vasily, bring him to me.”

“Sartore,” Shasta spoke in her own comms. “Can we get the pod back?”

“With a shuttle, sure,” Sartore replied. “But every second counts.”

“We’re very close to the shuttle bay,” Shasta told Reed.

“Let’s go!” He ran out of the room.

“Thanks, Sartore!” Shasta yelled into her comms as she was running out too. “Take stock of the tethering that we have left! We need to make sure we have enough to actually help on Doma!”

They raced down the corridors, and into the shuttlebay, but Vasily was one step ahead of them. He was standing at the top of the ramp of the shuttle, his gun up and ready to fire. Once they were close enough, he tensed his arms, and aimed at Reed’s head. “I know you’re not in our chrysalis system yet, Captain. If you die, you’ll end up off-world.”

“Are you so mad at me, Vasily, that you would ruin our chances to help the Domanians?” Reed asked him. “I didn’t tag you as that petty.”

“Well, I am. Have you ever been stabbed in the head before, sir? It’s not pleasant. It’s the worst way I’ve ever died.”

“You killed someone in cold blood,” Reed reminded him. “I would have shot you cleanly if I could have, but the gun wouldn’t let me, so I improvised.”

“You tried to banish me back to Bungula, where the authorities likely would have been waiting!” Vasily screamed.

“I’m sorry about that, but we need that shuttle to go retrieve those VIPs. The mission isn’t over yet. Let us finish it. Help us finish it.”

“Nah, I’m done with that. I knew you would come here, so I didn’t come alone.” Vasily slammed his palm against a button on the inside. The door to the cockpit slid open. Someone was in there, tapping on the console, likely running the pre-flight check. “How are we lookin’?” he called back.

“We’re just about ready to go.” The shuttle pilot turned around, which showed Reed and Shasta that he was not one of theirs, but a hostage. “I just need to run diagnostics on the hook that we’ll use to grab the pod. It’s never been deployed before.”

“Hook?” Vasily questioned. “We don’t need the hook. We’re just gonna crash into it. I have no interest in dropping the VIPs off on the planet. I just want to prevent him from using them as leverage.”

“Hey, that’s not what I signed up for,” the shuttle pilot argued. “I thought we were gonna save them. Some people on there aren’t even backed up.” He tried to continue arguing, but couldn’t finish.

Vasily quickly swung his arm around to shoot the shuttle pilot dead, which was just enough time for Reed to take out his own maser, and point it into the shuttle. Vasily smirked at it. “You can’t shoot me, remember?”

“But I can shoot the junction box, which will disable the shuttle, and if I aim it just right, it might even blow your body up.”

“You’re not that good ‘a shot,” Vasily contended.

“But I am.” Shasta lifted her weapon too. “Put your gun down, and step out of the shuttle, Vas. We need it.”

“You’re not getting it.” Vasily looked over his shoulder. “Shoot the box for all I care. I don’t need it to fly. This is just a bullet now. You’re the one who needs a fully functioning shuttle to retrieve it.”

They heard a gunshot. Vasily seemed to be hit in the chest. They all looked over to find Ajax behind them, walking up fast. He shot again, and again, and again, and again. Vasily’s whole body shook like a cliché as he stumbled backwards towards the cockpit. He fell to his back, and was struggling to breathe. “You should have gone for the junction box.” He reached his hand up and tapped on the console. The shuttle suddenly shot forward, through the plasma barrier, and headed straight for the floating elevator pod.

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