The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 21, 2565

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Things were awkward and tense on Ramosus, though it was no one’s fault. It wasn’t even Romana’s, though she definitely felt like it was. They were in a holding pattern. Ramses believed he had successfully cleared all the corruption in her by flushing her system of all foreign bodies, but they still weren’t going on missions, even though they received two pings from the alert system. They were all saying it was because they were burnt out, but they just wanted to stay and support Romana. Yet that was exactly what she didn’t want. She didn’t want to be coddled or protected, because it just made her feel worse. She clearly had other things on her mind anyway.

Romana was brushing off their concern. She seemed to be more worried about Boyd at this point, which was fine. Mateo would be fine. Ramses had a lot of data on who he really was, and what separated him from any data corruption. Boyd, on the other hand, was a threat—to them, and to himself. She wasn’t even allowed to talk to him.

Mateo was in her room now to check on her. “Hey. I’m not gonna ask you how you’re doing.” He coolly sat down on her bed next to her. “Instead I’ll say...what’s up?”

“We have already talked,” Romana said. “We do not need to go over it all again.”

“That’s why I asked that question,” he pointed out. “You decide on the topic.”

“I wanna talk about those outstanding pings,” Romana decided. “You should go.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Mateo insisted. “Before you say anything, I know you don’t need to be cared for like a little baby, but I think you need to be distracted, and it’s easier to do that if the distraction is being created and controlled by someone else. If you spend all day dwelling on what happened—even unintentionally—it will eat away at you. You run the risk of it becoming part of your personality. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Guilt and regret are facts of life,” she responded. “They serve a necessary function. They prevent future potential mistakes. I don’t wanna dwell, but I don’t wanna forget either. I’m going to spend the appropriate amount of time reflecting on it.”

“I respect that,” Mateo admitted. “And if you really don’t want to do something with me, like play a boardgame, I won’t force it. But I still need to be here as an option, not off on some colony, helping aliens decide where to plant their grapes, or whatever.”

“Someone should respond to the pings,” Romana reasoned. “It might not be the problem of low-stakes garden design. It could be really serious.”

“No, that’s the actual problem,” Mateo explained. “It’s a grape conflict. They don’t know which side of the river is the best, and don’t have time to observe the seasons.”

“Why would the system flag that?” Romana questioned. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Because the computer calculated a high probability of it leading to what will initially appear to be a compromise by planting on both sides. But this grape species is high maintenance, so they will have to live in two separate communities. Years from now, the computer thinks it will start a war. It has apparently run a lot of simulations.”

Romana was annoyed. “So you should go. Why are we arguing about this?”

“That could take decades,” Mateo dismissed. “They will still be there a few days from now. I’m staying here. Again, we don’t have to do anything, but I’m not leaving.”

She sighed. “Yes, you are.” She reached up and slapped the back of his neck.

It stung. He tried to pull it out, but whatever it was burrowed into his skin.

“Boyd helped me build that. You won’t be able to return to Ramosus until you’ve completed whatever task you went there to do. This is my decision as navigator.”

He teleported into the on-base slingdrive, which powered up on its own, and sent him away, along with Ramses and Angela. A second trip took the other three.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 20, 2564

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Time was weird in Romana’s simulation. Ramses and Leona worked the problem for the better part of three days before they were able to get Mateo and Boyd out of there. And they did get Boyd out of there too. They didn’t have a physical body for him to inhabit, since they didn’t know his wishes, but they moved his IDCode to a new server, and isolated him from Romana’s original system. They then ran a bunch of diagnostics on him, and medical tests on Mateo, to determine whether there were any lingering risks associated with them having been trapped in there.

Romana was devastated, but otherwise all right. Beyond her artificial implants, she wasn’t presenting any other signs or symptoms. She appeared to be physically and neurologically healthy. Still, Ramses extracted the implants, and flushed her of any dangerous foreign bodies. It was a relatively simple procedure, because it was one of the first things immersive VR researchers came up with, under the concern that something like this could happen. The only reason they didn’t do that earlier was because of her visitors. She was not saying much, save for apologizing profusely. It wasn’t her fault.

Mateo was pissed. Someone did this to her. It could not have simply happened incidentally. Glitches did happen, of course, but there was too much intent from the monsters. They were far too organized and driven. Of course, Mateo still didn’t know what they would have done if they had caught up to the humans, because they didn’t give them the chance, but they certainly weren’t trying to say hello, and they weren’t random. When he found whoever was responsible, they were gonna wish they had targeted someone else.

“That may not be what happened,” Leona said. “It may not have been an attack.”

“You didn’t see them,” Mateo argued. “They were absolutely relentless. Boyd and I literally had to keep running. Thank God I was able to shut off some of my bio-responses, or I would have grown too tired to make it.” He shook his head.

“The blobs,” Leona began. “Why did they chase after you at all? If they were a part of the system, why not simply materialize right in front of you. You didn’t actually run anywhere. You were only ones and zeros, as were the blobs themselves.”

“Exactly,” Mateo reasoned. “They weren’t a part of it. That’s how I know someone put them in there. It couldn’t have been your average file corruption, or whatever.”

“I have another hypothesis,” Ramses jumped in. “I think it could have been natural and unintentional. I think they were a part of her, but not the simulation.”

“What, like her antibodies, or her stress hormones?” Mateo questioned.

“Something like that,” Ramses went on. “Do you remember when Romana was abducted by the original Boyd? He placed her in a dark particle stasis field.”

“Yeah, it changed her,” Mateo said. “It made her just like him. That’s over now.”

“Perhaps not,” Ramses suggested. “I’m still detecting periodic neutrino collisions inside of her body, and in yours. It would be nothing to be worried about, it means your bodies can handle it. But it looks like her mind is being negatively impacted.”

“Well, she’s been dark particle-free for weeks, and nothing. What’s changed?”

Ramses frowned at Mateo sadly, but didn’t say anything. He looked nervous.

“Me,” Mateo surmised. “I visited her simulation. I have lingering dark particle-ness too.” He had to sit down. “I did this to her.”

“It’s not your fault either. It’s just nature,” Leona said comfortingly. “It could also be this star system. Different stars, different solar flux.”

“Fix this,” Mateo demanded. “Do whatever you have to do, even if it hurts.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 19, 2563

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Monster might not have been the right word to use for them. They were amorphous blobs that shifted their shapes as they moved in unpredictable ways. They were mostly a navy blue, though hints of other colors randomly appear like twinkling stars. They had no faces and no limbs, but they were heading right for the trio. Mateo didn’t know if Romana and Boyd were as worried as he was, so he took his eyes off of the apparent attack to study their faces. They both looked just as surprised as they stood up from the picnic blanket, and tried to back away. This was evidently not normal.

There were more monsters behind them, coming from up the ridge, in the tree branches, and even from burrows in the ground. The landscape and foreground objects, like the picnic supplies, started flickering. The waterfall moved backwards, and then forwards at superspeed. It wasn’t just that there were monsters in this world. It was that the world itself was unstable. The simulation was clearly corrupted. They would have to take it out of Romana’s head. But first, they had to find a way out of it. Any amount of time could have passed in the real world for them. She was not in control anymore. Perhaps she never was.

“We have to get out of here,” Mateo pointed out as they were running through the one gap they found between the monsters. “You leave first, Romy. I’ll follow.”

“She can’t leave,” Boyd argued.

“I don’t know if you’re real or not,” Mateo said to him, “but if you love her like you’re supposed to, you’ll let her save herself. I don’t know where you could go, but—”

“No, it’s not that,” Boyd argued. “The nanites are in her brain and body. She can’t simply log out. Whatever is happening will still be happening, and could still be damaging her. But at least here, she can see what’s going on from the inside.”

“Our friends don’t necessarily know that something has gone wrong,” Mateo reasoned. “We have to leave so we can tell them, so they can solve it from their end.”

“You go,” Romana urged. “Tell Ram and mother. I will stay and maintain the link.”

Mateo stopped, and stopped her by the shoulder. They had covered some ground. “That doesn’t make sense. You need to be able to talk to them about what you’re feeling, and what you’re thinking. They need to be able to ask you questions. I will stay here.”

“Time is different when she’s not here,” Boyd explained. “I don’t have to wait a full year for her to come back, but I do spend some time alone, so I live more like a normal person, instead of a program that she just turns on and off. Whatever these things are...”

“They could be messing with that.” Mateo turned back to his daughter. “That’s why you need to go. Please. We’ll take care of each other. If he were the original Boyd, or if he’s not; it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to test for that. I have to assume that he’s a conscious being, so I will fight for him like I would anyone else.” He waited. “Now go!”

Romana gave Boyd a hug and a kiss, and Mateo only a hug. Then she disappeared.

“Do you have any idea what these things are?” Mateo asked. “Can we fight them?”

“I wouldn’t know, but I wouldn’t try. They might kill you. Just by touch, they might genuinely destroy your IDCode, leaving your body an empty husk in base reality.”

The monsters were closing in on them again, so they started running off again. “Can we simply shift to a different environment?” Mateo asked. “Anywhere but here.”

Boyd extended his hand, then transported them away when Mateo took it, but no matter where they jumped, the blobs were always in the exact same place, relative to their positions. The blobs could pass through solid objects, so the only way to stay ahead of them was to run. The humans had to keep running for a week before rescue came.

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Castlebourne Capital Community: Council Criminal Conspiracy (Part II)

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If this wasn’t the most difficult game in 2.5Dome, Dreychan absolutely did not want to see whatever was. What Lubiti and Maaseiah didn’t—couldn’t—understand was that this wasn’t anywhere near the first game he had ever played. His homeworld of Ex-777 didn’t have work. People played were lazy and hedonistic, and while he preferred a more quiet life, it wasn’t like he spent every waking moment curled up with a book. He had never played a game quite like this, but he did have some experience. Even his muscle memory had some idea what to do, because virtual reality was ubiquitous on 777. So he survived. He ran through the level, avoiding every obstacle, jumping over every gap. It wasn’t easy, and he was exhausted throughout the whole thing, but he did make it. And once he finished that first level, he went on to the next. And the next, and the next. He kept trying to escape, either by taking small moments to try to repair his emergency bracelet, or by just looking for a weak point in the walls. He also screamed for help, but no one responded.

He never found respite, except for a few minutes between the levels. If he managed to get significantly ahead of the moving wall, it wouldn’t have to catch up to him. A new wall would simply slide in place, and start coming for him instead. Sometimes, he had to figure out how to open a door, but it was never too complex, and he was a pretty smart guy. They had underestimated him, and that was their first mistake. He was at the final level now, and about to finish the whole thing. The one thing left to do was to defeat the final boss. How hard could it be?

Oh my God, so hard. It was this giant sort of skeleton creature that could spin its whole torso around on an axis, which it used to try to slap Dreychan away. There had been a sword in the eighth level, which he failed to retrieve. He knew that would come back to bite him in the ass, but there was no fixing it. A normal player could have let themselves die to try again, but he didn’t have that luxury. Any death would mean the true death, so he kept having to cut his losses, and press forward. That one mistake could not be what ended him here. He could do this. He had no choice. It wasn’t only because he obviously wanted to live in general, but seeing the looks of horror on Lubiti and Maaseiah’s faces when he confronted them—he couldn’t lose that opportunity.

He was on the ground, though, on his back. The skeleton creature towered over him. It usually moved fast and violently, but it was slow now, confident that it had Dreychan beat. It didn’t have that much in the way of a recognizable face, but it might have even looked like it was smiling? It reached back with its giant lanky arm, and prepared to smash Dreychan into the floor when something stopped him. It was the hammer from level seven. Dreychan had noticed it on the wall, but it had been receded into a pit, and looked more like decoration. After he spotted the sword, he figured that the hammer was just a distraction. Maybe not, though. Dreychan looked up to see Teemo wielding it. Teemo?

Teemo screamed through gritted teeth as he reangled his weapon so he could press against the bottom of the handle, and push the skeleton’s fist back. The skeleton was confused, and surprised at finally encountering an enemy who might actually defeat him. Teemo made one more push to knock the skeleton off balance for a second, which was enough for him to regrip the hammer, and smash the skeleton’s toes. The skeleton began to hop on one foot as it massaged its metatarsals and phalanges. Teemo didn’t stop there. He hopped over to the other foot, and swung to the side to smash into its ankle. That was enough to tip the monster over to his back. Teemo took a breath, and looked over at Dreychan, who was only now getting back up to his feet. Teemo expertly threw the hammer upwards, letting it slide between his fingers and thumb, catching it once his hand had reached the metal. He pointed the bottom of the handle towards Dreychan. “Care to do the honors?”

Dreychan stepped forward. “How are you here? Why?”

“Do you want to ask questions, or do ya maybe wanna kill the monster first?”

Good point. Dreychan accepted the weapon, found his own grip on it, and smashed the giant skull into a dozen pieces. After all this time, the doors finally opened.

A few days later, Dreychan was all rested up, and ready for the next Council meeting. According to Teemo, the plot to have Dreychan killed wasn’t limited to Lubiti and Maaseiah. More people were involved, but unfortunately, he didn’t know who, or how many. The only reason Teemo knew about it was because Maaseiah underestimated him too. Teemo didn’t explain why he helped Dreychan, but that obviously wasn’t the concern right now. They needed to identify the other conspirators. They had one chance to curate that list, or maybe not even that. If Dreychan had actually died in the game as he was supposed to, they probably would have heard about it, so their surprise might have faded by now. Or, they deliberately shielded themselves from the potential of hearing such news in order to extend their plausible deniability for as long as possible. He was about to find out. Teemo was already in there, recording the Council in secret. Dreychan was waiting in the ancillary hallway so no one would spot him.

They had been waiting for one straggler, but she was here now. Dreychan took a deep breath, walked back over to the main hallway, and stepped into the Council chambers. A hush fell over the room, which was weird, but he just kept walking, not looking. Teemo was recording, he had to trust that. He really wanted to see how Lubiti and Maaseiah were reacting, but he would be able to watch the footage later. Teemo would run it through a special program that was specifically designed to detect surprise, even if someone was trying to hide it. Dreychan casually strode over to his seat, and sat down as he always did. He looked up at Council Chair Rezurah because she was about to call them to order.

“Uh, uh...um.” She was so flustered. Why was she flustered? Was she looking at him? Holy crap, she was looking at him. She was part of this too? She shook her head quickly, trying to loosen up and get back on track. “Thank you all for coming. Um, I—I was able meet—to meet with Mr. Hrockas, I mean Stewart—Steward! Mr. Hrockas Steward. Hrockas. And we came up with the specifics of a plan. We’re gonna move our star 83 light years away, a little bit closer to Earth. We will end up 83 light years from Earth. Now, I know that might be confusing for some, but you have to remember that space is three-dimensional—”

“Sometimes it’s two-point-five!” Teemo interrupted. He stood up, and started walking towards the dais, holding his tablet down by his hip.

“Mister Teemo, you will wait your turn!” Rezurah demanded.

“I’m afraid I don’t have to wait for shit!” Teemo fired back. “You are all under arrest!” He looked over at Dreychan. “Except you, Drey.”

“But all of them?” Dreychan questioned. “Every single one of them?”

“Every goddamn one,” Teemo confirmed as he looked back up at Rezurah.

“You do not have the authority to arrest anyone, and you don’t have any proof whatsoever,” Rezurah argued. “You’re just a scribe.” She looked down at Maaseiah. “I thought you said he was one of us.”

“He was,” Maaseiah replied before standing up himself, and looking Teemo in the eye. “You helped us scrub the security footage.”

“No, I didn’t,” Teemo explained. “Because I am not Teemo.” He lifted his tablet, and started tapping on it. His face began to flicker before disappearing entirely, revealing his true face underneath. “My name is Dominus Azad Petit of the Castlebourne Charter Contingency. Teemo has already been placed in holding, you will all be joining him shortly.” Azad made another tap on his device. A bunch of masked soldiers suddenly appeared. They began to secure the perimeter, and place cuffs on people. “No, not him,” Azad ordered the one who cuffs Dreychan. “He’s not guilty.”

“We’re not either!” Rezurah shouted. “We had an obligation to protect our people, and the planet! We did it for you!”

Castlebourne Owner, Hrockas Steward appeared next to Azad. The man escorting Rezurah met him halfway in the middle of the floor. “I brought you here. I gave you a home when you had none. You didn’t even know what a home was. I gave you everything you needed to live happily and safely.”

“And we’re grateful for that,” Rezurah insisted. “Nothing has to change.” She scowled at Dreychan. “Except him. He’s a danger to us all. You have this whole thing backwards.”

Hrockas shook his head. “My team investigated Mr. Glarieda for months, and found no evidence of him leaking information. You, on the other hand; we have evidence of your crimes.” He jerked his head at her escort, who began to shuffle her away.

“You impersonated a Council leader, and infiltrated our private meetings! You have no right to do this! The people will rise up! There are more of us than you!” She trailed off as she was being pulled out of the room. The rest of the detainees were taken out behind her.

“Sir,” Azad began, “why didn’t you just teleport them all into holding?”

“I want people to see,” Hrockas answered coldly as he watched the last of them go. “I want them to see what happened here today.” He spun around. “Mr. Glarieda, on behalf of Castlebourne, and its executive leadership, I would like to extend my deepest apologies to what you have endured. Your experience has illuminated a number of security flaws in our system, particularly in 2.5Dome. You never should have been able to step through that first door with a broken emergency beacon. I want to assure you that the entire dome has been shut down, and will not be reopening until we have secured a more robust set of guardrails. Furthermore, I have called in a third party to audit our system overall to identify any flaws or room for improvement. As everything on this planet is free, I can offer you no compensation for your suffering, but...” He looked around at the now empty chambers. “The Council is yours for now. I try to stay out of politics. I only stepped in because it was a conspiracy to commit murder. That’s rare these days, and I cannot allow a permanent death to overshadow what we’re trying to build here. Not to sound callous.”

“I understand,” Dreychan responded sincerely. “I’m grateful for the assist. Particularly to you, Dominus Petit.”

“It’s my job,” Azad said. “You almost had that skeleton. I would have been there sooner, though, but we could not get the emergency exits open. I know that sounds bad, but it’s what we’re gonna use to nail these guys. They hacked our system, which means they left a trail for us to follow.”

“Yeah,” Dreychan agreed with the silver lining.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Hrockas said. “I have to get back to work.”

“Wait,” Dreychan said before they could disappear on him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You can’t have a council with one person. We need to fix this, and I’m not qualified to do that alone. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I will need to maintain a line of communication with my...murder conspirators. They may have tried to kill me, but I recognize that they were doing it to protect ex-Exins. They will help me.”

Hrockas nodded. “Azad can make arrangements for visitation. They will be monitored, however, so the expectation of privacy that this council enjoyed before has been undone. You’ll get it back once you backfill the positions, and I’m satisfied that there will be no repeat of this incident.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” Dreychan said.

Hrockas disappeared.

“What the hell just happened?” Dreychan asked rhetorically. This was crazy. He couldn’t run the Council, even to find all of its replacements. Even with help, he was not the man for the job. He didn’t even ask to be on it in the first place. He simply didn’t have any choice. When they first arrived, and started establishing their rules, Hrockas insisted that every old world had representation. It made sense at the time, and Dreychan agreed because the Council was so big, he could disappear into it. Now it all fell on him, and he wasn’t prepared for it. Goddammit, why wasn’t there just one other person who didn’t try to kill him the other day?

Azad started to breathe deliberately. “Just breathe, Drey. Like this. In. Out. Slowly. You can do this. You’re not alone, even if it might feel like that. You can reach out to the Expatriate Protection Bureau. As far as we know, they weren’t involved in this. The EPB was the internal police force that the former refugees created. It too was separate from Hrockas and the other planetary executives, but also operated independently of the Council. They were there to check and balance each other. Yeah, they could help. Perhaps they would be able to simply take over.

Dreychan breathed. “Thanks. I’ll be okay. Things are getting easier. The Vellani Ambassador returns every day with fewer and fewer refugees. There are fewer decisions to make than ever.”

“That’s a very positive way to look at things,” Azad said. “He tapped on his tablet a few times, and then tapped the corner of it against Dreychan’s watch. Contact me whenever you need. A Dominus commands hundreds of thousands of troops, but we are presently technically in peacetime, since the Exin Empire threat is only that; a threat. And it will be my job to lead them, not train them now. So I have a lot of time on my hands.”

Dreychan glanced at his watch to make sure his contact card came through. “This has your quantum signature. You planning on leaving this region of space?”

Azad smiled. “Light lag is still a problem even if you’re not light years away. I’m helping develop a new adventure that’s not actually under one of the domes. It’s on the edge of the solar system.”

“Oh, interesting. Well, I’ll let you get to it. I appreciate your support.”

“Any time. It was nice meeting you.” Azad disappeared.

Dreychan was all alone, in the literal sense anyway. He was in charge here now...of the chairs, and the tables. They better get in line, or suffer the consequences. That was his first order of business. He walked around the tables, and straightened the chairs out so they would look nice. Some of them had been knocked over in the kerfuffle. As trivial as it was, it made him feel a tiny bit useful. It was unreasonable to begin any real work today. The only item on the agenda was to approve the plan for the stellar engine, and there was no longer anyone here with the right to make that call. There was certainly no need for a vote. Once people were found to backfill all of these many positions, at least the room would be clean and tidy. Hell, the other original council members might even ultimately be totally acquitted, and return. He didn’t know. So to prevent any kind of future conflict, he just took the day off, and went back home. He would come to regret it.

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Extremus: Year 118

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It’s the end of the year, and the end of Tinaya and Arqut’s lives. The whole ship is in mourning, even though they’re not quite dead yet. They’re in the same room that they’ve slept in for years, but it has been modified to accommodate their new situation. The bed has been pulled out to be replaced with two hospital beds. People have been coming all month long to say their goodbyes. The doctors don’t let too many people in over the course of only one day, so they have to spread it out. Audrey, with nothing else to do, is in charge of maintaining a healthy and comfortable schedule. Captain Jennings has his turn now, as it is nearing the couple’s final days, and he should be one of the last. His relationship to the two of them hasn’t always been perfect, but they have a mutual respect for one another, and he will still be saddened by the loss. That’s not the only reason he’s here, though. There is some final business to take care of. “You must appoint your successor.”

“Ask me in a year,” Arqut quips. Gallows humor.

Oceanus tries hard not to smile. He doesn’t know that it’s fine. They’re in their nineties, for God’s sake. “Please. I want them to be as good as you.” He looks around in paranoia, like someone might be watching. “Things have been changing. Waldemar is gaining popularity.”

“We knew he would,” Tinaya says. “He’s a populist.”

“Yeah, but...please,” Oceanus begs.

“Who is in third place?” Arqut asks him. “If Waldemar is number one, who is number three?”

“That would be Détha. Why? Are you considering her for the role?”

“I can’t just say, whoever loses becomes the Superintendent instead,” Arqut explains. “I have to choose a name, and it will take that person out of the running. They obviously can’t be both the Captain and the Superintendent.”

“We all know that neither one of them is going to win,” Oceanus says, “Détha nor Pronastus.”

“Right, but second place will become lieutenant, won’t they?” Arqut presses.

Oceanus frowns. “We weren’t telling people that.”

“You don’t always have to tell me something for me to know,” Arqut clarifies. “Well...you don’t have to tell my wife.”

“It’s a little bit of padding,” Oceanus explains. “If that man has to become captain no matter what, at least we can put someone at his side who we can trust. If it can’t be Silveon, let it be someone we know and like.”

“Détha is the same,” Tinaya says. “I didn’t know her before all this, but I’ve been watching her. She would make a good superintendent or lieutenant, but let’s have her as the former. Pronastus has work to do when it comes to policy, not just staffing.”

“So we’ll have two good people in power, and one not so good,” Oceanus determines. He breathes a sigh of relief. “I was hoping you would say something like that. She has to be informed first, though. She has the right to decline, and move forward with her bid for the captaincy.”

“Well...” Arqut begins. “Bring her to us.”

“She’s not on the schedule,” Audrey warns from the corner.

“Who is?”

“Head Councillor Crusan,” Audrey answers. “After him, you’ve hit your quota. You’re not allowed any more visitors, besides me and your son. Doctor’s orders.”

“We’ll see him tomorrow,” Tinaya decides.

“Tomorrow is a day of rest,” Audrey reminds them. “They’re all days of rest after today.”

“Then push it back. The day after that will be the start of our swan songs,” Arqut insists. “He’s right, I should have picked a replacement sooner. I just wasn’t thinking, and honestly, I forgot whether I had the authority to do so or not. There was a time when we thought I didn’t. I have the power to move staff around as needed, but does that include my own position? Anyway, please retrieve her for us. But maybe wait an hour or two. We both need a nap.”

Oceanus looks up at Audrey. “Just let me know when they’re awake and up for it. Détha will jump when I say so.”

Détha ends up not being able to come until nighttime, when her watch as active Vice Captain is over for the day. Technically, once she’s on break, she’s free to do whatever she wants. It’s kind of the point to transition to the next Vice Captain three times a day, so none of them has any sort of help from the others while they’re active. During each watch, they are expected to be the one and only. This is a different situation, though. She’s not in command at the moment. “You wanted to see me, sirs?”

“There is no time to beat around the bush,” Arqut starts to tell her. He’s sitting up now, feeling better than before, but he knows that he’s going to have to go to sleep again soon. “Are you aware of your place in the competition?”

Détha is a straightforward person. She recognizes the value in lying, but is very good at seeing what others know, and what they don’t, so when lying is pointless, it becomes counterproductive. She knows that Tinaya and Arqut already know the answer, so any optimism or confidence will come across as unearned, even though she got to where she is due to all that confidence. Fake it ‘til you make it, except unfortunately...she’s not gonna make it. And she knows that too. “I’m losing, sir.”

“Do you know why that is?” Arqut goes on.

Now she’s hesitating.

“Be honest with us about your perspective,” Tinaya encourages her. “We’ll take it to our grave, which is coming up soon.”

Détha clears her throat, and tries to straighten up, but really, she was already standing at high attention. “It’s a boy’s, club sir. It has been for over twenty years. I’m sorry if that offends.”

“It doesn’t,” Tinaya assures her. “You’re right, but that’s not the problem. I’m guessing that you would be happier if Pronastus won. Not as happy as if it were you, but better than the alternative?”

Détha hesitates again, but pushes through it. “He should be in first place. He’s clearly the best, I’m not sure why he’s not. He understands people. He knows what they need. He has literal superpowers. Waldemar, on the other hand, is...”

“Incompetent? Reckless?” Arqut tries to guess.

“Inhumane? Dispassionate?” Tinaya adds.

“Lost,” Détha contends. “Sirs. He gets confused about why he should care what others are going through.”

Arqut nods. “As Superintendent, when active, I don’t have the power to relieve a captain from duty, unless under extreme circumstances, and even then, I would need a lot of people backing me. I wouldn’t be able to just do it.”

“Sir? Is there a problem with Captain Jennings? Is he corrupt?” Détha asks.

“No, not him. It’s Kristiansen. He’ll be a problem.”

“Apologies, but it appears that you won’t be the Superintendent anymore, sir.”

“Exactly,” Arqut confirms.

Détha winces a little. She’s not quite connecting the dots, but she’s close. Or maybe she’s there, but she doesn’t want to assume.

“We need you,” Tinaya says. “We need you to take his place, so you can be in a position to help when the day comes that this ship requires an active Superintendent again. As he said, you can’t remove a captain, but maybe you could move enough other people around, and gather enough support.”

“You’re planning a future coup,” Détha argues. “You won’t even be around to suffer any consequences.”

Tinaya sighs. “There are things we know about the future. I’m breaking laws just by telling you that, and I won’t say anything more, except that you are a variable that we didn’t see. Perhaps...you can make things better. Based on your track record, I don’t think you can make it worse. You and Vice Captain Kegrigia are the only two people who might have a chance of keeping Extremus in one piece. One of you should be lieutenant, and the other the new Arqut.”

Détha considers the offer. “You don’t think I can win?” she asks. “You don’t think something can change within the next two years?”

“You deserve it,” Arqut says to her, “but no. Time is usually fluid, even for time travelers who have knowledge of future events, but sometimes, there’s nothing you can do. We believe that this is the best course of action to take right now. It might be the only one.”

Détha nods respectfully. “I accept the position. I will take on my new responsibilities with honor and grace.”

“Now, you understand that you won’t have power over the vice captains either, right? They’re just like the captain in this regard. If we were still doing things the old ways, you couldn’t veto a candidate. They’re insulated, by extension of the captain. So even though you’ll be starting by the end of the competition, you won’t be able to change the outcome.”

“I understand,” Détha replies. “With all due respect, I can promise you nothing when it comes to my future decisions. I will have to be my own Superintendent, and if I calculate that Waldemar Kristiansen is the absolute best thing to happen to Extremus, and its mission, then I will support him appropriately. If you’re looking for someone to carry a set of instructions that you write down before you die, you’re looking at the wrong girl.”

“We would never expect that,” Arqut says sincerely. “I would not be choosing you if I thought I could. That’s the point.”

Détha nods again. “Then once more, I accept.”

There are a few minor details to iron out, but there’s very little that she needs to know before she starts her job. They won’t announce the decision for another few days, and she won’t actually start anything until Arqut dies, or if he’s declared mentally unfit to continue. They are considering asking the doctor to do just that so she can go ahead and get started. It’s not like they would be lying. He gets tired all the time, and he’s on his actual deathbed. Technically, he’s mentally stable enough to make decisions, but in a practical sense, he should also be able to attend council meetings. Even sitting up in a chair has become difficult. They don’t get the chance to do any of this, however. A couple of days later, Détha is found dead in her stateroom.

It was clearly murder, but they have no evidence that Waldemar was involved. It doesn’t even kind of look like he might have done it. Only a few people understand his full motives. Since he was winning the competition for the captain’s seat, to outsiders, it doesn’t look like he would have much reason to feel threatened by her. If anything, he should have killed Pronastus to secure his own win, but that’s not what happened. Their best guess is that he found out that Détha spoke with Tinaya and Arqut, even though she doesn’t know them, and wouldn’t have been on the list of visitors unless it was something that wasn’t in Waldemar’s best interests. Murder is wrong, of course, but he’s not crazy to hold these fears. They are plotting against him, just probably not in the way that he thought. Or she confessed to him, either beforehand, which led to the murder, or during the violent act, as a desperate plea for her life. So they don’t know what he knows. It doesn’t matter for long, though, because Arqut and Tinaya die at the exact same time just a few weeks later anyway. They never found a new superintendent.

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Microstory 2513: Original Hotel Owner

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Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I was the man who originally owned the hotel. I was told by a reputable source that the area was primed for rapid development in the coming years, and I wanted to get in on the ground floor. I spent a great deal of money on the construction, and in fact, too much. You see, in the construction game, cutting corners and handing out bribes are common practices. I had seen it in the industry before, and I wanted nothing to do with it. I did everything by the book. It cost me a lot more, and it took me a lot longer to complete the project, but it was something that I was proud of when it was done. I was proud of myself. Unfortunately, I was not the only one trying to make it big in the area, and they were all given false information too. I’m not sure who profited from the lie, but it was quite a believable one, for we all reinforced each other’s presumptions. If someone tells you there’s a great party in the house down the street, and they tell a hundred other people the same thing, and all those people go to the party expecting there to be a lot of people there, well...they found exactly what they expected, didn’t they? So I and the other developers took each other’s presence as proof that we were doing the right thing. The problem was, the interest really wasn’t there. It was the residential sector that didn’t support the vision. No one wanted to come this far out in the middle of nowhere Kansas. A few places survived, but most of us fell apart. I needed to at least make some of my money back, and I found it. Mr. Tipton paid me $11 million for my property. It was a hell of a lot less than I put into it, but a fair price for what the area had succumbed to. What came next, no one could have predicted. Landis Tipton had a monopoly on miracle cures that actually worked. Thousands a day flocked here to benefit. Too many came, in fact, and they all needed to eat, and shop for other things. The Foundation revitalized the area, and put some of my compatriots back in the black. He saved it, and from there, a brand new town was born. It is not mine anymore, which I find a little sad. Looking back, had I known what it would become, I might have asked to be Mr. Tipton’s landlord instead, so I could profit. But alas, the reason they raised so much capital in the beginning was because they wanted total control over their dream, and I would have been in the way of that regardless of my own prognostications. I played one small part in the journey that we have been on for the last five years, and have found a way to be satisfied with that. At least I did not stand in his way.

Microstory 2316: Earth, August 23, 2178

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Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Corinthia,

My father had to extend his diplomatic mission, which happens all the time—he had already extended it twice before this—but he calls every time, so I was able to confront him about his involvement in our separation. I would have preferred to speak with him in person, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, because there’s no telling how long this will take. We really need that food and the medical supplies, and they just can’t come to an agreement with our neighbors. I believe that he will make every effort to return as soon as possible, though, as delaying a real talk will only give me more time to hear the truth from you instead. He would have rather gotten ahead of the narrative, but of course, we both know that he had every opportunity to fess up, and never did. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to find anyone who may have known our parents back then, but he and I came to this habitat alone a year ago. So far, no one here has been of much help. I did meet a rather old woman who believes that such awful practices were not unheard of four decades ago, and there’s apparently precedent that goes back even further. Back in the early days of space exploration, there were two famous sets of twins who were studied for comparison. One would go up into space, while the other stayed on the ground. That’s how they learned that low gravity changed the immune system, and even genes. There were other twin studies throughout history, such as when one turned out to be really intelligent, and the other not so much. This old woman thinks that these experiments became more ethical over time, but started to backslide as governments lost control of society, and corporations started being able to make up their own rules. It’s hard to know for sure what I can trust about what this woman says, though, as she’s made some more outrageous claims, like that aliens walk among us, or that she once met an immortal mystic man who was born in the nineteenth century. Anyway, I’m quite curious to know more about how Vacuus works. I know that it’s quite dangerous to live on an airless world, but what does that do to people? What kind of laws do you have? Would you call them fair and reasonable? I should think that a mission that included a kidnapped baby would be rife with corruption and amorality, but I truly hope that things have changed since then, and you at least feel safe and happy with the people around you. Write back when you can.

Love (I hope it’s okay to say that),

Condor Sloane

Microstory 1989: Senior Moment

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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

IC Commissioner: Investigator Blass. Welcome to my office. Have a seat.

Blass: Thank you for having me. I have always respected and admired your work.

IC Commissioner: Yes, yes, very good, thank you. I called you in today to fill you in on what’s been going on with our investigation into the...traitors and spies that you discovered in our midst regarding these um, O—Ocho, uhh...

Blass: You can just call them aliens, sir.

IC Commissioner: Aliens, right. Obviously I don’t know much about them, but I’ve been briefed; emphasis on the brief. It would seem that we’re in the middle of a secret cold civil war. Can you believe it? We have departments undermining other departments, elected officials making hush-hush deals. The corruption is rampant, and I’m about to get fired because I’m not doing my job.

Blass: I don’t agree with that, sir.

IC Commissioner: Well, I think I do. I let it go this far somehow without realizing it, and the only way the Internal Compliance Commission survives to fight another day may be for me to step down. But that’s neither here nor there. I think it’s somewhere in the middle. Anyway, ‘nough jokes. You have continued to work with DExA, correct?

Blass: Yes, I’m still stationed there, even though everyone knows that I’m an internal investigator. Don’t worry, they’ve been very nice and accepting.

IC Commissioner: Good. I hope you understand, we couldn’t have you involved in the interviews we did with this Sergeant Sachs asshole, because of your slight conflict of interest. Such is the price of being embedded. Now normally, you would not be entitled to further details—you still aren’t—but I, and the rest of the team involved, feel that someone on that side of things ought to know what’s going on.

Blass: Okay.

IC Commissioner: Sachs does not consider himself to be a traitor. In fact, he keeps calling the interviewers traitors instead. We have finally figured out who he has been taking his orders from, and it could spell doom for our country.

Blass: I don’t know that I should hear this; it sounds far above my paygrade.

IC Commissioner: Not anymore. *hands him a document* You’ve been promoted. Congratulations Senior Internal Investigator Blass.

Blass: Oh. Thank you, sir. This is so unexpected. *pauses* In that case, who is it?

IC Commissioner: It’s Congressman Colonel Piers Jamison.

Blass: Holy Crap. The man prides himself in rooting out corruption.

IC Commissioner: I know.

Blass: He came up through the ICC.

IC Commissioner: I know.

Blass: No matter what, the ICC loses. We look bad whether we go after him or not.

IC Commissioner: That’s right.

Blass:*face sinks* That’s why I’m being promoted.

IC Commissioner: You’re being promoted because you’re smart enough to know why you’re being promoted; because only a Senior Investigator can go overt. Congratulations again, you’re our new spokesman. Your first press conference is tomorrow morning.

Microstory 1980: Cover

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Reese: How are we lookin’?

Micro: Fully secure...virtually. I can’t attest to the physical component. So if they find us, it won’t be because someone traces my signals. We’re ghosts. I’ll get the ceramics.

Reese: *phone rings* So if I answer this call, I’ll be fine?

Micro: Without a doubt.

Reese: *answers the phone* Go for Parsons.

SI Eliot: *through the phone* Agent Parsons, where are you?

Reese: I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, sir.

*SI Eliot will continue to communicate via phone call for this conversation*

SI Eliot: Don’t make me laugh, calling me sir while you’re actively betraying the government. Come back in, and I’ll protect you.

Reese: That’s not going to happen. We can’t trust anyone.

SI Eliot: How do you know that you can trust each other?

Reese: I trust the freemen and women. I trust Leonard. I don’t trust anyone with current, or former, ties to the government. You’ll notice that Agents Altimari, Robles, and Flynn are not with us. They could be plants too, as could Dreyer.

SI Eliot: Washington agreed to conscript the freepersons for their low probability of being corrupt. And Robles, Flynn, and Altimari are my people. I trust them implicitly.

Reese: But we can’t trust you either, or Director Washington. She’s the one who assigned Sachs to us. It was always suspicious, and now we know why. We asked him about his loyalties. He said two things. First, he admitted to attempting to kill Vogel to protect his own identity, and second, he claimed to be a continuing patriot. That usually means he still answers to someone in the government. Until that person is found, along with all of their cohorts, we have no choice but to operate independently.

SI Eliot: It’s not me, and it’s not Washington.

Reese: Sure.

SI Eliot: Reese, if you do this, I can’t help you. You and your team will be considered enemies of the state. They’ll be branded as traitors, and hunted down with the full force of the law. Your old partner will probably ask to arrest you himself.

Reese: They’re not traitors, and neither am I. Think through this logically. The country is in trouble. Trust is in short supply, which leads to mistakes and general inefficacy.

Micro: *saluting* General Inefficacy.

Reese: *holding the mouthpiece* Shh. *to SI Eliot* More aliens are coming. I can feel it. The best thing we can do to stop them is to compartmentalize our forces. We need to learn to attack from all angles, because I can guarantee you that that’s what the Ochivari are gonna do. They’ve been found in Kansas and Wyoming. How long before it’s Indonesia? How long before Russia? What if they’re already working with the Chinese?

SI Eliot: What are you going to do for money?

Reese: *looks at Micro* We have that covered.

SI Eliot: *sighs* I’ve been asked to rein you in nonviolently. I can’t stop them from sending in the troops. How could you possibly hope to defend yourselves?

Reese: *looks at Anaïs* We have that covered too. Goodbye, Hisham. *hangs up*

Microstory 1979: From the Shadows

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Leonard: No, she’s still not here. Ophelia? Ophelia? Can you hear me?

Micro: *walking up from the shadows* I’m blocking all signals.

Leonard: Report.

Micro: *smiling* Report. You’re learning, young padawan. First off, are you okay? You, Ophelia, and the prisoner? How did you get back here?

Leonard: We used one of Anaïs’ contacts to get across the borders, and then a bus.

Micro: *nodding* I’m glad you’re okay. I wanted to help, but we couldn’t tip Sachs off. Not that it mattered. Parsons escalated things at the safehouse, and we were forced to reveal the truth in front of Sasho. We still don’t know if we can trust him. That’s why I asked you to come here. This was our only way to keep Vogel safe and alive until we can figure out how many moles there are left in the government. He is alive, isn’t he?

Leonard: He’s fine. He’s in a safehouse that I set up for myself while I was free, but before DExA began. *looking around* I assume this is yours?

Micro: All I could do was hope that your parolee told you where the Salmon Civic Center would be if we were in Salmonverse.

Leonard: We had lunch in this area once in my home universe. He pointed it out. Seemed innocuous and meaningless at the time.

Micro: I’m glad that he did.

Leonard: I’m taking Vogel to Parsons. Enough of this cloak and dagger crap. We are not equipped to hold onto the suspect on our own, and every day we spend in the cold gets us closer to being burned.

Reese: I’m pleased to hear you say that. *walks up from the shadows*

Leonard: This was all just a test?

Micro: Have you heard of Lima Syndrome where you’re from?

Leonard: No.

Reese: We don’t have it either. Apparently it’s when you start to sympathize with someone you have in captivity. I had to be sure you weren’t compromised. Or Ophelia.

Leonard: Oh, the Grapley Effect. Yeah, we have that.

Reese: *hands Leonard a folder* This is what we have on Sachs. I had a friend from my military days look into it independently to verify it. He’s been playing us the whole time.

Leonard: I assume he took a shot at Vogel to shut him up?

Micro: That’s our assumption as well. We need to find out what—and who—he knows.

Leonard: *looking over the documents* This begs the question...

Reese: Director Washington? She’s the one who assigned Sachs to our department. Yeah, I’m worried about her loyalties too. That’s not our job, though. The Internal Compliance Commission will investigate on their own.

Leonard: In the meantime, what happens to us?

Reese: We’ve been shut down. But there’s hope for us yet.

Leonard: In what way?

Myka: *coming out of the shadows with a bunch of others* We’re working out of here now. Congratulations, Miazga, you’ve just joined a rogue operation.

Leonard: Not my first.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 2, 2398

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Angela’s company was a great idea, but she was a fool to think that it could last. This reality is not her home, and she doesn’t want to stay here any longer than she has to. This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care about what happens to it. There’s some decent people here, and if she can help lift those voices, she will feel more comfortable walking away when the time comes. It’s unclear when that might happen, if ever, so she has come up with a continuity plan. She will keep working as long as she’s around to do so, but she’s also going to have a line of succession, and one that does not rely on friends which might follow her through the dimensional exit. She was already looking to expand the team, so she had a short list of candidates, but one in particular has been on her mind, so this morning, she set up a same-day interview for the afternoon.

Her name is Derina Torres. She’s young and active on social media, advocating for more government community support programs, and less reliance on individual religions to help the impoverished and disenfranchised. She actually built her own platform, which is impossible to control with a dogma filter or region block, allowing oppressed peoples to vocalize their needs, and reach out for help. She would be perfect for the job, if she were willing to take it. She was apprehensive of Angela and her intentions during the interview, and clearly has trust issues, which is understandable. Even so, her responses were respectful, considerate, and open-minded. Some of the questions were a little unorthodox, but she never flinched, and she’s clearly as passionate about social change as her persona appears. Her answers reminded Angela of herself in her younger days, in the time before she died, but after she met Ed Bolton. She has great potential, but she would never be able to do this on her own. She needs a partner; preferably a realist with experience. That might be a harder ask.

After Derina’s interview, Angela started researching business people who are particularly known for integrity and high ethical standards. It’s a short list too, based on what she’s already seen so far, except one that she’s going to have to build from scratch, because there is no database with such information.

“Yes, there is,” Leona tells her.

“There’s a database of good people?”

“Pretty much, yes. It’s not Winona’s department, but the government has curated a list of every member of the country’s labor force. It uses a rudimentary artificial intelligence to rank them according to tendency towards dishonesty and corruptibility, as well as level of import within their current company, and social status in general.”

“Why would they have that? Why would they make that?”

“That’s how they know who to exploit or turn into assets.”

“There it is, that makes more sense.”

“Yeah, so all you would have to do is sort it in reverse, and all the good people will suddenly be at the top of the list.”

“That’s all, huh?” Angela asks sarcastically. “I suppose this list is a matter of public record then?”

“Not quite, but I’m sure I could get you access to it.”

“I don’t want you to burn a favor. At some point, they’re gonna get sick of you.”

“Let them try. They know they don’t want me as an enemy.”