Extremus: Year 86

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Someone on Verdemus, or who is aware that it was not destroyed, is a traitor, or perhaps a spy. It was determined that no one could be trusted to thoroughly investigate the matter. They had to bring in outside help to take care of things. Fortunately, there is a procedure for this sort of thing. Obviously, everyone who lives on Extremus has their own file. Whether they’re a member of the crew, or a civilian; a productive member of society with contribution points, or someone who is happy enough with the bare minimum—everyone is accounted for. Using an airgapped computer, this full manifest can be plugged into an isolated artificial intelligence program. Queries can be posed to it, looking for certain criteria. The system is offline most of the time, as there is rarely a need for it, and its use is not recorded beyond logging every user with a timestamp. Of course, not everyone has access to this manifest synthesis program, but Tinaya suspects that it’s typically dusted off to determine future leadership, such as herself, and she’s narrowed down the list of possible people who wrote the story of her life for her. They kept her from the captain’s seat so she could instead one day become First Chair.

As the ship’s current consul, Icarus Faulkner is on the list of those with access to the computer. Deciding that something had to be done about the attacks on Verdemus, he went into the room alone, and asked the AI to find him a candidate. Zaira Gardner is believed to be a very, very, very distant relative to famed time traveler, Lauren Gardner, though the family tree remains unconfirmed. She reminds Tinaya a lot of herself at that age. Zaira is bright, but unmotivated. In an alternate reality, she’s the Sherlock Holmes of the ship, having a knack for noticing the smallest, and most obscure details. She has not said what led her to abandoning her potential, but she has been chosen for a job now. She is leading the investigation into the Verdemusian attacks, using a team picked for her by the only other name filtered from the manifest. Cahal Fitzgerald now serves as a mini-superintendent, responsible for selecting others who will aid them in this impartial investigation. Tinaya does not know this for sure, but Consul Faulkner probably included a parameter in his search that these two should not be likely to spill the beans to the general population about this whole thing. They need to be unbiased, but still discreet. They questioned Tinaya second, after the Captain, but she hasn’t heard a peep from them since. Hopefully, it’s not her problem anymore.

Most of the administration for the civilian government has changed hands since Tinaya last spoke with them. She spent the majority of this time on-world, and has been kind of trying to stay out of everything since her return from there. Either the secret investigation turned up something that points to Tinaya as a responsible party, or the council wants to scold her for some other reason. She’s been summoned to the Meeting Hall. Arqut was asked to recuse himself from this meeting in his capacity as the Superintendent, but this is his wife they’re talking about, so he accompanies her, and would like to see them try to kick him out.

“That will not be necessary,” Head Councillor Paddon says with her hand up to calm down an imaginary unruly crowd. “But I would ask you to refrain from participating in this discussion. This will be Tinaya’s decision, and Tinaya’s alone.” The interesting thing about this one is that Paddon is both her given name and surname. It wasn’t even an accident either. Her parents were a little—shall we say—crazy nutso cuckoo? Their last name was Paddon, and they always thought that it would be a nice first name too, so instead of suggesting this to one of their friends, they took it for themselves, resulting in the unique Paddon Paddon. She could have changed it at some point, but she became mildly famous for it by the time she could even speak, so it seemed like a waste of time and energy when people could and would continue to tease her for it either way. Best just to lean into it, and let them have their fun.

“What decision?” Tinaya asks as she stands before the council like a criminal to be judged.

“I won’t bore you with any preamble,” Paddon continues. “We’re asking you to become this vessel’s next captain. It’s as simple as that.”

Tinaya chuckles once, but rather quietly. She quickly scans the council, who are not laughing with her. She accidentally releases a second chuckle, which is louder this time. When they don’t respond appropriately, she can’t help but convert it into a full-on laugh. “I’m sorry, are you serious? You’re not being serious.”

“Quite,” Paddon confirms.

“Pardon,” Tinaya begins, “but have you seen my face? I’m sixty-two years old.”

“Apologies,” Paddon says, “but our records indicate that you are ten years younger than that.” She sifts through some papers. Yes, they’re still using paper.

“In realtime, yes, but I was stuck in the past on Gatewood for about a year,” Tinaya reminds them, “and when we tried to go back, we were off course by several years. So I’m ten years older than my birthday should indicate.”

Paddon nods, remembering this now. “Right, right. Well, just the same, we fail to see how your age has to do with anything.”

“You can’t have a sixty-two year old Captain. I’m sorry, more like sixty-three by the time I would sit down. That’s absurd. Captains are in their twenties when they first start, maybe their thirties.”

Paddon looks through the papers again, but facetiously this time. “I don’t recall that being one of our laws. Could you point me to the subsection?”

Tinaya rolls her eyes. “It’s not a law, it’s just...a thing.”

The Head Councillor gets real serious now. “Miss Leithe, you have done more for the ship than any one person has, including the former captains.”

“Omega and Valencia,” Tinaya responds quite abruptly, and rudely.

“They’re immortal, they don’t count.” Paddon takes a breath. “I know that this is a lot to take in, and we generally try to find a replacement earlier in the year prior to the handoff, but it’s been decided that Extremus needs a big win. It needs a story, and it needs a leader that everyone can get behind enthusiastically. The other candidates are great, but they’re not special like you are. A former First Chair who relinquished her own power to make the government more democratic ends up being rewarded with, not only a post on the crew, but the highest honor. It will boost morale.”

“So this is nothing more than a political move.”

“They are all political moves,” Paddon says with a raised voice, but not an angry one. “You should have learned that by now. You even just told us how ancient you were.”

“This is highly irregular,” Tinaya contends.

“Exactly,” Paddon replies, understanding that Tinaya isn’t saying that this is a good thing, but maintaining the position that it is just the same.

Tinaya has been intentionally avoiding making eye contact with Lataran this whole time, even before the insane offer. Their relationship has become more awkward than ever since the time travel incident. She found herself feeling more loyal to the Lataran’s future self than the present day version, and though she never said as much out loud, this Lataran could sense it. She’s been respectfully keeping her distance. Tinaya’s gaze darts over to her now to see Lataran looking back with the love and admiration that Tinaya does not deserve.

Paddon notices. “Who do you think threw your hat in the ring?”

“And that makes it a good reason?” Tinaya questions.

“Captain Keen made a compelling argument,” Paddon explains. “What did I say, Superintendent?” she adds, holding up a finger to Arqut, who was probably about to speak out of turn.

Tinaya looks at his face now, and does her best to read his mind. She thinks she’s figured it out. “Two best friends, and a husband,” Tinaya goes on. “Plus, my aunt was Captain before me. It’s a freaking dynasty. The history books tend not to like that.”

“I’m not worried about the books right now,” Paddon claims.

“Yes, you are. You said this whole thing was about optics.”

“No, it’s about uniting the passengers under a banner they can trust. They all love you. What about that are you not understanding? Do you have any idea how much deepfake porn there is of you? You’re the most popular likeness of all Extremusians.”

“I don’t wanna hear about that.” Deepfake porn is not illegal here, though many believe that it should be. The way the law sees it, as long as you keep it to yourself, you can do just about whatever you want in the privacy of your own home. You have to create all of the images yourself, and they can’t be distributed, but there are loopholes to that limitation. Again, Tinaya doesn’t involve herself in such matters.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Paddon tells her sincerely. “I’m just trying to encourage you to think about this seriously. You have come so far. The people don’t know about Verdemus, but they’ve been told that your away mission saved their lives, and they’re grateful. Captain Keen’s stint is over. Someone has to replace her for the next twenty-four years, and we would like to find someone who is popular, so they can be an effective leader. You are not the only one who can do that, but you are the best, and we firmly believe that you can keep us on track. There is nothing that says a former civilian leader cannot join the crew. It’s just never been done before...except for Ovan Teleres, but that was this whole weird thing.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy for picking me,” Tinaya admits. “I just don’t think it’s the right choice. I think it’ll backfire. Maybe not tomorrow, but it could have major consequences for the future safety and prosperity of this mission.”

“You’re not wrong,” Paddon admits right back. “We feel that, in the long run, it will do more good than harm.”

Consul Faulkner stands up. “Let’s take a break. It sounds like we’re starting to go in circles, so we will reconvene same time tomorrow for further discussion, or your final answer, Miss Leithe.”

Tinaya goes back home with Arqut. Lataran follows them there to plead her case. After talking about it incessantly for half an eternity, Tinaya makes her decision in her head, but doesn’t say anything to the two of them. The next day, they all show up in the Meeting Hall. Tinaya stands back up on the platform, and looks at the whole group. “Okay. I’ll do it. But I have some conditions, which we can talk about. First and foremost—and this one is nonnegotiable—I’m not going to be an eighty-six-year-old captain. I’ll step down in ten years. You said you wanted to get back on track, and that’s how the timeline works out.”

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Microstory 2240: Filth

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Not much has changed yet. Yes, the dude who wants my bone marrow and index and I had a discussion, and we came to an initial agreement. We’ve not signed any papers, but as a sign of good faith, he gave me a down payment, which I will be using to hire a personal security detail for myself, and my two friends. Kelly and Dutch had the option to leave me behind, and enter a form of witness protection. They could have blended in well enough wherever they were sent, but they chose to stick by me, so I have to do right by them. I won’t tell you how much money I have at the moment, but it’s enough to afford security for the three of us for at least a few weeks after the FBI lets us go. So when I said that not much has changed, that wasn’t totally honest. The government isn’t entirely keen on letting me donate samples of my body to science. I don’t know if they think that they should have it for themselves, or what. Who knows what’s going on in their bureaucratic heads when it comes to me? I don’t mean to sound mean, or to be overly critical of them. They’ve helped me immensely multiple times when I really needed it. But it may be time for our relationship to end. I need to reassert my independence, and I assume that they would benefit from diverting resources to other things. Of course, none of this should be a thing that I’m worried about. I wouldn’t need any of it if the world were safer. The violent, disturbing, and stalkery messages haven’t stopped coming. I hired a publicist, who has taken over the responsibility of sorting though the filth. They’ll handle getting the word out on that. Apparently, they have a database of dangerous individuals, so if you chose to write something to me, just know that you may end up on a list. If I understand their reach, it could affect your credit score. Just be nice, safe, and happy, okay? We’ve been over this. I am not your monkey.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 4, 2456

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What they didn’t know before was that Kineret had a young daughter. She had been living in a remote bunker in the south with a nanny, but her mother’s relocation request finally went through. Kineret and Primus Mihajlović were busy with work off-site today, so Olimpia had agreed to babysit. Shay was sitting on the floor right now, playing with the model-sized Vellani Ambassador. Ramses was actually inside of it, in the middle of testing the habitability of the dimensional miniaturization technology that he had reverse-engineered from the box in the Goldilocks Corridor. The air was breathable, and the inertial dampeners were reportedly working okay. Propulsion was another thing, but given that it was literally a million times smaller than it would be in full form, that probably wasn’t necessary anyway.

Olimpia was sitting on an undersized chair in the playroom, elbow on her knee, and chin in her palm, watching the little girl play. But there was another reason for this game. “How you doin’ in there, bud?”

Communications were tricky too. It was garbled and weak, but they could still hear each other, and that was better than nothing. “Little nausea, but the dampeners are compensating. They don’t work perfectly great for any ship while it’s in gravity, so I’m not surprised. Nothing has fallen off my desk yet. Is she still swirling it around?”

“Jzhhoooooo! Jzhhoom!” Shay was exploring space with the toy ship.

“Sure is,” Olimpia replied.

“Great,” he said.

“Listen, I’m hoping that you can make a replica of the VA for her to keep. She seems to like it quite a bit.”

“That will not be difficult,” he answered.

There were three doors in this room. One led to the hallway, one to the bathroom, and the last to a closet. All of these opened at exactly the same time. A different man was on each side, and they were all very confused. Olimpia instinctively grabbed little Shay, and pulled her to the only wall that didn’t have any doors attached to it. She dropped the Ambassador as a result.

“What just happened?” Ramses questioned.

“Get out here immediately,” she demanded. Olimpia didn’t know everyone who lived in this bunker, so maybe someone might open the entrance, but not the bathroom door, and not the closet. Those were both empty. She had checked them, because she was a good babysitter who knew that Shay was in particular danger of a political attack.

Ramses appeared, and spun around when Olimpia pointed. “Who the hell are you people?”

The one who somehow ended up in the bathroom tightened the towel around his waist, held his hands up nonconfrontationally, and took a step forward.

“Don’t move,” Ramses insisted.

“Okay.” He breathed deeply. “I believe that you and I have met. My name is Elder Caverness, and I am currently training under the Transit Army. Is this a test?”

Ramses held up a finger. “Stay there.” He swung around so the other two men could see the finger. “All of you.” He then reached into his pocket to retrieve his handheld device. He was looking through the little database that the team had curated over the years, detailing everyone they could remember meeting, even before becoming time travelers. “Elder Caverness. Right, yes. I saw you get on the train, I was there.”

“You’re Mateo’s friend.”

Ramses was still suspicious. He held the device up to his ear after dialing a number. “Yes, this is Ramses Abdulrashid?” He waited for a response. “Yeah, one of the visiting alien people. Listen, did a giant spacetrain appear anywhere? Today, I mean?” Short pause. “Okay, thank you.” He hung up. “The Transit didn’t show up today. How are you here?”

“I don’t know.” Elder looked over his own shoulder. “I was in a bathroom, but not this bathroom.”

“I know you as well,” said the man standing in the closet doorway. “You were both there the first time this happened to me. It was just a minute ago, but we were somewhere else.”

Ramses eyed him. “Of course. You were in the Nexus. “You’re a long way from home too, unless this is your universe. Was the world ending when you left?”

“No.”

“Then maybe not. What about you? I don’t know you.”

The third man, the one by the main door, was also holding his hands up. “Hey, man, I’m just a gardener. I work at a nursery. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, with the Nexus, and the universes, and all that.”

“This sounds like Westfall,” Olimpia pointed out.

“Yeah, you called it that last time,” closet guy said.

“Is that a band, errr...?” the guy they had never met at all before asked. Maybe he too was from Salmonverse, but just didn’t know about time travel.

“Okay. Elder Caverness, and...Bay...”

“Baylor Alexanderson,” he reminded him.

“Yeah. Baylor Alexanderson. And you are?”

“Late for work.”

“What is your name, sir?” Ramses was not in the mood to joke at the moment.

“I’m Dutch Haines.”

“Dutch Haines,” Ramses began, “you’re from another world. I don’t know why you’re here, or who brought you, but you can’t go home unless whoever it was decides to send you. I’m sorry. We have zero control over it.”

Dutch looked down the hallway that he decidedly had not come from. He looked back at Ramses and shrugged. “Okay, cool.”

Ramses looked over at Olimpia. “I don’t think these guys mean us any harm, but your job is to protect the girl, so go somewhere else to do it. This room has been compromised. Take the ship, please.”

Olimpia knelt down to retrieve the Ambassador. She handed it back to Shay, then lifted her up against her hip, and teleported away.

“Whoa, shit!” Dutch exclaimed. Baylor was surprised too, but Elder wasn’t.

“Yeah. We can do that.” Ramses tried to think about what to do next. Protecting the girls was as far as he could figure out, but without Leona to make decisions, the decisions fell upon his shoulders. He wasn’t sure that he was up to the task. Ochivari were bad guys, this much was clear. He knew to fight them off if they ever showed up, but humans? How would he deal with this? What would the Captain do? He tilted his head to think, acutely aware that the men were still watching him, awaiting the answer to that question. What would she do? She would test them. He pointed. “Stand in a line, facing me.”

The three of them looked amongst each other, and agreed in their respective heads that Ramses was indeed the man in charge. Even if he wasn’t qualified, they didn’t know that. So they got in the line, and stood there patiently.

Ramses cleared his throat, and stared at them, focusing on their eyes. He wasn’t trained to study microexpressions, but maybe his intuition would show him the light. “Ochivari,” he stated plainly.

Elder furrowed his brow, disgusted by the name of their enemy. This was not surprising as the last time they saw him, he was going off to learn how to fight them. Plus, he even said that he was supposed to be training with the Transit Army. The other two didn’t react at all. He may as well have spouted a nonsense word to them. Either that, or they were sociopaths who he couldn’t read. Olimpia had confided in him that the Ochivari were using human allies to infiltrate this world so their plans could be carried out undetected. It felt wrong that this should be the case with these other two men. The way they showed up here, it probably was Westfall. The Ochivari had a weird and violent way to travel the bulkverse. It was noticeable; conspicuous. They couldn’t just quietly appear in a closet. They could, however, walk down a hallway, having arrived in this world at some other point. Elder and Baylor were probably okay dudes, especially the former, who Mateo would vouch for as a friend. Dutch, on the other hand, could be the enemy. This was why Leona didn’t want to tell anyone about the human infiltrators, because they did not know how to handle them yet. The only possible way probably involved getting one of them to confess, and using them as a baseline to suss out any others. Then again, the odds that they would show up at the same time were low if they were here for the same reason.

“All right, we’re gonna go on a little trip,” Ramses decided. He offered his hand to Dutch, who took it more out of curiosity, not knowing that he was about to be teleported to the wrong side of a set of metal bars. He came back for Baylor and Elder, relocating them to their own cells, right next to each other. They didn’t complain or question it. It was the only logical course of action, even considering what Ramses knew of them. He told the jail guards to treat them with respect, but to not let them out without authorization directly from the Primus. Then he left to relay the information to her.

“Why would you be worried about them if they’re human?” Naraschone questioned.

“Some humans are bad,” Ramses answered. “You know that as much as I. The reason you have jail cells in the bunker is because you sometimes have to lock people up. We’ve not been able to verify this information, but according to the Ochivar that Leona and Angela interviewed, some humans are bad enough to be working with them.”

Primus lifted her chin, but kept her eyes contacted with his. “We always knew that that was possible, especially after learning that they were from another universe. If there are an infinite number of them out there, it stands to reason that a handful of people would find themselves in accordance with the aliens. The statistics make it essentially impossible for there not to be.”

“Your team interrogated the Ochivar years ago,” Kineret pointed out. “Why are you only telling us now?”

“They were worried what we would do with this information,” Naraschone explained for Ramses. “Every single person in the world has now become an enemy.”

“No, there are people I’ve known my entire life,” Kineret reasoned. “If we can trace someone’s background, we can rule them out.”

Ramses shook his head, reluctant to argue. “No, you can’t. Bulk travel is time travel. Infiltrators may have shown up years before the war started, or centuries, or longer. Half the people on this planet may be the descendants of those who originated on some other version of Earth. You would never know. There’s no way to tell.”

“Surely there is,” Naraschone determined. “There’s something different about you, isn’t there? Given enough data, could you not find a way to detect—forgive me—foreigners? You should be able to use yourself as a baseline.” Hm. She came up with the same word that he had for this problem.

“We possess genetic data from nearly everyone on the planet,” Kineret continued. “We would have to requisition it, but that shouldn’t be too hard, given the fact that we’re in wartime. Compare it to your own DNA, look for differences.”

“My DNA is different,” Ramses explained. “I’m posthuman.”

“Well, what about our new prisoners?” Naraschone asked.

Ramses nodded, not because he agreed that that was the answer, but because it was technically a possibility. “I can take samples today, and I can start to run some tests, but I am no biologist.”

“Aren’t you the one who grew the bodies that you and your team now inhabit?”

“With the aid of centuries of prior research, and an AI. To do this, I would need to devise new technology. I’m not saying that I can’t do it; just not today. It would take me a year, and by then, your prisoners will no longer be locked up.”

“He’s right,” Kineret admitted. “We will not be able to hold them all year.”

“We won’t have to,” Naraschone decided. “If I’m to understand this correctly, only the Ochivari have the means to transport themselves to other universes, which is why we’ve never been able to allow them to roam free. We can keep these three people without actually locking them up. There is no legal time limit for how long you’re allowed to accommodate guests.”

“They can travel the bulk,” Ramses began to explain, “they just can’t control it. There is no guarantee that they will still be here next year when Olimpia and I return.”

“We’ll store the samples, and cross any bridge we must when we come to it,” Naraschone decided. Kineret was right, we’ll be able to request access to the global DNA database, but we would probably not be able to get it done by the end of today anyway. Let’s plan on starting this plan in one year’s time.”

There was a slight pause in the conversation. “Now that that’s been discussed, could you please transport me to my daughter?” Kineret had to make her job her number one priority, but she also had a responsibility to her family, and it was time that she personally made sure that Shay was okay.

Ramses held out his hand, but Naraschone reached for it instead. “First, transport me to the jail in the Executive Bunker. Then take Kineret to her daughter, and stay with them for support.”

“Very well, sir,” Ramses replied.

A year later, Ramses returned, and immediately began to work on the problem of detecting bulk travelers. It took the whole day for him to start getting the idea that this was not a DNA problem, but something else. He needed to be looking at the subatomic level. That could take even longer, so there was no time to waste.

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Microstory 2110: That’s Fair, I Hope

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I took her. I intercepted transport from the group home back to where her kidnappers live, and I put her through what she’s already gone through twice now. Someone took her from her real parents, and then the ID makers took her from them, and now I’ve taken her from them. I honestly don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I had to get her away from those people. She outed them as her abductors, and even though they’ve reportedly never abused her before, she was living in misery, so this may push them over the edge for all we know. They might kill her, and make it look like a suicide, which would make them my archnemeses. I really don’t know; the level that these people are unpredictable is ten, ya see? We’re both on the run now, and I obviously can’t tell you where, or it might get back to the Ol’ Man, and the Ol’ Miss. My little secure workstation is mobile, though, which is how I’m able to post this without being traced. She is four months from turning eighteen, at which point, she’ll be able to make her own decisions. She says that her first order of business will be to submit to a DNA test, so they can find her true family. We can only hope that she is in the system. If I have to keep her safe, and everyone at bay, then that is what I’ll do, regardless of what happens to me in the end. I can’t really say much about what we’ve been dealing with since last night, because I don’t want to leave any clues about our location. We could be in Mexico by now, or close to it. Or maybe we’re on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, or even a southern state where they like to play golf. All I’ll say is that she is safe with me in every way possible. I never thought I would do anything like this, but I will never hurt her, and I won’t let anyone else hurt her either. She is free to go whenever she wants, and she understands that. If she ends up deciding to just go back to those people, then I’ll drive her there myself, and finally just turn myself in...for everything. That’s fair, I hope.

Microstory 2109: Conflating it With Her Own Life

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This world is so weird. Because the girl is under eighteen, she can’t consent to a DNA test, and since the couple who claims to be her parents obviously won’t consent to it for her, the lazy coppers are just gonna send her back to them. I’m still in contact with her, and she told me that the authorities ran whatever facial recognition system they have access to. They apparently didn’t find a hit in the missing persons database, but that doesn’t mean anything. She was taken when she was a toddler, and their age progression software doesn’t sound very sophisticated. The girl doesn’t have any idea where she was born, or who her real family is, but one thing I do know is that she is backing up my story. There was a chance that she was screwing with me when she told me about her resurfaced memories, but she also insists to the police that she really does remember living with someone else in her younger years. The cops think that she just watched something on TV one time, and she’s conflating the memory with her own life, but she doesn’t think so, and neither do I. So far, no one has found me in my hiding place, but I’m about to put that all at risk yet again. I’m going to do something drastic to solve this problem. It could get me caught, or truly killed this time. I need to focus on planning everything right now, so I’m going to cut this installment short. If I’m able, I’ll detail the undertaking for you tomorrow. I’m scheduling this one to post on my blog for sometime after I start the process, so by the time you read it, I will already be on my way, and they won’t be able to prepare themselves for me. You can wish me luck, if you want, but it won’t help, even if such psychic power were possible here. Temporal psychic powers would do it, if you had those.

Fluence: Aura (Part II)

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Briar was gone. Once Goswin felt like he knew enough about the Parallel justice system to trust that it was fair and, well...just, he returned to the X González to explain things to the suspect. Briar was not in his cabin, nor did it look like anyone had ever stayed there. The bedsheets were perfectly aligned, and the surfaces were dusty from disuse. Goswin stepped back into the hallway to see if he was just turned around, but this had to be the right cabin. Still, he checked all of the others, and Briar wasn’t anywhere else either. It wasn’t a huge ship. Eight Point Seven’s sensors were damaged, in addition to her memory, so she was unable to find his location. The researchers on this asteroid had their own security system, which could not find him either, nor detect that anyone besides Goswin and Weaver had ever stepped out of the González. It was a mystery, the answer to which almost certainly had something to do with time travel.

“There’s a database,” Pontus began to explain. “It stores the records of every single person in every reality, throughout all of time, in every timeline. It could trace Briar’s steps as long as he showed up somewhere that records such data. While it does have an unspeakable amount of data, it’s not magic. If someone went off somewhere alone, they could hide from it, just like you could slink through the blindspots of a security camera.”

“Might as well try it,” Goswin decided.

“It’s not that easy,” Pontus replied. “It’s not here. It’s hard to reach, and reportedly harder to access. Almost no one in the universe is granted permission, and even when they are, their activity is heavily monitored to prevent abuse. The Tanadama, which are sort of like our god-leaders, would be prone to letting someone like you use it, but you would still have to go there first, and there is no guarantee.”

“Can we just...call them?” Goswin asked. “I don’t need to look at this database myself. He’s a dangerous and unstable man. He was an adult before he met anyone besides his mother, and he found himself trusting the wrong person. I don’t know what he’s gonna do...and if he’s dead, I need to know that too.”

Pontus shook his head. “We can’t just call. Part of the point is making the journey to Sriav.” He looked towards the back entrance of the hollowed-out asteroid. “It’s out there, in the void, away from all others, in this tiny pocket of civilization. I couldn’t even give you the exact coordinates. I think you’re expected to intuit your vector somehow. They call it our sister outpost, but we’ve never interacted with them, and I’ve never given it much thought.”

“Well, this has to happen. Whatever you need from us, it will have to wait. Briar de Vries is our priority.” He turned away as he tapped on his comms disc to make it clear that he was starting a separate conversation. “Eight Point Seven, Weaver, we’re going to a world called Sriav.”

When he turned back to ask for permission to leave the asteroid, Pontus was gone. Beside him were Weaver and Eight Point Seven in her humanoid form. “How did you do that? Did you have that body ready and waiting?”

She was just as surprised as he was. She patted herself. “Are we all corporeal?”

“No way to test that,” Weaver acknowledged. “We could all be in a simulation.”

“Not a simulation,” came a voice behind them. “It’s Sriav.”

They turned to see a grand entrance to an expansive room. It was so wide and deep that they couldn’t see how big the room was. The walls and ceiling were ornately decorated, but it appeared to be completely unfurnished, like a shell waiting to be filled and used. “I’m sorry, I got the impression that this planet was located in the intergalactic void.”

“It is,” the woman confirmed. “It’s roughly a million light years from the edge of the Milky Way galaxy.”

“We were just on an asteroid in the Achernar system,” Weaver said.

“Well,” the woman began, “if you were going to be in one place one second, and another the next, it would be Po.”

“Po?”

“That’s the primary planet orbiting Alpha Eridani. Hi. I’m Madam Sriav. You came here for a reason, I presume?”

“Captain?” Eight Point Seven urged.

“We’re looking for a man by the name of Briar de Vries,” Goswin started to explain. “He disappeared from our ship. We don’t know exactly when, or how, and we certainly don’t know where we went. Our arrival here is the second time today we’ve jumped through spacetime inexplicably quick. I was told that you have a database?”

Madam Sriav smiled. “This world is quite remote, as I’ve said. We have true faster-than-light travel, of course, but you can’t use it to get here. If you try, you’ll slow down for no apparent reason. It’s a security feature. No, if you wanna come here, you have to do it the old fashioned way, with a simple reframe engine. That could take you upwards of 1400 years. Most barely try, and most of the rest quit. The few who have dedicated their lives to such a pursuit have ended up staying here. There is no better place to live, I believe.”

“Okay, but the database?” Goswin pressed.

She smiled again. “A mechanical rabbit lure, just to give people a reason to head in this direction.”

“So it doesn’t exist,” Weaver surmised.

“A computer that tracks everyone in every reality? What horrors could that lead to? I wouldn’t want to live in a universe that had something like that.”

Weaver faced Goswin. “There must be some reason we’re here. There’s a reason we were thrown to Achernar, and now this place. I think you’re doing it.”

Goswin shook his head with the confidence of a math professor. “No, I’m not.”

“There are only three reasons to slip timespace the way we’ve been doing it; incidentally, by one’s own hand...or by someone else’s,” Weaver went over.

“What is here?” Goswin asked Madam Sriav. “What is the purpose of this world?”

“If you have to ask, you don’t belong,” she answered.

“It would help us understand how we ended up here,” Eight Point Seven reasoned. “Perhaps Briar is already here.”

Madam Sriav sighed. “It would not be my place to say, but...”

“But what?” Goswin waved his loose hand in circles. “Go on.”

“You could always look for a tracker...assuming you can make it back to civilization.” Madam Sriav didn’t think that would ever happen. “There are people who specialize in it. Some have learned and trained, others are born with the gift. Some were imbued with power by the Tanadama themselves.”

“A tracker?” Goswin questioned. “Is there a real database of such people, like a...um...”

“The word you’re looking for is a phonebook,” Weaver helped. “Madam, I know you don’t use money for transactions, but if these people help people like businesses, there must be some central location to find them.”

Madam Sriav shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I was born on this world. I don’t have much of a practical understanding of the way they do things out there.”

Now Goswin sighed as he looked up at the high ceiling. “Well, do you have any ships? We forgot to bring ours.” Something weird happened. Did the ceiling change? Yeah, the ceiling appeared to change. It was sort of gradual, but also abrupt? He kept staring at it, and trying different angles. It looked more like a sky at dawn now.

“Captain. It happened again,” Eight Point Seven explained.

Goswin nodded, still checking different angles of the sky-ceiling. “Yeah, I know. I’m just afraid to look. Everytime I wanna go somewhere, we go.”

“It’s worse than that this time,” Weaver said.

Goswin dropped his chin. Madam Sriav was still here with them, and they were no longer in the frighteningly large room. They were outside, in the center of some kind of meadow nearish the top of a mountain. “I do apologize for...whatever is going on. With me, or with us. I just don’t know.”

“You need to get me back,” Madam Sriav insisted. “So please, figure it out.” She seemed like the kind of person who was not used to getting upset, and was desperately trying to keep her emotions in check, even though she had ever reason to be cross.

“Hey! Who are you?” A man was walking towards them from the slope.

“We are the crew of the X González,” Goswin replied, hoping that Madam Sriav would rather be lumped in with them than stand out in the presence of yet another stranger. “Can you tell us where we are?”

“You’re on Lorania, on the side of Mount Aura.”

“Lorania?” Eight Point Seven echoed, “as in, the island on Dardius?”

“That’s right,” the man said.

“Dardius only exists in the main sequence,” Madam Sriav revealed. “You brought us across realities. How are you doing this?”

“I still don’t know, but I’m worried that he’s accidentally joined us, and if I start thinking about going somewhere else, I’ll only make matters worse.”

“No,” Madam Sriav began to calculate. “Think about Sriav, and that’s where we’ll go. I don’t really care where anyone else goes. I welcomed you to my planet, because that is my job, and I can’t do it if I’m here, so I’m done humoring you.”

Wow, this situation escalated quickly. “Are you a tracker?” Goswin asked the new guy. “If you’re a tracker, that’s why I’m here.”

“No. I’m Harrison. Tracker Four is up there.”

“Great. Maybe they can help everyone get home,” Goswin hoped.

“She’s with another client,” Harrison said, stopping them from stepping forward with an imposing stance.

“You can come back for her later,” Sriav said to Goswin. “You take me back first.”

“I can’t control it,” Goswin argued. “I’m not even sure I am doing it. I don’t feel anything when it happens. Do either of you feel anything?”

Weaver and Eight Point Seven shook their heads.

“Yeah,” Goswin went on, “so let’s say it’s me. What if I accidentally send us to the inside of a volcano, or hell, just the vacuum of outer space?”

“Don’t even suggest things like that!” Sriav was raising her voice now. “Don’t put those thoughts in your own head!”

Goswin made prayer hands, with his index fingers wrapped around his nose, his middle fingers pressed up against his forehead, and his thumbs pushing up the corners of his lips. This is what he did when he was frustrated, and trying to solve a problem. “Harrison, is this region dangerous in any way.”

Harrison didn’t expect the question. “Uh, there’s a natural merge point a few kilometers that way, which will take you to prehistoric times. As long as you stay away from that, you should be good.”

“I’m not gonna try to do anything yet. Madam Sriav, I know that your life and your job are important to you, but you have a few hours to just wait, so I can get this right. I’m going to go meditate. When I get back, if you happen to have photos of where you live, there’s a chance that helps. I really couldn’t say for sure. I’m sorry if I did this to you, but this is uncharted territory, so your patience would be greatly appreciated.”

Still annoyed, Madam Sriav raised her eyebrows, and gestured for him to get on with it. Then she turned around, and started kicking at some nearby flowers.

Goswin wasn’t super into meditation, but he had done it a few times, and it was a great excuse to get away from everyone. If he really was responsible for all of this, standing around and being berated about it wasn’t going to help. He found a nice, soft patch of grass a couple hundred meters away from them. He sat down cross-legged, and closed his eyes, hoping to free his mind from all distractions. The birds were starting to chirp, but they were very consistent and melodic, so it actually helped. There was a slight breeze that cooled his face just enough to be comfortable in this tropical weather. He breathed in deeply, held it in for a few seconds, and exhaled through his mouth. This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He didn’t have powers, or a pattern. He was just a normal guy who met a bunch of time travelers one day. That was why he jumped at the chance to board the X González. He wanted to know more, to meet other people. He wanted to have an adventure. He didn’t want to ruin people’s lives.

He was sitting there for several minutes when it began to rain. It was only a sprinkle at first, but then the drops began to fall harder. It didn’t stop him, though. He stayed where he was, trying to find his center. This was just another distraction that he had to let go of and ignore. Before too long, though, the rain was pouring. The grass under him was pushed away to be replaced by mud. He didn’t know how long he could stand it. It wasn’t the most discomfort he had ever experienced, but he certainly didn’t want it to worsen.

“Ēalā! Eart þu hāl!” an unfamiliar voice shouted to him.

He felt like he had no choice but to open his eyes. This was definitely not Lorania anymore. “What? Sorry, I slipped, but I’m okay.” He started to stand up. “Where am I?”

She seemed quite confused at his words. “It’s England.”

“Forgive me, but...what year?”

“Oh. You must have come through the cave.”

“What cave?”

“On Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. It’s the year 1133, on Earth. My name is Irene. Irene de Vries.”

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