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Audrey didn’t feel comfortable giving Tinaya the location of any secret
consciousness transference technology which might be on the ship, and
neither did Silveon when she asked him instead. Though with the latter, it
seemed more like he didn’t know; like they didn’t discuss it before he time
traveled, because it wasn’t relevant to his mission. He actually seemed
rather perturbed at the implication that Audrey did know. For months,
Tinaya let it go, and moved on to other things, but the situations with
Waldemar and Thistle have only worsened, so these dark fantasies have
continued to eat at her. She needs to get this solved, even if it interferes
with the kids’ plans. Unfortunately, she’s not gotten much time to speak
with Audrey discreetly.
“I know she told you,” Tinaya says.
“She didn’t tell me anything,” Silveon answers. She didn’t even have to
clarify what she was talking about. He just knew right off the bat.
“Where is it?”
“You can’t transfer Thistle’s mind to Waldemar’s.”
“It would solve all of our problems.” Tinaya also didn’t tell them what she
was planning to do with the tech, but they must have pieced it together.
“The human body would not be able to handle the data that Thistle contains.”
“That’s BS. AIs have been downloading their data into organic substrates for
centuries.”
“Thistle is not a normal AI. You’re the one who told me that part of his
memory isn’t even located in base reality.”
“That’s what he told me about it, but why can’t his Waldemar body
access it from wherever it actually is, just as his servers do now?”
“Don’t ask me, this isn’t my field of research, but I don’t think it’s
possible, based on the discussions I was a part of when we were working on
the plan to send my mind back in time. They wanted to send multiple people
into one body as a sort of amalgamated supersoldier, but it couldn’t be
done. And anyway, why do you even need consciousness travel tech?
Basic realtime mind transference should be in the central archives.”
“It’s not. They deliberately erased it before we launched. You should know
that.”
“Sorry I didn’t study harder in school, mom. I was a little preoccupied. It
must be in the Bridger Section somewhere, though. A trusted ally provided it
for us, and I always assumed that’s where he got it. I didn’t ask questions,
because compartmentalization.”
“I don’t know if you’re being cagey or ignorant, but son, I don’t like this
side of you. To be clear, I still love you more than anything, but you still
seem to think that this is your mission, and yours alone. You brought me
into this, even if you had rather I stayed out of it. I may not be from the
future, but I know things. And I know that this can work.”
“Consciousness overwrite was always a possibility, mother,” Silveon begins
to explain. “It’s one of the plans that Audrey and I have not mentioned.
It’s not as easy as it sounds. Back in the stellar neighborhood, where all
the time travelers live, someone could have done it with a snap of their
finger, like Nerakali Preston. Our version of the technology doesn’t just
take one mind, and put it in someone’s body. It’s more like it holds it in
place, and pushes it backwards in time. It stays in the same brain, just at
a different point in history. You can overwrite an older Waldemar with
himself, but not someone else...not Thistle. You might be able to modify
it—I mean, someone theoretically could; not you specifically.
I’m not going to help you with this, because it is not part of the plan.
Audrey and I are on the same page with this one.”
“Well, at least you two are talking again. How nice for you.” That was too
catty.
“I love you, mother.”
“I love you too, Silvy.”
Not long after Silveon leaves for work, Pronastus shows up. “Hello, Admiral.
Would you like to take a walk with me?”
“I can’t right now,” Tinaya replies. It’s not really true. Lataran is
liaising with the crew today, but she doesn’t want to think about anything
but her objectives.
“I think you can. I think you need a break.” He starts to mumble, “I really
think you should take a break.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Tinaya ultimately concedes, realizing
where he’s going with this. He leads her farther towards the bow. The
bridge, the engineering section, and the executive wings are all near the
front of the ship, but there’s a lot ahead of them, particularly shielding
and storage. It’s the most dangerous part of the ship, because if they’re
gonna get hit by a meteor, that’s where it’s gonna happen. Technicians come
here all the time to work, but they don’t stay here any longer than they
have to. Tinaya herself has never been down here before, because she’s never
needed to.
Pronastus isn’t entirely sure where he’s going. He’s just letting his
pathfinding ability work, but it appears to be a little unclear. He keeps
sticking one foot down a corridor, then realizes his mistake, and
backtracks. She quickly learns to follow him a couple meters behind while he
figures out the correct route. “Ah, here we are,” he finally says. This is
it. This appears to be the absolute most forward section. It’s the extreme
of Extremus. On the other side of this hull is outer space. There’s nothing
here but a panel on the wall that reads,
CAUTION: DOPPLER GLOW. DO NOT OPEN WHEN TRAVELING AT REFRAME OR
FRACTIONAL SPEEDS.
“You want me to open that?” Tinaya questions. That would blind them, so the
answer better be no.
Pronatus studies the words, like an illiterate person would, but Tinaya
assumes he’s just trying to figure out whether that’s really what they’re
meant to do here. “That warning is out of date.” He sniffs it, and it’s not
clear if he’s getting any information from doing that, or if it’s just
theatre. “Yeah, this is original signage.”
“What does that matter?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m pretty confident that we can open it. If you
want,” he goes on, “you can go around the corner, and I’ll do it myself.”
Tinaya sighs, and takes hold of the handle. “You have your whole life ahead
of you. You go around the corner.” After he does so, she opens the
viewport, and braces herself for the blinding light. That’s not what she
finds on the other side, however. Instead, it’s a massive bubble of some
kind. It’s gray, like doppler glow is, but not nearly as bright. Her eyes
have to adjust a little, but it’s not bad. It’s a fairly smooth surface, but
it fluctuates and oscillates like a liquid, or no...a plasma. That’s plasma.
This is a plasma shield. And all those frequent ripples are from meteoroids.
But if this protective bubble is here, why does this sign warn people
against opening it?
“Holy shit,” Pronastus says, walking back up to the port, just as surprised
and awe-inspired as her. “Why isn’t this a channel on the broadcast system
that you can watch on your holoscreen?”
“That’s a very good question. Maybe it’s slowly blinding us, I dunno.”
“Sometimes I can kind of feel the past too,” Pronastus tells her. “I often
need context, because I don’t empirically know everything about it. I
realize why the panel is here when it seemingly doesn’t need to be. It’s
because it used to be necessary. And then they came up with the
Frontrunner program.” The frontrunners are five little baby Extremus
vessels, which fly ahead of the main ship. They’re entirely unmanned, and
self-sufficient. She’s never heard of them needing to be repaired, replaced,
or even visited. She’s not even sure whether they have life support or not.
They developed them over a hundred years ago to enhance the protective
shield, which turned out to be necessary—not due to natural obstacles, but
an intentional meteoroid minefield, placed there by man. The True Extremists
made that whole region of space far more dense than it should be in order to
throw the Extremus off course. It worked. That’s why Halan Yenant went to
hock, and why the ship has had to correct course gradually ever since. These
frontrunners may be old, but they’re still vital, even without the
ultra-density of that part of the Milky Way. Space debris will always be a
danger.
“I think I’m supposed to go to one of them, but I don’t know which one. What
are your spidey-senses telling you?” she asks him.
“I’m not allowed to call it that. But...that one.” He points. They can’t
really see the frontrunners, but they can see five evenly-spaced dips
in the bubble, which are probably where they are. “Or that one,” he
adds, pointing again. “They’re both screaming at me.”
“Okay, it’s not safe, so you stay here.” She starts adjusting the settings
on her watch. Usually, whenever anyone teleports anywhere on the ship, it’s
logged in the system. As an Admiral, she can switch that off to go dark, but
there’s still a problem. Even though there’s probably nothing you can do
about it, they have a built-in “man overboard” feature, which will set off
all sorts of alarm bells if someone ends up teleporting outside the
hull. Not only are there safeguards to prevent it from happening at all, but
just in case it does, the alarms can’t be disabled or turned off unless—
Pronastus has retrieved a black cloak from his bag, and is offering it to
her. “I knew the code to the armory, and the cabinet where this was being
stored. My mind had me steal it a week ago, and now I know why.”
Tinaya takes it from him, and examines it. “Hm. Is this darkbursting tech?”
“Oh, maybe,” Pronastus decides. “It did say DB on the cabinet.”
This could work. If she’s wearing it, she should be able to make it to the
frontrunner without being detected. The question is, which one? She doesn’t
even know what she’s looking for here. She’s just been guessing that he’s
been leading her to consciousness transference technology, but it could be a
swimming pool for all she knows, or an okapi sanctuary. He helps her slip
the darkbursting outfit on, which covers her whole body, leaving only a
small mesh screen for her to look out of.
“I can’t see you. Where are you? You’re invisible! Ahhhhh!” Pronastus jokes,
flailing his arms about. It doesn’t make her invisible to the naked eye,
just to instruments hunting for heat signatures, or in this case, a
teleportation signature.
“Go back home, Mr. Kegrigia. You have been an immense help, but if this
doesn’t work, or if it isn’t what we think it is, I don’t want you getting
caught up in this mess.”
“Aye, Admiral.” He salutes, and then walks away obediently.
Tinaya teleports away, hoping to land somewhere with life support, and
regretting at the last second not coming here with her own life
support. All she would have needed to do was grab a helmet from her
stateroom. Then again, Pronastus should have had one in his back if she
needed it. She holds her breath with her eyes shut for a few seconds before
giving in and trying to look around. She’s in a dark room, and she can
breathe just fine. She opens the darkbursting suit, and pushes herself out
of it like a baby being born. “Um. Hey, Thistle? Are you there?”
Nothing.
“Hey, Micro. Respond.” Another common AI model.
Still nothing.
Wait. They made these a long time ago. “Hey, Elder.”
“Yes, Admiral?” Ah, shit. This AI went rogue way back in the early
days of the mission, and they had to destroy it, but it evidently survived
here without anyone realizing it.
“Turn on the lights, please.”
“Of course.” The lights turn on.
There isn’t really anything here. It looks like what you would expect out of
place that isn’t supposed to be manned, but could be in a pinch. There’s a
bed, a couch, and some seating around a table, as well as a desk. There’s a
lavatory in the corner, and a kitchenette with a food synthesizer. “What is
the most interesting thing on this vessel?”
“Besides me?” AI!Elder asks. “You.”
“Besides me and you.”
“Let me think.” He takes a beat. “There’s a cool helmet in that closet over there.”
“Hold on.” Tinaya seals herself back up in the suit, and teleports over to
the other frontrunner that Pronastust was pointing to.
“Welcome back!” AI!Elder exclaims with glee.
Tinaya looks around. This can’t be the same frontrunner. It looks similar,
but it has a distinct enough design, and it’s smaller, because there appears
to be a whole extra room where the closet should be. Now that she knows that
these exist, she’ll have to jump to the other three to see if they hold
their own secrets. Her curiosity will get the best of her eventually, but
for now, she needs to deal with this situation first. Who should she tell
about it? What is there to tell yet? “You maintain coherence across the
frontrunners.”
“I do.”
“What about Extremus proper? Have you had access to us this whole time?”
“Not until today.”
“Are you telling me that by coming here and activating you, I let you into
the main systems?”
“Of course not! What kind of security would that
be? No, you’re gonna let me back in once you open that door you’ve been
eying.”
She wants to argue with him, claiming that she would never do such a thing,
but she has to open the door before she can even be honest with herself.
There is no time like the present, so to speak. She opens it, and steps in.
It looks like a clone lab, and it’s populated by one specimen. She wipes the
condensation from the glass, and peers inside. It’s Waldemar Kristiansen.
He’s older than the one currently on Extremus, but it’s definitely him. She
does a few breathing exercises to calm herself down. Whatever this is, it’s
not good, but she doesn’t have any details yet. She clears her throat.
“AI!Elder...”
“Yes?” She can hear the smile in his disembodied voice.
“Report.”
“This isn’t his only clone.”
