Showing posts with label elites. Show all posts
Showing posts with label elites. Show all posts

Thursday, July 31, 2025

Microstory 2464: Hivedome

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There are all kinds of hive minds, and some are more dangerous than others. According to the Core World definition, however, all hive minds are dangerous, because they have the potential to destroy all individuality in the entire universe. I used to think that that was an exaggeration, but I feel differently now. I am a former member of the Baileribo Colony. Founded by a man whose last name you can probably guess, the Baileribo Society first formed in the year 2062. At the time, mind uploading and consciousness transference were still in their infancy, and a true hive mind was beyond our grasp. Archaea Baileribo died before his dream was realized, but the hive mind honors his name to this day. I used to believe in that, but what I didn’t understand was that I didn’t believe in anything. The collective believed in it, and I was forced to agree. I won’t go too much into what my life was like before, but I was born about 300 years ago in a libertarian lunar base. It was a hellscape, and I wanted to get out. Everything was about individual liberties, but nothing was about community. I yearned for something better. Then along came a group of Baileriban recruits, and I was instantly hooked. The promised to take me out of the dystopia, and into paradise. I believed them, I trusted them. Now, I’m not saying that Baileribo is an evil entity, just that it could stand to be more honest and transparent. I didn’t have the chance to learn all the facts before it was too late, and at that point, I wasn’t myself anymore. The Baileriban are telepathic, but the means of telepathy is not something that can be genetically engineered. I don’t know why. It wasn’t my department. That might sound paradoxical, but I’ll get into that. In order to join the collective, they implant a special telepathy organ called a baileriboport, which allows forces you to share your thoughts with everyone. It takes a few weeks to get used to, but then it’s a magical sensation. I won’t lie to you, I was the happiest when I was connected. Then I saw something that I wasn’t meant to. The hive mind isn’t the only entity in Hivedome—which I should have told you before, we fled to recently to avoid persecution by the Stellar Neighborhood establishment. It’s only one layer of the lie. It’s run by a group of individuals who can share their thoughts with each other, but don’t have to. They can block their own signals, keep secrets from each other, and can even disconnect at will. They are the elite. They make all the decisions while making it seem like a group idea. They were walking amongst us without the rest of us knowing. Seeing this truth broke my brain, and allowed me to override my own baileriboport just enough to start behaving erratically. They didn’t know why I wasn’t conforming, but it was disruptive, and I had to be stopped. I wasn’t the first to exhibit idiosyncratic conduct, and I won’t be the last, but I do believe that I’m the only one whose memories weren’t successfully erased after expulsion. Again, I don’t think that the Baileriban have any plans to hurt anyone, and they don’t technically coerce recruits. But they certainly don’t tell you everything. The Castlebourne government has granted me this opportunity to write a review of this permanently isolated dome which no one else has been allowed to speak on, because anyone who knows anything wouldn’t dare reveal our secrets. I implore you, if a recruiter comes to you, remember that they’re not really part of the hive mind. They’re just part of the people who control it from the outside. They can’t be trusted.

Sunday, June 22, 2025

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 23, 2505

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Mateo’s nanites were just about done healing him. They prioritized the most life-threatening injuries first before moving on to the less serious damage. So a few cuts and bruises remained, and they hadn’t done anything for the pain yet. Even so, he could now stand up, and get a look around. Octavia still didn’t look concerned, so maybe this was some kind of refuge.
“We need to get moving,” she warned. “I let you recover, but it’s not safe here.”
“Is it safe anywhere?” he asked as he was following her along the stream.
“No,” she conceded. “The horde that was chasing after us can’t follow. Free from oversight, they’ve formed alliances, and divided the land into territories. We’re kind of on a border, so that offers us a little protection, but someone will eventually grow brave enough to cross the line—or hungry enough.”
What did you mean, no oversight?”
“This isn’t the real Castlebourne,” Octavia began to explain. “I don’t know exactly what it is, like an alternate reality, or something, but none of the staff is here. I don’t know who runs it—if it’s Pacey on his own, or if he’s working with someone else—but they don’t keep watch over the safeguards. These monsters are more vicious than they’re supposed to be.”
“How long have you been here?”
“The Vellani Ambassador rescued me and a bunch of others from Ex-486 in 2498. I wasn’t there long before I started hearing how worried the crew was about your whereabouts. I don’t know what they thought was wrong, but they were afraid that something had happened to you. So I agreed to investigate while they continued on with their missions.”
“Well, you found it. You found us.”
Now, I have,” she agreed. “I found Pacey first, though, and he stuffed me in here so I wouldn’t interfere with his business. I’ve been running for my life ever since.”
“What happens if you die here?” he pressed.
“Nothing good,” she answered simply. “My body isn’t like yours, so I’ve been avoiding everyone. There are some buildings; particularly houses. They’re mostly haunted, but the ghosts have rules, and if you learn them, you can stay safe for a while.” She sighed. “But I think you can help end the madness forever.”
“How’s that?”
She looked around with a face full of paranoia and fatigue. “We’re pretty close to one side of this dome, and I can navigate us there. Unfortunately, once we get there, we’re going to have to walk halfway around the perimeter to reach the exit.”
“There should be more exits than that.”
“Like I said, it’s not the real Castlebourne. Pacey made modifications. There is a way out, but I can’t get through it with you.”
“It takes two to open the door, or something?”
“No, it takes an elite.”
I’m an elite?”
“Yeah, of course you are. You were in Hrockas’ inner circle, and he hardwired contingencies into the software that should grant you access to any area at any time. The way he sees it, the planet is as much yours as it is his because of how much you contributed to its development. I don’t think that Pacey could have erased all those privileges without breaking the systems entirely. He would have had to reprogram everything from scratch. I’m sure he’s technically capable of doing that, but he’s kind of old school, so doesn’t like AI all that much. He likes to be hands-on, so he deliberately limits the tools in his toolbox.”
“So I can unlock the door, and we can both walk through?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Does he not know that?”
“I don’t know how much he knows about what I know.”
“It could be a trial,” Mateo put forth. “He may want us to escape. Some antagonists want us to stay out of their way, but others want us to stop them, like Thanos is with the Avengers.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“And you can’t teleport, right? Because I can’t. I tried while I was running once I remembered that I should be able to.”
Octavia shook her head. “I don’t have any powers at all. I lost that when I went back in time as September, and created a new timeline. I don’t like to talk about it, but it sets me apart from the other Paiges.”
“You don’t have to,” he assured her. “How dangerous is the border?”
She bobbled her head. “It has its advantages, and disadvantages. The monsters don’t know that they’re in a dome. If you showed one of them the wall, and they were the kind who could talk, they would probably just say, it doesn’t look like anything to me. They’re programmed to stop several meters before it, but they patrol that border, because they can still feel that there’s something weird about it. You’re safe beyond their reach, but there aren’t any resources there. No freshwater, no edible plants. You can take breaks, but you can’t stay.”
“Then let’s grab some supplies along the way. Now you can carry twice as much as before, and I don’t eat much.”
“Some of your powers and abilities are available to you, as you discovered when you jumped off the cliff and survived, but not all of them. If you aren’t hungry already, you will be soon. We need to get to that exit.”
“You seem to know a lot about it; about me.”
“You were part of my investigation,” she clarified. “I had to know who I was looking for. A lot has changed since I last saw you, many iterations of Paige ago.”
“Yeah.”
After nightfall, they finally managed to reach the border. She was right, there was a narrow open space that seemed to circle around the border. The problem was that this meant walking an additional 130 kilometers. Mateo didn’t know how his pattern worked in here. Even if he woke up right at midnight central, there would not be enough time for them to cross that distance before the end of the day. Paige would have to wait a whole year for him to come back, and then they still wouldn’t be able to make it in under 24 hours. Perhaps this plan wasn’t so perfect. There had to be a closer exit, perhaps hidden behind a false wall, or a hologram. As they were sliding their hands along what felt like glass or metal, they started hearing a commotion behind them. They turned around to find a new horde of monsters, about the same size as the one from before. But then more began to appear on the ends, and it eventually felt more like ten times that size. They were just standing there, staring at the two of them menacingly.
Paige’s watch beeped. “Oh, no.”
“What does that mean? Don’t tell me the worst monster comes out at a certain time.”
“No. It’s an hour until midnight central. You’re about to disappear for a year. This was stupid, we should have run straight through the center to the door. Now we’re screwed.”
“Don’t be so sure. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Mateo asked her. “In that clearing over there.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“If I recall correctly, it’s pretty maneuverable.”
“It’s pretty deadly.”
In the 1980s, a horror movie came out that would become a cult classic decades later. It was simply called Seatbelt Killer. Mateo couldn’t remember the exact backstory, but the villain’s origins involved his seatbelt getting stuck while his wife was being violated outside in front of him. He ended up turning the car on, and running over one of the rapists, but when the husband turned to get the other one, the second rapist threw his wife in front of the car, leading him to hitting her instead. The rapist then ran off, eventually getting trapped between the car and a cliff. With nothing left to live for, the husband drove right into him, and over the edge, where they both died. Then he and the car came back to life as a ghost, and started killing the protagonists over the course of the movie. The premise was that he literally couldn’t get out of his car anymore, but you couldn’t escape by going inside, because as a ghost car, it could fit through doorways, down hallways, and even up the stairs. You would think that he would kill rapists, but because he accidentally killed his own wife, the ghost could now only kill rape survivors. There was an implication that he didn’t want to do this, but was...driven to, so to speak. Due to the sensitive nature of the film, they never gave the car a name, but it was entirely fictional. The propmasters apparently manufactured the models from scratch so they wouldn’t have any sort of legal or reputational issues to contend with. But whatever it was, it was here, and Mateo wanted to steal it.
“Mateo...” Octavia began uncomfortably. “I can’t go near that thing.”
He knew what she meant right away, and if she was willing to talk to him about it, this wasn’t the time. “Have you seen the movie?”
“No, but I know the premise, which means I know that I qualify as a target.”
“The Final Girl survives by getting in through the passenger side window, and taking the steering wheel. She didn’t just take control of it, she literally removed it.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t easy.”
“It’ll be easier for us. She was alone. You have me.”
“But if we take off the steering wheel, we won’t be able to drive either.”
“His weapon is the car itself, his hands are only his means of controlling that. If we get inside, I can control where the car goes, and he can’t hurt you while you’re in the back. We’re not gonna remove the wheel, because unlike the girl in the movie, we need to use it.”
“It sounds risky.”
“It always is. It’s your decision, though. I understand that I don’t understand. But I can tell you that I will protect you, and I’m a damn good driver.”
“Okay. We better come up with a plan fast, because we’re running out of time. Even if you drive as fast as possible, it will take nearly the full hour to get there.”
Mateo nodded, then started to shake his head. “We’re not going around the perimeter. We’re going straight through.”
They hatched their plan, though it wasn’t all that complicated. Octavia came up with the idea to use herself as bait for the Seatbelt Killer, but Mateo wasn’t getting off easy. He was bait as well. While most of the monsters in this dome wanted to kill both or either of them, only a few of them were exclusively attracted to Octavia, based on her profile. They would use this to their advantage. Mateo would lure all of the others away, so Octavia was only contending with one of them. Once it was just her and the car, she would hop over the boundary, back to the safety of the perimeter. This would give her a respite that the characters in the original movie never had. From there, with the driver essentially frozen in place, she could simply climb onto the hood, and slip through the open window. Mateo never saw her accomplish this, but it evidently worked. She drove up next to him while the horde was chasing him through the woods. He dove in the back, and she sped up so fast that no one else was able to keep up.
“We need to get you up front so you can do the steering!” she shouted. She was navigating the terrain pretty well, but still struggling against the driver. He was bound to his seat, but not entirely helpless there. He was still trying to peel her arms away, just as he had the girl in the film. With a bit of ingenuity, this heroine had managed to pry the wheel off of its place, which stole his power from him, and allowed her to escape back through the window. A mid-credits scene suggested that he was about to be successful in finding a workaround by rigging a tire pressure gauge as an ad hoc steering wheel, which may have played out in a sequel, but it was never made. Mateo was a driver, so he watched movies about drivers, even bad ones, and sometimes he read about them too. There was a theory that made the rounds on the message boards that this sequel would have ended with the Final Girl also managing to get in the car, but solving the problem by finally freeing the killer from his eternal seatbelt. Could it be true? The creator never responded to these rumors, but an unverified snippet of the sequel’s script appeared to support the lore. Whether that was how it would have worked in the movies was not the question, though. The question was...was the android who was programmed to believe he was the Seatbelt Killer coded with this solution, or would it only make things worse?
“Do you have a knife?” Mateo asked her. Now that he was inside, he could hold the killer’s arms back, but the guy was really strong. They might not be able to keep him at bay for the duration of the drive.
“What?”
“A pocket knife. Scissors. Anything!”
“No, I don’t have anything like that!” Octavia yelled back. “I didn’t know I was gonna be trapped in the woods for seven years!”
“I need something sharp,” he muttered. Just then, a glow started to form in his right hand. He let go of the killer’s arm to look at it in wonder. The glow consolidated, and began to take shape. Before too long, it was in the form of a knife. And he could feel it in his palm. Somehow, despite Pacey’s restrictions, Mateo’s weird telekinetic hologram powers were back, at least in this one instance. Not taking any chances that it wouldn’t last, Mateo slipped the blade underneath the belt, and with one slice, ripped it right open.
The killer stopped struggling. For a moment, he just sat there in awe. Then he pulled the strap through the loop, opened the door, and tumbled out. Octavia sat there in shock, not even paying attention to where they were going, which was all right, because they were in an open area now, and slowing down quickly.
“Okay. I’ll take it from here.” Mateo climbed over the headrest, and situated himself in the driver’s seat. Then he took off again, free from resistance or distractions.
Now that they were clear of the monsters, their primary struggle was against the clock. In the movie, the car could phase through objects, or even squeeze itself through like a bus out of Harry Potter. That wasn’t possible in the real world, so Mateo just had to negotiate the trees and other obstacles. He kept going though, relying on his great skills, which had only been enhanced during his stint in the Underburg dome. The clock was ticking as they were approaching the part of the wall where Octavia said there was a door. He barreled through the treeline, and onto the perimeter again, almost all the way on the other side of the dome. New monsters were upon them now, but were still bound by that imaginary line.
“How do I open this?” Mateo asked. Before Octavia could answer, he placed a hand on the handle, and heard a buzzing sound. “Hm. Was that it?” He opened it.
Octavia breathed a sigh of relief as her watch was counting down. “Finally.” Four, three, two, one.
Mateo blinked, and it was 2506.

Saturday, January 18, 2025

The Parallel: Steady as a Rock (Part II)

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For fifty years, the citizens of the new Sixth Key have lived in relative peace, but always teetering on the threshold of war. The reason it’s taken this long to come to a head is because this is about as long as most so-called independent states have been able to manage on their own. There are some truly independent communities, which utilize the resources at their disposal, and require no external aid. These are mostly outposts built deep in outerspace, which subsist on something that some people call dark hydrogen. It’s no different than any other hydrogen, except that it’s not supplemented by solar power. They will always have at least two fusion reactors, using one to jumpstart the other should an issue occur, or if there’s a need to shut one off for maintenance. So the hydrogen isn’t really dark; it’s just kind of a nonsensical name that multiple cultures have chosen to assign such a scenario, even across multiple realities. This kind of situation isn’t even all that rare, but an outpost of this type is usually rather small. Some of them only have one family, or even one individual. There are others who need star power, or external infrastructure, in order to keep going. They have done okay for the last several decades, but people are sick of it being so crowded, and some are looking to start a fight.
That’s where The Rock Meetings came in. Representatives from each collapsed reality were convened at a neutral location. It was actually sent into the very distant past, and placed in a time bubble that slowed time on the inside. This way, no one could argue some imbalance in power from any one location, according to all four dimensions of standard spacetime. It was an important milestone in the quest for peace in the Sixth Key. Everyone watched these discussions on a special cross-temporal broadcast network. The community’s engagement with each other in response to the streamed developments slowed down the march to war, and the decisions they made would have a profound effect on the dynamics of reality once all representatives were returned home. But it was not a magic bullet. Diplomacy is an everlasting pursuit, and you can’t ever let your guard down.
Kalea and Nuadu have been returned to their territory, standing in the executive conference room on Kalea’s homeworld. This was where they happened to be when the tree god summoned them into the past for the big meeting. They were in the middle of an internal negotiation back then, but that was about a month ago. Unsure what’s been going on since they left, they walk out of the room together, and enter the lobby. The guards posted there stand up super straight out of respect. Some of them are expressing their loyalty to Kalea, while others are secretly in favor of Nuadu’s plan to take control of this universe through force. That’s what he used to want, anyway. He no longer feels the way he did when the Rock Meetings first began. He’s a much different man now. He’s still in control of the Resonant Parallel Coalition, but it’s now going to be a defensive force for all of reality, including those which he once called his enemy.
Kalea’s partner in the Tanadama, Ramses glides over. “You two are standing uncomfortably close to each other. I was worried that you would be at each other’s throats by the time I returned. I nearly went back in time so that I would have only been gone for a second.”
“What?” Kalea questions. “That was weeks ago.”
Ramses winces. “It has not been weeks for me.” He looks at the guards, still frozen in place. This is not a figure of speech. A guardsman on this world is not allowed to leave their post during their entire shift, and is literally unable to move if one of their charges is within view, except to follow that charge’s movements. They are held in place by spatial restraints. It sounds bad, but it’s actually easier on them. The restraints distribute their weight evenly, and relieve them of the pressure that would otherwise come from regular total stillness. They all basically feel like they’re lying down in the most ergonomic bed imaginable right now. Yet they’re still alert. “It’s not been weeks for them either,” he continues.
A nearby two-dimensional screen flips on. The tree man from the meetings materializes in frame. “Hello. My name is Magnolia Tree. That is not a first and last name, I’m literally a, uhh...oh, never mind. What you need to know is that your worlds are at risk of suffering from a great war. You have experienced a severe drop in resources. Or rather, you’re now being expected to share the available resources with competing civilizations. I’m not here to help with that. I’m here to introduce you to the diplomats who will be representing you in these matters. I’m calling it The Rock...” The tree goes on to explain what’s going on, but Kalea and Nuadu have already been through this, so she lowers the volume.
“The meetings he’s talking about are over for us,” Kalea explains to Ramses, but for Nuadu’s benefit. He has trouble tracking all this time travel stuff. He’s always just wanted to serve and protect, not worry about things that have already happened. Kalea goes on, “he broadcasts the meetings for the people—live and interactive—though I believe he edits for content and...bad tempers, on the fly. We’ve come to some major decisions as a result of these talks, but when we were returned to our territories, I guess we ended up in our subjective pasts.”
“I understand,” Ramses says. “You’ve already filmed all of the episodes, and now the rest of us need to catch up. We have to find the other representatives, and sequester them too.”
“Sequester us?” Nuadu questions. “Is that really necessary?”
“To avoid a paradox? Undoubtedly,” Ramses answers. “I’m not asking.” He looks over to his partner. “You’re the only one powerful enough to stop me, though.”
Kalea sighs. “Harbinger Zima and I were the first to show up in the neutral zone. Hopefully that means we have some time to intercept the others before they disrupt the spacetime continuum too much. But it may not be. It’s time travel, so the others could have been taken years ago for all we know.”
Nuadu pulls out his handheld device. “I have a list of everyone.” He hands it to Ramses. “I would imagine that you can ignore the delegates from the territories outside of the Sixth Key.”
Ramses starts scrolling through the list.
Nervous, Nuadu adds, “you can ignore the notes that I wrote on each of them too. Opposition research; you understand. I’m not proud of every first impression I received...or made to others.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely be reading those,” he says with a smug look on his face. There was actually an alternate version of Ramses who served as the engineer on the Rock host ship, The Vellani Ambassador. The delegates had little reason to interact with him much, but he was a lot nicer than this version here, who is no less formidable than a god with an immeasurable sense of self-worth. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely at no risk of ever wasting the power that he wields. “Take a shoulder,” he asks of them without looking up from the device.
The three of them teleport to the Tanadama’s private Nexus building. A Nexus is a machine capable of transporting matter across vast distances in mere moments. Given enough power, it could access the far reaches of the universe, or even other universes. However, there are restrictions on travel, some imposed by the state, and others by the mysterious secret entities who invented the network in the first place. Nuadu doesn’t know who these inventors are, nor whether the Tanadama have any information about them, though there’s a strong chance of it. This particular Nexus is the most secure of them all, and the least restricted. No one can come to this station unless invited, but the Tanadama can go wherever the want, even if the people on the other end don’t want them there. In fact, no one knows where this station is located in space. Most trips are logged on both ends, but there are ways to encrypt or erase the logs from here. Nuadu has no idea where in the galaxy he is right now.
Kalea steps into the Nexus cavity, and looks up through the window, into the control room. “We need immediate transport to Hockstep.”
Nuadu shudders. Hockstep is an entire planet of prisons. It’s not just a penal colony where people are free to move about as they please. It’s protected from outside interference, and prisoners are genuinely locked up in prison structures. They’re separated by walls, gaps, swaths of land, canyons, and oceans. You get sent here, you’re not going anywhere until it’s time for your release. Visitation is facilitated by an isolated telecommunications network, limited to a handful of highly secure interstellar relay hubs. Like the Tanadama base of operations, no one knows where Hockstep is, and almost no Nexus technician is authorized to send someone there. An elite division of prison transport specialists are the only ones with access keys, plus the Tanadama themselves...obviously.
“Come on down,” Ramses encourages.
“Is that where we’ll be living?” Nuadu asks. “It sounds like an awful place.”
Ramses looks up at the techs. “Clarification: Hockstep W.”
“Yes, sir,” the tech confirms. “Hockstep W.”
Nuada tentatively steps down into the cavity, and looks around in fear. The building itself isn’t scary, but he’s worried about what will be waiting for him on the other end. He doesn’t know what Hockstep W is, or how it differs from any other. Perhaps the planet has multiple Nexa for different continents, or whatever.
A white light overwhelms the three of them, then fades. It’s usually orange or red, but white is what appears when the Tanadama outpost is involved. They have been unwilling to explain why exactly this is. Whatever the reason, they make it to their destination, but it’s not what Nuadu expected. Theoretically, a Nexus has to be designed to be identical to all others in order to connect to the network properly. It’s a rule that Nexus builders are required to follow. If they fail in the most minute of ways, it simply won’t work, even if everything else is correct. Those in that line of business know exactly what they’re doing, and how they’re meant to do it. This place seems to be some kind of exception. The cavity is about twice as deep as a normal one. The ramp that wraps around the inside of the Nexus chamber is totally missing, leaving the stairs as the only way up to the control room. The drum on the ceiling that actually houses all of the faster-than-light parts is much lower to the floor. This is wrong. It’s all wrong.
Ramses chuckles. “Trippy, isn’t it? This one is designed to be incompatible with the rest of the network. It doesn’t even have a term sequence to punch into the computer. We’re in possession of a unique positioning algorithm that lets us beam directly here as a workaround, plus an authentication key to be let in.
A woman opens a hinge door into the chamber. That’s not where the door usually is, and the normal ones are pocket doors. The woman stands at attention, and nods to the Tanadama. “Sirs. Awaiting your orders.”
“Gather the troops,” Kalea returns, “for a prison break protocol...handle with care. The tech will have your assignments.”
The fugitive recovery agent—as Nuadu is guessing—begins to tap on her wristband.
Nuadu, meanwhile, follows Ramses, who walks up to the control room, and hands the tech Nuadu’s device. The tech sets it on the console, where it immediately begins to sync with the local systems. The list of the other delegates from the Rock Meeting pop up on a hologram, showing their respective statuses and locations. Everyone has a checkmark next to their name, as well as their specific location, except for two of them. Carlin McIver is the primary representative from the Third Rail, and Cosette DuFour served as his second. They both have red Xs next to their names, and no locations, which surely means that they’re missing.
Ramses sighs. “They’re probably in a pocket dimension. They love those things over there.” He starts to manipulate the hologram with his hands, separating the delegate pairs accordingly. Two of the delegates don’t appear to be very close together, so they’re kept separate from each other as well. There ends up being five destinations, including the blind one for the hidden delegates. “Break the team into random groups of three to find the others,” he instructs the tech. “For anyone who doesn’t go in the field, keep them here to facilitate dropshock orientation. Kalea will lead the operation. I’ll be personally handling the Third Rail Earth mission.”
“And me?” Nuadu asks, wondering if Ramses even remembers that he’s here.
“You’re coming with. I’m not much of a fighter, and we may encounter resistance.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nuadu says respectfully.
This surprises Ramses. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”
As they’re walking back out of the control room, other people wearing the same uniform as the first woman teleport in, scattered around the room, ready for battle. “You got lead on recovery, Kal. I have a solo assignment.” He turns his head to face Nuadu. “I mean a duo assignment.”
“See you on the other side,” Kalea replies.
Ramses and Nuada step back into the cavity. There’s a ramp that leads into it, but on the regular model, you don’t have to use it, because the cavity is only one step down. He’s always wondered why these machines were designed to be handicap accessible. It’s not that it’s stupid, but a race of superbeings advanced enough to have come up with it should be expected to have priorities so incommensurable that they wouldn’t think to include the feature. Yet, they did. Unfortunately, Nuadu is used to that regular version, which only has the one step. He trips, and almost falls on his face, but thankfully, Ramses catches him. Nuadu clears his throat, and decides to make a joke of it. “Gravity, right? Like a rock on a cloud.”
The recovery agents laugh, but not too hard, which is nice of them.
Ramses reaches over his head, and points at the Nexus tech as he nods once. They’re overwhelmed by white light again, and transported to the stars.

Saturday, May 11, 2024

Orthogradient: Azura and the Transit Army (Part I)

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Azura of Ansutah ran towards the crowd that was forming to overwhelm her ward, Treasure, Treasure’s bodyguard, Quino, and the native historian whose name she couldn’t recall at the moment. Before she could get close enough to help, Treasure screamed, and disappeared. She was a natural-born bulk traveler, who could travel to any nearby parallel universe, and as the only one here who was able to power the Transit, her disappearance came as a great loss. Azura looked around in case Treasure came back. Bulk travel inherently meant time travel, and there was no reason why she couldn’t spend countless years elsewhere, and still return to this very moment. But she didn’t, and she might never. Azura and her new makeshift crew might have to get out of this predicament on their own. Before the bewildered mob found her too, she ran off, and ran back to her spacetrain.
The man who was quickly becoming her second in command greeted her at the entrance. “Where are they?” Kaolin questioned.
“They’re gone. She screamed,” Azura answered.
“We thought we heard that.”
“Yeah.” She walked past him, and headed down the car.
“Well, is she coming back?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” she answered.
“How the hell are we gonna get out of here?”
They had power, they just had no way to escape this brane, and travel to another. This thing was built with the ability to process the bulk energy required to perform the operation, but it was intentionally stripped of some vital components, by someone who didn’t want the machine to fall into the wrong hands. It was not yet clear whether theirs were the right hands, but they were the only ones here at the moment. Azura reached for the nearest intercom. “Harbinger crew of the Transit, and founding members of the Transit Army, we are trapped in this brane. Our power source was forced to flee a potentially deadly situation without us. We have to move on under the assumption that she will never return. Her destiny is taking her on a different vector. But all is not lost. The engineers have been working on a contingency. They’ll need a little time to complete diagnostics, I believe, but we will get out of here...eventually. For now, please pilot us off of this planet. I at least want to get away from the natives. Once we’re in space, I’ll lead an official briefing for details. Thank you.” She hung up.
“What’s the contingency?” Kaolin asked.
Azura took a breath. “Time,” was all she said.
As explained, the Transit wasn’t designed to need Treasure Hawthorne in order to work. But without all those missing parts, it was not capable of accumulating enough energy to make even one trip in any reasonable amount of time. Fortunately, time was relative, and they had untold amounts of it, as long as they took precautions. The crew was placed in stasis while the ship wandered through space. Bulk energy was constantly popping into existence out of nowhere. This was, in fact, what explained the persistent expansion of the universe. With the right equipment, the energy released during these infinitesimally small events could be harnessed and stored.
After thousands of years of waiting, which only felt like seconds to everyone who was asleep, they finally had enough to make one jump. They had to make it count. Unfortunately, they had already exhausted their two best prospects for some real sustainable power. She was going to have to resort to the third. She got back on the horn to make another announcement. Most of the crew was in the same car as her already. “As you’ve already learned, I am a hybrid, made of human DNA, as well as Maramon. It explains why my skin is so pale, but real Maramon aren’t just pale, they’re white. They’re very white. The majority of my traits from that side of the experiment are internal, such as my physical resilience, and virtual immortality. The only Maramon I’ve personally met already knew what I was, for they were part of the program that genetically engineered me and my brothers and sisters. So I’m not sure whether a regular Maramon would recognize what I am, nor what that would mean for their impression of me. They may treat me as one of their own, or an abomination, or anything in between.
“My creators provided me with certain data regarding my world’s history, as well as their adventures throughout the bulkverse, but I don’t have the coordinates for every single brane they’ve ever recorded. I really only have one left, and it’s populated by Maramon. Their mission was to log new worlds, and move on, so the best one could be chosen for future settlement, but they decided to just take it for themselves. This is a last ditch resort. Our one fusion reactor that we stole has helped, but it is not enough. The time we spent on stasis will help us at least escape this universe, but we won’t be able to go anywhere else. Providence might not help us, and they may take the Transit for themselves. Unfortunately, it’s our only option. Anyone who wants to take their chances where we already are may leave in one of the pump shuttles that we discovered. For those of you who don’t know, they run on bulk energy too. It’s not enough to pierce the membrane, but it can jump to just about anywhere in the universe near-instantaneously. We’ll be crossing over to Providenciaverse soon, so if you’re leaving, let me know now.”
No one left, so Azura ordered that they use the last of their main power reserves to cycle up to lightspeed and pierce the membrane. The way the Transit was designed, it should be able to refuel while in the outer bulk by absorbing bulk energy through specialized ramscoops. Unfortunately, most of these were removed by the man who originally stole the machine. They either needed to be replaced eventually, or they would keep having to find other sources of power from the likes of the people they were on the way to see now. The journey this time took two weeks to reach their destination. To avoid being detected—at least right away—they entered the brane far from where Azura predicted the Maramon would have settled the solar system. She planned on going the rest of the way on one of the pump shuttles. These were large enough for a passenger load of around 24 people, but that number would shrink with gear, and other equipment, depending on the mission. The interior could be reconfigured as needed. She was intending to go on the away mission herself, but that was not possible. They found themselves coming through right next to a local ship. It was only about 40,000 kilometers away; more than close enough to be picked up on sensors.
They reached out immediately. “Unidentified operator of the Transit, this is the Providence Mining Explorer Denojuge, please respond.
Azura cleared her throat. “PME Denojuge, this is Azura of the First Transit Army. We’ve come seeking power sources. Our siphon array was removed, so we require alternatives. Anything you have would be quite helpful. We’re not here to cause trouble. I was genetically engineered and raised by a secret sect of Maramon who were originally formed to protect your location from the general population, and the government. Whether you help us or not, we will not betray that directive.”
Relax, half-breed, we’re not worried about being discovered anymore.” Half-breed. They knew who she was. “Prepare to be boarded peaceably.
“Do we do that?” Kaolin questioned. “Do we accept them?”
“We’re stuck here,” Azura began. “Waiting in stasis for thousands of years isn’t going to work this time. They know how to find us, and they will find us eventually if we try to run. Yes, we do this peaceably, like she said.”
They synced flight paths, then the Denojuge connected to the docking car. It was no surprise that they used compatible technologies, since the Providentials originally came here through the Crossover, which was designed by the same team as the Transit. Captain Ouheliydi led a boarding party in, and down the cars to meet Azura and her people halfway. She nodded at them respectfully. “We hear great things of the Transit Army. I must say, there are fewer of you than we imagined.”
“This marks the beginning of it,” Azura explained. “We’ve not yet recruited.”
“We guessed as much,” Ouheliydi said. “Obviously, you find some way to repair this thing, or you would not become multiversal legends in your future.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Azura agreed.
Ouheliydi sized up the first members of the army. “Verteans. The records do not explicitly state that they were the first, but the implication is that they were from the Biverse. I suppose it’s half true. Anyway, we have what you need.” She snapped her fingers at a masked soldier behind her. He handed Azura a metallic cylinder.
It proved to be heavier than Azura expected. She was stronger than the average human, but since her outside had to appear fully human in order to blend in, she couldn’t be as strong as a full Maramon. She had not seen anyone on that side of her ancestry in a long time, and forgot how much stronger they were.
“Apologies,” Ouheliydi said. “We forget how much weaker you are.”
“I understand,” Azura said as Kaolin was helping her stand up straight. She was capable of holding it on her own, but she had him open it for her. Inside was one of the longest coils in the multiverse. It had to be in order to taper down from a millimeter to an angstrom. “An atomic lance.”
Ouheliydi smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“We appreciate the sentiment,” Azura replied, “however most of our lances are functioning within normal parameters. It’s our aether siphon array that is missing.”
“Yes, well,” Ouheliydi began, “my people are strong, but not that strong. We have that for you as well, but automators will have to affix it to the front for us. It’s being couriered from the inner system as we speak.”
Azura narrowed her eyes, and looked down at the lance coil. “How much is this going to cost us?”
Ouheliydi smiled again. “Three cars.”
“We can’t remove three cars from the Transit,” Azura contended. “We need them. As you know, this machine is paramount in the war against the Ochivari.”
“You misunderstand,” Ouheliydi said. “We’re not asking for you to remove them. We’re asking for you to integrate a team of elites into the three cars. We’re asking to join the war as your first recruits.”
Azura was surprised by this. Obviously the whole point was to recruit for the impending war, but she had spent all this time just trying to get the Transit to work in the first place that she hadn’t been able to devote any bandwidth to that aspect. Who would she ask to join, how would she know who might agree to it, and how was she going to find them? She was able to travel to the last few universes because she had specifically memorized their locations. She wasn’t even supposed to do this, but every day while growing up, once she was finished with her studies, she would take it upon herself to conduct some unauthorized independent research. She could also get to the other universes that her brothers and sisters were dispatched to, but only one other beyond that. Probably her first stop once this machine was fully operational would be to Treasure’s universe, where a woman lived who could help them. She was not planning to recruit anyone until then. But if this was the price, could she say no? “I don’t know about this. Yes, I’ll need an army, but... Hold on, I need to ask, do you know who Thack Natalie Collins is?”
“No,” Ouheliydi answered.
“She’s a psychic who can witness events throughout the bulk. She could be listening to this conversation right now. If I’m going to do this; if I’m going to build this army, I need to be in her good graces, and she may have her own recruitment plans, which may or may not include you. I honestly don’t know, but I don’t want to upset her before I even meet her. You understand.”
Ouheliydi nodded. “No recruitment, no aether siphons. That’s the deal. This is not a negotiation. Why do you think we have this technology? We chose to stay in this universe, and let our brethren take the Crossover back on mission. We’ve never seen the Transit before. We don’t use bulk energy to power our ships. So why did we build them? For you. We didn’t know that you would be coming. We didn’t know that it would be you specifically. But we hoped, and we’ve been preparing for decades. The Ochivari already came here, and we fought them off, but we suffered losses. The only thing we regret now is not getting a single Providential out of here during the Ochivari’s retreat, who could have sought further retaliation for us. We probably want blood more than you. We’re not letting you go without us, so you have to decide whether this Thack lady is more important to you than skilled fighters. I may not know much about what’s out there, but I know that she’s not the only person who can help you recruit. Statistics don’t allow it. But there is no one like our elites. No one. They have been training for this for their whole lives, I don’t know if you know this, but we’re not immortal here. The proper physics forced our ancestors to give it up. We die of old age, just like humans. So time is valuable, and we’re not going to waste it like our ancestors’ ancestors did.”
Azura sighed and looked back at her own crew. None of them appeared to be against this idea, though to be fair, the only Maramon they had ever encountered before was herself, and she was only half. The Ochivari were the true bulkverse enemies, but make no mistake, Maramon could not be trusted either. That was why she ignored her initial mission, and tried to live her best life in Universum Originalis. Still, this was an impenetrable ultimatum. They were at these people’s mercy. But maybe she had one card to play. Maybe this was a negotiation. “One car.”
“Two.”
Azura nodded with a sigh. “Two.” She reached out for a handshake to seal the deal. “Welcome to the Transit Army.”
Ouheliydi reached back and shook it as she laughed. “No. You...welcome to the Transit Army.”