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.”
