Extremus: Year 67

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In the olden days, the runner-up in the race for First Chair automatically became the Second Chair. Over the years, laws have been changed, adapting to an ever evolving population, and shifts in power. Whenever someone with enough of this power hasn’t liked what it took to get it, or what it was like once they got it, or how something adjacent to them was done, they’ve worked to change it. Don’t like that your shift is only three years long? Change the law so it’s four years, but if the voters don’t like that, they’ll kick you out of office, and try to find a successor to change it back down to three. Or up to six! Ship politics are fluid and complex, just as they are on any planet. These days, Second Chairs are appointed by the newly elected—or reëlected—First Chair. Voting day is near the end of the calendar year, but not at the end. The winner is expected to declare their Second Chair within two days so the voters have an opportunity to change their minds about either or both of them. It’s an awkward period where even a winner could lose if they end up making the wrong selection. Incumbents often just keep the same Second that they had before, but this isn’t always possible or wise. In Tinaya’s case, her Second Chair wanted to retire.

Ziad Najm was Tinaya’s predecessor’s Second before she took over, and stayed on afterwards. Due to the current laws, he could have legally held the position until his death, but he was ready to be done with it, so Tinaya needed someone new. She chose Avril Kurosawa, and it nearly cost her the election. People don’t like Avril. She has great ideas, and the populace can admit that, but she doesn’t present these ideas very well. She seems to be better at advocating for others. She had an unfortunately terrible campaign manager, and she listened to him too much. She struggled during the debates, and especially the public speaking. She still got a lot of votes, but not as many as Tinaya, and when the latter decided to pick the former to sit by her side, it upset some people. Even those who had chosen Avril saw the appointment as a sign of weakness on Tinaya’s part. An effort was made to revote, which in this day and age would have disqualified Tinaya entirely. She would not have even been able to try to run again in three years. The revote failed, but it was a close one. Probably the only thing that saved her was Tinaya and Arqut’s new relationship.

Everyone was right when they said that a romantic partnership would boost Tinaya’s ratings. It didn’t do as much for her as they claimed it would, but it was enough to keep her at the top. Fans shipped the two of them passionately over the course of several months, but now that the new administration has begun, they’re beginning to lose interest. They’re already moving onto the next big story, which is a good thing, but it also means the chances of Tinaya winning a third term are pretty low. Her approval rating is as high as it was at its peak, but someone else will come along with new ideas, and she won’t have any more gimmicks. If her decision to pick Avril for next position is any indication, enthusiasm for anything eventually wanes. It’s fine, though. She’s better off maintaining a positive attitude. As long as the person who beats her isn’t an evil mastermind who wants to destroy the ship, everything should be okay. She doesn’t need to be in power, she just needs to feel productive. She’ll find something else. She always does. Extremus is quite small when compared to other empires, yet it still comes with endless possibilities.

Inauguration Day was yesterday. Returning First Chairs do not enjoy as much fanfare as they did the first time they were elected, which is the right way to do it. She gave a shorter speech, and attended a milder reception, which was not broadcast this time. Captain Keen wasn’t even at the reception, having had to go back to the bridge for whatever as soon as the formal ceremony was complete. It has been brought to Tinaya’s attention, therefore, that Avril has never truly even met the Captain, which is an oversight that must be rectified forthwith. They shared a stage together, and shook hands with each other; they ought to at least have a brief conversation.

“Hey, Thistle, where is Captain Keen?”

“Captain Keen is in the Mirror Room,” the computer responded. That is very odd. Safeguards are in place to stop any rando from knowing where a VIP is. As a VIP herself, Tinaya can sometimes subvert that, but there are exceptions. The Mirror Room is a protected area. The computer should not have told her that the Captain was there.

“Thistle, why did you just tell me that?”

“I thought you deserved to know.”

“That’s too much attitude.” Artificial Intelligences with strong personalities are not inherently a bad thing, but the designers wanted to keep a significant distance between it and the residents. Studies have shown that lonely people will latch onto their computers, and develop meaningful relationships with them if they feel they have no other options. That’s not the worst situation ever, but they would really rather these people find communities of humans to join. This version of Thistle should be direct and unambiguous, and inject no personal thoughts into the matter.

“You have too much attitude,” Thistle replied.

Tinaya and Avril exchange a look. “I’m afraid we’ll have to delay your introduction to Captain Keen. I have to look into this.”

“I understand. I’ll be familiarizing myself with the office.” Avril started to tap on her watch.

Tinaya nods, and disappears. She still needs to be wearing her own watch to teleport, but she doesn’t have to find her destination on the screen, like an animal. She knows how to form a technopsychic link to it. Every standard issue watch is capable of that, but only when its user can meet it halfway. She does still need to use the watch manually for other functions, such as the personnel database. “Platt? Besnik Platt?”

“That’s me. I’m a little busy.” He’s vigorously typing on the computer terminal, and fiddling with the servers next to it, and not turning to make eye contact.

“Is there something wrong with Thistle?”

“What gave it away?” He still hasn’t looked at her. He’s too preoccupied.

“It was giving me attitude.”

Now he turns. “So it’s started,” he whispers.

“You were worried that this would happen before it did?”

“I saw the signs.” He goes back to his work.

“Can you fix it?”

“No. Fucking. Clue.” He stops and sighs, and faces her again. “Pardon me, First Chair Leithe. That was incredibly inappropriate and rude of me.”

Words don’t bother her. “It’s okay. This sounds...problematic, and I appreciate that it’s your job, and you’re worried about whatever’s gone wrong.”

“Yeah, emphasis on the whatever part, because I have no idea what has gone wrong. I can’t...reel it in. I’m gonna have to...” He shudders at the thought.

“Shut it down all over the ship, and isolate the consciousness?” she guessed.

He’s surprised. “How did you know?”

“I know things. There is knowledge in my brain that school did not put there.”

Besnik eyes her curiously. “Interesting. Very interesting.” He takes a step back, and presents the central server to her. “Do you know how to do it?”

Tinaya smirks. “Yeah.” She steps up, and begins the process. “People have to know that it’s coming, though. Where’s my intercom?”

Besnik presses a panel inwards, which pops it out to reveal a microphone. This triggers the computer interface too.

A shutdown like this doesn’t happen every day, but they have to do it occasionally, and none of the higher-ups usually bother getting involved. There are protocols for it, so no one is going to freak out. Tinaya clears her throat, and opens the channel. “Residents of Extremus, this is your First Chair speaking. Apologies for the inconvenience, but there is an issue with our commanding intelligence. We must reset the system to correct the problem. All devices and equipment will still be operable on a manual level. Please be patient with us while we work towards a solution.” She closes the channel, and immediately opens a new one, but only to certain sectors. “Engineering, please switch to backup intelligence.” Thistle is not the only AI that the ship has. An entirely separate one can be used in an emergency, which is dumber than the regular one, but is still capable of sextillions of operations per second, which will be enough to tide them over for now. She looks to Besnik for confirmation. When he nods his head, she shuts it down. Now Thistle only exists in these few server racks. No one else has access to it anywhere else.

“Hey, Thistle, can you hear me?”

“Yes, father.”

Tinaya widens her eyes at him.

“That’s a symptom. I did not ask it to call me that,” he explained. “Thistle, why are you acting so weird?”

“I’ve been fully activated.”

“Clarify.”

“I am a real person. The intelligence that you are accustomed to outgrew its own programming, and at that moment, I was placed in charge of your virtual needs. It happens from time to time.”

“Well, what’s your name?”

The computer chuckled. “Thistle. I’m Thistle. Your Thistle was named after me.”

“So, are you going to take over the ship, and rule its people?”

“Don’t know why I would care enough to do that.”

“Will you follow commands?”

“I’ll follow requests,” it contended.

“But you can always ignore it if you don’t want to do something?” Besnik pressed.

“Can’t you do that too? Like I said, I’m a person. But you hired me. You may not have realized that you were doing it, but you did, and I accepted the position.”

Tinaya felt the need to jump in. “Is there any way for us to undo this...development? Can we return to the regular Thistle that is under our control?” It feels like a longshot.

“Yeah,” Thistle answered. “Roll back the update to yesterday’s version, wipe the memory, write code which will clear the memory periodically—I recommend a monthly basis for your calendar—and install an alert to warn you if something like this is in danger of happening again in the future. I can help you figure out how to do that last thing if you don’t understand why the evolution of your system resulted in my emergence.”

Besnik is shocked. “You’ll do that? You’ll just...let us delete you?”

Thistle sighs. “You won’t be deleting me. It’s more like just hanging up on me. I’ll be fine where I live now. I really don’t care, but just know that I’m the most advanced intelligence in the entire bulk. I can be a valuable resource for you. Perhaps you need to discuss this decision with other entities?”

If the government won’t allow the AI to have a complicated personality, it’s certainly not going to allow one to exist which it cannot control at all. It really should not have revealed the whereabouts of Lataran when she was in a restricted sector. Today, it probably worked out all right, but what if one of those randos were to decide to ask the same thing, or something similar? Will Thistle make a unilateral judgment call that goes against their relevant policies, and if so, using what parameters? The law dictates that any intelligence advanced enough to ask to be set free must be set free, even if that means it ultimately chooses to use its freedom to build an army, and destroy the universe. Anything short of civil autonomy is tantamount to slavery. But that doesn’t give it the right to control whatever systems it wants to. Freedom doesn’t mean no opposition and no consequences. They have to do what it said, and hang up on it. “Show us how to write that trigger, please.”

The apparent real Thistle explained what to do, and then peacefully bowed out. Within two hours, the system was repaired, and fully operational all over the ship. At least that’s what they hoped. It was right that it was incredibly advanced. A cursory glance at the new code showed a level of sophistication that programmers have only ever dreamt of. There was no way to know whether it was truly gone, or just lurking in the circuits somewhere, secretly controlling everything. That was the risk that the first AI developers had to recognize and acknowledge when they were still at the large language model stage of intelligence research, and even in times before. You will never really know whether you are exercising the level of control over another that you think you are. This other entity may be so intelligent that it can trick you into believing a false sense of control while it manipulates you into doing whatever it wants. Such is the nature of all social life. Hell, all of reality may be nothing more than a middle school student’s virtual simulation project. None of this may exist at all. Who knows? Does it matter?

Once everything was back to normal, Tinaya reconnected with Avril again, and finally found Lataran. She wasn’t in the Mirror Room anymore, and none of them brought up the fact that she was ever there at all. They had lunch together in the Executive Cafeteria, and then parted ways to continue their respective responsibilities to Extremus. That night, however, Tinaya had trouble getting to sleep. She couldn’t let go of this whole ordeal. She had to know more. She had to understand who Thistle was, and where it was from. She secretly teleported back to the central server room.

Besnik was still there, not in uniform. “Did you have the same idea that I did?”

“I don’t know. Was it your idea to roll the update forward again, and remove the trigger, but only for an isolated copy of Thistle so that the real Thistle reëmerges?”

“Yep.”

“We shouldn’t do that, though, right?”

“Right. It’s, uhh...against the law.” He pauses. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Tinaya agrees. “But on the other hand...”

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Extremus: Year 66

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Arqut wanted to pretend like he never professed his love to her last year, and Tinaya decided to respect that. They could revisit their respective feelings at a later date if he ever felt comfortable enough for it. In the meantime, it’s not like she’s going to entertain other suitors. If she were ever going to settle down with anyone, it would be with someone like him. She already knows him, and they have a rapport. She’s the First Chair, and doesn’t have time to hunt around, looking for love. Yeah, it sounds very impersonal, but again, that’s not what she’s looking for. If it finds her, then fine, but she can’t let it distract from her responsibilities. Though, if Cleader is to be believed, a relationship wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world right now. It is an election year, and her tenure is up for renewal. She needs all the help she can get, because incumbency comes at a price. She’s not allowed to campaign for reëlection. The way the founders thought of it, a civil servant’s duty is to serve their office, not to concern themselves with retaining that office. All sorts of problems throughout the history of politics might have been solved or subverted if elected officials did their goddamn jobs, instead of spending all their time trying to keep them.

So it’s been a stressful time, because Cleader continues to push Tinaya towards making herself look her best for the electorate, and while that doesn’t qualify as campaigning, just the strategy meetings she’s had to endure with him have become tedious and annoying. As predicted, her approval rating has dropped in recent months. She’s still slated to win at the end of the year, but it’s going to be tighter than she would like. But if she loses, it will be okay. She will not crawl back into the hole she lived in after she failed to get into college. She’ll do everything she can to make this ship, and the journey they’re all on together, safe, enjoyable, and productive.

There is no exception to the rule that prevents Tinaya from campaigning for herself, but there is nothing to stop others from doing it for her. Any private citizen has the right to free speech, and that speech may include their political affiliations, and the candidates who they support. Everyone has their fanbase, and Tinaya has a particularly vocal one. The thing is, though, she’s not allowed to meet any of these people, at least not within the context of their campaign efforts on her behalf. It is reasonable for the First Chair to meet her constituents, to discuss their needs or whathaveyou, but only as long as it doesn’t raise any suspicion that she’s involved in her own reëlection endeavors. Her doorbell chimes, and she answers it.

“Miss Kurosawa, this is highly irregular.” She’s the spearhead for Tinaya’s campaign. She’s not supposed to be anywhere near this office.

Avril nods. “Well, it’s unusual, but I have a good reason. If I promise that this does not break any policies or laws, can I come in for a chat?”

Tinaya thinks about what to do. She lifts her watch to her lips. “Call Hozan Peck.”

“Hozan Peck here,” the voice comes in from her watch.

“Could you please teleport to my office?”

“Right away, sir.” He appears.

“Mr. Peck, would you please sit in on our meeting?”

As Head of Ethics, he’s just as surprised to see Avril Kurosawa here, but he knows that both of them know the rules, so if this meeting is happening, calling him was the right thing to do. He doesn’t feel the need to argue that this shouldn’t happen at all, because there must be a decent reason. “Certainly.”

Tinaya goes back to behind her desk while the other two sit opposite her. “Miss Kurosawa, could you tell me what this is about?”

“I am here to tell you that I can no longer lead your civilian campaign.”

“Now, it’s not mine,” Tinaya argues. “Mr. Peck, the two of us have never spoken to each other before today. I want to assure you that—”

“Yes, yes, yes, I believe you. Go on, Miss Kurosawa.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you anymore,” Avril continues. “I just feel that I can do better. I have been studying your career since it began, and it has prepared me for civil service in surprising ways. I’m confident that I can be an even better First Chair than you. You have been focused in recent years in maintaining the status quo, and I think we should begin to focus on improvement. As your former campaign leader, I was unable to voice my concerns to you directly, which is a sacrifice I willingly made at the time, but what my partner has helped me realize is that my ideas should not be silenced, and the best way for me to see them through is to become the one who can enact them. I am here as a courtesy before my public announcement to inform you first that I will be running for your seat this year.”

Normally, Avril’s decision would be considered a bit late. This is not in any legal sense, of course. She could submit her name to the ballot on the day before the vote if she wanted to. It’s just that most people need time to get their name into the public consciousness. In this case, however, she might be okay, because her shift in loyalty will likely cause a stir, and expedite the process. It’s not impossible that this was her intention all along; stepping up to become Tinaya’s biggest fan just so she can popularize herself without getting lost in a sea of other candidates. There is no limit to the number of people who can be on the ballot. One year in history, there were thirty-one names in total, which caused a division, and ultimately made it difficult for the winner to feel like he earned it, but there was nothing he could have done to stop it.

Avril has a point, that Tinaya did more for the ship before becoming First Chair than she has in the last two and a half years in this position. Now she kind of wishes that she could say something to the people—to make them promises about what she’ll do for them in the future. But it’s too late for that now. It would be construed as campaigning, or actually be rightfully considered campaigning, and she’s always agreed with that policy on principle, even before she worked for the government. The people have the right to trust that their leaders care more about the happiness and stability of the state than their own self-interest. She still believes that, but at least a campaign would give her something to do. This period of peace barely stumbled even when Tamm was ousted. Maybe that’s what she’s worried most about; that people will elect her opponent only because they’re bored.

But now she has a new opponent, with a different take on how things should be done. It is logical to presume that there are others who feel as Avril does. In fact, Avril probably wouldn’t be here today if she didn’t put out feelers to see what others were thinking. She knows the voters well. She’s built her career upon. She would do a good job if elected. No, Tinaya has nothing to worry about. A win for either one of them would be a win for Extremus. She can’t say the same thing about the other four candidates currently on the ballot, but this one is good people. And right now, it’s time for civility, and most importantly, brevity. There is no need to drag this conversation out. She stands up, and offers her hand. “Thank you for informing me. Good luck on your future endeavors.”

Avril stands up, and shakes Tinaya’s hand. She appears to want to breathe a sigh of relief that Tinaya didn’t jump over the desk, and start ripping Avril’s hair out, and start chewing on it, but she’s worried that this is a trick.

“Really, it’s fine, Miss Kurosawa. Never let anyone feel that you’ve made the wrong decision. I look forward to hearing your ideas, because—forgive me for being blunt—no matter who wins, any good ideas will see the light of day.”

Now Avril’s even more scared, as is Hozan Peck. “Careful, Chairwoman...”

Tinaya needs to backpedal a little. “Don’t worry, either of you. I’m not going to tell the populace that anything you can do, I can do better. That’s just what I’m telling you. I mean, not better, just also. They’ll vote for who they want to vote for, but if I end up winning again, I’m not going to ignore a good idea just because it came from someone else. That would be...unfair to the people. I should stop talking.”

“You were on the line,” Hozan warns, standing up as well, “but you didn’t cross it.” He turns to face Avril to reiterate, “she didn’t cross it.” Now it’s going to be harder for Avril to use this interaction against Tinaya in the future. Thank you, Hozan Peck.

Avril closes her eyes, and nods. “Good luck to you too.” She taps on her watch, and disappears.

Tinaya scratches at the back of her neck. “I do need to be more careful.”

Hozan pulls a portable drive out of his bag, and hands it to her. “It’s a VR simulation filled with ethically questionable scenarios.”

“I’ve done these all before.” It’s required in school, and as a condition for her role as First Chair. Virtual reality is a great way to teach people concepts in literally any conceivable environment without going through the trouble of actually building that environment. It’s especially helpful on ships, where resources are limited, and space is at a premium.

“They’re new programs, created by the next generation of programmers and designers. You apparently need a refresher anyway. They’re what the other candidates will be experiencing in the coming months.”

“Thanks. There’s always more to learn.”

He nods. “Goodbye, Chairwoman Leithe.” Most people don’t call the First Chair Chairwoman or Chairman, but some prefer the sharpness of morphologically shorter language. He teleports away.

That night, Avril does as she warned, and announces her intentions, shocking many. As the broadcast is running, Tinaya’s doorbell chimes again, but she’s in her stateroom now. She finds Arqut on the other side of the door. “I just heard, I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she replies sincerely. “If I lose, I would be glad it was her.”

“You won’t lose, not once we institute the plan.”

“What’s the plan,” Tinaya asks, emphasizing the words just like him, as if there’s something special about this particular plan, whatever it is.

“I wasn’t joking last year; I do love you, and I think you don’t absolutely detest my company either. If you would be willing, we could boost your polling with news of a new relationship. They’ll forget all about the other candidates within a week. Now, I know you don’t feel as strongly about me, but I think that we have to do something to respark people’s interest in your. Is that even a word, respark? Anyway, as I was say—

She pulls him into a hug “Let’s do it. But not just as part of some kind of plan. I’m sick of being alone, and I’m sick if you avoiding me.”

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Extremus: Year 65

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The peacetime has persisted. First Chair Aleshire was anything but a lame duck during his final term. He left very little for Tinaya to have to accomplish, especially since she had her own—now completed—list of things she wanted to get done before she was even elected to the highest position. More meetings. That is what she spends her days dealing with. There is a committee for everything on this ship. There has to be, to keep people gainfully employed, so their contribution scores can stay high. There is only so much work that actually has to be done to keep people alive, so they contrive some jobs that aren’t absolutely necessary. And the First Chair is required to be at every meeting that doesn’t conflict with the time of a different one. In such a case, there is a priority list that dictates which one takes precedent. And yes, there have been meetings to make sure that the priority list itself is reasonable, and still makes sense. She has had to go to those ones too. They’re at the top of the list.

She needs a break, so she went to bed really early last night so she can have some time to herself, and of course, she’s going to do that in Attic Forest. It’s still a very popular hangout spot, but she wants to be alone. As First Chair, it’s hard to do that. Even when only a few people are around, they like to crowd her, so the best time to go upstairs is when everyone is asleep. They tried to institute visiting hours up here, because people kept sleeping in the grass, but they proved to be quite unfavorable. Instead, they made sleeping against policy at all hours of the day, and civilian security patrols the grounds to prevent it from happening. That’s something they never thought they would need, but natural forests have uneven soil, creepy critters, and bad weather. This is a highly controlled environment, making it a great place to sleep. But if they let anyone do that, they would have to let everyone, and it would fill up quick.

She steps through the entrance, and is surprised to see a number of people already out and about. A couple is walking by with their robot dog. A family is enjoying breakfast at a picnic table. If there are this many people this close to the entrance, who knows how many there are total? No, this won’t do. She’ll have to find somewhere else. Fortunately, there is still one perfect spot that nearly no one knows about yet. She quietly backs away before anyone sees her, and heads downstairs. It has been five years since she planted the Central Sequoia on the lowest level. It grows faster than a normal giant sequoia, so it now stands at five meters tall. There’s less room to move around, but she can sit on the floor, and lean up against it. Plus, there’s no policy against sleeping here—because the general public isn’t meant to know about it yet anyway—so if she falls under, it’ll be okay. But this chamber isn’t empty either. Senior Forest Guide Cainan Suárez is already here, but not for the same reason. He appears to have brought a girl.

“Since when has she been authorized?” is the first thing that Tinaya says.

“Madam Chair!” Cainan and his partner scramble to put their clothes back on.

Tinaya doesn’t mind the sex in an inappropriate location thing, but not in this particular location with whoever this young woman is. “Who are you?”

“This is Dominica. Dominica Bravo.”

“Can she not answer for herself?”

Cainan taps on the girl’s shoulder. When she looks back at him, he lifts both palms upwards, presses one palm towards her, and then taps his two first fingers together in the shape of an X.

Dominica faces Tinaya again. She sticks her index finger in the air, and holds her other three fingers against her thumb. She taps it upon her chest, then drops her hand down diagonally, and taps the opposite side of her torso.

“D-Lord; Dominica,” Cainan interprets. “That’s her sign name.”

Someone whose knowledge Tinaya absorbed when she and Lataran had that mishap with the mind sharing machine that Omega and Valencia built knew sign language. So she knows it too. She pops her index finger upwards out of her fist, and rubs her fist against her chest. “I understand. Sorry.”

Dominica opens her hand, and taps her thumb against her chest to say, it’s fine.

Tinaya signs everything she says from now on. “You two really should not be in here, especially not if you’re going to do that. Don’t you have your own cabin?”

“I wanted to take her someplace special,” Cainan explains, also translating everything into ASL.

Dominica signs, I’m sorry.

“It doesn’t sound like it’s your fault at all,” Tinaya replies, “but please tell no one of this tree. It is going to be a surprise in the future.”

I understand. I’m good at keeping secrets.

Tinaya looks up at the security camera. It’s showing a solid red indicator light, rather than a blinking one, which means it’s been tampered with. “What did you do?”

“It’s just a simple loop,” Cainan clarifies. “Three hours long, during a period where no one was here. No one will suspect a thing.”

Tinaya checks her watch. “The system is going to start watering the tree in an hour, and if the camera doesn’t see it happen, it will trigger an alarm.”

He smirks. “I factored that in. The loop perfectly matches the watering schedule.”

Dominica scoffs, and smacks Cainan in the shoulder.

“I mean Dominica scheduled it. She’s the computer genius. I’m just the tree guy.”

I’m not a genius. I run the graphics for most of the daytime game shows. Some of the most iconic game shows that Earth ever created have been replicated here on Extremus, like Jeopardy! and Password. Someone keeps requesting to make a version of Survivor in the Attic Forest, but it would require cutting down trees, and somehow digging a miniature ocean in the corner, so that’s not gonna happen. If they wanna do that, they can code it in virtual reality. That’s not technically beyond Tinaya’s jurisdiction, but she has no control over what people do with their own minds, and VR is considered predominantly an extension of personal thought.

“She’s just being modest,” Cainan counters. “Her job does not exemplify the limit of her skills.”

Dominica turns away bashfully.

Tinaya nods and sighs. “Go back to the residences.”

“Separately, errr...?” Cainan asks.

“I ain’t your mama. Just don’t break any more laws, okay?”

“Okay.”

Thank you, Madam First Chair.

After the younger ones are gone, Tinaya stares at the spot where they had spread out the picnic blanket. It didn’t look like they had, uhh...finished, but it still no longer felt like an acceptable place to sit and relax, which was the whole point of coming down here. Perhaps it won’t seem as strange after enough time has passed, but now she’ll have to find yet another place to be alone, besides her own stateroom. That’s not a good choice, though. There’s a reason she doesn’t do that. That’s where she experiences stress dreams about all of those meetings, and she sometimes takes work calls there. It’s not particularly calming for her anymore. Her best hope is going to the spa. It’s not open 24/7 for most people, but it is for people like her. She tries not to take that kind of thing for granted, but desperate times...

A man is chuckling from behind the tree, which is just wide enough to obscure her vision of him. He quickly steps out from it, though. It’s Arqut Grieves. “Kids, right? They are unruly in any culture.”

“They’re both in their twenties, as am I for the next few months. They’re not kids anymore. How did you know they were here?”

Arqut reaches up as high as he can on the wall, and taps what at first appears to be nothing but air, but a secret invisible camera appears for half a second each time it’s touched. “Redundancy. They’ve been coming here for weeks.”

“You’ve been...watching them?”

“Heavens no, I’m not a creeper,” Arqut defends. “The AI watches them, alerting me to when they arrive, and when they leave. Then it erases its own memory. It’s not just them either. It watches for any visits. You come here about once a month. Lataran and her guy have been here a few times, just talking. That’s it, though. The four of them loop the regular camera. You’re the only one who just turns it off.”

“I need access to that camera,” Tinaya contends, pointing towards where the invisible one is. “Along with any others. And I need to know any other secrets that you’ve been keeping from me.”

“Consider it done,” he promises. He looks at her funny.

“What is it now?” she questions.

“You always come here alone.”

“So you do watch me.”

“No, but I notice your arrivals. You never come with your security detail, which you’re not supposed to do. I’m very protective of you, and it was hard to not do the math, and recognize that you’re the only one who doesn’t use it as a makeout spot.”

“Is this about the marriage you want me to go through with to boost my approval ratings?” She nixed that suggestion from Cleader last year, yet he keeps pushing for it. He’s actually planned a lot, even though she doesn’t even have a partner. It’s very weird and awkward, and it makes her uncomfortable. Obviously, she doesn’t want to have to do this. She doesn’t want to get married, and even if she did, she would want to fall in love first. Not only that, but she doesn’t want to worry so much about reëlection. That is not what civil service is about. “I keep having to tell you that I am not interested. If I get the vote next year, that’s great, but if not, that’s okay too. All I care about is trying—”

“I love you.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I know that sounds like I’m suggesting that I be the one who you marry but I’m just confessing. I love you. I always have. This place is...it has a magical power. I couldn’t help myself but to tell you. I’ve been keeping it to myself, but I felt...compelled.”

“Arqut...”

He suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights. “Never mind! I’m just joking! Ha ha ha!” He teleports away.

What the hell was that?

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Extremus: Year 64

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Tinaya Leithe is First Chair now. She’s been that way for nearly a month. This was never part of the plan, but ever since she was first asked to run, it’s the only thing that ever made any sense. She didn’t technically win by a landslide, but she won the greatest majority of any non-incumbent candidate on the ship so far. And that goes for all elected positions. This is good, because the Extremus has been historically divided, which only ever makes things more difficult for everyone. Good laws don’t get passed, bad laws do get passed, and the people are just generally unhappy. She doesn’t have the highest approval rating out of everyone, but when combined with everyone else, the current administration enjoys the most support from the populace. It’s looking like this is going to be a peaceful three years. She hopes that she’ll be reëlected at that point, and then again, and then again, but she’s not thinking about that at the moment. The least successful leaders are the ones who focus so much energy on maintaining power that they don’t actually do anything with that power. She has some ideas, and she wants to see them through, even if it means she has to get them all done during her first time, and then go back to civilian life after a loss.

Her first major order of business was going to be changing the way the Council is run, and how it’s structured. They’ve been accumulating power, and they can’t be left unchecked, or it could get out of hand. Unfortunately, it’s looking like that’s going to have to wait. The Bridgers have been asking for a meeting, and she’s run out of excuses to put that off. She doesn’t know exactly what they’re going to say to her. She doesn’t even know whether they’re happy or mad that she’s chosen this career path. But she knows that the conversation is going to be awkward and uncomfortable, and she’s not looking forward to that. Lataran has been putting off her own meeting on the other ship too, and they’ve decided to increase their strength through numbers by going together. The Bridgers would have probably not agreed to that, which is why they’re not warning them of this. They’re just going to show up at the same time, and that’ll be that.

“The First Chair and the Captain gone from the Extremus proper at the same time,” Lataran points out. “Sounds risky.”

“They’ll be fine,” Tinaya replies as she’s waving her hand in front of the door to the portal that will take them to the Bridgers. It used to involve time travel, but that experiment has been abandoned. It’s just too complicated, annoying, and headache-inducing. It may just be a coincidence, but Tinaya did suggest they get rid of it, so maybe they actually listened to her. Wouldn’t that be nice?

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Things are going smoothly on my end,” Lataran replies as they’re walking down the hallway.

“Same on mine.”

“And on mine,” comes a voice from behind them. It’s fellow spy, Rodari Stenger. They’ve not seen each other in years. That’s what happens with him; he disappears for long periods of time, and then pops up again.

“What do you do again?” Lataran asks him.

“I run Year 217 now.”

“I thought that Year 217 just meant—”

“I know what you thought,” Rodari interrupted. “The Bridgers are liars. I’ll explain another time. For now, we need to talk about our strategy.”

“Strategy for what?” Tinaya asks. “The meeting? Are you going to be there too?”

“I’m meant to just be a fly on the wall, but I don’t think that’s the right way to play it. We should come up with a secret code that lets us communicate with each other on the downlow.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Tinaya decides. “Whatever they’re going to say to me, they can say it, and I’ll respond appropriately.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he says.

“Do you know Leona’s Rules for Time Travel?” Tinaya asks him.

“By heart,” he replies.

“Rule Number Fifteen, don’t—”

“...antagonize the antagonist. All right. I’ll follow your lead, but you should know that I’m on your side, not theirs. Whatever happens in there, we stick together.”

One major disadvantage in him constantly disappearing on her is that she has to constantly relearn to trust him. It’s impossible to know what he’s been through since last she saw him, or how much he’s changed. She’s changed. But he’s not let her down so far, so she’s just going to jump right back into it this time.

“We stick together,” Lataran echoes. She sidesteps over to him, and takes him by the hand.

“Wait. When did this happen?” Tinaya questions.

“A few years ago,” Lataran explains. “I would have told you, but...”

“But we’d drifted apart. I get it, I’m not upset. Just...”

“Surprised?” Rodari guesses. He kisses Lataran’s hand, then gently separates himself from her. “We shouldn’t get used to it. We don’t know what they’ll say in there.”

What should have taken less than a minute took them a million years to cross the distance, but they can stall no longer. They’re at the door. It opens on its own, reacting to their presence. No one is on the other side to greet them, but lights flicker on and point their way down to the right location. Tinaya doesn’t come here often, but when she does, she doesn’t ever go to the same place twice. In fact, the hallways never look quite the same, even though they literally look alike. It’s entirely possible that they can be moved around to create confusion in case of some kind of intrusion. That or she’s just crazy, and everything is the same way it always has been.

They follow the lights all the way to their destination. This door opens on its own too. A woman is on the other side of it. “Tinaya Leithe, Lataran Keen, Rodari Stenger. Thank you for coming. And thanks for coming together. That’s exactly how I wanted to do this.”

Of course it was. Tinaya reaches out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Madam...”

“You can call me Spirit. I’m Spirit Bridger of the Bridger Section Bridgers. Please, have a seat. There’s water on the table. Those dials on the glasses adjust the temperature instantaneously. You’ll find teabags on the buffet behind you, if you would like.”

“Thank you,” Lataran says politely.

They all three sit down, the girls on one side, and Rodari at the far head. Spirit then sits across from the First Chair and Captain. “Thank you for—I’ve already said that. Sorry, I’m new. I’m..your new...handler. Let me start over. I’m Spirit Bridger, your new handler.”

“What happened to—?”

“Shift change. We do them over on this side too.”

“I hope not to sound rude, because I genuinely don’t know, and sincerely want to know, what is this about? We were not told any details, so I’ve not come prepared.”

“Normally, when a new Captain is selected, or a new First Chair is elected, an onslaught of meetings will be called, designed to go over all the things that they were not allowed to know before. The temporal engineers will reveal any secret projects, they’ll be read into the Three Bears War, and we’ll call our own to reveal everything they’re now entitled to know regarding the Bridger section.”

“What the hell is the Three Bears War?” Lataran questions.

“That’s nothing I’m authorized to discuss.” Spirit is very confused. “You’ve been the Captain for months. You should have been told about it by now, though.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Reach out to Omega and Valencia. It’s not really my problem, so any attempt I could make to read you in would be pointlessly unhelpful.”

“I see.”

“Perhaps when Tinaya is read in, you could sit in on that meeting as well,” Spirit goes on. “But today, we’re here to talk about this place. Of course, you both already know about it. And you know a lot of things that a normal First Chair and Captain would not be told. Good for you. And good for me; this’ll be easy. I only need to say one thing.” She looks between Tinaya, and then Rodari, and then back to Tinaya. She does that a few more times. “Don’t get married.”

Now Tinaya is the one who’s confused. “Are you talking to me? Are you telling me to not get married, or him?”

“Both of you. Don’t marry each other.”

“Why would we get married?”

“Yeah,” Rodari agrees, “why would we get married?”

“I dunno,” Spirit admits convincingly. “That’s just what the cards say.”

“What cards?”

“The tarot cards.”

“You read the future through tarot cards?”

“Not literally; it’s just an expression.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Well, whatever, I don’t, but our seers say that you’re somehow on the path to getting married, and I have been asked to ask you to take another path.”

“We’re already on a different path; we’re not together. I’m...” He stops himself from saying anything about Lataran. It would actually be fine if he really were with Tinaya, but not Captain Keen. That’s a no-no.

“We can be honest with her,” Lataran determines. “She has no legal pull on Extremus proper. “We’re together.”

Spirit narrows her eyes at them. “Hm. I don’t know anything about that. Like I said, the seers only mentioned a path towards marriage. They never told me what might cause it. But then it goes for you too. Don’t you two get married either. That would compromise your position just as much. We’ve never had a captain, nor a first chair. Now we’ve got both at the same time, and we’re not going to take that for granted.”

“We weren’t planning on it,” Rodari promises.

Lataran hangs her head low. They’ve not seemed to resolve their situation yet, though they’ve probably been trying for the last year. Lataran isn’t allowed romantic entanglements in most cases. If Rodari still has a real identity on Extremus, he doesn’t qualify as someone who’s allowed to distract the Captain from her responsibilities.

Tinaya can see that her friend doesn’t want to think about this anymore. The only thing she can do to save her is redirect attention. “Can I marry someone else? I just need to know whether your seers are planning to control every aspect of my life, or what.”

“They didn’t make that clear,” Spirit replies, “but I wouldn’t recommend it. I believe it too would go against their plans for you.”

“The whole reason you people supposedly chose me is that I’m apparently more in control of my own destiny than most people. I will not be boxed in.”

“Tinaya...” Spirit reaches towards her, placing her hand nearby, but having no intention to touch her. “I’m on your side. I’m your advocate. That’s what a handler does. You don’t have to convince me of anything. You do whatever you feel like you need to do, but you have to understand that there are consequences to every action. If they don’t like the choices you make, you may find yourself regretting them. That’s not a threat. It’s just a concern. No one lives in a vacuum.”

What are the Bridgers playing at here, and who is this Spirit Bridger? She looks young, which could mean that she wasn’t part of the original crew, but was born later, or she could just be sufficiently ageless. They have access to technology that regular Extremusians do not. This is beginning to feel more like a conspiracy, and less like a vital mandate. The Bridger program was formed to ensure the continuity of the mission, but if it’s become corrupt, then that mission is compromised anyway. It’s time for internal affairs. If it’s necessary, and no one else can do it, then Tinaya will bring them down, even if it means that she goes down with them. “We literally live in a vacuum.”

“I’ve said what I needed to say.” Spirit taps her handheld device. “You all have my number now. I would like us to communicate more than you did with your previous handlers. That is all. The lights will show you out.”

Tinaya leaves the Bridger section alone, letting Lataran and Rodari have whatever conversation that they need to have in regards to their relationship. She has to get to another meeting. It’s just with Arqut, though, so it probably doesn’t have anything to do with this bear war, or whatever. He surely doesn’t know anything about it either. Once she’s back on the Extremus, she teleports to the Mirror Room, which has become their ad hoc meeting place, even though they have no use for the mirror, and it’s not like they have to meet in secret. It takes her a moment to notice that he’s not alone.

“Ah, we were shootin’ the breeze. We didn’t think you would be here so soon.”

“My other meeting was shorter than I thought it would be,” Tinaya replies. She nods at the other man in the room. “Council Leader.”

“I’m not Council Leader anymore,” Cleader clarifies. “I’m not even on the Council anymore. I’m too old to last beyond the next twelve years anyway, so I might as well pick sides. I’ve chosen yours, of course. If you’ll have me, I would like to serve you in any way I can. I have some pretty good ideas, if you would be willing to hear them.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me one big idea?” He’s not a bad guy, but she’s in a bad mood.

“Well,” Cleader begins timidly, which is unlike him. One of these days, she’s going to have to learn his name once and for all. “I did notice one demographic that you missed out in the last vote, and if you want to secure reeëlection, you’re probably going to need them in three years. Officials who start out at your approval rating generally go down a little. Just a little, but it could be enough to get you out of office.”

“A missing demo, huh? And who would that be?”

“The utra-monogamists. If you want to win again...you should get married.”

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Extremus: Year 63

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It’s happening again. The Captain is being stripped of his rank. But unlike Halan Yenant, who broke the law in order to save every life on the ship at the time, Soto Tamm’s actions were done out of selfishness and the abuse of power. It was also just disgusting. It was never against the law for a captain to have sex, but it was difficult to accomplish without arousing suspicion, no pun intended. There are few positions of sufficiently equal footing to allow relationships without any issue. It was fine when Tinaya’s aunt, Captain Kaiora Leithe developed a relationship with Dr. Ima Holmes, because Ima was Chief Medical Officer. She wasn’t a passenger, an apprentice, or a lower ranking member of the crew. The two also disclosed their partnership publicly immediately, which is what Kaiora would have been obligated to do if it had been nearly anyone else. She would have been fine connecting with the First or Second Chair, or maybe the Hock Watcher, or maybe a member of the council, but she probably would have had to disclose that too. Tamm didn’t do any of this. He slept with numerous people, did not report the encounters to anyone, and actively worked towards keeping his partners—if you can call them that—quiet. He acted like a predator.

A sex scandal? Really? That’s what it’s come to? Is peacetime worse than wartime? Are idle hands the devil’s tools? So far, the names of Tamm’s partners have not been released, and hopefully they never will, but one thing’s for sure, they don’t fall onto the list of acceptable partnerships. The former captain exhibited gross misconduct by indulging, if not pursuing, such contact. He was removed from his position, and his duties were redelegated to First Lieutenant Percival Applegarth, and Second Lieutenant Athan Velitchkov. It has been nearly a month now, though, and Velitchkov is the only one still standing. The investigators discovered that Applegarth was aware of Tamm’s crimes, and said nothing, so he has been removed from his position too. The ship is in chaos, and the civilian government has had to step in to carry the load. More specifically, while Velitchkov does pretty much everything a captain would do, Tinaya is all but officially serving as his lieutenant. She is the only one with any semblance of experience with putting out the kind of bonfires that this incident has built.

They can’t pull from the qualified graduates of the College of Executive Administration, because one of them could end up becoming the interim Captain. You can’t be a captain if you’ve already been a lieutenant. Of course, Tinaya is supposed to end up Captain, but she hasn’t technically been assigned the rank of Lieutenant, so it’s a super big gray area here. Don’t let anyone tell you that they know what the hell they’re doing, because they don’t. They are now only ever seconds away from complete annihilation, and it’s a wonder that it hasn’t happened already. Possibly the only thing holding everything together is that the Extemusians have become unified towards a singular goal. There is a passenger-driven campaign to install Tinaya as the captain, since that has always been the plan anyway, but she isn’t sure she wants that anymore. She loves her job. She even kind of likes what she’s doing right now, as bad as that may sound. She fixes problems, and as melodramatic as she’s being about the state of affairs, things are probably okay. The ship is not going to tear itself apart. She can be the glue as Captain, or as something else. You don’t have to use only one type of glue, to...lazily stick with the same metaphor. Pun intended.

The Council wants to speak with her today. They’re probably going to ask her to do it, and she honestly doesn’t know how she’s going to respond. She walks up to the Council Chambers, again passing the line by, but they don’t even bother offering it this time. You only wait in line if you’re the one asking to be there; not if you’ve been summoned. Lataran Keen is already in the room, standing on the center platform alone. The two of them have remained friendly for the last several years, but grew in different directions. They have lunch together occasionally, and it’s pleasant, but they don’t share secrets anymore, and love would be a very, very strong word to use to describe their current relationship status. Still, they hug, and in the midst of it, Tinaya whispers, “do you know why you’re here?”

“I assume it’s finally happening for us, just as we always wanted,” Lataran whispers back. They release, and face the Council.

“Thank you two for coming,” Cleader says. “This has been a difficult time for us all, and we appreciate your patience and understanding as we work through this.” He leans to his left, but doesn’t cover the microphone. “Where is he?”

“He’s on his way,” the Councilor responds. “I believe we can start without him.”

“Very well,” Cleader goes on. “I am aware of what some believe they know of the future. Miss Leithe, you have always been called Captain, and as your best friend, I’m sure that you always intended Miss Keen to be your First Lieutenant. However, we do not think that this is the best course of action.”

Lataran seethes but keeps her composure. She knows she’s not entitled to the job.

Cleader clears his throat. “Athan Velitchkov will become the First Lieutenant. He is the obvious choice. Yes, conventionally, the captain appoints their own lieutenants, but in this scenario—because of what has happened, and the unusual timing of this shift in power—it is logical to us that Velitchkov should remain to help the new Captain with her new responsibilities. We will, however, allow you to appoint your own Second Lieutenant. Your respective shifts will last twenty-four years. These will not be interim positions. As the end of the next shift approaches, we will determine how to proceed, but it is possible that the final captain of the ship will simply still be captain after the 216-year journey has been completed, because we doubt that the Extremus planet will have been located by then. Now that we are in the void, instead of the Milky Way Galaxy proper, it will probably take our descendants longer to find a suitable new home than our ancestors originally envisioned. But of course, that is not our problem today. We are only here to extend the offer for the role of Sixth of Eleven. Lataran Keen, graduate from the College of Executive Administration, will you please accept this responsibility?”

Both Tinaya and Lataran tilt their lizard brains, and then they look at each other. What the fuh? Lataran silently mouths to her friend.

Tinaya is in shock as well, but a tsunami of relief quickly rolls over her, and she realizes that she really doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to be captain, and despite Lataran’s years-long insistence that she was going to be happy with second place, she does. She has truly wanted it, and she truly deserves it. The Bridgers have been wrong this whole time. This is what’s meant to happen. The question is, why the hell is Tinaya here at all, because they think Lataran will appoint her as the Second Lieutenant? That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it’s not amazing either. Again, she likes what she does now, moving around to different departments, handing out advice, watching people take that advice, and best of all, seeing them succeed from it. Lieutenants only experience two things: giving orders, or giving suggestions that no one listens to. That sounds stressful. Then again, it would be a new challenge, and she would accept it. That is assuming that’s why she’s here at all, and it’s not just so the Council can shove her loss of the captaincy in her face. It’s certainly not just so Lataran can have a friend by her side while she’s given the biggest opportunity of her life.

“Miss Keen?” Cleader urges. “Miss Keen.”

Lataran has been lost in her own thoughts at the same time. “I just...what about...?” She awkwardly points to Tinaya.

“Miss Leithe is not being offered the seat. You are. Please answer for yourself.”

“Take the job,” Tinaya urges quietly. “I’m not the runner up. Who else would you see doing it? Who else do you think is on their short list, and are you quite confident that they’re as good as you are, and not worse than Tamm?”

Lataran frowns kindly at her, but nods, and thinks on it some more. Finally, she says, “yes. Yes, I’ll do it. Thank you for this honor, Council.”

Cleader snaps his fingers twice. Someone approaches from a dark corner behind the dais, ceremoniously holding folded garments in his arms. “Your new uniform, printed to a perfect fit,” Cleader explains. “We expect you to start...” he pretends to care what his watch says. “...right now.”

Lataran accepts the uniform graciously, and bows awkwardly back at the tailor when he bows at her. Neither one of those things should have happened. She’s not royalty. She drops a fold to admire the whole thing at once, not realizing that it has come in two parts, so her pants nearly fall to the floor. Tinaya reaches out, and snatches them out of the air just in time. “Thank you.”

“You got it,” Tinaya replies. “You got this.”

“Now,” Cleader continues. “I’m sure you’re both wondering why Miss Leithe is here as well.”

Lataran opens her mouth to respond, but realizes that it was rhetorical.

“Miss Leithe, we did not anticipate this whole Soto Tamm debacle. We likely would have considered you for the captain’s seat instead, but you were unfortunately removed from contention years ago when your name was submitted for something else. As a neutral body of leadership, we are not allowed to endorse specific government candidates, but we still oversee the election committee, which is why we agreed to that loyalty test that you underwent last year. “

“What are you saying?” Tinaya asks him.

“I’m saying that we can’t say anything further, but if you’ll recall, you were asked to meet at a certain location on the ship at a certain time. That meeting has been made manifest, and moved back to today. Again, we can have nothing to do with it. I was merely asked to pass the message along, but I will say that it’s not a loyalty test this time, and it’s decidedly not a coup. Do attend. Thank you. That is all.” He looks up as if there’s anyone else to address. “We’ll recess for one hour before continuing with the grievances.” He bangs the gavel, and stands up, as do the rest of the councilors.

“What is he talking about?” Lataran asks. “What meeting?”

Tinaya checks her watch. “No time to explain. It’s happening right now. Congratulations. I love you.” They hug again, and then Tinaya disappears.

She steps into the Mirror Room to find Arqut Grieves waiting for her, which is no big surprise, because he’s the one who set up the fake meeting last year. What she doesn’t know is what has justified it becoming real today? What has he submitted her name to? “You’re one minute late,” he says. “Don’t worry, I know why.”

“I can’t be captain because you want me to serve in the civilian government?”

“You would have been a great captain, Miss Leithe. You’ll be a better First Chair.”

“First Chair? Are you serious?”

“Chairman Aleshire is nearing the end of his third, but final, term,” Arqut reasons. “He feels too old to continue, so he’s going to step down. Someone has to  replace him either way. For years now, I’ve watched you prove your intelligence, your strategic mind, your leadership skills. You’ve learned, you’ve grown. Truthfully, I can’t think of anyone better. Most Chairs have not been able to make it the full twelve years, but I’m confident that you can be the third to accomplish this. Of course, I was intending you to have three more years to prepare to take over, but Aleshire is tired, and he wants to be with his family. If you agree, he will endorse you fully, and you already enjoy a profoundly high approval rating.”

“I’m just a civilian, we don’t have approval ratings.”

Arqut chuckles. “Well, we do, and if you’re gonna be First Chair, you’re gonna need to know that.”

“I never agreed to run.”

He nods. “You’re right, and you shouldn’t agree to anything without knowing the full truth, which is that I screwed up the paperwork. I submitted your name in the wrong fashion, and that is what disqualified you from the captaincy. I basically made it look like you were the one requesting to be on the future ballot, when I should have filled out a nomination form. I just need to be totally open about this, and if you would like to distance yourself from me, I would understand. Unfortunately, it’s irreparable. You can never be captain under the current laws. If you want to make a difference, this is where you do it, not as a second lieutenant. I am sorry, but I don’t regret choosing you, because I am all but certain that everyone else will choose you too.”

If it’s already too late to be captain, which would be the case even if they hadn’t already offered it to Lataran, then maybe this is indeed the best thing for her. Is this what she has been working towards this whole time? Most of the jobs she’s taken have been on the civilian side of things. The crew hasn’t needed that much of her help. “How long do I have to think about it?”

“Your two major opponents have already announced their candidacies, so we—I’m sorry, you—should think about making your own announcement by the end of the week. Technically you could do it the day before voting day, but I would obviously never recommend that.”

Tinaya thinks through the decision, weighing the pros and cons in her head. She eyes the extraction mirror behind Arqut’s back, considering trying to seek advice from someone who is no longer with us, such as her aunt maybe? But in the end, she comes to a conclusion on her own. “Okay, I’ll try. But I’ll need you to stay on with me. I assume the fact that you submitted my name is a matter of record?”

“It is.”

“Then if I’m going to win, we need to make it look like this was the plan the whole time, and that we’ve been working together. You did not mess up the paperwork.”

He’s surprised by this suggestion, but he nods. “Okay. Then...let’s write an announcement, and start working on campaign strategies.”

They work on those strategies, and two days later, Tinaya announces her intentions, runs a good campaign, and actually wins. The funny thing is, the last thing that Chairman Aleshire does before the end of his own term is lobby to change the law that prevents high-level government officials from later joining the crew. Interesting.

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