The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 9, 2461

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Ramses had it figured out. Through a lot of experimentation and trial and error, he was able to come up with a device that measured an individual’s cosmic frequency. This was all taking place on the quantum level. Normal samples, like blood, did not give him any useful information about them in this regard. They needed an EEG. He theorized that every brane in the bulk vibrated at a unique frequency of its constituent particles and waves. Each one had some form of the cosmic microwave background radiation left over from its inception event, and the collection of subatomic particles that made up any individual or object from that universe harmonized with that radiation. When something was removed from its universe, and placed in another, it exhibited a disharmony with its environment. By sampling the brainwaves of thousands of people in Stoutverse, Ramses had been able to come up with a baseline, and then write an algorithm which compared that baseline to visitors, such as himself and Olimpia.

The three men who came through the Westfall doors each disharmonized with the environment in a different way, as did their current group of Ochivari prisoners of war. By comparing the three men’s cosmic frequencies to the Ochivari, Ramses was able to determine that they were not from the same universe. Unfortunately, that wasn’t inherently good enough as the human allies were suspected of originating from somewhere other than the Ochivari homeworld anyway. He needed more data, and more time, to dig deeper into the subatomic properties. He now believed that he could also determine whether an individual had ever been to another universe, even if they had only stayed there for a few minutes. Each brane evidently left its signature upon their quantum consciousness. A cosmic imprint, he called it. It didn’t seem to work with inanimate objects, but he was able to detect a number of these imprints on himself and Olimpia, as well as the Ochivari. They were not present in the other three visitors, nor the natives of this universe. They were probably not spies, or they likely would have traveled to other universes before.

It was now required for all residents of this version of Earth to submit to a cosmic frequency test to make sure that they were all from this brane, and had spent their entire lives here. That was beyond Ramses’ control. He invented the machine, and the local researchers had reverse-engineered it while he was out of the timestream. Primus Mihajlović probably would have told them if they had discovered any spies using the new test, but his mind was preoccupied with something else. After using other interrogation and investigative techniques to decide whether the three Westfallers had good intentions or bad, an attempt was made to assimilate them into society somehow. It did not last very long. Last year, Dutch Haines—the gardener who was rather apathetic about all this—was bored enough to ask to meet one of the Ochivar in person. Naraschone granted this opportunity. If he turned out to indeed be an evil spy, seeing how he interacted with the POW would only give them more information.

Shortly after Dutch left the prison, the Ochivar fell ill, and ultimately succumbed to a mysterious disease that doctors could not explain. It was apparently airborne, so the rest of the prisoners contracted it too. The first one to get sick was the closest to Patient Zero, and the last one was the farthest, but they all suffered from it, and they all died. Dutch was carrying some kind of pathogen, even though he wasn’t exhibiting any signs or symptoms himself. Other humans appeared to be just fine too, for he had been free to move about the world before they placed him back in quarantine. Several months ago, another Ochivar came through a portal to complete his nefarious tasks. They sicked Dutch on him, and he too died. They had all but proved the viability of a new weapon against this multiversal threat. A biological weapon. They began to research it.

“We could wipe them all out,” Elder suggested.

“You can do what?” Ramses had heard him, but he couldn’t believe it.

“All we have to do is infect one Ochivar, and then let them try to go home. The pandemic will spread from there.”

Olimpia shook her head. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, but we can.” Elder was apparently the biggest proponent of this project, believing that it would save human lives, and render the Transit Army obsolete. His reasoning was not without its merits. The Ochivari operated by intruding on other people’s universes, making judgments on their lifestyles and cultures, and deploying their own virus, which sterilized the entire population. Fighting fire with fire was how he justified this plan.

“Did Primus Mihajlović agree to this?” Ramses questioned.

“This is a military operation,” Elder explained. “It would not be completely out of her hands, but the Generals can override her decision in such matters, especially since it’s not taking place on her world.”

“The hell it’s not,” Olimpia argued.

“The initial infection is, but the latter deaths will happen on the Ochivari homeworld,” Elder explained. “It’s foolproof. Humans are totally unaffected.”

“You don’t know that,” Ramses contended. “Pathogens mutate. If you were to dispatch this to the major Ochivari population, it could change and evolve, and eventually maybe become a threat to humanity.” This was wrong; probably a war crime. They had to do everything in their power to stop it, which was easier said than done. They were powerful, yeah, but they still didn’t exist most of the year. That gave this new program a lot of freedom to continue. If Naraschone didn’t know about it, then it was his responsibility to tell her while he still had the chance.

This actually seemed to resonate with Elder a bit. “Well, we can’t stop it now.”

“Yes, you can. Don’t let Dutch infect anyone else. It’s immoral,” Olimpia began. “There is a reason that biological weapons were declared illegal worldwide where we come from. Besides the logistical issues with targeting and containment, they are a profound human rights violation.” She dismissed Elder’s argument with a waggle of her finger. “It doesn’t matter that the Ochivari are not humans. We are. Humanity is not about how you’re treated, but how you treat others. This. Is. Wrong.”

“You don’t understand. Dutch has already infected two more Ochivari, and they’re about to leave. I wanted you to watch.” He pressed a button underneath the window, which raised the curtain. Two clearly weak Ochivari were heading towards each other, coughing and heaving. Each one was being escorted by a human in a hazmat suit, forcing them to keep walking using cattle prods. “We asked Carlin to just send them back for us, but he refused. He said that you would not condone it,” Elder explained. “He appears to have been right about that.”

“The torture devices alone are immoral,” Olimpia pointed out.

Ramses lurched, but Elder took him by the wrist. “If you’re really worried about the disease mutating, then I wouldn’t teleport in there if I were you. That’s why they’re wearing suits. We’re careful.”

Ramses was still angry, but he recognized how powerless he was here. It didn’t look like it was going to work this time, but these people were going to try again, and they just had to wait a day. Someone had to be here to talk them out of it. The Primus was their best option for that. He did teleport away, but not to stop the Ochivari from trying to return to their home universe. He instead retrieved Naraschone from her meeting in one of the South American bunkers, and brought her to the observation room.

She looked at everyone present. “You told me you would wait until I could be here,” she said to Elder.

“It was too important to wait a year,” he replied. “I wanted these two to see it too.”

“I thought she didn’t know,” Olimpia complained.

Elder shook his head. “I never said that.”

“Madam Primus, you cannot let this go on,” Olimpia begged her. “Put a stop to this. Please.”

“Pia. Trust me, it’s fine,” Ramses said calmly.

Naraschone narrowed her eyes on him. “What do you have planned?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t have to do anything. This isn’t going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Just look.”

They watched as the two Ochivari drew nearer to each other. The hazmat prison guards grabbed them by the shoulders, and turned them around, slamming their backs against each other until they were locked up. At first, they seemed to be refusing to open their portal, but the cattle prods came out again. So they relented. Their skin rippled, and glowed with a slight increase in temperature. Their wings stiffened up, and they began to struggle against each other in a battle of wills and biology on a level that the humans could neither see nor truly fathom. After a few minutes of this, they both disassembled, with their body parts falling to the ground. According to the research, when a group of Ochivari wanted to create a brane-hopping portal, they would perform this back wrestling ritual, and it would end with one of them exploding into a million pieces while the other was pulled into the resulting portal. This time, no portal formed, and they only exploded into maybe a couple dozen pieces. Ramses was right to believe that it wouldn’t work. The infection was just too much for them.

“What happened?” Naraschone demanded to know.

“They’re too sick,” Ramses figured. “You need strength to form a portal, whether you’re an Ochivari, or a human choosing one. Neither of them had it. You and Dutch made sure of that.”

A few hours later, they tried the experiment again, but instead of waiting for the subjects to exhibit symptoms, they made them do their wing fighting right away, and just hoped that they did end up getting sick, and eventually began to spread the disease. But it didn’t work either. They were too sick and weak immediately upon infection. The fifth subject died in this universe, same as all the others. Ramses and Olimpia were pleased, but they should not have been, because Elder and Naraschone came up with a new plan. Instead of infecting an Ochivar here, and then sending them home, they would just send Dutch there. That came with its own questions on morality, so Ramses had to stop it this time. He teleported Dutch away, and hid him somewhere on this planet where hopefully no one would find him.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 6, 2458

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There was a scuffle in the hock section of whatever this ship was called. A.F. immediately went after Leona, but he never made it all the way. True to her promise to protect her, Marie stepped between them, and started fighting with him instead. It didn’t last very long. Either one of them could have won, and it could have ended in death, and Leona couldn’t take the chance. She unlocked the hock cell door again, and threw him inside by the shoulders. Once she slammed the door closed in his face, she discovered her mistake. She hadn’t patted him down, or knocked him unconscious. All he had to do was send a quick message to his security team that there was a breach. Their plan to sneak around quietly while no one was the wiser was no longer a viable option. They ran out of the room, and into the next so they could change. They chose faces from their pasts again, who no one here would recognize, because pretending to be A.F. himself wasn’t going to work anymore. As for their clothes, they made them look like the standard uniform of the crew, and just hoped that there were enough of them roaming around here—or enough chaos after the alarms started going off—that they wouldn’t stick out for being unauthorized strangers.

They quickly, but not too quickly, ran back down to the room where their stuff had been held, and retrieved Leona’s gear. She got dressed as fast as possible, and then reestablished her holographic disguise, just in time for a team of three to open the door in search of two hot lady criminals. “Secure this area!” one of them ordered. “The fugitives will come here in search of their belongings.”

“Understood, sir,” Leona replied, looking like a boy she had a crush on in college. He was a film student, on the same track as her for a few semesters before he switched to some other major, and she never saw him again. She always thought he would make a great enlisted soldier. He just had that Starship Troopers look about him.

“Stay here with them, Bartok,” the commander barked before running off with his partner. That was an annoying complication.

Now, for the most part, the IMS did not come with weapons, and as a rule, the team didn’t carry them either. They were a mostly nonviolent crowd, made up of people who would rather sneak in with surgical strikes, and leave without anyone knowing that anything had happened. Even the two of them, who possessed years of combat training, preferred peaceful solutions. Much like one could theoretically hit someone over the head with a frying pan, even though the pan was not designed as a weapon, there was a way to use a built-in nonviolent feature of the suit as an impromptu weapon.

It was called a static discharge, and it was meant to protect the wearer from dust and debris in dusty and debris-filled environments. A very low charge was keeping the outer layer clean at all times while medium intensity charges could repel foreign objects when the area was particularly harsh. Safety mechanisms usually prevented extreme discharges, but these safeguards could be subverted in emergency situations. It might be enough to shield the wearer from a fallen or thrown rock, but it had to be done on purpose by concentrating the energy in one spot. This was no emergency, and she didn’t want to have to use it, but it appeared that they had no choice. Leona rubbed her forearms together to build up and focus the charge. Then she released it into Bartok’s back without a word. He slumped towards the floor, but she caught him before that, and laid him down gently.

“What do we do,” Marie asked, “wait for midnight central?”

Leona shook her head. “A.F. will be free by then. He probably is already. He’s quite familiar with our pattern, and will be expecting that gambit. Our only choice is to get off of this ship, and away from the teleportation dampening field. Fortunately, they’re drifting, so it shouldn’t be too rough of a ride.”

“Are we sure that our suits can handle the equilibrium?”

“No, but we can’t steal a shuttle, or they’ll find it.”

“Maybe we do steal a shuttle,” Marie suggested. “Maybe we let them find it.”

Leona didn’t know what she meant by that.

“We’ll require a distraction. How good are you at those external holograms?”

She was pretty good, having gotten even better since she was first given Alyssa’s powers. She leaned into her knack for creating holograms away from her person. She considered it her specialty. Nearly each one of them had their own specialty. The only one who wasn’t all that great with any of the tricks was Mateo. He would hopefully find his place eventually, but there was no guarantee. Sadly, some people were simply not particularly skilled. Using the nearest workstation, they pulled up schematics of the ship, and made their plan. Leona generated an enemy vessel, which appeared out of nowhere only about a couple hundred meters away. Now, this being made of pure light and all, it wasn’t giving off any energy readings. If someone tried to send a photon torpedo towards it, it would pass right through, and fly off into the aether. The only reason it worked as a distraction was because it was so big and sudden that it freaked everyone out before they could determine that it was fake. While everyone was looking at the port side, Leona and Marie went over to the starboard side.

The two shuttles that they tried to open were locked, but they noticed that the fighters were all completely open, which made sense, because pilots needed to be able to jump into them at a moment’s notice. So they stole one of those instead. But they didn’t get inside of it to do it. Leona programmed it to fly off in one direction, and make basic escape maneuvers when the situation arose. It was vital that it managed to evade capture at least until midnight, or the plan wouldn’t work. With that gone, giving A.F. and his crew the impression that the fugitives were attempting to escape, the two of them turned invisible, and stayed hidden. It was annoying, not being able to use their jump to the future to their advantage, as they had often been able to do in the past, but this slight modification would hopefully get the job done this time.

A year later, they returned to the timestream, still in the hangar bay, but hiding in the corner. Perhaps about every single soldier on this thing was there now, pointing their weapons at the once-stolen fighter jet. Their plan had worked. Everyone thought that that was where Leona and Marie would come back.

“Sir?” one of them asked after several minutes passed, and the jet was still empty.

“I know,” A.F. replied.

“Sir, they must have bailed out. They’re probably floating around out there naked.” He didn’t mean unclothed, but unprotected by a hull.

“I know,” A.F. repeated. “Scan the entire kasma for lifesigns. They can’t get through the membrane without the skeleton key.”

This was a big risk, but there were a lot of people here, and Leona could use that to her advantage. Alyssa’s power gave them the ability to turn invisible, but not to go unheard. Hopefully what she said here would get lost somewhere in the crowd, and A.F. wouldn’t care about who specifically said. “Unless they already stole the key last year!” she suggested in a fake voice.

A.F. did look around to see who had said that, as did others, but no one fessed up. It quickly became unimportant to him, because the voice was right. “Lieutenant,” he said to a woman standing nearby. “Go secure the key. I want two security teams left right here in case we missed something. Everyone else, back to your action stations.”

The thing about being invisible to these people was that they were necessarily also invisible to each other. They didn’t have some additional magic power to see through their own disguises. Leona and Marie had to hold hands the whole time to keep track of one another. The former led the latter down the hallway, following the lieutenant to the place of their prize. It was quite a ways away, down a few corridors, into an elevator, and then down more corridors. The farther they went, the fewer crewmembers they saw around until it felt like an eerie ghost town. Presumably no one was allowed in this area for security reasons. The lieutenant punched in the code, unaware that it was being seen and memorized by two invisible girls. They immediately had more respect for her than they ever could A.F. Her code too was composed of eight digits, but they were all different. It was a good thing that they saw it, because she slipped in so quickly that they were unable to tag along. There wasn’t even a little window for them to see what she was doing in there.

Leona pulled Marie away, and felt her up a bit until she found her ear. “When she comes out, continue to follow her,” she instructed in a whisper. “We don’t know that the key is in the same place as the membrane thickener. We don’t even know that the membrane thickener is on this ship. It could be an entirely separate thing. But the key is in there, so once she confirms that, she might go after the machine itself next, just to be safe. I’ll sneak in here after she leaves. You gather all the intel you can. If you need help, send me the feeling of fear, and if you find the jackpot, send me elation.”

“Understood, captain.”

Leona gave Marie a kiss on the cheek, and then let go of her. When the lieutenant came back out of the room, the two of them accidentally ran into each other in their attempt to begin their separate sub-missions. The sound of the collision caused the lieutenant to turn around in confusion, but she didn’t pursue the issue, instead assuming that she was mistaken. Leona hovered her hand over the keypad, preparing to unlock the door once the coast was clear. She could only hope that Marie was doing okay on her own. A few minutes later, she entered the secret chamber, and started to get a look around, expecting to be alone.

A bespectacled bearded man was sitting at a desk in low-lighting. He stood up, and looked around, but didn’t see anything. This could still work. She could still find the key, and she might even be able to steal it. The name was almost certainly metaphorical, so it could be the size of a semi-truck, but at worst, she should be able to steal the plans for it on the computer. She just needed to wait for this guy to calm down, and maybe go out for a smoke break. He just kept staring into the dimness, before apparently coming to a revelation. “Ah. I get it.” Without looking down, he pulled a drawer open, and reached inside to retrieve a part of HG Goggles. He removed his own glasses, and pressed the goggles against his face without wrapping them around his head. “Mrs. Matic. I heard about what you could do. I came prepared.”

Just in case he was bluffing, Leona waved one hand to her side, waxing on. She waxed off with her other hand.

The man smiled, and mimicked the gesture. “Yes, I’m not lying, I see you there.”

Leona revisiblized herself. “I need that key.”

“I know you do.”

“You do?”

“Everybody needs it. It’s a key.”

“Are you going to give it to me?”

“Doubtful.”

“You don’t look like much of a fighter.”

“You have no idea what kind of weapons I have in my arsenal. Yet I know all about those suits. I helped design them.”

“Did you design the key?”

“Yes.”

“And the membrane thickener?”

“Indeed.”

“Is that here too?”

“It may be.”

“Where do your loyalties lie?”

“They lie with science. She has my heart.”

“Yet A.F. has your soul.”

He chuckled. “I guess. He’s not evil.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Isn’t everybody?”

Leona was done with the banter. “The people of Stoutverse need that key.”

“Oh, it’s for someone else? You’re not just trying to take this one down?”

“Not really. It’s not my concern right now. I’m not certain how vital it is for Salmoverse and Fort Underhill to maintain physical connection to each other. But I know that a race of violent antinatalists are intent on wiping out an entire planet. It’s my responsibility to put a stop to that.”

The man lifted his chin, and studied her face. “You’re not lying.”

“You’re right, A.F. isn’t evil. To my knowledge, he’s only ever hurt me and my friends, and we don’t have much use for grudges. We’ve always only been trying to just get away from him. Any sense of hostility he feels is in service to that end, not any real hatred that we feel. I suppose we may have to deal with him one day, but that day is not today. Please. Give me the plans for the machine, and the key, and then we’ll just leave. I won’t even manufacture them in this universe.”

Now he sighed. “Very well.” He reached into his lab coat pocket, and came back out with a data crystal.

“You just carry that around with you at all times?” she asked, but only after she took it out of his hand.

“The second my boss found you in the kasma six years ago, I knew that this was what you were after. My equipment can detect time travel events. You obviously came back on purpose.”

“You’re too smart to be working for him.”

He cleared his throat, and reached up to the wall. He flipped a switch, and Leona could immediately feel her ability to teleport return to her. “People like me...always work for men like him. Now get off my ship before I sound the alarm.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 5, 2457

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Leona and Marie were in hock, and had been for the last five days. They managed to return to their past, in the middle of the kasma, where they hoped to be, but they were immediately scooped up by the Angry Fifth Divisioner’s ship. As he was the one who deployed the technology needed to seal up the membranes of the two sister universes, he could pass through them freely using some kind of temporal skeleton key. They needed that key, as well as the technology itself. They just had to escape first. In the meantime, he was looking for their co-conspirators. He was convinced that the rest of the team members were floating around here somewhere, and had been on the search this whole time. It was only five days for them, but five years for him. He would not listen to reason. Well, to be fair, he had every reason to believe that the others were here too, but after all this time, how could they still be alive?

“Maybe you two had to bail out in your suits, but your friends had personal pods, or an evac shuttle.” He didn’t know that they had come back in time from the future. He assumed that the Transit had managed to escape, but left the team behind for whatever reason. There was no point in correcting him. At best, he wouldn’t believe them, and at worst, it would make things harder for them.

“Well, I think that you would have found them by now,” Leona told him. “They would be emanating heat, and you could detect that heat, right? There’s not much heat in the kasma naturally, is there?” She kept having to baby him, and it was exhausting.

“No, it’s even colder than the vacuum.” He was right about that. Ramses measured the mean temperature to be at 2.16 Kelvin. “So, where are they?”

“We don’t know!” Marie said for the upteenth time. “We got separated.” This was technically true, even though her wording implied that it was not done intentionally.

“So, what do you want me to do, let you out?”

“That would be a start,” Leona replied.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” A.F. asked. “The only thing that was keeping you alive was the prospect of being able to kill you all at the same time. If no one else is here, I’m just going to cut my losses, and kill the two of you alone. I’ll worry about the others later, I suppose. Your execution will be scheduled for tomorrow morning.” A.F. said with confidence.

“Problem with that,” Marie started to point out.

“We won’t exist tomorrow,” Leona added.

“Right.” A.F. tried to figure a way out of this glaring mistake. “Tomorrow, Greenwich Mean Time. It’ll be later tonight local time.”

That was a dumb answer, but they didn’t push it. “Of course, sir.”

“I’ll go make the preparations. Say your final prayers to your god.”

“Yes, sir!” Marie saluted him sarcastically, but he took it genuinely. She watched him leave. “Okay, your plan hasn’t worked so far, so can we just go with mine now?”

“Yeah,” Leona answered her with a sigh. The original idea that Leona had for their escape plan was to hack into the keypad on the cell door. They heard the beeps when they were first locked in here, so they knew that they were dealing with an eight-digit combination. She was able to covertly stick a brute force strip underneath the pad, but in all this time, it had yet to find the right answer. It was probably something absurd, like 99999999. The strip was programmed to try them in order, so that would be its last guess. Unfortunately, it might take up to another year or more for it to get to that point, and they no longer had the time for that.

Obviously, when A.F.’s people captured them, they removed the outer layers of their integrated multipurpose suits, leaving them only with the biometric base. They stashed the response and armor layers elsewhere on the ship. Ramses upgraded their suits in various ways, but they appeared normal, so anyone here wouldn’t have felt any need to take any special precautions with them. They just stuffed them in a drawer, and forgot about them for the last five years. One special feature was the suit’s ability to become mobile on its own. This was possible to some degree in all standard models, but it would still need a user to be wearing it in order to provide physical support. It was meant to allow the suit to carry its user back to safety if they fell unconscious, or to their gravesite if they were dead. The original engineers didn’t think that the suit would have any need to move around completely on its own, but Ramses being Ramses, he did. It could indeed move while totally empty, like something out of a cartoon. It was less inconspicuous than a hacking strip, but it would work.

Marie placed her sleeve up against her temple to activate the remote neural interface, and began to command the outer layers to climb out of their drawer, and walk down the corridors towards them. The helmet was fully attached as well, so it looked like a real person, but that didn’t mean it had the authorization to go where it was going. If someone decided to stop and ask for its ID badge, or something, the jig would be up. Fortunately, that didn’t happen, but making it to them was the easy part. Dealing with the hock watcher was the real challenge, and it was about to begin.

“Wait,” Leona ordered just before the empty suit could enter the hock section. “This isn’t going to work.”

“It’s all we have, LeeLee.”

“Just give me a second.” Leona tried to concentrate, but she didn’t have the power to see remotely. “Here, let me join.” She grabbed Marie’s free hand, and placed the sleeve against her own temple. She closed her eyes to see through the suit’s point of view. “I can do this. Throw your voice into the helmet, but put a delay on it. For everything you say, make it come out of the speaker ten seconds later.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m changing your plan so it actually works. Throw your voice.”

“It’s not my voice. It’s going to sound like A.F.’s.”

“Even better. Ten second delay,” Leona insisted.

The hock watcher opened the little window in the door when the suit knocked on it. “Can I help you?”

“I need to interrogate the prisoners again,” Marie said through the speaker, modulating her voice to impersonate the leader.

“Sir? You’re back so soon?”

“Yes. Open the door.”

“Why are you wearing one of their suits?”

“Because it makes me feel sexy, now open the goddamn door.”

The hock watcher was unconvinced, but that was okay. That was why Leona was here. “I’m sorry, sir, but this could be fake. I’m going to need you to raise your visor.”

Marie looked to Leona for guidance. Leona nodded confidently. She was ready for it. “I appreciate your dedication to the job,” A.F.’s voice said to the hock watcher. Marie raised the visor. Inside the helmet was A.F.’s face, in holographic form, of course. This was why Leona needed the delay. Every time Marie said something, Leona would need to match the hologram’s lips to it.

“Thank you, sir. I just want to be cautious.”

Of course, they didn’t want to make this any harder on themselves than they had to, so from this point on, short answers only. “I’ll remember that for your next evaluation.” Could’ve been shorter. Leona really struggled with that, but it seemed to work. The hock watcher opened the door, and let the deepfake A.F. in. “Go ahead and open it up.”

“Sir? That’s not protocol. You’re the only one who knows the code.” Shit. Really?

“Uhh...use the master code.” A decent guess?

“Master code?” The hock watcher questioned. “Who are you?” He shook his head. “This is a trick. I’m calling security.”

The suit reached up, and slammed the hock watcher’s head against the cell wall. He was knocked out cold, which would delay the security team’s response time, but someone would find him eventually, or he would wake up on his own, and call them then. The fact was they were still locked in this cell, and didn’t know the code. They were going to have to extend this mission even further, and go find A.F. himself.

“Stuff the body in that cabinet,” Leona ordered.

“He’s not dead.”

“He still has a body. Put it in there, please.”

“You do it...Captain.”

“This is your plan!”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one. You should have come up with both Plan A and Plan B. Now you’re going to have to impersonate someone else for A.F., and he’s going to be a lot less accommodating since he’s apparently the guy in charge.”

“Well, we may have had more options if you hadn’t knocked him unconscious,” Leona reasoned.

“I didn’t do that. You did.”

Leona was taken aback. She decidedly had not. Before they could argue any further, though, the door clicked, and swung halfway open. The stared at it for a moment. “Hm. The strip found the code.” She stepped out, and looked at the keypad. Her guess was close. It was 88888888.

Marie saw it too. “All ones would have been easier on us.”

While Marie was putting her suit on, Leona dragged the hock watcher into the cell, and locked it back up. She removed the hacking strip, and tucked it back into her base layer, in case they ever needed it again. They also didn’t want to let anyone know how they managed to get out of here. Hopefully, they would just blame the hock watcher for the whole thing, and not investigate any deeper. “I still can’t teleport. I think the power blocker works all over the ship.”

“Well, you can obviously make yourself look like anyone, so I’ll continue to be A.F., and you be the hock watcher. We’ll go down to get your suit, and then get to work.”

“No, I don’t want to run into anyone else again. Let’s become invisible instead.”

“That’s Olimpia’s forte.”

“We can all do it. There’s a mirror over there for us to practice with. I’m sure no one will be back too soon.”

The door opened, and A.F. walked back in.

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Microstory 2131: Little Cell

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My fungal infection is evidently extremely contagious, so I’m in prison now, in a special wing of the facility for this very thing. Most of the other guys are in here to protect the other prisoners, though to varying degrees. I think a couple of them just need to be protected from others, for at least a period of time. The FBI is very serious about what’s happened to me. They know that this is the fourth time in as many months that I’ve been sick, so they’re not messin’ around. They sent investigators to every place I’ve been to, in Kansas City, Iowa, and even down in Alabama. I didn’t think that they would find anything, because it should be the proverbial needle in a haystack, but they actually confirmed the source of my infection. When I first escaped to Iowa, the ID makers (who, you’ll recall, kidnapped their daughter when she was little) set me up in an abandoned warehouse. They found traces of mold in the showers that I used to clean myself while I was staying there. So it was in me for a month before I started showing symptoms. Because of this, everyone I’ve come in contact with since then, including law enforcement agents, court staff, and even the teenage girl, who is now in witness protection, has to be tested. That’s going to take some time, which is going to stress me out quite a bit. I’ll just be devastated if it turns out that I infected someone else. Even the ID makers would be bad news. I just don’t like hurting people, and anyway, my lawyer says that they would be able to use it to their advantage in their own criminal case. All I can do is wait, and hope that I was careful enough so as to not infect anyone else. It’s not guaranteed that I did. I’ve never been a fan of being around other people, so I instinctively keep my distance, even when there’s no reason to suspect that anyone is sick. Hopefully it was enough.

For the time being, I’m just in my little cell. There are no windows, because that would expose the outside world to me, and vice versa. The bed is less comfortable than the ones in jail. The food isn’t as good. The correctional officers aren’t as nice. They know that my situation is different than everyone else in here, but they don’t really care. They’ve been trained to not treat people great, so that’s what they’re used to. As far as I’ve seen, they’re not abusive, but I would honestly be less surprised if I learned that they actually were. I don’t interact with them very much, as you would expect. I don’t get yard time, and I take all my meals inside the cell. If I want to work out, my only choice is a pull-up bar. Of course, I’m supposed to be resting and recovering right now, but I wouldn’t use it anyway, because I hate pull-ups. A nurse comes to check my vitals every two hours, and a doctor visits twice a day. The nurses take my blood occasionally too, to keep testing it. They think that I’m going to have to stay in here for the rest of the week. Even if I stop exhibiting symptoms, I could still be contagious. Fortunately, the judge agreed to give me a computer with internet access. This will allow me to start my job today, which is really important, because I don’t want to be fired on my first day. A big thanks to my parole officer, Leonard who fought for me. Obviously, since you’re reading this on a Monday, you know that I’ll be able to continue to post to my website too. There’s nothing stopping me from going to whatever site I want, but I want to commit right now to only using this for work and writing. Okay? You can verify that by monitoring my activity, I assume, prison officials. No funny business, I promise.

Microstory 1986: Resident Xenopsychologist

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Dr. Klement: Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding, there are a lot of cells down here. Please tell me we have far more of them than aliens to fill them.

Sasho: We only have a handful of Ochivari. This place wasn’t built for them specifically.

Dr. Klement: It’s been remodeled for them, though, right?

Sasho: Yeah. While I was on probation for the last couple of months, they took my suggestions to heart, and made modifications.

Dr. Klement: Do you want to talk about that some more?

Sasho: I thought my required therapy was over.

Dr. Klement: That doesn’t mean we can’t talk anymore. I’m still practicing; just doing double duty with this xenopsychological study they’re wanting me to start.

Sasho: You’re our resident psychologist?

Dr. Klement: One of two, actually. The department is only going to grow from here, and there is no precedent for the effects of an alien presence on the human psyche.

Sasho: So the government is worried that one of us is gonna have a nervous breakdown, and shoot up the place?

Dr. Klement: That’s one possible outcome, but it doesn’t have to get that bad to warrant my position here.

Sasho: No, that wasn’t—I didn’t mean...

Dr. Klement: It’s all right, Officer Dreyer.

Sasho: I can’t get used to that title.

Dr. Klement: You’ve earned it. You’re running an entirely new kind of jail, for an entirely foreign species. Guard just doesn’t cut it anymore.

Sasho: *nods*

Dr. Klement: So, they’re coming today?

Sasho: *consults watch* They should be on the road as we speak. I’ll be heading up to the garage to escort the prisoners here. Once that happens, I’ll be responsible for them. If anything goes wrong, it’ll be my ass...again.

Dr. Klement: I’m sure you’ll do fine, but if you’re ever feeling anxious, you can always talk to me. It doesn’t even have to be a formal session. If I’m free, we can just have a little chat. It’s not like you’re paying me directly.

Sasho: The money isn’t the issue. Nor do I take issue with the concept of therapy, or advice. When I’m talking to you, I start to feel like I’m placing a burden on you. I’m on thin ice with everyone else here. They basically went on strike, and I couldn’t be there with them. I wasn’t able to prove that I’m one of them. They still see me as a traitor.

Dr. Klement: They know that you were never a traitor; that Sergeant Sachs fooled you as much as any of them. If they didn’t understand that before, they know now. You wouldn’t be allowed to keep working here if you were a threat. They’ll see that.

Sasho: Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll keep you in mind, I promise.

Dr. Klement: Good. *looks down from the mezzanine for a bit* What’s that section over there? It’s still messy with construction stuff.

Sasho: Oh, the jail isn’t done yet. They’re trying to design a communal section that still doesn’t allow the prisoners to use their magical powers to travel the multiverse.

Microstory 1957: Keys to Success

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Sasho Dreyer: Oh, wow. This place is a lot bigger than I realized, Agent Parsons.

Reese Parsons: Yeah, everybody says that.

Sasho: I just called you Agent. Are you an agent? What is your full title?

Reese: Department for Exogenic Affairs Special Agent-in-Charge is my full title. But you can just call me Reese. I’m not saying that to be polite. I really would prefer it.

Sasho: Very well, Reese. Who installed these cells down here?

Reese: I finally learned what this place was. It was originally designed as a special courthouse and prison for internal crimes. If I had broken the law a few years ago, I would have ended up in a place like this, instead of a regular facility.

Sasho: Why did they abandon it?

Reese: Elections happened; laws changed. Now it doesn’t matter who you are, or what your crime was. Everyone ends up in the same place. This building wasn’t zoned for standard prison housing, so they couldn’t use it for that anymore. Fortunately, it works just fine for us, because no one has passed any laws regarding aliens.

Sasho: *inspecting the nearest cell* I’m not so sure that these are perfect..

Reese: What do you mean?

Sasho: How many specimens do you have at the moment?

Reese: Four. The three you were around for, and one who came in before. We can’t be sure if more are coming. Hell, there could be thousands hidden in the Amazon rainforest, and we wouldn’t know it. That’s why we need every cell up to code, and ready. The inspections have already happened; I just wanted you to see where you’ll be working. Don’t worry, you won’t be alone down here; but you will be the man in charge.

Sasho: *nodding* That’s not my concern. Nor is in the integrity of the cells themselves. *removes his shoes, and starts hitting the wall with it* Do you think the guy on the other side of the wall would be able to hear that?

Reese: Absolutely. These aren’t soundproof.

Sasho: They ought to be. *slips his shoe back on* I’ve guarded at a lot of different places. I was around for two major escape attempts, and obviously, one successful escape. I’ll tell you this, the second attempt almost went all the way through. I’m actually the one who put a stop to it. I was so proud of myself; that is, until the prisoners were all found murdered two days later. The official story is that they turned on each other after their failure, but we all know that other guards did it to protect their reputations. That’s why I downshifted to a regular law station jail, and also why I let that group escape. One of the dead prisoners was innocent. He was totally innocent, and I could have let him go free. I didn’t want that to happen again.

Reese: I’m sorry to hear that; it’s a tragic story. Thank you for telling me.

Sasho: I didn’t really need to; it’s not relevant. My point is that they got so close to getting out because they worked together, and they were able to do it secretly, because...

Reese: Because their cells were close together, and not soundproof.

Sasho: Yeah. I know it would be an extra expense—

Reese: No, you’re not wrong. We’ll keep these first four really far apart from each other, but then I’ll look into some upgrades. I’ll expect your continued input.

Microstory 1956: Introduction Circle

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Reese: Thank you all for being here on time. We’re wading through uncharted territory here, and I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but I’ll admit to being rather nervous. I’ve never started a new department in the government before, and most people here have never worked for the government at all. The first thing I want to do is go around the room for introductions. Behind me are the other leaders, Leonard and Myka.

Leonard: Hey, I’m Leonard Miazga. I used to be a parole officer, but now I’m an alien.

Myka: Myka Tennison, we’re just creating welcome baskets for all of you right now, which we should have thought to do before. Don’t mind us.

Reese: Perfect. Now we’ll just go around the circle. Let’s all be honest; you don’t have to be embarrassed. I don’t care who starts first; either the person to my right, or my left.

Freewoman 4: I guess I’ll go first. My name is Henley Grahame. I’m an ex-con, and I’m not embarrassed about it. They call us freewomen, but I’ve never cared about that term. I am not easily offended. And just call me Hen.

Shadow Team Leader: Hello, Hen. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Celandine Robles. I was an agent with the Office of Special Investigations. Most recently, I was the leader of a shadow team, which is what put me on the path to ending up here. I’ll be continuing to run a team from the field, while still reporting to Agent Miazga at the home office.

Leonard: Not an agent.

Freewoman 3: Yanna Strøm. Also a criminal. Don’t ask me what I did to end up in prison. I’ll never tell.

Shadow Team Member 2: Uh. Okay, I’m not one for public speaking. I’ll just say I’m Inge Flynn, and I’m an agent too.

Freewoman 2: Ophelia Woodloch. Freewoman. Mother of two. Stepmother of two. Wife of non. Ready to kick some alien ass. At least inasmuch as I’m allowed to, based on whatever authority I’m granted. But not you, Leonard. You seem pretty chill.

Escapee 4: Navin Misra, I’m a man of few words. I was told that I would be allowed to take naps throughout the day, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my work. Don’t ever wake me up, and we’ll be cool. Oh, and I have been to prison, but I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I’m ready to make up for my past sins, and begin to make a positive contribution to the betterment of society. I guess I’m not a man of so few words.

Shadow Team Member 1: Anaïs Altimari, shadow team member; specializing in infiltration and deep undercover. I imagine I’ll keep doing that kind of thing here.

Escapee 1: I’m a smuggler. I can get you whatever you want. I’ll be working with Miss Myka here for procurement, but I promise not to steal.

Reese: Your name?

Escapee 1: Oh, sorry. Timotei Barber.

Former Jail Guard: I am Sasho Dreyer, disgraced former jail guard for the KC Central Law Station. I’m a criminal, because I technically let several detainees escape on my watch, but I was never formally charged. I too would like to kick some alien ass.

Hacker: Valentine Avalon Duval, hacker extraordinaire. Let’s see, how would I describe myself? Let’s just say that I’m outta this world. *winks at Leonard*

Microstory 1943: Testing and Training

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Ochivar Lieutenant: Please, don’t shoot. We surrender.

Myka: They’re real. Oh my God, they’re actually real. Reese, aliens are real.

Reese: Are you the one in charge?

Ochivar Lieutenant: No. They sent me out here in case you’re the type to shoot first and ask questions later. The important people; the Admiral and Captain, are waiting for you in the room.

Reese: What room? What is it for? What is this place? What are you doing in our universe? How long have you been here?

Ochivar Lieutenant: That explains how you found us so fast. You have already encountered my kind, haven’t you? You were probably waiting.

Leonard: We devised a means of detecting your arrival.

Reese: Don’t tell it anything.

Leonard: Sorry.

Reese: Take us to your leader. *chuckles* Always wanted to say that.

Ochivar Lieutenant: Follow me.

Myka: Stay out here and stand guard, Freewoman 2.

Ochivar Admiral: Hello, humans. Welcome to our testing and training facility. I am the Admiral. This here is my Captain, and his Lieutenant.

Reese: Testing and training. What does that mean? It was impossible to navigate through here, but this is the only door we’ve seen so far. It looks a little small to stage an army. Are you manufacturing your virus, or something?

Ochivar Admiral: Limerick’s heart, no. It’s nothing of the sort. You see, we were once much like you. We were young and hopeful. We developed technology, and we took over our world. Things seemed to be going okay, until we realized that we were destroying everything at the same time. Of course, that was none of us; it was our ancestors who ruined our home planet. They survived it, though, and were determined to fix things. We found a way out of our universe, and into others. And what we saw was history repeating itself. We decided we didn’t want to see anyone go down the same path that we did. The fact that the majority of intelligent species we’ve met have been human is something that has always been out of our hands, so please don’t mistake our actions as racist or xenophobic. We understand that our methods may sound distasteful, but we believe that sterilizing doomed species is the most ethical and humane option possible. We’ve seen what populations do when left to their own devices. We went through it ourselves.

Leonard: Who are you to judge? Having power does not give you the right.

Ochivar Admiral: Oh, but it does. That’s all power is; having the right by strength of force, and unchallengeable status. But we needn’t argue. Like I said, this is a testing and training facility. We are not here to sterilize you. We’ve studied your people, and you are right on track to a healthy and respectful relationship with your planet. We are not monsters. We apologize for any distress our arrival has caused, but we chose this as a site to test our anti-detection procedures. Obviously they need work.

Freewoman 2: Hey, Myka. Freewoman 3 came down. We’ve got company. It’s an operative, trying to run the injured wanderer maneuver on us. How should we proceed?

Microstory 1942: Injured Wanderer

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Shadow Team Leader: This is Shadow Team Leader, reporting in. Do you read me, Special Investigator?

Special Investigator: Shadow Team Leader, this is Special Investigator. Go ahead.

Shadow Team Leader: We think the recon team has found something. Most of them have disappeared into the ground, presumably into some kind of bunker, or underground facility.

Special Investigator: An underground facility? All the way out there?

Shadow Team Leader: We believe so, sir. Whatever it is, they climbed into it willingly. It was just a minute ago.

Special Investigator: Who did they leave topside?

Shadow Team Leader: Two of the freewomen they had with them.

Special Investigator: The primary?

Shadow Team Leader: No, one of the secondaries. How should we proceed, sir?

Special Investigator: Are the freewomen armed?

Shadow Team Leader: One of them is, sir.

Special Investigator: We can’t risk an incident. If there are hostiles down there, we can’t appear to be discoordinated, or internally disharmonious. *pause* One of you needs to run an injured wanderer maneuver. Are there any women on your team? I think the freewomen will respond better to one of their own.

Shadow Team Leader: Shadow Team Member 1 can do it. She’s done it before. How badly do you want her to be injured?

Special Investigator: Turn her ankle and cut her upper arm.

Shadow Team Leader: Understood. Shadow Team Leader out.

Shadow Team Member 1: The cut should be on the same side as the turned ankle. I should be leaning to one side to sell it my vulnerability

Shadow Team Leader: Agreed. My knife or yours?

Shadow Team Member 1: Neither. The cut will be too smooth. If I hurt myself in a car wreck, it needs to be jagged and uneven.

Shadow Team Member 2: I can handle that. I was an art major. Which side?

Shadow Team Leader: Not here. Let’s runabout to the other side. None of them is from the area. They don’t know how close the street is from that side of their current position, but they know we’re too far from the road that came from for someone as hurt as she’s gonna be to have wandered that far.

*a little later*

Shadow Team Member 1: Hello? I could see you from way out there! I thought it was a mirage! Wait, you’re not a mirage, are you?

Freewoman 3: Stop! State your business!

Shadow Team Member 1: Hold on, I can’t hear ya! Ugh, ow. I was trying to look at the map. I’m such an idiot. I ran off the road, and hit these rocky slaps that were just sticking out of the ground like someone put them there. I couldn’t find my phone in the wreckage. It’s probably there, but now I only have one arm. Can I borrow yours?

Freewoman 3: That’s close enough. I’m going to get help. Watch her, Freewoman 4.