Extremus: Year 85

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This is it. Tinaya and Lataran are going to tell the general public of Extremus that they have maintained a permanent connection to Verdemus. Having a Nexus on the ship was always an option, but the people who first developed the idea of the mission ultimately decided against it for obvious reasons. There was never any law that said they couldn’t build one, probably because doing so takes the intelligence of a lesser god, and the patience of a saint. It was sort of against the spirit of what they’re trying to do here, but since the two they have access to were built for a rescue operation, it’s okay. Things might change in the future, but for now the council says that it’s fine. They have already been briefed on the subject. The braintrust lied to them too, though. They ended up making the claim that, since the two Nexa weren’t constructed by the original designers, they couldn’t be on the network. They could only connect to each other. So people will be able to travel from one to the other, but nowhere else.

With the council’s input, it has been decided that travel will not be a free-for-all. For a period of exactly one year, anyone who wants to visit Verdemus will have to apply to do so. The application that they submit will either be for a temporary stay, or permanent residency. They will have the chance to upgrade or downgrade later, should they change their minds. Some will be excited for the chance to live out their lives on a real planet, only to realize that they don’t really like it there, with all the bugs and everything. Others will go just to see what it’s like, and ultimately fall in love with it. Nothing has to be decided today, but it does have to be decided in 396 days. At that point, the connection will be completely severed. The Verdemusians, both new and old, will have to fend for themselves from then on, and the Extremusians the same. They’re dropping people off, like a bus, and this proverbial bus will not be turning around again. But buses do turn around. They do it all the time, it’s a specific route. So this is not really a good analogy, which is what Tinaya struggled the most with when she was writing her speech. The final draft has her just explaining the situation in no uncertain terms.

They’re going to tell the general population that the Nexa will be destroyed on both ends. What the council believes is that the Nexus will simply be disabled, and can be turned on again for emergencies. What only the small group of the original non-clone, non-secret explosion survivors knows is that the connection will just stay up the whole time, and they’ll be free to move back and forth however they please. They probably won’t do it much, but they’ll at least be able to communicate with each other. Lilac, Aristotle, and Niobe are staying on Verdemus. The latter two feel that it is their home, and the former wants to be with her son. Vaska will be staying too, not only because she isn’t on the Extremus manifest, but also because she wants to keep studying it. Omega and Valencia will be working on Jaunemus for now, but if anyone’s going to be using the Nexa after the one year grace period, it’ll be them. They have important jobs to complete, and they need the leeway to complete them. Tinaya will be staying on Extremus with Arqut, and of course, the Captain will too. Spirit and Belahkay have not yet made a decision, but they’ll surely stay together.

This is a joint presentation, but Lataran will only be responsible for answering questions at the end, since this is just for the crew for now. Tinaya is the one who will be explaining everything. She’s pacing on stage, nervous but using her breathing techniques. The curtain that separates her from the audience is soundproof. She could scream as loud as she pleased, and no one would notice. She almost wants to do this, just to recenter herself. She’s not dealt with the crew much as of late, since her leadership experience has been mostly relegated to the civilian side, and she’s been away for so many years anyway. Very few currently on rotation were there back in the day, so he doesn’t know many of these people.

Tinaya checks her watch, not wanting to be late. The seconds are ticking by, but she still has about twenty of them left, which is more than enough time for her to get over her nerves, and figure this out. Right? Why is she so anxious about it? She’s been around people. Well, in a different way, sure, but not like this. Extremus is a hollow chunk of metal hurtling through space. It has to be a structured well-oiled machine, or everything falls apart, and everyone dies. They had so much more freedom on the planet, and life was a lot more forgiving. Holy shit, how did ten seconds pass so quickly? Okay, get ready. There’s the button to open the curtains. Why isn’t Lataran here with her? Oh yeah, she’s greeting people by the door. That’s stupid, and annoying. The only thing worse than speaking in front of a huge crowd of people is being alone. She needs support. She needs Lataran. “Lataran.”

The Captain’s hand pushes Tinaya’s out of the way just before she can open the curtain. “Don’t push the button. Button is bad.”

“What are you talking about?” Tinaya questions.

“We’re not doing this. Trust me, it’s a bad idea. I’ll explain everything, but we need to get you out of here right now.”

“What about the crew?”

“I’ve sent them back to their assignments,” Lataran replied.

“You have?” A completely different Lataran asks. “That’s news to me.”

“What the hell are you doing back here?” The first Lataran shoves Tinaya behind her as if trying to be a human target.

“Well, one of the new Forest Rangers was running a little late for the presentation when he saw me sneak backstage, and then immediately saw me again at the entrance. I could have teleported, yes, but it didn’t look like that’s where I was headed.”

“Well, shit.” The first Lataran lets go of Tinaya, and holds up her hands defensively. “Now, I know you have to place me in hock, but you should know that I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m not an impostor. I’m a time traveler.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere,” the second Lataran corrects. “Tinaya is taking both of us, because neither of us can be trusted.”

Tinaya doesn’t move.

“Tiny, that is protocol. You have to assume that we’re both bad guys.”

“She’s right,” the first Lataran says. “I never meant for the two of us to be in a room together. I wanted to get us away from here before I explained why I came back.”

“That’s a great idea,” the second Lataran says. “So stop talking!”

Tinaya removes the magcuff from her belt loop, which is standard issue for all crewmembers, and some key civilians. It’s so thin, she forgets that one is in every pair of pants that she owns. She only has the one, so the two of them will have to share. They look like twin sisters holding hands, but not for long. Tinaya teleports into the hock entrance, and checks them in with the Hock Watcher. He’s totally indifferent to the situation. He quietly locks them up in two separate interrogation rooms, and alerts the council, as well as First and Second Lieutenants. While he’s doing that, Tinaya reaches out to the current crew consul. She’s actually never met Icarus Faulkner, but he’s said to be just the nicest guy in the world.

In these uncertain situations, both copies of the same person will be treated equally until the authority can determine which one of them belongs, and which one doesn’t. But one version of Lataran is claiming to be real, and from this time period, while the other is admitting to being an interloper. So they’re starting with the assumption that both of them are telling the truth, and focusing their efforts on the latter version. Consul Faulker pulls Tinaya’s seat out for her, but doesn’t sit down next to her right away. “Can I get you two anything? Water? Tea?”

Tinaya reaches her hand towards him. “That’s not your job anymore, Consul.”

When he was still young, before he began his apprenticeship, he really did serve as an assistant to an earlier consul. That was so many years ago; he should not be experiencing a conditioned response like this. “It’s quite all right, I’m still standing.”

“We’re both fine,” Tinaya insists.

“She’s right,” Lataran is forced to say when Icarus looks over at her so she can answer for herself.

He finally relents, and takes his own seat. Poor eyesight is virtually a thing of the past. It really just depends on what you define as normal. Almost no one needs to wear lenses. Those who do almost always want some sort of enhanced vision, like telescopic, microscopic, or otherwise augmented. Icarus, however, is legitimately farsighted, and has not elected for corrective surgery, apparently because he doesn’t want to put the surgeon out. Yeah. There is such a thing as being too nice. He puts his reading glasses on, and inspects his tablet. As he goes through his spiel, he skims through the early report, and doesn’t look up at anyone. “This is Consul Icarus Faulkner of the VMS Extremus, sitting with former First Chair, Tinaya Leithe. We are interviewing a purported time traveler who has appeared in the form of current VMS Extremus Captain, Lataran Keen. The interviewee has been magnetically bound to the table, and is being treated respectfully and humanely. She has been offered refreshments, and...” Now he looks up. He quickly taps on the screen. “Do you need to use the restroom?”

“No.”

Tap. “...an opportunity to use the facilities, which she has so far declined.” He leans back in his chair, and carefully adjusts the microexpression detector attached to the one-way mirror behind them. “Okay, here we go.”

Tinaya instinctively holds to the back of his chair in case he tips all the way back.

“Thank you kindly.” He goes back into the formal questioning. “Please state your full name for analysis.”

“Lataran Keen.”

“Middle name included.”

“Don’t have one.”

Icarus looks back at the detector over his reading glasses, which doesn’t really tell him anything, of course, so he looks down at the results on his tablet. “Very well. Are you a time traveler?”

“Indeed.”

“What was your date and time of egress?”

“October 12, 2355 at 15:52.”

“What was the purpose of your journey back in time?”

“To stop the announcement of the true nature of our relationship to Verdemus.”

“Why should this announcement not be made?” he presses.

“It becomes disastrous for both the ship, and the planet. Four months into allowing passengers to visit Verdemus, attacks begin. It starts with individual killings, and quickly escalates into full-on bombings. We believe that a message was recently sent to the Exin Empire, alerting them to the survival of the planet, and its inhabitants.”

“You believe that a spy infiltrated the visitors in order to sabotage whatever harmonious society has, and will have, been established there.”

“That’s correct,” Lataran confirms.

“Do you know for sure that it was one of the visitors?”

“Who else would it be?” Lataran asks, very confused.

“Well, when I was briefed, I was told that there are already thousands of people living there. Clones of Mister Omega Parker?”

“Omega Strong,” Tinaya corrects.

“Apologies. Let the record reflect that I misnamed Omega Strong.”

This sounds like the stupidest thing that Lataran has ever heard. “It wasn’t the clones. They were there for years before the passengers began to show up.”

“I am afraid that you have proven a correlative connection, but not a causal one. That two things occurred in sequence—”

“I understand how logic and causality work,” Lataran interrupts. “Thank you, but I did pass second grade.”

“You will show respect to the Consul,” Tinaya warns.

“I’m sorry,” Lataran says. “I understand that I have not given you enough information. Tinaya, you confiscated a flashdrive from me when I checked in?”

“Is that what that is?” Tinaya asks. “It looks ancient.”

“Intentional obsolescence,” Lataran explains. “For security purposes. Reach out to the Technology Historians Club. They’ll know what to do. It will have all the evidence you need to cancel the announcement. We were wrong. No one can know that Verdemus still stands. We don’t know who we can trust, but someone is not on our side.”

“We’ll review the data you submitted,” Icarus goes on, “and the claims you have made. In the meantime, the other Lataran Keen will remain in hock on the ship, and you will be transported through the Nexus for indefinite detainment on world.” He switches off the recording, and stands up.

“That’s it?” Tinaya asks him. “No more questions?”

“Until the data can be verified,” Icarus begins, “I would not like to contaminate my investigation with more, possibly corrupt, information. I’m sure that we’ll have more to ask once we learn more from that...flashdrive thing.” He begins to leave the room. “I’ll arrange for covert transport. I’ll let you two have a moment for a private goodbye, but Miss Leithe, you are not leaving the ship, and you are not speaking with the other Captain.” He exits the room with a polite nod to the both of them.

Tinaya and the visiting Lataran do say their goodbyes, because it really feels like they’re never going to see each other again. It could be that Lataran’s image has been forever tarnished, and that the real one will be relieved of her position as well.

After a thorough investigation—with the help of time travel experts Omega and Valencia, and the current temporal engineers—it’s determined that the time traveler was telling the truth. The announcement is postponed until further notice. Five months later, though no passengers are ever allowed to visit Verdemus, the murders begin, and the planet falls under attack.

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Extremus: Year 84

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Tinaya Leithe was reportedly on an away mission for eleven years before she finally returned home, which is not exactly a lie; it’s just not the whole truth. The passengers of Extremus are aware that there are some excursions away from the ship, and that it always involves some form of time travel. They’re aware that someone managed to go rogue decades ago, and found a civilization millennia in the past. They don’t know who this person was, or how many of his acolytes have infiltrated Extremus, but they know that these people exist. They do know about Verdemus, but they don’t know that the crew maintained a persistent connection to it for years. They also don’t know that a permanent connection has finally been established in the form of two new Nexa that Omega and Valencia built on either end. Given enough time, everyone presently on board could theoretically go there. They could travel back and forth, or abandon the grand mission altogether. Publicizing the events surrounding the colony has been proposed as a viable option, though some are taking it more seriously than others.

Tinaya stands at the bottom of the steps. Everyone currently in-the-know is sitting on them, patiently awaiting the beginning of her presentation. Culture on the Extremus is a hodge podge from all sorts of different originating cultures. They come from Earth, Durus, Ansutah, Gatewood, and Extremus itself. Each time their ancestors moved—or had been moved—to a different place, they adopted new traditions and practices. One of the customs that they picked up from their time in the Gatewood Collective is the concept of a Devil’s Advocate debate. In a stalemate, or a state of ethical dilemma, two opposing forces will settle their differences by arguing each other’s positions. Tinaya believes that they should reveal the truth about the planet to the passengers. They should lay it all out on the table, and let the chips fall where they may. She will thusly be arguing against that. She takes a deep breath as if she’s about to start talking, but she doesn’t.

“Have you not prepared?” Lataran asks in a faux English accent. “She believes in maintaining the secrecy of Verdemus, and their integration into the Nexus network. Not only does it allow them to travel back and forth freely, but it gives them a lifeline to anywhere else in the galaxy that has one of their own machines. People could just go live on Earth, or Teagarden. To her, letting anyone go would set a dangerous precedent. They could lose everything. What they’ve built here could fall apart, and turn the whole mission into a joke...a footnote. Thusly, when it’s her turn to speak, she’ll be arguing in favor of transparency.

“Point of order,” Councilman Modlin argues. He’s serving as the mediator in this debate, because he remains undecided. “The Devil will not speak until the Angel is finished.” It is the Devil’s job to advocate for some sort of change in the status quo, or at least a greater change. In D.A. proceedings, there is no back and forth. Only the mediator and audience members may ask questions, or make comments.

Lataran opens her mouth to apologize, but the rules are clear, and strict. She’s not even allowed to do that. So she just nods, and turns back to face her opponent.

Tinaya is grateful for the delay. She is prepared, but she’s afraid of winning. That’s the fascinating reason for the practice. The better you are, the more likely you are to win, which actually means that you lose. More often than not, it manages to poke holes in everyone’s argument, and the result ends up being the proverbial Door Number Three. It shows people the compromise that they were unwilling to recognize before, because they’re too far on one side of the spectrum. They can’t see it until someone forces them as far to the opposite side as possible. But in this last second, she has changed her mind. “I’m ready.” She clears her throat, and pulls up a list on the smartboard. It contains all the bad things that have happened on the ship since it launched that have been known to be caused by the Exins. “This is what the Exin Empire has done to us. These are attacks and sabotages carried out by agents of the enemy.” She clicks the remote. Sub-bullets appear between the items. “These are the consequences of those actions, rippling out from the attacks in ways that could not have been predicted.”

She gives the group time to read through them. She did not only create this for illustrative purposes. Some people in the audience may need to be reminded of the specific events, and a few, like Aristotle and Niobe, weren’t around to see it, nor study it in school. She clicks again. “This is what time looks like.” On the screen is the name Jeremy Bearimy in cursive. It’s a reference to a popular TV show on Earth, which claimed this to be the shape that time makes in the afterlife, as opposed to the traditional linear model. It’s a joke, really, but still canonical. There actually is a real man named Jeremy Bearimy who was given this name by a fan of the show who found him as an infant, unwittingly playing into what would become the boy’s unusual temporal pattern. Time doesn’t really so perfectly look like this in the real world, but it’s a closer approximation than a straight line. Tinaya points to the r in the surname. “If the Exins find out about Verdemus at this point. All they’ll have to do is wait until time gets back to here to wipe us all out. She traces the loops and curves forward before pulling all the way back to the beginning of the name, and starting over. All she’s really saying is that it doesn’t matter when the Exins find out that Verdemus wasn’t destroyed. They would be able to use this information to change the past.

“So, you’re saying that we have to keep it a secret forever,” Belahkay figures.

“Yes,” Tinaya confirms. “When time travel is involved, there’s no getting past it. Your past might be waiting for you in the future.” She clears her throat again, and sets her pointer down.

“That’s it?” Councilman Modlin questions.

“That is the breadth of Lataran’s position. The only reason to keep it secret from the passengers is that some of them may be spies, if only unknowingly.”

Lataran perks up, and tries to argue, but she can’t. Not only is it still not her turn, but she’s not responsible for her own position. She has to stay on the opposite side until the debate is over. She has to pretend to be against herself.

Spirit decides to help her out. “I think that what the Captain wishes she could say is that it’s more nuanced than that. There’s a lot that you’re leaving out.”

“Madam Leithe, you are failing to understand the assignment. You’re expected to rigorously argue your opponent’s position as if it were your own. You’re expected to act in the spirit of healthy debate, not lose on purpose to win in the real world.”

“I’m not,” Tinaya contends. “I agree with her now.” She looks over her shoulder at the Bearimy model. “This is all that matters. The Exins are the greatest existential threat that we face. And they look just like us. There is no way to know who among us would help them, and hurt us. They didn’t infiltrate Extremus, they didn’t even infiltrate Gatewood. They infiltrated Durus. They covertly landed on the rogue world centuries ago, bred a secret society, the descendants of which would later travel through The Abyss, and into Ansutah. Their descendants maintained this secret society over the course of two thousand years before humans escaped that universe, and came back here. Their descendants then boarded Extremus, and now, their descendants are here. Over a hundred generations apart, and they still act against us. That’s commitment. And there is no competing with it. Honestly, I don’t know if we can trust the people in this room.”

“I must say,” Arqut jumped in, “that we don’t know for sure that that’s how the Exins ever infiltrated us. We’ve just not been able to pinpoint the origin of the spies that we’ve discovered. That doesn’t mean they go all the way back to the Durus days. There are and were billions of people in Gatewood. It would not be that hard to sneak someone aboard one of the cylinders, even only days before Extremus launched.”

“The fact is,” Tinaya stresses, “that they were here, and could still be here, and we’ve never been able to catch them until they’ve done something bad. No one can know about Verdemus,” she says firmly. “We can’t even just not tell anyone about it. We have to destroy the Nexa. And before we do...” She trails off, at first to pause for dramatic effect, but she becomes so comfortable in the silence that she finds it hard to get out.

“Before we do...?” Niobe encourages.

“Before we do,” Tinaya repeats, “everyone here has to go back to the other side, and stay there until death.”

They all scoff or shake their heads. “What?” Spirit asks.

Tinaya shakes right back. “We’re too dangerous. What if, say, Aristotle meets someone special, and mumbles something about it in his sleep? What if Lilac gets drunk, and spills the beans to a random fellow patron at the speakeasy?” She doesn’t actually know whether there is a speakeasy. She just assumes that drinking alcohol is around here somewhere. “We can’t. Trust. Anyone.” She emphasizes. “There are people already on that planet. I didn’t put them there, I didn’t authorize them, but it can’t be undone.” Actually, it could be if they wanted it bad enough. “We’re not just protecting the Extremus mission. We’re protecting them too.” The number of people who are a threat to the safety and security of the planet is exactly the same as the number of people who would be a risk if someone leaked any information. Then again, that has always been the case. They are under constant threat.

“If we don’t trust the people on the ship to not be spies, what the hell are we doing here? What’s the point?” Lataran blurts out.

“The Devil will wait her turn,” Councilman Modlin declares.

“No, it doesn’t matter. I switched sides too. “Tinaya, these people need to know that there’s a choice now. None of us was around when Extremus was first being conceived.” We didn’t choose to go on the mission, but we have a choice now. I’m going to stay as this is my home, but we can’t speak for everyone else. There is a movement,” she admits. “It’s small, but growing. Some people do want to leave. They want to live on a planet. They’re angry that we left Verdemus in our rearview mirror. Some even think that we should turn around. Now that we have a way to go back without turning the whole ship around, don’t we have an obligation to present it as an option? Don’t we owe those people that much?”

“Where does it end?” Tinaya asks. “Do we place a cap on the number of emigrants? What if everyone chooses to leave? What if they change their minds?”

“I’ve thought of that. Everyone will have maybe a week to make their decision, and submit their application for resettlement. After that, there are no take-backs, and no late additions. You go, and you stay gone, and you can only travel to Verdemus. We’ll lock the computers out of all other destinations.”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Tinaya begins, realizing that this Devil’s Advocate debate has officially gone off the rails. “You want to tell them the truth about Verdemus, but lie about the Nexa’s true limitations?”

“They’re apparently called Mark III Nexa.” Lantern uses airquotes. “Yes, we could argue that they can’t be on the full network; that they can only go to each other. That way, everyone stays out of the Goldilocks Corridor, and even the stellar neighborhood. I’m advocating for transparency, not one hundred percent transparency. There is a line, I believe in lines.”

Tinaya sighs, and steps over to the wall. There aren’t very many viewports on this vessel. Most of them are viewscreens, and even then, there’s usually nothing to see that isn’t fake. Their ancestors could look out a window to see Gatewood, and their descendants will hopefully one day look out to see the Extremus planet. But for now, it’s nothing but the doppler glow, and that’s blinding unless the glass is heavily tinted. That’s what this viewport does; show what it really looks like outside the ship as it’s traveling at the highest fraction of lightspeed at an extreme dimness. She turns the tint down just a little bit to make it a little bit brighter.

Lataran stands up, and approaches—not her opponent—but her friend. She places a hand on Tinaya’s back. “Word will get out. We may both be dead by then, but people will learn what we did. Do you want them to think that we didn’t trust them, or that we believed in them? Would you rather force everyone to stay on a mission that no one cares about anymore than let everyone leave, and just accept that as our fate? Our parents’ parents wanted us to get to the other side of the galaxy. That was their dream. And it’s still mine, even though I won’t be alive to see it. It’s not necessarily anyone else’s though. And I want them to be happy too.”

“I think we both well know that you can be alive to see it if you so wish.”

Lataran nods. “Yes. But it’s still up to us to keep this thing moving, and when we’re gone, regardless of how we answer The Question, we’ll have to hope that our children will keep it going for even longer. But if they don’t—” She reaches up to turn Tinaya’s chin away from the window. “If they don’t, Tinaya...then that will be okay too. It will not be a dishonor to our ancestors. It’s up to us to choose our own fate, and if our grandparents loved and love us as much as they should, they’ll understand.” She looks through the viewport now. “We don’t even know where we’re going. Maybe we were always on our way to Verdemus.”

Tinaya smiles softly at her best friend. “They were right to choose you as Captain. You were made for this job. You remind me of Halan Yenant.”

“I should be so lucky,” Lataran replies. She looks over at the crowd, who all suddenly start to pretend that they’re not watching them. Omega probably has an implant that allows him to hear their whispers. “Don’t be so quick to count yourself out as a good Captain too. You’re not dead yet.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Lataran gives her a hug, then releases. “Come on. This debate is over, but we need to come to a consensus. It’s not just about convincing each other. Everyone has a say. I’m sure Vaska will have a lot to say when she comes back from the planet.”

They return to the group, and keep talking it through. They eventually come to decide on partial transparency, but determining exactly what that entails warrants much more discussion. And some outside help.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 13, 2399

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Leona was still hesitant to let Heath go undercover in the Church of Daltomism alone, but he’s finally doing it today. Daltomists meet every day of the week, but Fridays are the biggest. At first, he thought that that would be the best day to go, but if he’s trying to establish himself in the community, Saturday may be the better choice. He may be able to stand out more here, which is what he really needs. Of course, this is such a large congregation that a smaller service is still pretty big, but he has other ways of getting noticed. They practiced strategies yesterday.

He’s not going to start right away. He has to get his bearings first, and find out who here has the power to help him infiltrate. In Daltomism, just because someone is up on stage, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone in the audience who is more important than them. He’s looking for someone who all of the other congregants are avoiding, but not like they smell, because they respect and fear them. They’re more than likely too high ranked to be worshiping here as a normal person, and are here to make sure that this particular location is following the teachings of Dalton, and not straying from The Word. This person won’t know that Dalton is alive, but they may know someone who knows someone, who knows someone, ad infinitum.

There. That’s her. She’s holding herself with a strong sense of entitlement and superiority. She’s disgusted by the size of this place. In other faiths, the larger group of followers you have in one place, the more clout you have amongst the other chapters. Daltomism is different. The smaller the meeting house, the more elite you are, which is why this place is so gargantuan. It’s a starter house, and doesn’t require an invitation. He doesn’t really have time to prove himself, though. He has to move up the ranks fast...or else. That’s why he needs to get in the good graces of whoever this woman is, because she’s his ticket into something greater.

He won’t approach her right away. In fact, he’ll probably never try to speak with her at all. He’ll have to find some way to get himself noticed. He doesn’t want her to know that he’s targeting her, after all. God, he sounds like such a creep. This is important, though. Knowing that Dalton is just a man with access to special powers makes him seem a lot less mystical. Heath was never a huge believer, especially since he was taught to believe that he would never amount to much, but the truth has pushed him over the edge. He doesn’t feel bad about doing this, and doesn’t consider these his people anymore. Let’s see, he needs to get himself on stage. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention, but they sometimes bring people up to sing. They usually pick from the front, and he didn’t get here early enough for a good seat, but maybe he can swing it.

While he’s thinking about that, the woman he was eying suddenly approaches. “I know who you are,” she says to him, almost accusatorily.

“You do?” he questions. He’s not famous, in any circles. She shouldn’t recognize him in the least, especially not since they’re a thousand miles from Kansas City.

“I saw you on the news. You weren’t featured, but you were there, being led into that woman’s crime hole.”

“Oh. It’s not a crime hole. She’s trying to change all that.”

“Yeah, I don’t need to hear the pitch. I just need you to get me in the building.”

“That I can do,” he says with a smile. “Hi, I’m Heath Walton.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 11, 2399

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As soon as Danica heard Alyssa speak to Mateo through her watch, she ordered Constance to take the Constant back into reframe speed, under the belief that they would be long gone before Mateo would have any hope of reaching their original location. But what she didn’t realize is that Mateo wasn’t in suspended animation in his pod. It was running at extremely low power—just enough to recycle the air through his rebreather—so it could not be detected. It was cold enough in there to eventually kill a normal human being, but Mateo is not normal. He could have survived without the mask for a short period of time, but even longer with it. He spent this time quietly teleporting him and his pod to the Constant. He infiltrated the facility five minutes prior to Danica’s escape attempt, and sent a buzz to Ramses’ device. And the point of all this was to lull her into a false sense of security. Now she thinks that they’ve stranded Mateo in the middle of outer space, and she’ll let her guard down.

Once inside, Mateo teleported himself into the government rocket, which has largely been abandoned. The pioneers are happy to enjoy themselves in the engineering marvel that is the Constant, and no longer have any use for the archaic hunk of junk that brought them here. Mateo makes his way to the infirmary, where he finds a couple of pain pills for his raging headache, and a cozy bed in a dark corner to rest off the ordeal. He could have survived out there a lot longer, but it would not have become any more comfortable. He both needs and wants some time to recover. If his appearance had been time sensitive, Alyssa would have indicated as much with a different code phrase.

He’s waking up now to find a shadowy figure looming over him. “Report!” is the first thing he thinks to say, instead of the less respectful—but far more appropriate—reaction of who the hell is that?

“Sorry, couldn’t find the light,” Tamerlane replies. “It’s me.”

“What are your intentions?” Mateo sits up.

“With your daughter?”

“Umm...that’s not what I meant, but if one of my daughters is here, then yes, what are your intentions with her?”

“I was just making a joke,” he replies sincerely. “As far as I know, Kivi, Dubravka, and Romana are not here.”

“Who is Romana?” Mateo questions.

Tamerlane clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“I do need an answer to my question, in regards to myself.”

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m still on your side. I couldn’t sleep last night. It was too suspicious that Alyssa would openly summon you here from so far away, knowing that Danica would have plenty of time to make a break for it before you had any chance to make it all the way here. I started to suspect that you were secretly here already. I searched your usual haunts, like your private stasis chamber, and the pool, but then I realized that you may need some medical attention, and obviously the Constant’s infirmary was a non-starter.”

“Clever boy are you.” Mateo swings his legs over, and stands up to put his pants back on.

“Are you here to kill Lucius?”

“Lucius?” Mateo echoes. “Is that who Danica doesn’t want me to get near?”

“He’s standing on death’s doormat. If you get within a few meters of him, his body won’t be able to handle the transition to the dumpster planet that the timonite will banish him to. It’ll kill him.”

“What’s killing him?”

“Old age. The man arrived in this universe in the year 2332. I don’t think he expected to live this long.”

“How does that happen? What makes people wind up in this reality?”

“Different reasons. It’s rare, and almost always on accident. To my knowledge, only two people have ever arrived on purpose; one of them being Dalton Hawke, looking for you and your team in all the wrong places.”

“Who was the other?”

“I just told you.”

“Lucius? Are you sure?”

“The best use of Lucius Deschamps’ time power is killing people, and as you well know, he’s not a killer. This version of him caught wind of a reality where powers didn’t work. He also learned that that would one day change, so he deliberately chose a time period that he thought would avoid the introduction of nonlinear time. Like I said, he’s older than he expected to be. He should have padded more time, but he didn’t want to toil away in the iron age. He lived quite comfortably until Danica finally found him.”

“How do you know so much about him?” Alyssa has come into the room. “Danica told us that she hasn’t even talked to him.”

“She hasn’t. I ran into him forty years ago on one of my excursions. I didn’t even know who he was at the time, but game recognize game. I would have found a way to protect him if I had known it would end up like this. Never in a million years did I think that Danica would stoop low enough to try to use him as a weapon of mass destruction.”

“It’s been four and a half billion,” Mateo reminds him. Most people don’t mean that expression literally, but it’s a real possibility in their world.

“Touché.”

“Where is she?” Mateo asks Alyssa.

“In a meeting with the government people in the master sitting room.”

“Take me to Lucius Carlisle.”

Ramses is in the infirmary when the three of them arrive. “Is he cool?”

“Yes,” Mateo answers. “This Tamerlane has always helped. Has he spoken?”

“No. He’s been gurgling,” Ramses says solemnly.

Mateo nods and looks at the patient’s vitals. He’s no nurse, but they don’t look good, just judging as a layman. Tamerlane was right, banishing him to the other universe probably will kill him. But it sounds like that’s what he wants. The Lucius he knows would not want to be a weapon, that’s for sure. The only decent choice is to go with him, like he did with Leona and Alyssa. That way, Lucius can die with dignity in a pleasant forest, and once the cycle restarts, Mateo can make his own way back. If that doesn’t work, maybe Amber will finally answer. The countdown clock has already begun, and cannot be stopped. Mateo steps forward, and takes the old man’s hands in his. That was enough to push him over the edge. The timonite already marked on his skin begins to spread throughout his body, but it’s not like the other times. The body starts to disintegrate along with it, like objects do when Lucius molecularly teleports them. Mateo lets go to at least save himself, but it’s too late. It’s already happening to him too.

Microstory 1722: The Chameleons

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I’ve always been really great at fitting in. In grade school, I would seamlessly switch from clique to clique, making people feel like I belonged, and also that there was nothing wrong with me belonging elsewhere at the same time. People noticed that I was friends with pretty much everyone, but they still couldn’t see the big picture. I didn’t even really see it. It’s not like this was a calculated strategy on my part. I just did it. Everything changed when I went to college. I met people from all over the country, and beyond. I found it harder to relate to some, and that made it harder to want to try to relate to anyone. It was disheartening. It was a small liberal arts school, far from home, so I didn’t think I would ever see anyone from high school again, but there was one. I’m not being rude by calling him an outcast, because that’s how he referred to himself, and how he liked it. He and a few others deliberately separated themselves from the herd, not because they hated people, but because they were all destined to lead lives that required that they be excellent observers. One of them became a writer, who could tell meaningful stories about unique characters. Another decided to be a private detective, specializing in the hardest cases, which others were not able to crack. She operated on referrals from those who would be her competitors. This all may sound irrelevant, but it’s not. The guy who ended up going to the same college as me didn’t know what he wanted to do with his observational skills, but he knew they were important, and he didn’t think he was good at anything else. He was better with computers than people. That was fine when he was younger, but he began to feel too isolated when he was on his own, because he no longer had a support system. That’s why he turned to me.

The two of us became great friends from that point on. He helped me understand my talents, and get back to what I do best. I was making friends left and right, and I realized that doing this in college was even easier, because the individual groups never noticed each other. It was like a playground, where I honed my skills, and became the best version of me. In exchange, I helped him out of his shell. He started to make friends too. He was never Mr. Popular, but he was a lot better than he was before, and he had other gifts to bring to the table. We spent our days getting better and better at slipping into new social situations, and reading our practice targets. We practiced lying by coming up with wondrous, but believable, stories about ourselves. Some failed, but we learned from our mistakes, and we only got better once our writer friend started making the stories up for us. We didn’t know why the hell we were doing any of this—why it mattered—but it felt good to deceive others. It felt like power, knowing that people trusted us who really shouldn’t, and that we could hurt them if we chose to. But we never did. Not once. This isn’t a story about a group of conmen. It’s about three guys and one woman who want to help change the world. A few years after college, the four of us joined forces, and started working on cases together. We specialize in infiltration, with me on the frontlines. I penetrate a group, gain their trust, and solve whatever problem they’re causing. Cults, militias, other evil-doers. The detective finds the cases, the writer creates a backstory, the hacker fabricates the new identity, and I play the part. The problem is that none of us has any combat training, and some of our cases lately have been a little dangerous. We realize now that we need a skilled fighter. That’s why we’ve turned to you.

Microstory 1661: Leader of the Psychic Army

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Even in universes where they did not have human confederates to deploy as the infiltration force, the Ochivari were surprisingly good at keeping covert. They wore hoods, and stayed in the shadows, and kept their distance. This tactic did not work very well in Psychoverse. There were different classes of psychics on this version of Earth, and varying levels within the classes. One class in particular was simply good at detecting people around them, and maybe a little bit of information about them. They couldn’t feel emotions, or read minds, but could sense a few key characteristics about others, such as age, general health condition, and basic mood. They could tell when someone was happy, angry, or sad, and that was pretty much it. This was enough when it came to the Ochivari, though. They exuded strange readings, which alerted one individual that there was something strange going on in her town. Rattlesnake, Kansas was an interesting place to live. The population was low enough to be considered a small town, but the residents acted like a large city. They were anonymous with each other, choosing only to associate with those in their friend group, and ignoring the rest. This was how people liked it here, as it was low pressure, and high privacy. Psychics weren’t outlawed, but they were strongly discouraged, because they, of course, invaded this privacy. Psychics didn’t bother fighting against this, because they didn’t really care. There were better places to live anyway. The presence detector was allowed to live there without any grief, though, since it was her hometown, and she didn’t disturb anyone. It was a good thing they did, because the small town anonymity vibe was exactly why the Ochivari figured it would be a good idea to spy on the native population from right there in Rattlesnake. This psychic’s ability was nonnegotiable, meaning that it wasn’t something she could use at will, and not use when she didn’t want to. It was always on, so when strange figures in robes started walking around at night, most didn’t pay them any mind, because it wasn’t their business, but she knew there was something off about them. She decided to investigate on her own, even though she made a promise that she would kind of just leave others alone. When she learned the truth, she knew that she couldn’t just let this go, so she contacted a psychic associate of hers who could read minds. He came to Rattlesnake, and helped figure out these aliens’ intentions. Once they confirmed that the Ochivari had sinister plans for the world, the two of them formed a resistance army of other psychics. They defeated the infiltrators rather quickly, and then transformed the town into the capital of the defensive force. More psychics came, some with strong offensive abilities, and the original psychic whistleblower suddenly found herself at the head of one of the most powerful armies in the world.

Microstory 1632: Second Chance

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It is not often that the Ochivari give second chances. In fact, in all the universes that I’ve witnessed, I have only seen it happen the one time. This version of Earth was about where Earth Prime ends up by the end of the first quarter of the 21st century. The environment is not doing well, and it’s not looking good. There is some hope, but progress won’t be realized without a drastic shift in behavior, and for leadership to follow scientific consensus. On this other Earth, before the Ochivari arrived, most people were convinced that climate breakdown was a real existential threat. They were working very hard to alter their policies by removing those from office who denied the truth, or otherwise acted against global prosperity. Unfortunately, the human infiltrators did not see it this way. When they ran their report for the Ochivari to analyze, they left out a lot of pertinent information, leading them to believe that this planet was hopeless. There was even evidence that their mere presence was holding back progress, and contaminating the data. Luckily, some of the Ochivari representatives were not so convinced. Perhaps their human confederates were too hasty, and maybe a little too interested in wiping out an entire planet? They looked back over the results, and determined that this Earth was indeed worth leaving alone. The problem was that the sterility virus was already dispatched by the time this appeal went through, and the only reason it hadn’t spread all over the world was because one Ochivar blew the whistle, and warned the Earthans what they had done. If not for this renegade, the Earthans would not have had enough time to place all those already infected in isolation, and quarantine people who might have come into contact with them.

This is the only known case where the virus was stopped in this manner, at least as far as I’ve ever seen. It’s airborne, and as long as even one host remains alive, they can infect someone else. It won’t die out until everyone dies out. It’s otherwise impossible to stop, and the recovery rate is zero. The world was given a second chance, but they would have to take care of it themselves. The Ochivari wanted no part of it, but promised to return if they didn’t wise up. It didn’t make them wonder if there was a better way. They only figured that all they had to do was tweak the investigative aspect. They just needed to better understand how and when people can change. They didn’t consider helping them change, though. They simply left that universe, and then reentered it at a later date to check on their progress. Once they did, they found that they had done more damage than if they had just left these damn people alone. The environment was fine. They invested in renewables, and worked really hard to clean up their mess. They planted trees, and filtered their polluted waterways. Socially, however, there were many problems that weren’t there before. Huge debates raged about what to do with the infected people. Should they keep their small nation in isolation? Should they try to relocate them to a remote island? Should they provide resources, or not? Should they just euthanize them, and get it over with? This raised other related issues, and threw the whole world into chaos. War covered the lands, and at some point, the sterility virus escaped, and made its way into the general population, dooming the few surface survivors to being the last generation, no matter what they did now.

Microstory 1631: Confederates

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In the early days of the Ochivari’s crusade—from their perspective—finding out whether a planet was suited for sterilization was a difficult task. They had spaceships, but transporting these to other universes was problematic. Each individual, with exceptions, will be born with the ability to travel the bulkverse, but they can only transport so much mass. A ship requires a lot of sacrifices, extremely precise timing, and can only happen on the surface of a world with a breathable atmosphere. Basically what they do is gather a bunch of Ochivari who they are willing to let die, and they will all die. While only half of them need to die to open the portal, the destructive force of sending a ship through it will kill the other half as well. The ship, meanwhile, has to essentially fly towards the planet’s surface, and risk simply crashing into it. Many have indeed crashed while trying to figure out this timing. Even a portal large enough to accommodate something so massive will evaporate quickly, so it’s not like they can open one, and wait for the ship to be ready. Once the vessel does manage to get through a portal, and begin exploring the new universe, gathering information takes a lot of finesse. They have to watch any given planet from afar, hoping to understand their history, and predict their future, well enough to determine if they should let them live, or not. They’ve tried to infiltrate the native population, but most people in the bulkverse are human, and not enough cosmetic surgery can make an Ochivar look human. So they walk around in hoods, and hope that no one notices them. They often do, and it causes problems. Fortunately for them, infiltration got easier when they found a group of humans willing to help.

In one universe, the human population of a version of Earth was intentionally primitive. Their technology progressed just as it usually does, but they halted it, and went backwards, in order to protect both themselves, and their environment. Progress seemed to be creating more problems than it solved, including an untenable barrage of wars. The survivors of these wars collectively decided that it was not worth it. Their main drive to come up with new inventions was to make life easier, and even prolong life, but if fighting over resources killed too many people, then it didn’t really make much sense. Without modern medicine, and other life-supporting advancements, the death rate went back to where it was before the world wars. So too did the infant mortality rate. Now, normally, a species such as human will compensate for this decline by increasing the birthrate. They may not even be conscious of it, but a couple will have more children, knowing that some will die. That’s not what happened here. Parents will have relatively few children, and if all of them die, and they can’t pass on their legacy, then so be it. They will die themselves when it’s time—which could happen rather soon without the proper medical treatments—and their bloodline will just end. By the time the Ochivari found them, the population was at about a billion, leaving them well spread out across the globe, and impacting their environment to a minimal degree. Within two centuries, they would have probably become extinct, and they were perfectly content with this. So they understood the logic behind antinatalism, and were eager to help the Ochivari in their cause. They were a lot better at infiltrating other human planets, which led to better intelligence, which honestly, actually probably saved a few worlds from being unduly sterilized when they didn’t truly fit the parameters.

Microstory 1452: Nevertheless, They Persisted

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After the haemophilia virus wiped out all of the men and boys trying to live in Ladytown, the women were devastated. They knew that this was no accident. Haemophilia was a genetic disorder, and did not spread like a contagion. Sure, it was possible that the rogue planet of Durus came with diseases that didn’t exist on Earth, but there was no logical reason for it to spread at this point in history. This whole area had been dug and altered to make way for the old town of Hidden Depths, as well as the irrigation system. It was just far too unlikely that they somehow managed to unlock something now. The Trojan horse woman disappeared shortly after the virus ran its course, so obviously they suspected her to have been involved, but they possessed no evidence, let alone proof. The Aljabaran government got away with it, but that didn’t mean the survivors were just going to roll over and let this destroy their way of life. The Republicans weren’t going to win, no matter what they did. They wanted the women to come crawling back to Aljabara, and not because of any particular affinity for them—in fact, the government considered them damaged goods by now—but hopefully the act would solidify the Republic’s hold on the city, possibly forever. The Ladytowners couldn’t let that happen, and they were willing to go to war if they had to. The tragedy galvanized them into action. They were content to just stay on the other side of Watershed, and leave Aljabara be, but if a plague was their first attempt to end them, what would be their second? They had to be prepared for everything. They started to come up with new responsibilities for the townsfolk, even though they were already stretched thin with their labor force. 

Some were tasked with dressing themselves up like men, making the rough journey across the thicket to Aljabara, and infiltrating the city. They weren’t there to make trouble, or sabotage the government; they just needed resources. In particular, they needed books. The one male survivor of the virus was still in his mother’s stasis bubble, and in order to save him, they needed to understand what exactly was wrong with him, and how his symptoms could be treated. Perhaps they would even be able to cure him one day. While the infiltrators were stealing information, and handing it off to the scholars, the rest were leveling up. They forged weapons, and trained in combat, and studied wars of the past. Everyone had to contribute to the lasting prosperity of the town itself, as well as future war effort. Unfortunately, as always, research was no comparison to practical experience. They needed someone who knew how to fight. Now, the reason none of them knew was not because women weren’t capable of being warriors, but because these women were never allowed. They went to school as children, just like the men, but they learned very different things, and military tactics simply wasn’t on the list for them. Fortunately, they weren’t completely alone. A man by the name of Fulcrum Nielsen was sympathetic to their cause. He wasn’t raised to be misogynistic, and he wasn’t raising his own son to be that way either. He was a well-trained martial artist, because he was completely free to learn whatever he wanted. He was also a teleporter. He had to be able to see where he was going, but it only took a few jumps for him to reach Ladytown during his off hours, where he would help the women learn what they needed to protect themselves. For years, the oblivious government left them alone, content in their belief that there was nothing that Ladytown could do but wait to die out. Little did they know...

Microstory 829: Broad Side of a Barn

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My squad is by no stretch the imagination an elite team, but we are known for being reckless and crazy. We move into dangerous situations without thinking, we disarm bombs without blast suits, and there was even one time we attached our ankles to the back of a train, and let it drag us. You kind of had to be there for our choice to make any real sense. If we were part of a real military force, we would each and every one of us have been relieved of duty long ago. But this isn’t your average contingency, and we’re not fighting an average war. Technically the people we’re fighting are aliens, but technically they’re not. Experts aren’t sure how it happened, but ancient aliens appear to have displaced half of our populations thousands of years ago. They progressed scientifically faster than us, and recently came back. Their first target was the real military. It was gone before we knew what hit us. Fortunately, their plan to dismantle our government was about as far as they had figured out, so after they succeeded, they didn’t really know what they were going to do, or what they were up against. New military factions sprung up to fill the void, and though we were less trained, our enemy no longer had the benefit of surprise. In response to our persistence, our alien brethren just up and left the planet, and for a time, things were okay. The only active members of the military were people like us, who had grown too used to the life, and fancied ourselves new ad hoc police. We didn’t do our jobs very well, though, because a new conflict began right under our noses.

Known as the Barn Wars, these were fought between opposing factions, many of whom did not personally fight in the Human Aliens War. Resources were thin on our blue planet, and everyone started realizing the only way they were going to live was if they became farmers. The cities were just too torn apart to do anybody any good. There wasn’t enough farmland to go around,though, so the fighting continued. My squad and I found ourselves in the middle of a fight in an actual barn, perpetuating a more literal interpretation of the name of the war. We quickly realized we had fought in this particular barn many years ago. A member of our squad, and one of my best friends, sacrificed himself so that the rest of us could escape. But he was here, alive and fighting, as if no time had passed for him, except now he was on the other side. Though he was completely okay with killing anyone else, he hesitated to do me any harm, so this gave me time to ask him what the hell was going on. All he said was that he had been against us the entire time, but he didn’t say why, or what he was meant to accomplish by infiltrating our group. The battle ended, and we went our separate ways. It was one of the last of the Barn Wars, because few people were even left alive to fight, and those that were had little competition. Anyone who still wanted to farm was able to do so in peace. A few weeks later, my former friend hunts me down, and admits that he was actually a double agent; that he was just trying to gather information for us. I don’t believe him at first, but then he says he’s discovered the Barn Wars were fabricated by the alien humans. They were designed to lower our population, so they could come back, and more easily take over. This is apparently going to happen in only two more weeks, so now I have to decide if I don’t believe him, or if I’m going to agree to work with, and try to warn all surviving factions.

Microstory 801: Burial Ground

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Growing up, the four of us were inseparable. Lawrence, Jessie, Frank, and I would do everything together. Our bond was so tight that we ended up getting jobs together. Whenever one of us was tired of working somewhere, we would all quit and find something else. We even moved halfway across the country together. But then Jessie needed to go back home and take care of her sick mother, and the rest of us just couldn’t afford to go with her. It was okay, though, because we were able to keep in contact with her pretty easily in this modern world. Until we couldn’t. One day, she stopped calling, and we soon discovered that her family hadn’t seen her either. She was reported missing to the authorities, but they weren’t able to find anything. Since we’ve had so many different jobs, though, we had made tons of connections with others. We used this vast network to conduct our own investigation, and eventually learned that she was last seen at the docks where her father worked before he retired. There were rumors that a crew of fishermen were secretly pirates, so that seemed like our best lead. After months of coaxing, we infiltrated the crew, and discovered that the rumors were true, but that wasn’t the worst thing about them. One of the crewmembers was even sicker than the rest, and appeared to be responsible for the abduction of nearly a dozen other women. We found a poorly scaled map in his quarters, and set out to find the X. In the woods, between the bay and the highway, in a relatively remote area, we found what we were looking for. Parts of the ground had been turned up and replaced, forming perfect human-sized rectangles. Each grave was marked with some kind of personal item. We started digging the one marked by Jessie’s lucky stone, which was a painted rock she bought in a gift shop because it “spoke to her”. We worked slowly, not relishing the idea of seeing our best friend’s lifeless body. When we finally opened it, our eyes widened. I immediately grabbed her and pulled the mask off of her face. “Start digging up the others. They’re alive.”

Voyage to Saga: Stunt Double (Part X)

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In preparation for his departure from this universe, Vearden revealed to his wife, Gretchen the truth about him. From the second she met him, she had suspected that there was something off about him. Over the following five years, her suspicions grew at about the same rate as her love for him. Eventually, she decided that it didn’t matter where he came from, and that she would accept whatever he ended up telling her. She even considered the possibility that he was an alien, a Buck Rogers, or a humanoid robot. She never imagined that he was not from this version of Earth. That information was a tough pill to swallow, but several days of deep discussions were enough for her to be okay. It was not easy, but she wasn’t going to throw him to the wolves because of what he was, or because he didn’t tell her earlier. They were married, and they were in love, and they would together get through whatever was coming. There were still some questions, though, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to answer them himself. “When you leave, what happens to me?”

“I don’t know, Meta” Gretchen’s real first name was Gretchen, but Vearden later learned that it could also be a shortened name for Margareta, and that another shortened name is Meta. It was a strange little pet name, but they both liked it...especially now that it symbolized some interesting existential implications.

“Will this Shepherd woman let me go with you?”

“Do you want to go with me?”

“Do you not want me to?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a safe life. I have to admit, this is the best universe I’ve ever been in. Things seem to be rather normal, even including all we’ve been through. I don’t know why you’d want to leave.”

“I don’t know why you would want to leave me.”

“I don’t, but I have to do this. I have to get Saga back.”

“I understand that, but...what did you think was going to happen when you said yes to my marriage proposal?”

“I guess I hoped the Shepherd would send Saga and me back here once this is all over.”

“You had to hope, because you don’t really know. You have no clue what’s going through her head. These...choosers, and powers that be don’t seem all that keen on giving people what they want.”

“That’s true, but this one’s different. She doesn’t see people as chess pieces. I don’t even know that she’s human.”

The Shepherd came in from the other room. “I’m not.”

“You heard the whole conversation?” Vearden asked, not sure he would have to repeat it for her.

“I did. I heard every conversation. All the conversations. I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I don’t love that,” Gretchen said.

The Shepherd drew nearer to Gretchen. “I’ve seen more than you could even conceive. I stopped judging others a few millions years ago.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

The Shepherd restarted the conversation, “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Oh, no.”

“I will let you and Saga return to this universe. In fact, I’ll put you right in this very moment, so that no one you know here wonders where you’ve gone.”

“Okay...” Vearden said tentatively.

“But only if Gretchen completes the last three challenges with you.”

“No, no,” Vearden said without hesitation. Can’t do it. I’m not subjecting her to that. It’s waaaay too dangerous. Please, we can come to an agreement.”

“We can come to an agreement,” the Shepherd...agreed. “We can agree to what I’ve already proposed. It shouldn’t be too hard, one-third of us already has agreed.”

“Well, I’ve not. I will not. I cannot.”

“I will,” Gretchen said plainly.

“What?”

“You’ve spent the last five years in my world, Vearden,” Gretchen told him. “The least I could do is spend a little time in yours.”

“It won’t be my world,” Vearden said back. “You would be going to worlds I’ve never even heard of before. There’s no telling what we’ll find on the other side. I don’t even wanna do it, I just have to.”

Gretchen smirked. “I have to as well. You’re going off to save your partner, why am I not allowed to do the same?”

That was some twisted logic, but it was also solid, and Vearden had no argument against it.

“Me me biiig girl,” Gretchen said jokingly. “I’m going, and I’m going to do everything in my power to help you both. Then we’ll all come back here and live in peace.” She faced the Shepherd. “We will, right? The powers that be can’t get to us here?”

“Only I have access to this universe, and I would never. You’ll be safe.”

Gretchen definitively nodded her head once. “Then it’s settled.”

Vearden shook his head. “Now, hold on. I didn—”

“It’s settled,” Gretchen interrupted. She gave him the look. He knew the look well. She wasn’t backing down from this. He would have to get on board.

The Shepherd took in a deep breath to signify the end of the conversation. “I’ve left your outfits for the next universe in your closet.”

“Outfits?” Gretchen asked.

“Costumes,” the Shepherd clarified. “I honestly thought you two would stop at the self-defense training, but you went all out with the martial arts classes. I never thought in a billion years I would send you to this next universe, but I guess you can handle it.”

“Shepherd,” Vearden began, “are we going to samurai-world?”

“L-O-L,” the Shepherd said. “No.” She left the room, and at some point, disappeared from this dimension.

“We better not keep her waiting,” Gretchen said once she had gone. She sounded a bit too excited than Vearden was comfortable with.

They were not dressed like samurai. They looked like superheroes, complete with form-fitting jumpsuits, and masks. They were already in the new universe. “Why do I have a big F on my chest?”

“Is that a lance?” Gretchen asked. “It looks like a small lance.”

Vearden looked down at the sharp weapon that had suddenly appeared in his hand. It was a much shorter version of its medieval cousin, and it looked like the business end could be removed. He looked back at the big letter F emblazoned on his chest, and closed his eyes. “I get it. I’m Freelancer. Very funny, Shepherd!” he quietly yelled to the aether. This was a reference to the salmon title The Delegator had given him and Saga since they were constantly being traded between powers that be and choosing ones.

Gretchen couldn’t help but giggle.

“Well, what are you supposed to be? Is that a megaphone?” It was about the size of a handgun, with several buttons on it.

“It’s my metaphone. My codename is obviously Director.”

“Like your job title at Magnate. That makes sense.”

They were just standing in a darkened alley with vines running up a fence, no idea where they were meant to go, or what they were meant to do. Usually, something just sort of presented itself to Vearden, and this universe was no different. They could hear rapid footsteps approaching them, occasionally splashing in puddles of water.

A mid-thirties man wearing a leather jacked appeared out of the darkness and approached them. “Help me, please! She’s crazy!”

Another figure came from the shadows, stopping short when she saw them. She was wearing an all black form-fitting costume, with a mask over her the top of her face.

“Who are you?” Vearden asked. “Daredevil? Daredevilette?”

She tilted her head. “I’m Stuntwoman.” She kind of sounded like a female Batman, altering her voice to protect her secret identity.

“Well, I’m Freelancer. This is Director.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“We’re new,” Gretchen explained.

“Are you part of Forager’s crew?” Stuntwoman asked.

“Uh...” Vearden didn’t know which answer she was looking for. “No?”

“I was not aware there was competition,” Stuntwoman said. She approached the scared man, stopping only to acknowledge Vearden and Gretchen’s clear intentions to protect him. She looked him in the eyes, of which she appeared to have none. “You must go,” she ordered him.

The man hesitated, still too frightened to even move.

“GO!” she yelled. She patiently waited for him to run off, and out of earshot, before returning to the conversation. “Are you good or bad?”

Again, Vearden didn’t know what answer would make her happy. He just had to make a choice. He didn’t want to be judgmental, but the leather-jacket guy didn’t exactly look like an upstanding citizen. Theoretically, Stuntwoman was a hero, rather than a villain.

“We’re good,” Gretchen told her with confidence.

“Does your organization have levels as well? What level are you? How did it begin? What information were you given at the beginning. Who hurt you?”

“Uhhh...” Neither Gretchen nor Vearden had any idea what she was talking about.

“We’re visitors. We don’t have levels, or an organization. We’re just...doing this on our own.” Vearden always knew Gretchen to be a good liar, but this was a side of her he hadn’t truly seen before.

She paused to size them up and think it over. “Imitators. I don’t have time for you.” She turned and started walking away. “I have to go find another target.”

Vearden took her by the arm to stop her from leaving.

“Do not touch me!” she shouted at him.

“I’m sorry,” Vearden said, pulling his hand away. He would have done it anyway. Her sleeve was incredibly hot, like a cooking pan that hadn’t quite reached full temperature. “We’re not just copycats. We know what we’re doing. We have extensive martial arts training.” This was actually true. Not too terribly long after Vearden arrived in Gretchen’s universe, a stalker attacked Gretchen in an attempt to reach the new Magnate company owners. This had inspired both of them to take self-defense classes, and it was this that brought them closer together. They didn’t stop there, quickly learning that they enjoyed what it was teaching them. They maybe weren’t good enough to be superheroes, but they were decent fighters in their own right.

“It doesn’t matter. I have to find someone to kill by midnight, or I’m out of the crew. And you have nothing to do with this.”

“Superheroes don’t kill people,” Gretchen said.

“I’m not here to be a hero. I’m here to be a villain. I don’t...I don’t want to be, but that’s what they want, so I’m doing what they ask.”

“You’re infiltrating them.”

“I have to go.” She turned away again.

Vearden stepped towards her, but did not touch. Still, as a defense mechanism, she somehow set her arms and back on fire. She wasn’t at all fazed by it. “I guess we know why they call you Stuntwoman. Plus, Ghost Rider was taken.”

“Who?” Stuntwoman asked.

“Never mind him,” Gretchen said. “We can help. That’s why we’re here. In order to move up the ranks in this organization, you have to prove yourself by killing someone, right?”

“Correct,” Stuntwoman confirmed, just as confused about why she was confiding in them as anyone else Vearden had met during these challenges.

“Believe it or not,” Gretchen told her, removing her mask, “we’ve done this before. We have faked someone’s death. We can do that for you too.”

Vearden removed his mask as well. “We don’t know this...town.” He stopped himself from saying something like universe or dimension. You’ll have to find someone willing to go along with this plan, though. Do you know anyone like that?”

Taking a risk, Stuntwoman removed her mask to follow suit, and dropped the fake voice. “I have someone in mind. I actually think the crew will appreciate my...cruelty.”

“Then let’s get started,” Gretchen said. “We only have until midnight, yeah?”

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