It’s been well over a year, and Audrey Husk has not reached out again
regarding her mandate to secretly aid Silveon in his mission to stop
Waldemar Kristiansen from growing up to become a violent tyrant. As per
Extenuating Circumstances Executive Time Travel Protocol, Tinaya hasn’t
reached back either. While time travel is illegal on the ship, the council
recognizes that there are situations where it may be necessary. It may not
be safe to report such time travel activity, and under those extreme
conditions, it is up to the executive crewmember to exercise caution at
their own discretion. That only goes for people like Tinaya and Lataran,
though. If, say, a passenger were to discover a time travel event, it would
be their responsibility to report it accordingly, and they would be just as
liable for any damages if caught in the lie or conspiratorial collusion.
They’ve all seen each other regularly. Audrey has maintained her cover as
Silveon and Waldemar’s friend. Despite being at wildly different places in
their education, they help each other out. Silveon still doesn’t know that
Audrey has the mind of an adult, so she pretends to be lacking in certain
areas. Silveon, despite not being able to reveal himself as also from the
future, has propped himself up to be somewhat of a prodigy. This gives him a
decent excuse for being more intelligent than anyone would expect him to be.
More importantly, it frees him up to focus on his real work without any
questions. As for Waldemar, he’s still struggling. He went the other way by
pretending to be dumber than he is because he has an almost total lack of
motivation, which is something that neither Silveon nor Audrey can teach
him. If he’s not listening to the apparent adults, he’s certainly not going
to take advice on self-discipline from a couple of kids that he believes to
be younger than him. Again, Tinaya is mostly staying out of it. Her son
tells her and Arqut some anecdotes about his progress, as anyone would to
confide in someone they trust, but he doesn’t deliver official reports, or
anything.
Since the ship is fortunate enough to have two living admirals at the
moment, only one of them is asked to attend each daily meeting. That leaves
the other one back at the office with nothing to do for slightly longer than
on days where she’s in the meeting instead. There’s not really any
strategic reason for this. The council seemingly just doesn’t want to hear
too many voices in the room. These huddles are boring, annoying, and
intrusive for most, so they want to get them over with as quickly as
possible. The admirals switch off every other day, and today is Tinaya’s
turn to not have to be there. At least that’s how she claims to feel. In
reality, she would rather be there every time. She actually misses being
involved, and—if she’s being honest with herself—needed. The solution
may seem like a no-brainer, but it’s not. She doesn’t want anyone to
know how she feels, not even Lataran. So she goes along with the
so-called fair routine.
“Sir, I’ve received a request for a visit,” Thistle says from the
aether.
Who could that possibly be? Everyone authorized to see her is in that
meeting. “From who?”
“Another child.” Oh, God. Not another time traveler. Thistle goes on,
“he’s been assigned to write on someone he admires. He’s evidently chosen
you.”
That’s flattering. “Does he seem nice?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Have him meet me in the Attic Forest—no, the Central Sequoia, at the base.”
Tinaya planted the tree at the bottom of the ship nearly forty years ago,
and it has since grown around eleven meters, allowing it to pass through
three decks at this point. She won’t live to see its full potential, so she
likes to frequent it when she can to get the most out of her masterpiece.
She teleports directly there, expecting to have a little time to herself
before the boy arrives, but someone is already there. At this time of day,
it’s not very busy. Well, it’s never very busy here, but people are
preoccupied with other things, so there’s not a whole lot of traffic going
in and out, or sticking around.
A young man appears from the other side of the trunk. “Admiral Leithe,
thanks for meeting me.”
“How did you get here so fast?” Tinaya looks down at the boy’s wristband,
even though it’s impossible to know from here whether it’s
teleportation-capable or not.
“Oh, I’m a Pathfinder,” he answers, both like it’s no big deal, and as if
she should know what that means.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I don’t so much as see the future as I know where to be, and when to be
there. And I know when someone’s in danger, or when their luck is about to
change. Things of this nature. To me, the future is more like a haze, while
for everyone else, it’s a darkness.”
“You’re a choosing one. Those are rare. They’re, like,
real rare.” Back on Earth, there are people who are born with the
ability to manipulate time and/or space in some way or another. There aren’t
a lot of them, but they can be anyone. Some of them have full control of it,
and some are being controlled by this mysterious force known as the
powers that be. They’re practically nonexistent on Extremus, though.
Their ancestors were wayward sons and daughters, who found themselves
trapped in the universe of Ansutah with all the white monsters. A baby came
out stillborn, and this tragedy erased everyone’s powers, whatever they
happened to be. They say that, had this baby been healthy, he would have had
the ability to control other people’s powers at will, but because of the
unfortunate circumstances, his meta-power was only activated once, and could
not be reversed. And it had consequences for the future. Not only were the
powers stripped from everyone present, but their descendants didn’t have
powers. Statistically speaking, over the course of millennia, new
choosers should have been born, regardless of their lineage. It’s
just something that happens every once in a while. No one really knows why
time travelers exist in the first place. But there are almost none on the
ship. The real question is actually, why does it ever happen? Why are
there any exceptions at all? What makes this boy different?
He shrugs. “Maybe my great great great great grandparent was a space
traveler who secretly snuck into the Gatewood Collective, and ended up
starting a mixed bloodline of Earthans and Extremusians.”
She narrows his eyes at him. She’s getting the sense that he’s telling the
truth, and genuinely doesn’t know why he’s an exception. It’s not like it’s
illegal anyway. Nothing is against the law that you’re born with, though if
someone made it so that you were born a certain way, that may be cause for a
response. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t care. Some people are also born
apathetic, and that’s not illegal either. “Maybe...”
He offers her his hand. “Pronastus Kegrigia, secondary school student at
Stern Academy.”
“Secondary school?” Tinaya questions. She looks at her watch, again
stupidly. She knows the date. “I figured you were in tertiary already.
Shouldn’t you be taking your assessments?” That’s one of the reasons why the
corridors are so empty today.
He chuckles. “I’ve known my destiny since I was a little kid. I’m going to
become the ship’s first—and if the captain has his way, not only—official
Pathfinder.”
“They’re expecting you to give direction, I’m guessing when it comes to
personnel assignments, and general scheduling? Any policy?”
“Not there yet. Don’t know.”
“So you’re not going to tertiary school, or what?”
“I’m on the civilian admin track. I don’t need any test, I’ve been
shoehorned in.”
“Why civilian, and not crew?”
He tightens his lips.
Tinaya lifts her chin, realizing the answer to her own question. “The crew
are expected to listen to a civilian voice if their superior officer
commands them to. It doesn’t work the other way around. You have to remain a
civilian in order to maximize your power and influence.”
“I don’t make the rules, ma’am.”
“You will.”
“I’m supposed to be asking you questions.”
“For your report. Is that in lieu of the placement tests, or did you just
make that up to get to me?”
“I made it up, and my instructor approved it. I didn’t tell her that I was
choosing you. I did not yet know that I would. We’re encouraged to come up
with our own learning tools. I’m sure you remember.”
“It was a long time ago, son. I’ll answer your questions if you answer
mine.”
“Why did I choose you?” He doesn’t wait for her to confirm that he
guessed right. “You’ve been through the ringer. You were kicked out of the
captain’s program, for no apparent reason, except I’m thinking that I’m not
the first pathfinder you’ve ever met; built a forest on a spaceship;
restructured multiple departments; became First Chair; abolished the Chair
system in favor of a more democratic council, even though it caused you to
lose your power; disappeared for many years for a secret mission, which
evidently lasted longer than the time you were away; and finally, went full
circle to become captain anyway, despite the initial setback, which is how
you’re an admiral now.”
“That about sums it up.” He doesn’t know the part about her being a secret
spy for the Bridger Section, nor the truth about Verdemus. Which is good.
“Satisfying answer?”
“Yes?”
“Would you care to ask me anything else before we continue?”
“I reserve the right to stop the interview at any time, to ask more
questions of you, or because I have to pee, or because I suddenly decide to
stop making noise between 09:37 and 09:42 everyday.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
Pronatus goes on with the interview, asking all the questions one would
expect in this situation. He asks after her feelings on all the dramatic
shifts in her life, and whether any of it was planned or predicted. He’s
really interested in her time in the Parks Department, and how impressive it
is that she came up through there, and accomplished so much, not only
afterwards, but also during. Things seem to be going okay with the
interview until they start to approach the end. That’s when he throws her a
curveball. “One last thing. When you die...are you going to choose to live
on, or just let go, and see if there’s a true afterlife?”
Tinaya is shocked by this, and thrown totally off her game. “How do you know
about that?” She’s met a number of people who are aware of this secret. She
herself found out when she was a rebellious kid who was good with computers.
She should be an outlier, though, not a trend. There is no protocol for what
to do if someone who knows meets someone else who knows, because that’s
never meant to happen. She could deny, and play dumb, but he obviously knows
what he’s talking about. He’s not grasping at straws. He’s heard the
details.
“I told you, I’m a pathfinder.”
“You said the future was a haze. It sounds like you get clear pictures
sometimes.”
“My abilities themselves didn’t give me this knowledge. They lead me to
places, and sometimes in those places, I end up overhearing things that I’m
not supposed to.”
“You’re an eavesdropper.”
“Not by choice. It’s...an impulse.”
“An impulse that you should learn to control.”
“I can’t. I mean, I could. I could draw upon my willpower, and ignore
it, but what if it’s leading me to save someone’s life? The very fact that
the path is hazy is precisely why I have to follow-through every time. I
never know how important it is. Sometimes, yeah, it’s innocuous, like seeing
a guy’s towel fall off in what would have otherwise been an empty corridor,
but sometimes, it’s profoundly vital. I don’t know until I get there.”
She sighs. “Have you discussed this with anyone else?”
“Of course not. I don’t even know if captains know. Something told me just
now that you do, or I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Well, maintain that policy. Don’t tell anyone. Leave it out of your report.
Don’t even hint at it with colorful language. As for me? I’m obviously not
going to answer that question, and even if I did, I could always change my
mind, so it’s not like it would tell you where I am after death.”
“You’re right. It was a dumb question. I should have ignored that one. I had
enough information to stop myself. I can do better. See, this is why I
admire you? Because you’re so...good.”
She has no response for that, so she just moves past it. She stands up from
the bench, and sighs. “Is that all you need from me?”
Pronastus stands up too, and folds the cover over his tablet. “Yes, I’ll try
to have the first draft of my paper to you tomorrow for approval.”
“Approval? I’m meant to approve it?” She wasn’t expecting this.
“Yes, I’m not a monster, and this isn’t a hit piece.”
“Well, I appreciate that. Give yourself enough time as you need. I don’t do
much as an admiral, as we’ve discussed, so I’m sure I’ll be able to read it
right away, and get it back to you.”
Everything goes fine in the beginning. Pronastus takes two days to write the
paper, and Tinaya is able to approve it with only a few minor grammatical
corrections in three hours. She couldn’t help herself, even though it’s not
technically her job. The paper’s content is fine, and she has no problem
with it being submitted. It’s the instructor who decides that the three of
them should not be the only ones to read it, though. She releases it to the
public. And it kind of causes an uproar.
