Showing posts with label investigation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label investigation. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Microstory 2473: Empty Planet

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Are you ready for an adventure? What about an adventure mystery? I don’t wanna say too much about this place, because finding out what’s going on is the entire point of it. I’m sure that if I did give away the ending, the system would autoreject it, so you wouldn’t see it anyway. Instead, I’ll just say that it’s a gorgeous, eerie setting. The premise is that you wake up on an alien world, and you’re all alone. This was obviously once a civilized and populated planet, but they’re all missing, and it’s up to you to figure what happened to them. Sometimes you’re outside, and sometimes you’re locked in a room. They don’t erase your memories (because they don’t have to) but they come up with a backstory for your character, and part of the mystery is also unraveling how you ended up here. If you play the game right, you get those memories (or for the in-universe explanation, you get them back). There’s a waiting list for this dome, and it’s only getting bigger. Without going into detail, it is possible to run into another player, but they do try to keep you pretty far apart. Unlike Threshold, if you wanna figure out how to hotwire an alien vehicle, and drive to the other side of the dome, you can do that, and you might encounter others while you’re there. So if you want some help solving the puzzles, that’s always technically an option. What they don’t want is to have thousands upon thousands of visitors stepping over each other. It would kind of undermine the concept of an empty planet, even though it’s mostly about finding the truth about the alien race that once lived here. There are multiple levels, so the sky above you is closer than it appears, and that keeps people more separate, but there’s obviously a limit to that, and I don’t know how many levels there are. It doesn’t specify on the prospectus, or during the very brief orientation. Speaking of orientation, there’s not much to it. They ask you a few questions, they give you a little bit of info about how to exit the game if you wanna quit in the middle of it, and then they give you a sedative so you can wake up at the starting point. That’s about all I can say. As I said, the design is magnificent. It really does feel alien. As for the story? Eh, I think it could be better, but your mileage may vary. You’ll just have to see for yourself, and test your reasoning skills.

Saturday, August 2, 2025

Extremus: Year 99

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Tinaya is in a little trouble. It’s not enough to get her fired, or stripped of her rank, but she’s been in a lot of meetings over the last few months. Everyone in these meetings pretty much tells her that it’s no big deal. Which is weird. Because if they’re being honest, who exactly thinks that it is a big deal, because someone keeps prompting more discussions. She thought it was over, and the crew and the council had moved on, but Captain Jennings is presently walking down Admiral Hall, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. He might be here to see Lataran instead, but given the circumstances, probably not. Thistle knows that the man needs no introduction, so upon Oceanus’ approach, the door opens automatically.
“Captain,” Tinaya says, respectfully with a nod.
“Admiral.” In every single other iteration of organizational ranks that include captain and admiral, the latter is the superior officer. It seems obvious. It’s a promotion, after all, and that is no less true here. But the whole point of the captaincy is to have a singular voice in charge of the ship. This relegates any admiral to an advisory role. They had their opportunities to enact policy and procedures, and now that is over. As clear and unambiguous as the responsibilities are listed in the handbook, it can make moments like these somewhat awkward. The book doesn’t, and can’t, encapsulate how these two should behave around each other. If they were robots, it would be easy and obvious, but at the end of the day, they’re both just people, and they can’t take emotions, or their history, out of the equation.
“How nice of you to visit our corner of paradise.” She means this genuinely.
“Yes, that’s what I would like to talk to you about.”
She nods silently.
“We’ve been in meetings for the last million years, but we’ve not had the chance to talk one-on-one. Where’s Lataran?”
“I dunno,” Tinaya replies. “Somewhere else.”
“I just—can we sit?”
“Of course. Right here.” Tinaya pivots her guest chair so he can sit down, then instead of going around to the other side of her desk, sits down across from him in one of Lataran’s guest chairs.
“I wanted to make sure you understand that I am not angry at you, or embarrassed for myself. I appreciate your candor, and admire your dedication to transparency. I would like to model my shift on it, and will be leaning on you for your guidance in such matters.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she explains. “I wasn’t complaining. Truthfully, I don’t know how we ended up in that part of the interview. He asked me a question, and I answered it. My only filter was whether it was classified information or not. I should have been more careful.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Oceanus goes on. “It bothers me that they kept making you do it over and over again. Every time they brought someone new in, they acted like the interview was a personal attack on this person too, and that isn’t what was happening. If I can be truthful, I didn’t realize that you were missing in my life. Perhaps if I had made an effort to meet with you once after my induction ceremony, it would have been encoded in my memory, and I would have come to you more often. There have been times over the last few years where I’ve struggled, and I could have used the counsel. I placed too much burden on my lieutenants, and did not recognize your value. For that, I’m sorry.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Tinaya says, “and graceful.” That doesn’t seem like quite the right word, but she’s not going to find a new one, and correct herself.
There’s a brief unawkward moment of silence before Oceanus speaks again. “I would like to set up regular meetings with the two of you. Perhaps you and I can talk on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I can have Lataran on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays?”
“I’m sure she would be amenable to that,” Tinaya says. While Lataran has gotten better at busying herself with other tasks, her number one job is to be available every day, so Tinaya doesn’t have to ask her if the proposed schedule will work.
“Perfect. And on the seventh day, God rested.”
“Who is God in this metaphor?”
Oceanus averts his gaze to consider it. “The ship itself.” He pauses another moment. “Or one of the zebra fish that the secondary school first years genetically engineer to learn about digital DNA.” Now it’s a bit awkward.
“So, uh...it’s Tuesday.”
“Yeah,” Ocean replies quickly, standing up. “Let’s start next week. You can fill Lataran in, and if she wants to change things up, we can talk about it.”
“Okay. It was nice to see you, Captain. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Are we okay?” he asks.
“We’re great. Don’t worry. I don’t know if you need to be transparent with everyone all the time, but as long as you’re honest with me, we’ll be okay.”
“Thanks.”
Lataran walks into the room with her head down as she’s unsealing the front of her uniform. “Oh my God, the self-sizing function on my suit is acting up. I can’t breathe.” Finally, she looks up, surprised. “Captain, you’re here.” She looks back down. “And my bare breasts are out.” She closes her uniform back up.
“Forgive the intrusion, Admiral.” He starts walking past her to the door. “I’ll wait one day to file my report with the Conduct Department, so you can get your side of the story in first.”
“Thank you, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“It doesn’t bother me on principle. I just want to ensure that you feel safe and comfortable.” He exits.
“Am I in trouble now too?” Lataran asks.
“Exposure isn’t illegal,” Tinaya reminds her, “even in the workplace. Conduct just needs a record of the incident. I’m more worried about what I just saw, and what it means. Or what it could mean.”
“What do you mean?” Lataran questions. “What does what mean? Mean. What did I just say? Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
“We’ve known each other our whole lives, right? Which is why you were comfortable changing right in front of me, when you thought it was just the two of us, of course.”
“I should think so. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Exactly. And in that time, your size hasn’t changed much.”
“Are you saying I’m getting fat?”
“I’m saying that...part of you...kind of looks like...it might be. They...might be.”
“Oh my God, am I pregnant?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m sixty-four years old!”
“I was sixty-four when I had Silveon.”
“Yeah, and that was weird. You’re weird, I’m normal.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Lataran unseals the front of her uniform again, and looks down. “Oh my God.” She looks up, and covers her chest. Then she pulls her suit away to look down again, as if she’s going to get different results. “Oh my God!”
“It will be okay, Latty. I figured it out. So will you.”
You had Arqut!”
“Who’s your Arqut?”
“Some guy. We’re not close.”
“That’s okay. You’re not alone. Whatever you decide, I support you.”
Lataran purses her lips and nods. She’s appreciative of her friend, but that isn’t the issue. “Thistle? Am I pregnant?”
Yes,” he answered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I assumed you knew.
“Why would you assume that?”
You had a medical check-up last week, and I am not privy to those appointments. They would have been able to confirm it for you quite easily.
“That’s true,” Lataran agrees.
“Due to her advanced age, however,” Tinaya begins, “pregnancy is unusual. They would not have necessarily tested for it. You, on the other hand, test wellness passively constantly.”
That is also true,” Thistle confirms. “I should have said something earlier. I will be sure to do better in the future.
“I hope that future doesn’t involve me getting pregnant a second time,” Lataran laments. “And I forgive you, Thistle. Perhaps an overhaul of our medical monitoring program needs to be addressed. I shouldn’t have to ask for any test that can be detected automatically.” She’s right. Most people in the stellar neighborhood of Earth maintain persistent diagnostic tools wherever they go using the medical nanites swimming in their blood. Even those who don’t want nanites that are sophisticated enough to treat their conditions automatically have some kind of tracking system in place, like an implant. Extremus has strayed away from these transhumanistic upgrades because they could lead to virtual immortality. That would go against the mandate of this ship, which is that everyone dies, and not everyone will live to see the home planet. Perhaps that should be reëvaluated too, though, since it’s a damn lie.
Tinaya doesn’t want to sound critical or judgmental here, but this may be the most sensitive way to put it. “There are ways to be more careful.”
“I know,” Lataran admits. “I should have kept an eye on it. But my doctor should have spotted it too. It sounds like there’s a real issue. I may not be the only one. There could be a bad batch of reproduction regulators for all we know.” Birth control has long been perfected. Like medical diagnosis and treatment, the stellar neighborhood has access to nanites to control all of the body’s functions. Since that is forbidden on the ship, anyone who wants to have purely recreational sex should receive an injection to suppress the brain signals that trigger reproduction. It can be turned back off with a second injection, and will remain in place until such time that it is reversed intentionally...except in one case. Anyone who is destined to experience menopause is required by law to switch over to an alternative variation of the injection which does wear off over time. Well, time isn’t what wears it down. It’s sex. The more often you have it, the more you butt up against the neural programming, and the less it resists, so you have to receive renewal injections accordingly. It’s an unfortunate but necessary tradeoff. Menopause can’t occur at all with the more robust silencing enzyme, and preventing menopause has been shown to have negative health consequences. Just as it has always been, though, women bear the brunt of the responsibility.
“I assume that you’ve been going to the chief medical officer?”
“Yeah,” Lataran answers. “Well, Radomil hasn’t ever been able to see me personally. The Senior Executive Physician has performed my last three check-ups.”
“This is Dr. Gunnarsson?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, he did my check-ups too. It’s unusual. The CMO is supposed to personally handle all medical needs for admirals, captains, and lieutenants.”
“Yeah. Do you want me to go over his head?”
“No.” Tinaya shakes her head while thinking about it. She looks over her shoulder, in the general direction of the secret mini-Nexus hidden in the floor. “Dr. Cernak is in charge of the entire ship’s medical personnel, including the passenger side of things. The most removed we can get from him is the Hock doctor, but they do have regular meetings together, so I’m not even entirely comfortable with that.”
“What would you suggest?” Lataran asks, not having noticed where Tinaya was looking.
“You need to go to Verdemus. That is an entirely separate team. They are not in contact. The more I think about this, the more concerned I become that there’s something going on. Two old women having babies; as you said, it’s weird.”
“I don’t think that I should go through the Nexus,” Lataran determines. “Omega and Valencia never warned us not to, but it just seems...risky.”
Tinaya nods. “You’re right, I agree. I’ll go get whoever it is, and bring them back here for a house call. We won’t tell anyone else, not even Arqy.”
Lataran has been frowning for a while, but now she exaggerates it. “Thank you.”
“While I’m gone, pull up the records. Find out how many other old mothers there are, if any. I’m not saying it’s a conspiracy—it might not be—but...it might be.”
And so Tinaya goes off to the home away from home planet of Verdemus, hoping to convince a doctor there to come back and secretly examine a patient. Everyone there is really helpful, and the doctor in question returns with no argument. She doesn’t even complain when Tinaya asks to blindfold her, and teleport her to the Admiral office, which could have been on the other side of the ship, but in reality, they were already in it. Before the exam even begins, though, Lataran has news. Women who should be old enough to be post-menopausal are getting pregnant left and right. They are crewmembers and passengers alike. It’s a growing trend with no apparent explanation, and neither of them is sure who they can go to about this, because they don’t know who to trust. They end up seeking help from the Bridger Section, but it turns out to be a mistake. They’re not just in on it. They’re spearheading it.

Sunday, June 22, 2025

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 23, 2505

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Mateo’s nanites were just about done healing him. They prioritized the most life-threatening injuries first before moving on to the less serious damage. So a few cuts and bruises remained, and they hadn’t done anything for the pain yet. Even so, he could now stand up, and get a look around. Octavia still didn’t look concerned, so maybe this was some kind of refuge.
“We need to get moving,” she warned. “I let you recover, but it’s not safe here.”
“Is it safe anywhere?” he asked as he was following her along the stream.
“No,” she conceded. “The horde that was chasing after us can’t follow. Free from oversight, they’ve formed alliances, and divided the land into territories. We’re kind of on a border, so that offers us a little protection, but someone will eventually grow brave enough to cross the line—or hungry enough.”
What did you mean, no oversight?”
“This isn’t the real Castlebourne,” Octavia began to explain. “I don’t know exactly what it is, like an alternate reality, or something, but none of the staff is here. I don’t know who runs it—if it’s Pacey on his own, or if he’s working with someone else—but they don’t keep watch over the safeguards. These monsters are more vicious than they’re supposed to be.”
“How long have you been here?”
“The Vellani Ambassador rescued me and a bunch of others from Ex-486 in 2498. I wasn’t there long before I started hearing how worried the crew was about your whereabouts. I don’t know what they thought was wrong, but they were afraid that something had happened to you. So I agreed to investigate while they continued on with their missions.”
“Well, you found it. You found us.”
Now, I have,” she agreed. “I found Pacey first, though, and he stuffed me in here so I wouldn’t interfere with his business. I’ve been running for my life ever since.”
“What happens if you die here?” he pressed.
“Nothing good,” she answered simply. “My body isn’t like yours, so I’ve been avoiding everyone. There are some buildings; particularly houses. They’re mostly haunted, but the ghosts have rules, and if you learn them, you can stay safe for a while.” She sighed. “But I think you can help end the madness forever.”
“How’s that?”
She looked around with a face full of paranoia and fatigue. “We’re pretty close to one side of this dome, and I can navigate us there. Unfortunately, once we get there, we’re going to have to walk halfway around the perimeter to reach the exit.”
“There should be more exits than that.”
“Like I said, it’s not the real Castlebourne. Pacey made modifications. There is a way out, but I can’t get through it with you.”
“It takes two to open the door, or something?”
“No, it takes an elite.”
I’m an elite?”
“Yeah, of course you are. You were in Hrockas’ inner circle, and he hardwired contingencies into the software that should grant you access to any area at any time. The way he sees it, the planet is as much yours as it is his because of how much you contributed to its development. I don’t think that Pacey could have erased all those privileges without breaking the systems entirely. He would have had to reprogram everything from scratch. I’m sure he’s technically capable of doing that, but he’s kind of old school, so doesn’t like AI all that much. He likes to be hands-on, so he deliberately limits the tools in his toolbox.”
“So I can unlock the door, and we can both walk through?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Does he not know that?”
“I don’t know how much he knows about what I know.”
“It could be a trial,” Mateo put forth. “He may want us to escape. Some antagonists want us to stay out of their way, but others want us to stop them, like Thanos is with the Avengers.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“And you can’t teleport, right? Because I can’t. I tried while I was running once I remembered that I should be able to.”
Octavia shook her head. “I don’t have any powers at all. I lost that when I went back in time as September, and created a new timeline. I don’t like to talk about it, but it sets me apart from the other Paiges.”
“You don’t have to,” he assured her. “How dangerous is the border?”
She bobbled her head. “It has its advantages, and disadvantages. The monsters don’t know that they’re in a dome. If you showed one of them the wall, and they were the kind who could talk, they would probably just say, it doesn’t look like anything to me. They’re programmed to stop several meters before it, but they patrol that border, because they can still feel that there’s something weird about it. You’re safe beyond their reach, but there aren’t any resources there. No freshwater, no edible plants. You can take breaks, but you can’t stay.”
“Then let’s grab some supplies along the way. Now you can carry twice as much as before, and I don’t eat much.”
“Some of your powers and abilities are available to you, as you discovered when you jumped off the cliff and survived, but not all of them. If you aren’t hungry already, you will be soon. We need to get to that exit.”
“You seem to know a lot about it; about me.”
“You were part of my investigation,” she clarified. “I had to know who I was looking for. A lot has changed since I last saw you, many iterations of Paige ago.”
“Yeah.”
After nightfall, they finally managed to reach the border. She was right, there was a narrow open space that seemed to circle around the border. The problem was that this meant walking an additional 130 kilometers. Mateo didn’t know how his pattern worked in here. Even if he woke up right at midnight central, there would not be enough time for them to cross that distance before the end of the day. Paige would have to wait a whole year for him to come back, and then they still wouldn’t be able to make it in under 24 hours. Perhaps this plan wasn’t so perfect. There had to be a closer exit, perhaps hidden behind a false wall, or a hologram. As they were sliding their hands along what felt like glass or metal, they started hearing a commotion behind them. They turned around to find a new horde of monsters, about the same size as the one from before. But then more began to appear on the ends, and it eventually felt more like ten times that size. They were just standing there, staring at the two of them menacingly.
Paige’s watch beeped. “Oh, no.”
“What does that mean? Don’t tell me the worst monster comes out at a certain time.”
“No. It’s an hour until midnight central. You’re about to disappear for a year. This was stupid, we should have run straight through the center to the door. Now we’re screwed.”
“Don’t be so sure. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Mateo asked her. “In that clearing over there.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“If I recall correctly, it’s pretty maneuverable.”
“It’s pretty deadly.”
In the 1980s, a horror movie came out that would become a cult classic decades later. It was simply called Seatbelt Killer. Mateo couldn’t remember the exact backstory, but the villain’s origins involved his seatbelt getting stuck while his wife was being violated outside in front of him. He ended up turning the car on, and running over one of the rapists, but when the husband turned to get the other one, the second rapist threw his wife in front of the car, leading him to hitting her instead. The rapist then ran off, eventually getting trapped between the car and a cliff. With nothing left to live for, the husband drove right into him, and over the edge, where they both died. Then he and the car came back to life as a ghost, and started killing the protagonists over the course of the movie. The premise was that he literally couldn’t get out of his car anymore, but you couldn’t escape by going inside, because as a ghost car, it could fit through doorways, down hallways, and even up the stairs. You would think that he would kill rapists, but because he accidentally killed his own wife, the ghost could now only kill rape survivors. There was an implication that he didn’t want to do this, but was...driven to, so to speak. Due to the sensitive nature of the film, they never gave the car a name, but it was entirely fictional. The propmasters apparently manufactured the models from scratch so they wouldn’t have any sort of legal or reputational issues to contend with. But whatever it was, it was here, and Mateo wanted to steal it.
“Mateo...” Octavia began uncomfortably. “I can’t go near that thing.”
He knew what she meant right away, and if she was willing to talk to him about it, this wasn’t the time. “Have you seen the movie?”
“No, but I know the premise, which means I know that I qualify as a target.”
“The Final Girl survives by getting in through the passenger side window, and taking the steering wheel. She didn’t just take control of it, she literally removed it.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t easy.”
“It’ll be easier for us. She was alone. You have me.”
“But if we take off the steering wheel, we won’t be able to drive either.”
“His weapon is the car itself, his hands are only his means of controlling that. If we get inside, I can control where the car goes, and he can’t hurt you while you’re in the back. We’re not gonna remove the wheel, because unlike the girl in the movie, we need to use it.”
“It sounds risky.”
“It always is. It’s your decision, though. I understand that I don’t understand. But I can tell you that I will protect you, and I’m a damn good driver.”
“Okay. We better come up with a plan fast, because we’re running out of time. Even if you drive as fast as possible, it will take nearly the full hour to get there.”
Mateo nodded, then started to shake his head. “We’re not going around the perimeter. We’re going straight through.”
They hatched their plan, though it wasn’t all that complicated. Octavia came up with the idea to use herself as bait for the Seatbelt Killer, but Mateo wasn’t getting off easy. He was bait as well. While most of the monsters in this dome wanted to kill both or either of them, only a few of them were exclusively attracted to Octavia, based on her profile. They would use this to their advantage. Mateo would lure all of the others away, so Octavia was only contending with one of them. Once it was just her and the car, she would hop over the boundary, back to the safety of the perimeter. This would give her a respite that the characters in the original movie never had. From there, with the driver essentially frozen in place, she could simply climb onto the hood, and slip through the open window. Mateo never saw her accomplish this, but it evidently worked. She drove up next to him while the horde was chasing him through the woods. He dove in the back, and she sped up so fast that no one else was able to keep up.
“We need to get you up front so you can do the steering!” she shouted. She was navigating the terrain pretty well, but still struggling against the driver. He was bound to his seat, but not entirely helpless there. He was still trying to peel her arms away, just as he had the girl in the film. With a bit of ingenuity, this heroine had managed to pry the wheel off of its place, which stole his power from him, and allowed her to escape back through the window. A mid-credits scene suggested that he was about to be successful in finding a workaround by rigging a tire pressure gauge as an ad hoc steering wheel, which may have played out in a sequel, but it was never made. Mateo was a driver, so he watched movies about drivers, even bad ones, and sometimes he read about them too. There was a theory that made the rounds on the message boards that this sequel would have ended with the Final Girl also managing to get in the car, but solving the problem by finally freeing the killer from his eternal seatbelt. Could it be true? The creator never responded to these rumors, but an unverified snippet of the sequel’s script appeared to support the lore. Whether that was how it would have worked in the movies was not the question, though. The question was...was the android who was programmed to believe he was the Seatbelt Killer coded with this solution, or would it only make things worse?
“Do you have a knife?” Mateo asked her. Now that he was inside, he could hold the killer’s arms back, but the guy was really strong. They might not be able to keep him at bay for the duration of the drive.
“What?”
“A pocket knife. Scissors. Anything!”
“No, I don’t have anything like that!” Octavia yelled back. “I didn’t know I was gonna be trapped in the woods for seven years!”
“I need something sharp,” he muttered. Just then, a glow started to form in his right hand. He let go of the killer’s arm to look at it in wonder. The glow consolidated, and began to take shape. Before too long, it was in the form of a knife. And he could feel it in his palm. Somehow, despite Pacey’s restrictions, Mateo’s weird telekinetic hologram powers were back, at least in this one instance. Not taking any chances that it wouldn’t last, Mateo slipped the blade underneath the belt, and with one slice, ripped it right open.
The killer stopped struggling. For a moment, he just sat there in awe. Then he pulled the strap through the loop, opened the door, and tumbled out. Octavia sat there in shock, not even paying attention to where they were going, which was all right, because they were in an open area now, and slowing down quickly.
“Okay. I’ll take it from here.” Mateo climbed over the headrest, and situated himself in the driver’s seat. Then he took off again, free from resistance or distractions.
Now that they were clear of the monsters, their primary struggle was against the clock. In the movie, the car could phase through objects, or even squeeze itself through like a bus out of Harry Potter. That wasn’t possible in the real world, so Mateo just had to negotiate the trees and other obstacles. He kept going though, relying on his great skills, which had only been enhanced during his stint in the Underburg dome. The clock was ticking as they were approaching the part of the wall where Octavia said there was a door. He barreled through the treeline, and onto the perimeter again, almost all the way on the other side of the dome. New monsters were upon them now, but were still bound by that imaginary line.
“How do I open this?” Mateo asked. Before Octavia could answer, he placed a hand on the handle, and heard a buzzing sound. “Hm. Was that it?” He opened it.
Octavia breathed a sigh of relief as her watch was counting down. “Finally.” Four, three, two, one.
Mateo blinked, and it was 2506.

Wednesday, April 9, 2025

Microstory 2383: Earth, November 1, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Huge news. I couldn’t wait to write this until after your next message, whenever that ends up being. I know that dad told you what he found out from our old neighbor, so I won’t go over all that again. While he was gone, I managed to make contact with my old nurse. Her name is Madalena Rich, and she was part of it all. She wasn’t just hired by the researchers to observe me. She was part of the braintrust that came up with the idea to study twins separated at birth throughout their entire lives. It was she who located our mother, since her name was in the records as being pregnant with twins. She didn’t make first contact with your mom, but they did become friends after Alizée was read into the program, and honestly, kind of brainwashed into believing that this all made sense. At first, mom thought that they were just going to have her live a few towns over, but then they kept talking about it, and a few towns became a few states, and a few states became a different country, and so on and so forth, until we ended up where we are today. It was this whole long-con. They just kept getting her more and more excited about what kind of data they could get from this study, and how beneficial it would be for the advancement of science. Madalena was already a nurse by the time this happened, which means that she lied to our father about being a student. It was an excuse she came up with for why she wasn’t demanding much money to care for me. She didn’t need money, she just needed to get into that apartment, though obviously it would have been quite suspicious had she agreed to do it entirely free.

We talked about a lot more than this, so these are only the highlights. I screen recorded our conversation—in secret at first, though I later divulged it, which she didn’t argue against. She said that she has done a lot of growing up, and has dedicated her career to helping the less fortunate. She also regrets having participated, especially since it made little sense to begin with. It took them a few months to build up to the whole Vacuus expedition offer, and just when they had it, they discovered that we were fraternal twins. We were right that it was really disorganized. They didn’t try to develop a relationship with any other candidates, this was their one chance, or they would literally miss the boat that took you across the interplanetary void. They realized how little meaning their study would have at this point, but decided to press forward. Over time, they eventually gave up. At least, that’s what Madalena believed. She stopped treating me (by the way, but illnesses were real, it’s not like she was getting me sick on purpose), and she walked away from it all. She only later found out about her old business associates approaching our neighbor for further observation when I was a little older. One last thing. The screen recording doesn’t have this, because she never said it out loud, but she sent me an old contact card with the name of the person assigned to study you on the ship, and on the planet. It was Elek Katona. Isn’t that Velia’s last name?

Reeling from the truth,

Condor

Tuesday, April 8, 2025

Microstory 2382: Earth, October 31, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m sure that my son has already informed you, but I was recently on a trip to Eastern Seaboard, which if you don’t know, is a city-state in the former United States of America. I was taking part in very early negotiations for future possible trade deals. The platform is still circumnavigating the continent of Australia, even though our initial required proximity period has passed. We ended up extending that another four months after some people from other Australian domes began to express interest in moving here. We currently don’t know where we’ll go after this, but it’s always good to have your options open, and it’s not like we have to float over to a trading partner in order to trade with them. That’s what jets are for. So I went out there for my work, but I was also doing something else. After investigating my own past, and reaching out to my contacts, I discovered that an old friend of ours from before the collapse of society—or, I guess it was kind of during it—was living there. I couldn’t pinpoint his exact location remotely, or find his contact information, so I decided to fly up there to look for him myself. And wouldn’t you know it, I found him. I told you that I wouldn’t send you another message until I had a solid update for you, so I hope this qualifies. I confronted Gunnar about his motivations back then after we started catching up, and felt like he was being rather evasive. He seemed to have mixed feelings about seeing me again, like he was happy, but also pretty worried. In my head, I thought for sure this was the guy. He knew something. He was part of it. He was Condor’s secret observer. As it turns out, not exactly. When we met, he was genuinely trying to be my friend. He didn’t even like sports or outdoorsy stuff either; he just figured that I did, because they were very common hobbies, and he was desperately trying to connect. The reason he approached me in the first place was because he had social anxiety, and his therapist recommended he intentionally step out of his comfort zone, and try his hand at small talk, explaining that the worst that could happen was an awkward conversation that ended quickly. I felt really bad about accusing him of something nefarious but then he admitted that he was once contacted by a mysterious someone, asking him to keep tabs on us; Condor in particular. Out of fear, he actually agreed to do it, but he fed this stranger false information. He would just straight up lie about how Condor was doing, and how his personality was developing. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, or if he should have refused entirely. He wasn’t sure if he should have told me what was going on either. He always regretted not speaking up, though, and was grateful for the opportunity recently. Except for the first one, Gunnar recorded every conversation he had with this other man, who never gave him his name. Gunnar kept these recordings all this time, so he was able to give me copies of them. I’ve put in a request to the forensics specialists to have them analyzed, and will update you again if and when they find something. We’re getting closer, Cori. We’re gonna find out who did this to you. To us.

Your distant but doting father,

Pascal

Monday, March 17, 2025

Microstory 2366: Earth, August 20, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Dad told me what he told you, that he was going to take a trip down memory lane, and try to find someone from our past who might have been involved with the research team that was studying me, the Earth twin. He’s actually pretty excited about it, which may not have come across in his letter to you. If you don’t want him to do it, I hope you don’t say anything, because he has other reasons. He’s always needed someone to blame, and while your mom was up there with you on Vacuus, it was easy for him to just be resentful to her. Now that she’s gone, he doesn’t want to speak ill of the dead, nor say anything bad about his daughter’s mother. You were only an idea before, but now you’re a real person, and he wants to respect the woman that he married and once loved...for you. This will be good for him if his little investigation leads to answers, but not so great if he comes up with nothing. Even a tiny sliver of knowledge that he didn’t have before would make it worthwhile, and allow him to stop and let the rest go. If all of his leads hit nothing but deadlines, and he learns nothing new, he’ll never be able to stop. I’ll never be able to convince him. I thought about trying to talk him out of it entirely, so he doesn’t get his hopes up, but that would turn out exactly how I was just saying: no answers, no closure. We have to let him go on this journey; honestly, even if it’s dangerous, which it could be. Right now, he has access to information from here, and he’s sending messages to other settlements. But there may come a day when he decides to venture out into the world, and try to find this guy in person. I don’t know what I’m gonna do then, if there’s anything to do. I’ll keep you updated as much as I can since he doesn’t want to send you another letter unless it’s good—or at least big—news. As far as the request for an open letter from me, I don’t hate the idea, but I wasn’t instantly enthusiastic when I first read your message. Still, I’ve put some thoughts down on paper, and I want your thoughts before we move forward. I’ve attached my first draft of the letter so you can tell me what you think about it—maybe proofread it, and scribble in some notes in the margins. Don’t show it to anyone yet, send it back, and then I’ll make my final decision. I’m still not sure. It’s not a bad idea, it just depends on whether we both think there’s anything worth saying to your friends and neighbors.

Loving this season of The Winfield Files,

Condor

PS: We’ve been talking for a year. Woohoo! Only 35 more to make up.

Tuesday, November 26, 2024

Microstory 2287: Didn’t See Anyone’s Face

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I’m sorry to depress you all yesterday. Kelly called my therapist for an emergency session, so I was able to talk through some of my issues. It’s been frustrating for me. I often don’t realize when I’m being grumpy, and even when I do, I don’t always know why. It was what those people did to me, taking my organs. It’s not just about that, though. They didn’t know that I would be rescued. They didn’t even bother to covertly drop me off at the nearest hospital, or send an anonymous tip. They just left me there on the table, assuming that I would die by the time anyone caught wind of my location. I don’t think they care that I was rescued, because they were all pretty much apprehended by then, and I didn’t see anyone’s face anyway. Which is weird, when you think about it. Why did they hide their identities from me if they didn’t think I would make it? Maybe I’m overthinking it. I mean, they did take my kidneys and liver because they thought I was immortal. Well, maybe they didn’t. Maybe they only took them because they knew that other people believed as much, and that was enough motivation for them. My therapist says that there are truths about this case that I will never know, and I’ll be doing more harm than good by running my own little investigation on the side. For the sake of my mental—and physical—health, I’m better off looking for ways to put it all behind me. We don’t know how I’m gonna do that, but it’s my first priority right now. I just have to remember that they can’t hurt me anymore, nor anyone else. And I’m not going to give up on my writing, even though I offered that suggestion last night. If I do that, then they win, and we can’t have that, can we? I have to toughen up, and hold firm.

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Microstory 2278: Kick Him Out of the Hospital

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Hi, y’all, it’s Dutch. Nick hasn’t had that great of a day today. It started off really good. He met the two people who donated their kidney and liver to him. After they left—and completely unrelated—he started to decline a bit. They’ve been changing his meds around to see what works, and it seems like the combination they’re on now caused problems. He is going to be okay. It didn’t cause any permanent damage to his health. This is just something that happens sometimes. It’s a very tricky and fragile balance. It’s not like there’s one perfect regimen that works with everyone. Like, sign here if you’ve had a double transplant, and then this is all the medication that you’ll need. Every patient is different, not just as individuals, but from the specific situation that led them to needing treatment. No one has lost as many organs as he did, in the same room that he was in, at his exact same age, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It just takes time, with some trial and error. That’s one of the reasons why they didn’t just kick him out of the hospital as soon as he could stand on his own two feet. They’re keeping him here so they can find these problems while he’s still under their immediate protection. We’re all anxious for him to be home, so he can generally be more comfortable and relaxed, but it’s obviously not time for that yet. And also, I think they found all the people responsible for doing this to him, but I’m sure you’ve read all about it in the news, so don’t go trying to use this site as your number one source for information on the investigation. They don’t tell us anything. We receive updates at the same time you do. Anyway, I’m sure that Nick will be able to give you his own thoughts tomorrow. Seeya!

Tuesday, November 12, 2024

Microstory 2277: But Also of Everything Else

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The doctors are impressed. I’m recovering quite nicely. Don’t you go getting any ideas about stealing my eyeballs, or my fingernails. I’m not doing well because of any supernatural magic. I have a great medical team at a great facility, the support of my friends and fans, and the luck of great health prior to this. So yeah, I guess there was something supernatural about it. I was healed from the prion disease weeks ago, but also of everything else, including any aches, and phantom pains that people at my age experience all the time. So I went into that illegal, unethical, and immoral organ-stealing surgery in tip-top shape, which gave me an edge. Plus, they found me rather quickly, all things considered. Had it taken them only a few more hours to locate the site of the crime, I might be telling you a different story today. Or I might not be able to tell you any story at all, because I also could have died. But they found me, and treated me accordingly. I’m so grateful for that; I’m not sure if I can ever say that enough. This is all just to explain that I’m going to be okay, but that won’t work a second time. If anyone tries to do anything like that to me again, I will die. And for anyone who isn’t bothered by that, and is interested in trying anyway, you will be punished for it. We’re boosting our security team, as you can imagine. Law enforcement is rounding up all of the people who were involved in taking me, or my organs. No one has won. No one has gained anything. When my original organs are located, if they don’t need to be preserved as evidence, they will be destroyed as biowaste. I don’t know what that means if they’ve already been transplanted to someone else, but I don’t think they’ll be happy with the outcome. On that negative note, I’m very tired now, so I’m gonna go back to bed. Night!

Monday, November 11, 2024

Microstory 2276: Be Genuinely Worried

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Last Friday, I was able to dictate my own post for Kelly to type for me, and we talked all about my then-current condition. Things have not changed much on that front—I have a long journey ahead of me—but what I realized hours after that posted was that I forgot to express my gratitude. I’m not ready to share the specifics of what happened to me when I was abducted, but I was out of it most of the time. To preserve the internal organs that they were stealing, they had me on sedatives, instead of something stronger, like heroin. Then they put me on anaesthetics during the surgery. By the time I woke up, I was in the hospital with the replacement organs. I was very confused, and scared. I was never able to ask for help, but people helped me anyway, so please allow me to go through the list now. Thank you to the paramedics who found me. They were working with law enforcement during the literal search, and came across me first. Thank you to the cops and FBI who investigated this matter. Thank you to the medical team that transported me, and the surgical team who treated me after. Thank you to the organ donors for your selfless sacrifice for me. Thank you to the nurses and doctors who are treating me during my recovery. Thank you to Kelly and Dutch who have stayed by my side. And lastly, but not leastly, thank all of you for your immeasurable support in this incredibly difficult time. I appreciate your concern, I really do. It’s been a huge help to see everyone be genuinely worried about my wellbeing. It has gotten me through it.

Monday, November 4, 2024

Microstory 2271: It Won’t Be Long Now

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It’s so much worse than we had imagined. After everything Nick has been through; traveling through time, bouncing around the multiverse, being trapped away from his friends, getting sick over, and over, and over again. At worst, we thought that he would be dead. That would have been horrible, but at least he would no longer be suffering. There were consequences to this blog that none of us foresaw. Learning that Nick’s organs fetched such a heavy price from a reputable and trustworthy businessman, an as-of-yet still at large basket of deplorables abducted my friend, and took him to a makeshift surgical theatre. You heard that right. There was clearly an audience to this thing. It was put together quickly, but it was made with great purpose. A surgeon tore into his body, removing both of his kidneys, his liver, his spleen, and even his gallbladder. I don’t know how much they intend to make for these stolen organs on the black market, but there’s no way these assholes aren’t going to be found. The authorities don’t have to sift through dozens of other dark web postings for organs. They only have to find the one that’s advertising miracle organs for an insanely huge amount of money. They’re going to get nothing, and then they’re going to jail. Meanwhile, my poor Nick will be dead. He’s not immortal anymore, and no one can survive losing that much of their key organs. The doctors have placed him on life support, but there is only so much they can do. These five organs are literally vital to the proper functioning of a human being. It’s true, you can donate half a liver, or one whole kidney, and be fine. Yes, you can be suffering from kidney failure, and be kept alive through regular dialysis. With the proper lifelong treatment, you can even live without your spleen or gallbladder. But you can’t survive if all of these things are ripped out of you all at once. He’s going to die if another miracle doesn’t happen, but I really don’t see that happening. Dutch is running around in a panic, opening every single door that he can find. He has even demanded keys from hospital staff for locked doors. He’s trying to make another connection to the bulk to restore the magic of Nick’s immortality for but a few minutes, just like he did when he came back here from another world. Needless to say, it isn’t working. What happened that day was a fluke. If an angel is looking out for Nick, I can’t imagine they have the inclination to do it a second time. Even so, I’m letting Dutch try, because it’s not hurting anything. Well, it is, he’s causing a disruption, but everyone here has been pretty cool. They know why he’s doing it. Me, I’m sitting at Nick’s bedside, holding his hand, and hoping that he can hear me. It’s really sad to say, but...it won’t be long now.

Friday, November 1, 2024

Microstory 2270: This Global Investigation

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It’s been all over the news, so I’m sure you’ve already heard about it, but I’ll tell you what’s going on from our perspective. Nick has been abducted. Those men in suits who showed up on our doorstep, and gave our personal security team their credentials, were not affiliated with any government branch. Though don’t blame our security, because the authorities are about 90% sure that these were not random amateurs who got drunk one night, and decided to try for some ransom money. They’re highly trained professionals who probably used to have the credentials, so they know how to make fakes, or something similar. That is currently the most promising lead, hunting down military vets who were dishonorably discharged, or even missing in action. Everyone is doing everything they can, and they will catch these assholes, sooner or later. We do not presently know the motive, but we’re guessing that it’s political. They don’t want Nick to meet with the President, or vice versa. It can’t possibly be that they’re trying to turn him into a double agent, or something, right? I mean, I seriously doubt that the DPA is going to let the meeting move forward now anyway. No, they want something that Nick can offer today. We have to figure out what that is, and use that information to determine who wants that, and where they’re holding him. The frustrating thing is that he could be on the other side of the world by now. They took him so early in the morning, and it was hours before anyone knew that anything was wrong. We thought that it was above board. They knew things. They knew things about the plan, which probably means that this is an inside job, and at least one person still working in the right position in the government is feeding them the info. That’s another angle that will help the agencies find who is responsible for this travesty. We’re going to get our man back, and those who did this to him will pay for it. Governments from other countries are even reportedly cooperating with this global investigation. If the perpetrators manage to find anywhere to hide, it won’t do them good for long. [This post has been officially approved by the Diplomatic Protection Authority for posting and lawful redistribution.]

Saturday, October 19, 2024

Extremus: Year 86

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Someone on Verdemus, or who is aware that it was not destroyed, is a traitor, or perhaps a spy. It was determined that no one could be trusted to thoroughly investigate the matter. They had to bring in outside help to take care of things. Fortunately, there is a procedure for this sort of thing. Obviously, everyone who lives on Extremus has their own file. Whether they’re a member of the crew, or a civilian; a productive member of society with contribution points, or someone who is happy enough with the bare minimum—everyone is accounted for. Using an airgapped computer, this full manifest can be plugged into an isolated artificial intelligence program. Queries can be posed to it, looking for certain criteria. The system is offline most of the time, as there is rarely a need for it, and its use is not recorded beyond logging every user with a timestamp. Of course, not everyone has access to this manifest synthesis program, but Tinaya suspects that it’s typically dusted off to determine future leadership, such as herself, and she’s narrowed down the list of possible people who wrote the story of her life for her. They kept her from the captain’s seat so she could instead one day become First Chair.
As the ship’s current consul, Icarus Faulkner is on the list of those with access to the computer. Deciding that something had to be done about the attacks on Verdemus, he went into the room alone, and asked the AI to find him a candidate. Zaira Gardner is believed to be a very, very, very distant relative to famed time traveler, Lauren Gardner, though the family tree remains unconfirmed. She reminds Tinaya a lot of herself at that age. Zaira is bright, but unmotivated. In an alternate reality, she’s the Sherlock Holmes of the ship, having a knack for noticing the smallest, and most obscure details. She has not said what led her to abandoning her potential, but she has been chosen for a job now. She is leading the investigation into the Verdemusian attacks, using a team picked for her by the only other name filtered from the manifest. Cahal Fitzgerald now serves as a mini-superintendent, responsible for selecting others who will aid them in this impartial investigation. Tinaya does not know this for sure, but Consul Faulkner probably included a parameter in his search that these two should not be likely to spill the beans to the general population about this whole thing. They need to be unbiased, but still discreet. They questioned Tinaya second, after the Captain, but she hasn’t heard a peep from them since. Hopefully, it’s not her problem anymore.
Most of the administration for the civilian government has changed hands since Tinaya last spoke with them. She spent the majority of this time on-world, and has been kind of trying to stay out of everything since her return from there. Either the secret investigation turned up something that points to Tinaya as a responsible party, or the council wants to scold her for some other reason. She’s been summoned to the Meeting Hall. Arqut was asked to recuse himself from this meeting in his capacity as the Superintendent, but this is his wife they’re talking about, so he accompanies her, and would like to see them try to kick him out.
“That will not be necessary,” Head Councillor Paddon says with her hand up to calm down an imaginary unruly crowd. “But I would ask you to refrain from participating in this discussion. This will be Tinaya’s decision, and Tinaya’s alone.” The interesting thing about this one is that Paddon is both her given name and surname. It wasn’t even an accident either. Her parents were a little—shall we say—crazy nutso cuckoo? Their last name was Paddon, and they always thought that it would be a nice first name too, so instead of suggesting this to one of their friends, they took it for themselves, resulting in the unique Paddon Paddon. She could have changed it at some point, but she became mildly famous for it by the time she could even speak, so it seemed like a waste of time and energy when people could and would continue to tease her for it either way. Best just to lean into it, and let them have their fun.
“What decision?” Tinaya asks as she stands before the council like a criminal to be judged.
“I won’t bore you with any preamble,” Paddon continues. “We’re asking you to become this vessel’s next captain. It’s as simple as that.”
Tinaya chuckles once, but rather quietly. She quickly scans the council, who are not laughing with her. She accidentally releases a second chuckle, which is louder this time. When they don’t respond appropriately, she can’t help but convert it into a full-on laugh. “I’m sorry, are you serious? You’re not being serious.”
“Quite,” Paddon confirms.
“Pardon,” Tinaya begins, “but have you seen my face? I’m sixty-two years old.”
“Apologies,” Paddon says, “but our records indicate that you are ten years younger than that.” She sifts through some papers. Yes, they’re still using paper.
“In realtime, yes, but I was stuck in the past on Gatewood for about a year,” Tinaya reminds them, “and when we tried to go back, we were off course by several years. So I’m ten years older than my birthday should indicate.”
Paddon nods, remembering this now. “Right, right. Well, just the same, we fail to see how your age has to do with anything.”
“You can’t have a sixty-two year old Captain. I’m sorry, more like sixty-three by the time I would sit down. That’s absurd. Captains are in their twenties when they first start, maybe their thirties.”
Paddon looks through the papers again, but facetiously this time. “I don’t recall that being one of our laws. Could you point me to the subsection?”
Tinaya rolls her eyes. “It’s not a law, it’s just...a thing.”
The Head Councillor gets real serious now. “Miss Leithe, you have done more for the ship than any one person has, including the former captains.”
“Omega and Valencia,” Tinaya responds quite abruptly, and rudely.
“They’re immortal, they don’t count.” Paddon takes a breath. “I know that this is a lot to take in, and we generally try to find a replacement earlier in the year prior to the handoff, but it’s been decided that Extremus needs a big win. It needs a story, and it needs a leader that everyone can get behind enthusiastically. The other candidates are great, but they’re not special like you are. A former First Chair who relinquished her own power to make the government more democratic ends up being rewarded with, not only a post on the crew, but the highest honor. It will boost morale.”
“So this is nothing more than a political move.”
“They are all political moves,” Paddon says with a raised voice, but not an angry one. “You should have learned that by now. You even just told us how ancient you were.”
“This is highly irregular,” Tinaya contends.
“Exactly,” Paddon replies, understanding that Tinaya isn’t saying that this is a good thing, but maintaining the position that it is just the same.
Tinaya has been intentionally avoiding making eye contact with Lataran this whole time, even before the insane offer. Their relationship has become more awkward than ever since the time travel incident. She found herself feeling more loyal to the Lataran’s future self than the present day version, and though she never said as much out loud, this Lataran could sense it. She’s been respectfully keeping her distance. Tinaya’s gaze darts over to her now to see Lataran looking back with the love and admiration that Tinaya does not deserve.
Paddon notices. “Who do you think threw your hat in the ring?”
“And that makes it a good reason?” Tinaya questions.
“Captain Keen made a compelling argument,” Paddon explains. “What did I say, Superintendent?” she adds, holding up a finger to Arqut, who was probably about to speak out of turn.
Tinaya looks at his face now, and does her best to read his mind. She thinks she’s figured it out. “Two best friends, and a husband,” Tinaya goes on. “Plus, my aunt was Captain before me. It’s a freaking dynasty. The history books tend not to like that.”
“I’m not worried about the books right now,” Paddon claims.
“Yes, you are. You said this whole thing was about optics.”
“No, it’s about uniting the passengers under a banner they can trust. They all love you. What about that are you not understanding? Do you have any idea how much deepfake porn there is of you? You’re the most popular likeness of all Extremusians.”
“I don’t wanna hear about that.” Deepfake porn is not illegal here, though many believe that it should be. The way the law sees it, as long as you keep it to yourself, you can do just about whatever you want in the privacy of your own home. You have to create all of the images yourself, and they can’t be distributed, but there are loopholes to that limitation. Again, Tinaya doesn’t involve herself in such matters.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Paddon tells her sincerely. “I’m just trying to encourage you to think about this seriously. You have come so far. The people don’t know about Verdemus, but they’ve been told that your away mission saved their lives, and they’re grateful. Captain Keen’s stint is over. Someone has to replace her for the next twenty-four years, and we would like to find someone who is popular, so they can be an effective leader. You are not the only one who can do that, but you are the best, and we firmly believe that you can keep us on track. There is nothing that says a former civilian leader cannot join the crew. It’s just never been done before...except for Ovan Teleres, but that was this whole weird thing.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy for picking me,” Tinaya admits. “I just don’t think it’s the right choice. I think it’ll backfire. Maybe not tomorrow, but it could have major consequences for the future safety and prosperity of this mission.”
“You’re not wrong,” Paddon admits right back. “We feel that, in the long run, it will do more good than harm.”
Consul Faulkner stands up. “Let’s take a break. It sounds like we’re starting to go in circles, so we will reconvene same time tomorrow for further discussion, or your final answer, Miss Leithe.”
Tinaya goes back home with Arqut. Lataran follows them there to plead her case. After talking about it incessantly for half an eternity, Tinaya makes her decision in her head, but doesn’t say anything to the two of them. The next day, they all show up in the Meeting Hall. Tinaya stands back up on the platform, and looks at the whole group. “Okay. I’ll do it. But I have some conditions, which we can talk about. First and foremost—and this one is nonnegotiable—I’m not going to be an eighty-six-year-old captain. I’ll step down in ten years. You said you wanted to get back on track, and that’s how the timeline works out.”