The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 6, 2488

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Last year, Mateo spent all day with his three daughters. They went all over the place together, including multiple adventure domes to continue their beta testing commitments. This was what the girls did when they weren’t training with Prince Darko, or relaxing in one of the relaxation areas. The four of them also spent some time in the sunrise pod, which Romana had described the year before. Today, they were all planning on getting a looksee at what Hrockas was tentatively calling Weldome. It was kind of a ridiculous name, but a vital aspect of this planet being a vacation hub. If someone wanted to visit using relativistic ships, it would take them roughly over 100 years, depending on where they started from. Even with a reframe engine, which the stellar neighborhood was developing, it would take a couple of months. The Weldome was packed top to bottom with surrogate pods. Visitors could cast their consciousnesses across the quantum network, and arrive in their pod in minutes.

Weldome—or whatever better name someone managed to come up with—was finished in its original state decades ago, but it wasn’t perfect. A visitor would be expected to show up in a generic cybernetic template, and could print a simulacrum of their face later, or transform their appearance using onboard hologram generators. Alternatively, they could request a clone of their real body by first transmitting their digital DNA ahead of time. This would take months to complete, which in a society of effective immortality, that would be okay for some. People certainly had a history of planning their vacations months in advance. But Ramses knew it could be better. He had written a compression algorithm, which used a technological time bubble to accelerate the development of a clone at alarming speeds. To save on power, this process still took about an hour, but the consciousness lay dormant in the temporary memory core, so the user couldn’t really tell the difference anyway. This was revolutionary technology, and while quantum casting was commonplace elsewhere, no other planet did it so fantastically. This could give Hrockas the edge he needed to become the owner of the number one destination planet in the galaxy.

It was time to test this. Hrockas was in touch with someone he once knew on Earth, who was willing to give it a shot. He was currently in a lab in what was once known as North Korea. The oppressive government collapsed centuries ago, with the southern border being erased from the map. The area was now just as much of a utopia as everywhere else in the world. There was one major special characteristic, where the rules were not the same as other places, though. As stated, quantum casting was ubiquitous, but there were all sorts of regulations and policies that governed how this technology could be used. One aspect of it was that people were still not allowed to permanently send themselves across interstellar space. They had to be using their new substrates as surrogates, even if the transference was permanent in all practical terms. Korea was different. The old body could be destroyed immediately, while the destination could be selected as the truly permanent housing unit for the consciousness. This was controversial, though probably where the law was headed worldwide. As Project Stargate propagated colonization efforts further and further into the Milky Way, it was becoming less reasonable to force people to treat Earth as some sort of homebase, instead of just another planet in the network.

For now, Costa wasn’t planning on destroying his original body on Earth, but because of its unique laws, Korea was still the best place to test any new casting technology without as much scrutiny or interference. He was nearing the end of his hour right now. They were watching the pod put the finishing touches on his new clone body when an alarm went off on Ramses’ watch. “The sentry satellites. They’ve picked up an object entering the star system. Looks like we have company.”

“Are the defense platforms ready?” Hrockas asked.

“It depends on who’s here, and how powerful they are.”

“Take the Dritewing,” Hrockas asked. “You already have authorization.”

Ramses teleported away, and while Mateo wanted to watch the test of the new casting system, he also knew that his friend needed a wingman. He teleported too, to the restricted shipyard where the battleships were kept, along with other related vessels and weapons. The Dritewing was the flagship of the Castlebourne fleet, though it had no current crew, and Hrockas had no idea how to start an army, nor a security contingency. He never thought that he might need one, and mercenaries weren’t really a thing anymore. He was mulling over plans to ask for a group of soldiers and officers from the stellar neighborhood to be stationed here on a permanent basis. Mateo wasn’t even sure whether he had begun discussions with Teagarden, or if it was still only an idea. For now, Mateo and Ramses were on their own. Since Hrockas had the automators build these ships without the team’s involvement, it was lacking in certain superadvanced technologies, namely a teleporter. They had to launch from the ground the old fashioned way, and wait to intercept whatever had invaded their borders in realtime.

Ramses jerked his head around as he was watching the screen, and the sensors. Mateo didn’t know what he was seeing, but it must have been interesting. “It’s a person.”

“How are they surviving out there without a ship?”

“I’m guessing they’re suited up.”

“Can any jetpack move that fast?”

“They may have been going this fast when they stepped out of their ship. Newton’s Law of Inertia. If there’s nothing out there to slow them down, they won’t slow down. Computer, show me their path, and projections.”

A curvy line appeared on the map, eventually turning from white to blue, presumably to show where the flying person was expected to go in the near future.

Ramses’ eyes opened wide. “They’re kissing atmospheres.”

“Why?”

“To slow down. They don’t want to be going this fast. They’re trying to stop.”

“Can we help?

“Sure, we can match speed, and then one of us can teleport out there.”

“I’ll put my helmet on,” Mateo volunteered as Ramses was inputting the new heading. The mysterious visitor was almost through to the other end of the solar system when they were situated for rescue. It was important that they were moving at the exact same speed as the target, or teleporting to them could result in sudden death, being no better than ramming them with the ship at the equivalent difference in speed.

It was easy for Mateo to make one quick jump out there, grab the man who had fallen overboard, and to teleport right back to the bridge of the Dritewing. “Computer, full stimulant,” Mateo heard the stranger order while their respective helmets were still touching for a conductive link. The man breathed in deep with his eyes closed, then opened them. He reached up and removed his helmet. “Thank you for the rescue, or I won’t go down easy. Which is it?”

“It was a rescue,” Mateo assured him. “We mean you no harm.”

The man was apprehensive, but open. “I appreciate that.” He shifted his gaze between Mateo and Ramses. “Report.”

Ramses stepped forward. “You’re on the Castlebourne Battleship Dritewing. We launched to investigate when our sats detected your arrival. We thought you might be a threat. Are you?”

“What’s Castlebourne?”

“It’s the planet we’re on our way back towards.”

“What’s your name?” Mateo asked.

“Officer Azad Petit, mechanic of the Teagarden Recon Frigate Twenty-Four. We were trying to get to Barnard’s Star. It was above my paygrade, but my superiors received word that it was no longer off-limits, so they wanted to check it out.”

“When did your ship launch?” Ramses asked.

“It was 2380.”

Ramses nodded. “That makes sense. In 2369. Leona divulged to the higher-ups that Gatewood was abandoned. It was only a matter of time before they decided to see for themselves.”

“How far off course am I?” Azad asked. “I was living in my IMS for two months.”

“Why?” Mateo asked.

“Ship blew up,” Azad replied. “I have no idea how it happened. In fact, I don’t know that it was destroyed. That was just my guess. I happened to be servicing an airlock at the time, and some kind of explosion knocked me clear of the debris, and slightly off-course. That debris might have ended up where it was going, and I guess I just missed it by a degree or two.”

“Gatewood is roughly on the way out here, yeah,” Ramses confirmed. “Castlebourne is about a hundred and eight light years from Earth. Very smart, trying to use aerobraking maneuvers to slow down.”

Azad shook his head. “I don’t know that it would have been enough. I was trying to find a route that would take me into a complete orbit around one of the planets, so I could start to sort of ping-pong my way back and forth, but I don’t think that would have happened. Thank God you spotted me.”

Mateo shrugged. “Saving people is kind of our jam.”

Azad nodded graciously as he walked over to look out the viewport as they were reentering orbit. “Are those geodesic domes?”

“Yes, tens of thousands of them,” Mateo answered.

“How long has this world been here in secret?”

“It’s not a secret,” Ramses corrected. “Teagarden is aware of it. We’ll land, and I’ll take you to see the owner. He’ll be happy to have a new beta tester, if you’re interested.”

“Beta tester for what?”

“This is a destination world, full of adventure, relaxation, and exploration. You could spend a lifetime here and not yet see everything.” While the concept of life expectancy had become essentially meaningless thanks to advancements in health, medicine, and consciousness transference, among other related technologies, lifetime had taken on a new meaning. Whereas before, it was vague and never more than an estimate, it was now standardized to precisely 120 years. It was all very complicated, and the rules were still arbitrary, but basically, researchers arrived at this number by calculating the expected lifespan of an organic human being in a semi-controlled environment with only certain medical interventions. The archetype for this individual could take regular medicine to treat particular issues, and prevent other issues, but this did not include medical nanites, whole-body diagnostics, or advanced implants. Mateo wasn’t sure if such people still technically existed, but they were probably somewhere, defiant of the status quo, and nostalgic for simpler times.

“I need to check in with my superiors,” Azad said, almost apologetically. “I went AWOL.”

“Did you set the explosion?” Ramses asked. “Did you know it was gonna happen?”

“Of course not!” Azad insisted.

“Did you turn off your communication system while you were adrift?” Ramses pressed.

“No, I was sending out a distress signal the whole time.”

“Then you’re not AWOL,” Ramses reasoned. “You’re either MIA or KIA, but you’re not AWOL.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Azad admitted while clearly still nervous.

“I’m certain that Hrockas will give you access to a quantum terminal,” Mateo told him. “Terminus!” he exclaimed. “That’s what they should call the dome with all the clone pods, and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Ramses agreed, “that’s better than Weldome.”

After they landed the Dritewing, Ramses held out his hand towards Azad to teleport him to Castledome. Azad reached back, saying, “um...hello. We shake with our right hands where I’m from. Has that much changed in a century?”

“No, I just made a mistake,” Ramses covered. “We better get on the train.” They were so used to just being honest about their superpowers, it was easy to forget that the majority of the population didn’t know anything about them. While The Edge meeting determined that the vonearthans would be given certain upgrades, they were framed as quantum leaps in technological advancements. It was never the plan to publicize the true origins of them. Mateo, Ramses, and Azad got on the train, but the rest of the group was still in Terminus, or whatever they ended up calling it, so they just went right back there.

The quantum casting test subject had arrived while they were gone, and was currently in the acclimation room. This was a safe space, designed with a calming aesthetic, and access to medical supplies, if needed. By the time the three guys showed up, Costa was fine. This room was more of a precaution than anything. Casting could be disorienting, but shouldn’t require a lot of recovery time or tools. From here, a normal visitor would move on to one of the orientation rooms, which was also where they would receive their housing information, and the appropriate access codes. Costa wasn’t going to go through all that, though. He was just here to make sure that the transmission was successful. They had no reason to think that it wouldn’t be, but these pods had to be thoroughly tested before the Earthan government would allow full-scale networking incorporation.

Azad was the last to step into the room. He immediately stood up straight, and pulled his hand into a salute. “Sergeant Whinawray. Officer Azad Petit, reporting in after an unscheduled long-term absence. Your orders, sir!”

“At ease, Officer,” Costa replied.

Azad struggled for a moment, but did manage to relax.

“I take it you two know each other,” Ramses said, trying to cut the tension with humor.

“No orders,” Costa went on. “I need to sleep, and I’m guessing you do as well. We’ll debrief in the morning unless we, or someone else, is in immediate danger.”

“Not to my knowledge, sir,” Azad replied.

“I’m retired, Officer,” Costa clarified. “No sir necessary.”

“With respect, sir, that’s not how it works,” Azad contended.

Hrockas turned to address one of the hospitality bots. “Assign them both Imperial Suites in the Palacium Hotel.”

“There is only one Imperial Suite available,” the bot explained. “You weren’t yet sure whether it should be one of the unique units, or a class.”

“Do we have a Royal Suite available?” Hrockas pressed.

“Yes,” the bot confirmed.

“Great. Officer Petit, you’ll be in one of the Royal Suites.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Azad said.

“Sir,” Hrockas began, “this planet is designed to accommodate hundreds of billions of people. There are currently about a couple dozen. We can spare one Royal Suite. I can’t have it getting out that one of my first customers slept in a paltry king-sized bed, or something. Don’t forget to fill out your feedback card, though, thanks!”

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Microstory 2344: Vacuus, April 2, 2179

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Dear Condor,

That all sounds very dangerous. I’m glad that you’re inside fulltime now. I’ve only ever lived in three places, and never go outside. I grew up on the ship while it was on its way all the way out here, and a little when it was first in orbit around Vacuus. I was eighteen when we arrived, and after some initial surveys, I was part of the first group to drop down to the planet. And I really mean that. We took something called a dropship down to the surface. We lived there for almost two years before they had built enough of the residential base for us to move in there. Back then, we couldn’t launch any ships back into orbit, because it takes too much fuel to do it the traditional way, and the necessary infrastructure for more advanced methods took time to engineer. Now we have something called a launch loop, which—if you don’t know—is like a giant-ass roller coaster that allows us to get into space without expending too much energy, or requiring as much tensile strength as a space elevator would. They’re thinking about building the latter at some point, but it’s going to take a lot more effort and time. Anyway, until we started to be able to travel back and forth relatively cheaply, there were two separate populations. Those who never dropped down to Vacuus lived up there, and had their own kids. We stayed in contact with each other, though, since it was the only place we could talk to which had no significant time delay. I’ve never been back in person, however, while most people I know have gone back at least once. It’s really just little kids who have no had the opportunity yet. My friend who lives up there now has been asking me to take the launch loop into orbit for a visit, and I want to do that, but I also don’t. So much can go wrong. I cannot believe that I used to live on a ship. How did I end up so soft and cowardly? How did you do it? How are you so brave? You don’t have to answer that. This is just my neuroses getting in the way of my goals. I already go to counseling to get this stuff figured out.

Not yet living my best life,

Corinthia

Microstory 2328: Earth, December 9, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

The system works! I received your canned response, telling me that you were going to wait to write back until I had a chance to speak with dad. Well, that’s what happened. He finally came home a few days ago after having been gone the longest amount of time in my life. I gave him one night to sleep off the jetlag, but then we spoke over breakfast the next late morning. We sat down at the table together, but he knew that it was coming, and neither of us ate much of anything. He admits that his wife—your mother—came to him 36 years ago with the idea to raise us separately. They were going through a divorce, and his work was going to take him across the continent anyway. She had this opportunity to be part of the first manned mission to Vacuus, and didn’t want to go without any family at all. She framed it as her idea, but my dad has always been pretty convinced that another man talked her into it. Funny thing is, this other guy ultimately failed the mission qualification tests, so he ended up not going anyway. I’ve not gotten a name yet, but I would like to find out who he is, and what happened to him.

So anyway, it sounds like it was partly a social experiment, and partly the solution to the calculus of there being two parents in need of at least one child each, and having two children to divide into the solution. He says that he doesn’t remember why she got the girl baby, and he got the boy baby, but I don’t think that part really matters. He claims that he regretted the decision immediately, but your ship had already launched. If that’s true, why didn’t he tell me about you earlier? We could have known each other since we were kids, and had some sort of relationship growing up. Yet he played into the experiment. He could have made things a little better, but chose not to. Not only did he deprive us of each other, but himself of you, and you of him. He could have known his own daughter, and now you’re an adult, but a total stranger. I also missed out on the chance to know my own mother, though you would be a better judge as to whether that’s a bad thing, or not. He was too tired to give any more details. He didn’t really paint himself as the hero, but it’s clear that he considers her the villain. Again, he did have some control. There must have been some argument that he could have made in a court of law. Your mom had to volunteer for the Vacuus mission. They weren’t begging for her to sign up. Maybe that’s not true, though, because as I said, I never had the chance to know here. Before she died, what—if anything—did she say about how this started for her? I’ll try to find out more information for us later, but I wanted to reply as quickly as possible, so you would have time to consider and process it. To be honest, it was a rather disappointing conversation. When I think back to my conversation with him, I realize that he said as little as possible without allowing me to accuse him of being totally evasive.

Let down on Earth,

Condor

Microstory 2321: Vacuus, September 26, 2178

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Dear Condor,

Thank you for the sentiment regarding my job. I’m okay whether it’s important or not. It gives me something to do, and besides, it’s not like I have to sit and stare at the alarm for hours on end. There are other tasks, like making sure communications are running smoothly. I mean the communications between various outposts on Vacuus, not to other planets. It would give me a lot more freedom if I had full access to those systems. I would probably know more about Earth than you! Speaking of interplanetary communications, I should have said earlier that they’re going to be down for the next couple of weeks or so. They’re overhauling the entire system, which is something they do every three Earthan years. We’re still on your schedule, which I’m sure you’ve noticed since I’m dating these messages according to your calendar. That’s not just for your benefit. There are certainly no local periodic astronomical phenomena to base anything off of. Anyway, back to the explanation about the systems. Obviously, they update the software about once per month to make it faster, more efficient, and just better overall. But at the end of what they call a Research Cycle, they also upgrade the hardware, because those software updates stop being enough to keep up with advancing technologies, and operational needs. We have all sorts of anniversaries here. The day we launched, the day we landed, the day the first baby was born on Vacuus. One of these “anniversaries” only happens every three years, because we were on this planet for that long before people finally felt like we weren’t just trying to survive, but actively starting to conduct stable daily research as true Vacuans. I dunno, it seems kind of arbitrary to me. No one day marked the end of survival mode, and the beginning of thriving mode, but it’s a pretty big deal. It doesn’t actually happen until the end of October, but that’s when we celebrate it, so they always want the big overhaul to be finished by then. I definitely won’t be able to send you any messages, but it’s a two-way street as far as the transceiver goes, so your messages to me won’t come through either, and in fact, may not even be waiting on a server somewhere for me to read later. I may not ever be able to read a message that tried to come through during the upgrades. If you do try to send something—as people used to say in the olden days—it could get lost in the mail. I’ll hit you back when systems are up and running again. I apologize for not warning you about this sooner. I just forgot about it, because I have to do so much to prepare as part of my job, and I’ve never spoken to anyone who doesn’t already know everything about it.

Until we can talk again,

Corinthia

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 22, 2474

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Mateo and Olimpia actually did lose a little bit of the temporal energy that their bodies would store for regular use, namely for teleportation. The Livewire was also tapped out of whatever reserves it had for itself, if any. They didn’t know how it worked. Having no interest in staying here, the two of them exited the apartment through the door, and walked down to the ground. They spent the rest of the day enjoying the island’s amenities, focusing predominantly on the water jetpacking sector. Neither of them had tried it before, and it appeared that they had no other way out of here. They periodically checked their own energy, and the Livewire’s, but nothing. It wasn’t until the next year when their bodies were replenished by the jump to the future. They now appeared to have the power they needed to activate the Livewire. They still didn’t know what the hell they were doing, but they hoped there was some kind of psychic control connection.

Having no better ideas, they borrowed a boat, and went out to the middle of nowhere. They each held one end of the wire, and stepped back to make it taut. They tried to focus on what they were trying to accomplish, returning to the Vellani Ambassador thousands of years ago, but the opposite happened instead. Their ship appeared over their heads a few meters in the air, and crash landed into the ocean. Fortunately, this was dozens of kilometers off-shore, so probably no one saw it happen. Mateo and Olimpia teleported into the Ambassador to reunite with their people.

“How did we get here?” Leona questioned. She and Ramses were on the bridge, making sure that all systems were still in working order. “Where are we?”

“That was us,” Mateo answered.

She spun around, and exhaled with relief. “Thank God. We were trying to figure out where you two had gone. You had us worried sick!”

“We thought you had gone down to Ex-01, but we couldn’t find you, and Oaksent seemed just as confused as we were,” Ramses added.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Olimpia interjected as they were hugging. “This doesn’t make any sense. Mateo, you did teleport down to the planet. You were detoured by the trip to the island, but you were only really gone for one second. You should have returned to that very moment three days ago to close your loop.”

“That’s not what happened,” Angela contended. “Mateo disappeared, and never reappeared. You did too, at the same time. We’ve been looking for you for the last three days. We were pretty mean to Bronach because of it.”

Olimpia and Mateo exchanged a look. “We’re in a different timeline,” she determined. “What changed it? This thing?” She held up the Livewire.

“I don’t think it has the power to shift timelines,” Ramses said, taking it from her, and examining it. “Something else changed history.”

“Did you guys notice that we’re still sinking?” Marie asked, looking at the viewscreens to see bubbles shooting their way upwards towards the surface.

Leona instinctively looked up to see it too. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she brushed off. “We need to make sure the timeline is okay. What are we missing? What didn’t happen that should have?”

“Well, Matt rescued Elder Caverness,” Olimpia replied. “That’s about it, I think. Well, he also punched the Oaksent.”

“We did that,” Angela said. “The Elder rescue, that is.” She reached up to switch the channel on the nearest screen. They were looking at the security feed for the guest room now. Elder was sitting up on the twin bed, leaning against the wall, perpendicular to the head and foot. If they didn’t know any better, they would think he was dead.

“He’ll just make more,” Olimpia explained. “He scanned and stores multiple copies of Elder’s consciousness.”

“I can fix that,” Ramses decided. “Just give me some time to build a consciousness nullifier.”

“That sounds bad...and difficult,” Mateo thought.

“It will just make it so that this Elder here will be the only one in existence,” Ramses clarified. “We’ll have to go back to that time period to use it, though, which means I’ll also have to figure out how to make the navigation systems work properly.”

“Maybe that thing will help,” Leona suggested, gesturing towards the Livewire.

“Yeah, I need to run some tests now that I have better resources than I did when we last saw this thing in the Third Rail.”

They felt a small shudder as the ship landed on the ocean floor when the internal inertial dampeners were briefly insufficient. Leona and Ramses casually looked over to receive the damage report, which was minimal. Escaping the situation was not urgent. Or maybe it was. There was a ping on the sensors. “Someone is headed right for us,” Marie pointed out.

“It’s probably Search and Rescue.”

“Unidentified sunken vessel, this is Search and Rescue. Please respond,” came a voice on the radio. She was right.

“Where are they coming from?” Leona asked.

“Star Island.”

“Turks and Caicos?”

“Closer to Hawaii.”

“Never heard of it,” Leona said. “But either way, we need to figure out how we’re going to get out of this mess. We could teleport, but they would see. We could turn invisible, but we would still be displacing the water.”

“It’s 2474,” Angela said. “Don’t these people have reframe engines by now?”

“They’re certainly aware of them,” Leona answered, “but they’re not commonplace yet, if our projections from The Edge meeting are at all accurate. We basically allowed them to tell the public that it was a thing, but it’s been their job to develop the tech on their own. There may be some prototypes here and there.”

“Then that’s what we are,” Angela decided. “We’re using a prototype reframe engine. We’ll surface, and launch right in front of them. No teleporter, no invisibility, nor any other kind of holographic camouflage.”

“There’s no such thing as a water launch,” Ramses countered. “I mean, it’s technically possible with fusion rockets—which we have, and wouldn’t have to explain away—but it’s not feasible. The question those rescuers will be asking is not can we launch from the surface of the ocean, but why the hell would we bother?”

“Unidentified sunken vessel, please respond. A submarine is en route.”

“I know the cover story,” Mateo jumped in. “We tried to launch from a floating platform, similar to the ones that Aldona constructed in the Third Rail. We tried to launch with our new reframe engine, but something went wrong. The platform sank, and we crashed here.”

“Where’s this imaginary platform now?” Leona questioned. “What we’re the coordinates of our launch position?”

Mateo just shrugged. That was true, they might try to look for the platform next to corroborate this complete fabrication.

“Computer, downshift the radio signal to five by two.” A ping indicated that it had made the change. Leona pressed the comms button. “Search and Rescue, this is unnamed reframe prototype one. We attempted to launch from a floating platform, maybe...uh, thirty kilometers away from here, due southwest. We, uh, ended up flying horizontally pretty early, and managed to crash into the water. We’re presently repairing our buoyancy systems, and should be resurfacing within the next hour with no help. We appreciate the concern.”

“Thank you for your response,” the voice came back. “We’re gonna go ahead and sit tight until the submarine arrives for a more thorough investigation. You have breached Moku Hoku territory, and we need to assess the situation ourselves. We hope that you understand, but your cooperation is not required.”

Leona made sure the outgoing signal was off while she shook her head. “This isn’t going to work. They’re gonna come down here, and they’re gonna look for that platform. Our story does not make any sense. How did we make it all the way here without satellites, or other cameras, seeing our arc across the sky?”

“Rambo,” Olimpia began. “When’s the last time you purged the hot pocket?”

“It’s been a while.” He pulled up the systems. “We’re about three-quarters full. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Leona, get ready to teleport on my mark,” Olimpia went on. “Maximum range, to the other side of the sun.”

“You’re gonna fake an explosion,” Marie realized.

“It won’t stop them from asking questions,” Olimpia believed, “but it’ll stop them from expecting answers.”

Leona considered the plan, weighing it against the risks. She looked over at Ramses. “Do it. Purge the energy upwards to conceal our disappearance. She’s right, we won’t leave any debris behind, here or where this supposed platform sunk, but we’ll be long gone before they realize that. It will just have to be a mystery that these people never solve.”

They carried out the new plan. Ramses purged the excess energy from the heat shunt. It only took a second before the explosion overwhelmed the water above them. At that moment, Leona teleported them away. They didn’t jump to the maximum range of 300 million kilometers, though, because then the L3 research station might see them. They were now relatively close to the sun, which was radiating so much interference that no one would be able to detect their arrival. Now that they were free from scrutiny, they could reenter reframe speeds, and be on their way. But the question was, where were they going to go? Ramses still wasn’t confident in the navigation for his new slingdrive. Then again, it didn’t matter where they went, as long as they didn’t try to stay here. Sol was the most dangerous star system to be in when you were trying to stay hidden. They needed a good place to practice and experiment discreetly.

The group decided to make a list of all the places they could go, in the stellar neighborhood, and beyond. Then they plugged the suggestions into a randomizer, and had the computer pick one out. They were headed for a little world called Castlebourne.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 4, 2399

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As an extra step of precaution, Mateo and Taraboda were asked to stay in separate level of quarantine just for them for a full day. This is a process that everyone who goes in and out of that place has to deal with, including the everyday soldiers. He’s fine with it, but it would be a lot to deal with on a regular basis, especially to coordinate. The government has not encountered a single new case of the virus, even from the three who came through the portal before it closed, but they’re still deeply concerned. They still don’t know how it causes its symptoms, or how to cure it. They haven’t even had time to devise a vaccine. This area is going to be the way it is, or worse, for a long time.

While Mateo was waiting, he found himself with a lot of time to think. Alyssa was brainwashed, and has commanded the Omega Gyroscope to halt all forms of temporal manipulation, advanced bodily upgrades, and similar anomalies. This was already a thing before, but there were loopholes. The rules are far stricter now, preventing Mateo from even communicating with his wife’s consciousness that should be somewhere in his brain. Had they not done that, he might have just let it all go, but if whoever did this didn’t want him to be an enemy, they should have been a little more lax.

He, Tarboda and Heath are on their way to Aotearoa now, where Mangroves Eleven, Twenty-Four, and Forty-Two were built. They’re flying into Eleven, the rocket of which will be launched soon. Mateo is going to be on it, so when he breaks free from the Gyroscope’s...scope, Leona should come back. From there, he’ll transfer her consciousness out of his body, and into Alyssa’s old body, and then he hasn’t come up with a plan beyond that, because he’s not as smart as she is. Winona has been hounding him for an explanation for why one of her secret tactical teams thinks they sort of remember a member of their team who never existed, but he can’t help them. Leona may be able to answer that question, and more. Now, she might have been killed when Alyssa turned the Gyroscope up to eleven, or she is in another dimension, or stuck in the 1950s. Regardless, Mateo has to try something. He has to leave Earth.

A man greets them on the tarmac when they land. G’day, folks. My name is Hemi, and I’ll be your pilot today. Are we ready to shoot on through, or does anyone need anything here?”

They look over at Heath, but he doesn’t know why. “Well, it’s just that you and Tarboda have been in space an equal amount, but Tarboda is a pilot, so...”

“I’m fine,” Heath replies. “I want to be involved. I want to show Marie that I’m okay. Let’s get on up there.”

“Perfect. Yeah, I did hear that you’ve done this before, but I don’t care about those other times. I still have to go over a few rules. We all wanna be safe, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” they agree in approximate unison.

After the briefing, Hemi takes them into the rocket to launch. They don’t see a single other person on the base. It’s Aldona who counts them down remotely from Balikpapan. One thing is that Mateo isn’t used to all the g-forces from having to break out of Earth’s gravity well. Aldona installed whatever crazy futuristic technology prevents them from feeling it, but it’s not working under Alyssa’s Gyroscope regime. Even so, they make it into orbit, and he tries to reach inward for Leona, but she’s not answering. None of his upgrades are working yet either. “We need to go higher.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 18, 2398

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Leona pulls up to the building, and checks the text message again. Yes, this is the right address. It’s a news station; cable news, it appears. She’s sure she should recognize it—it’s probably really famous—but she’s found it hard to stomach these people’s ideas of journalistic integrity. Why would Winona summon her here? This is fishy. Ah, she may as well go in and check it out. It’s not an abandoned warehouse, after all, so if it’s another blacksite, there sure are a lot of cars in the parking lot. She gets out, and enters through the front door. The desk attendant asks for her name, and when she gives it, he hands her a badge. It already has her face on it. Maybe it is a government building, and the news station thing is just a front. He pulls out a map of the interior, and draws a pathway from this location to the greenroom, where she’s apparently supposed to go. She badges herself in, and heads off.

Winona is sitting on a couch in the greenroom, tapping on her phone. She holds one finger up, and keeps tapping with the other hand. She smiles up at Leona when she’s done. “Thank you for coming. Welcome to New York.”

“Why am I here, Honeycutt?”

Winona puts her phone away. “The day we launched the ship, did you launch something else? Or was there a payload in our rocket that we weren’t told about? I’m not mad, I just need to know before I go on.”

“Go on what?”

Winona doesn’t answer.

“You’re going on TV.”

“Someone has to answer for the launch. I’ve been on my damage control tour. Again, I’m not mad. We were going to send that thing into space sooner or later, we just weren’t planning on having Miss Walton or the kids on board. This particular show is particularly important, because of the other guest.”

“Who is the other guest?”

“The lead engineer for the Snowglobe Collective.” So the sinister organization exists in this reality too. That could mean that someone is purposely matching history, like with the War Memorial, or it’s actually the same company that spans multiple realities. “Well, he’s not really the lead engineer. He’s more the mouthpiece, but he’s going to use science to show how irresponsible we were.”

“They’re the ones who own the satellite,” Leona guesses.

“So you did launch something else? Did you attack the satellite on purpose? Were you targeting them?”

“It was a coincidence that had nothing to do with them,” Leona tries to explain. “We needed to orbit Earth to find Meredarchos and Erlendr. We didn’t have time to build and launch our own so Mateo...”

“So Mateo what?” Winona prods.

“He teleported up there.”

Winona nods. “Because of course you people can breathe in space.”

“It’s complicated.”

She sighs. “It always is.” She removes a holstered gun from her bag, and hands it to Leona. “Here’s your sidearm.”

“Mine?”

She jiggles the gun. “Yeah, you’re my bodyguard.”

“Since when?” Leona questions.

“Since that’s how I got you into the station. Don’t worry, it’s not just a cover. I need you to actually protect me. This is a crime hole.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a special place where certain crimes are legal as long as they’re justified in the eyes of the entity that dug the hole, i.e. the guy who owns it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The mouthpiece out there. We’re going to have a debate. If I lose, has the right to kill me. You cost his company hundreds of billions of dollars in potential revenue from their research investment.” There’s that high inflation again.

“You brought me here knowing that I would be trapped.”

“If I win, you can kill him.”

“I don’t want to kill him.”

“You won’t have to. It’ll be our prerogative. You’re my champion. He has his own, who I’m sure is not as good as you.”

Leona turns away from the gun. “I’m not trained on firearms.”

Winona reaches into her jacket, and pulls a stick from her breast pocket. She swings it down to telescope it open.

Leona rolls her eyes, and takes it from her. “That’ll work.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there a lawbook, or something here?”

Winona beams a file to her device. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m going to send it to my loophole expert.”

When called, the two of them leave the greenroom. Leona watches from side stage as Winona takes her place on one side of a table. A well-dressed man sits down on the other, while the host, Solomon Powers sits at the head. He gives his opening spiel to the audience, and then prompts the debate.

The lead engineer, a Mr. Jacey Plaskett throws a graphic to the space above his shoulder, not just in chroma key, but as a hologram. “What you’re looking at here is the last known location of our research satellite before it was attacked on the tenth of October. As you can see, at 17:56, the satellite begins a decaying orbit. It should have been able to stay up there for three years, which would be more than enough time for us to course correct, but roughly 36 hours later, we lost contact with it entirely. Not even the world’s greatest orbital tracker has any idea where it is. In between the time of the mysterious attacked, and the loss of signal, that woman right across from me launched an unsanctioned, unworthy, un-American fusion-powered rocketship from the weirdest longitudinal parallel imaginable in Kansas!”

“It’s in Missouri, actually. And how was it un-American?” Winona questions him.

“We have reason to believe that you employed scientists from Croatia.” He says that word with such disdain. “I can’t think of a country worse than it, besides the other baby-killing nations.”

“We’re not here to debate the morality of medical abortions,” the host reasons. “Please keep your remarks on topic.”

“Sorry about that, Solo. Thank you for your understanding.” Jacey turns his attention back to Winona. “What was your explanation for the launch again? You were testing fusion motion endurance?”

“That’s right,” Winona replies.

“What do you have to say about the timing?”

“It’s a coincidence. Our rocket was nowhere near your satellite at any time.”

“Right, and where is it now?”

This is all putting the team at risk. They’re at fault, but not for the reasons everyone thinks. Admitting responsibility would open the door for the authorities and the public to ask questions that neither Winona, nor the rest of the SD6, want to answer. The team doesn’t want that either. “That’s confidential.” It’s all she can say.

“Of course it is.”

“Let’s take a look at the Scales of Truth!” Solomon interjects. A curtain behind him slides open. The scale is pretty much to the table on Jacey’s side. “Oh, it’s not looking good for you, Miss Honeycutt.”

Leona’s phone dings. After she reads Kivi’s message, she steps into frame, wielding her telescopic stick, shocking all. “I challenge for control of the Microsovereignty.”

The audience gasps and Solomon smiles. “Listen, Little Miss—”

“What did you just call me?”

“Well, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name—”

“You don’t need to know my name, you just need to take off your jacket, and come down here for a fight.”

He’s still in shock. “A challenge for sovereignty entails a fight to the death.”

“I can choose to show you mercy when you’re on the floor and unconscious.”

“I don’t think you know who I am. I didn’t get to my position by being a little pussy cat. I earned it through strength and mercilessness. You’re not going to beat me, I don’t care how long your stick is.”

Leona lifts the stick up a little, and looks down at it. Then she throws it to the side. “Then I’ll do it with my bare hands.”

Everyone laughs, except for Winona, who knows what she can do. “Solomon, don’t take the bait. All she wants is for you to unilaterally rule in my favor. But rest assured, she will beat you, and you will lose everything.”

Solomon keeps staring at Leona for a moment, then looks over at Winona. His face hardens, and he starts to remove his jacket. This is a man who does not operate by silly things, like honor or morality. He likes to keep score, and there is no greater threat to his winning streak than a challenge that he doesn’t accept. He’s the kind of guy who would follow the old saying that goes, you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, even though any reasonable person would realize that the chances are actually zero percent. He rolls up his sleeves as he’s dramatically walking down the steps.

Leona leaves her rental in the lot. Winona drives them both back to the airport, where they’ll board a flight to Kansas City. “Did you know I would do that?”

Winona gulps. “I wasn’t aware of that loophole. I was just hoping you would beat his champion in combat. If you had, I would have gotten a second chance at the debate.”

“That wouldn’t have been enough.”

“I realize that now. I’m sorry,” Winona says after a beat. “The first time is hard.”

Leona lets her forehead bounce against the rattling window. “That wasn’t the first time I killed,” Leona contradicts. “It’s not even the first time I did it to gain control over something that I didn’t want. It’s just the first time I didn’t do it on purpose.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 10, 2398

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They’re not sure why there was a time limit to literally get through the door to get processed out of Birket, but it turned out fine. They all made it through, and walked across the desert to the Israeli border. It was there that they waited for almost the entire day before transport to Cairo came for them. People obviously weren’t in any hurry to help them. They weren’t on the road for long before darkness fell, and their driver had to stop and check into a motel for the night. He didn’t secure any rooms for them, of course, and clearly didn’t care, so they were forced to sleep under the stars on the beach in a coastal town called Taba, Egypt. Fortunately, it was pretty nice weather, and they were all glad to be free at least. So far, there was no indication of how exactly they were going to get back to the states. Their devices were confiscated from them, and never returned—wiped clean upon any attempt at unauthorized access—and no one in Taba was willing to let them use a phone.

They woke up this morning, all reporting having slept well enough, and made their way back to the motel. Neither the driver nor his bus could be found. Amir asked the front desk about it in Arabic, and learned that he checked out early, and took off. That’s very weird. It’s his job to get them to a special final processing center in Cairo, not just to help them make it all the way home. They’re expected to exit the region according to policy, which entails either meeting their sponsor, or an approved representative, in country. Now it’s going to be much more difficult to do that, and might even get them sent back to Birket. Maybe that’s what someone has wanted all along, and is driving these obstacles. Still, no one lends them a phone.

“How long will it take us to walk?” Kivi asks.

Amir laughs. “At least a week. That’s if we walk for several hours each day, which we won’t be able to do, especially not without any water.”

“Why won’t anyone help us? Do they not have any taksis, or anything around here?” Leona asks.

“I tried asking,” Amir begins, “but just because we speak the same language, doesn’t mean they like me. They know what we are, and while Egyptians don’t have any particular distaste for colonists—or freed colonists, like ourselves—there is some local annoyance that they’re being used as a waypoint for us. Their government struck a deal to make it happen after Israel and Jordan both refused, but regular citizens don’t like it. It’s not the only deal that Egypt has regarding refugees. It’s a huge political issue.”

“Is that why the driver abandoned us?” Marie asks him.

“Probably, yes, but it doesn’t make much sense. He could still get in trouble for it, because now it’s worse. The only thing Egyptians hate more than processing refugees is wayward refugees who are stuck here, and can’t be processed out.”

“What about Saudi Arabia?” Kivi presses. “How do they feel about us?”

Amir looks to the south. “You’re not getting across the Red Sea, and you’re not getting through the two borders between you and Saudi Arabia on land.”

“It was just a thought,” Kivi says, shrugging.

“Keeves, maybe you could find someone to help us?” Leona asks her.

“I’ve already asked,” Amir protests.

“Keeve?” Leona urges, not wanting to explain what makes her method different.

“I can try,” Kivi replies, uncertain of her own skills. She steps away from the group, as before, trying to seek an ally. Her stride is wider than normal, reminiscent of a wedding party gracefully drifting down the aisle. She periodically alters direction, hoping to catch a scent, for lack of a better term.

“What is she doing?” Amir asks Heath in a whisper.

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Heath answers him, probably not lying.

It feels like she walks all over town, encountering each one of the 10,000 people who live here. She doesn’t get the sense that any of them would tell them the time, let alone help get them out of the country. Amir talks to a few more people himself, and receives the same cold welcome. They’re starting to think that they really should get themselves out of the area as fast as possible. If they tried to walk to the next town over, it might only take them two days. Of course, water and food is still a problem. If only Birket gave them small samples of Energy water as parting gifts, they would be able to survive just a little bit longer. As it stands, they may die here like a flower in drought.

They don’t end up walking anywhere. They just go back to the beach, and sit to watch the waves come in. Marie suggests that they fish for food, which she surely learned how to do at the master level in the afterlife simulation. Amir informs them that he saw a sign back there, forbidding all shore fishing. Hours later, a fleet of helicopters roar towards them from the horizon. “Those are American,” Amir exclaims.

“We better go,” Leona determines.

Once more, they head for downtown, where they find a bunch of soldiers spread out, trying to take control of the populace. People are scared, but cooperating, and it doesn’t look like things are going to escalate to true violence. A woman who looks in charge spots them coming towards the crowd. She orders a group of her soldiers to escort us over. “Agent Matic?” she asks when they meet her halfway.

“That’s me,” Leona responds reluctantly. She doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s a secret agent, and only partially because she isn’t really.

“Miller Dennard. Why didn’t you call?” she demands to know.

 “We don’t have phones,” Leona explains. “No one would let us borrow theirs.”

She’s fuming, but not at them. She’s staring daggers at all the locals. “Follow me. We’re taking you straight to Frankfurt, where you’ll board your connection, like you were always supposed to.”

Leona nods to the others that they should accept the ride. “What prompted you to come for us?” she asks the Miller.

The Miller puts on her sunglasses. “Orders from high.”

“How high?”

Miller Dennard turns away to head for the helicopters herself. “All the way up!”

Leona sighs, recognizing that while this looks life a gift, it only makes things more comfortable. Every person who knows that they’re special makes their lives that much more complicated. Still, they have to get back home if they have any chance of getting back to their real home, so she runs over, and gets in the aircraft too.

Miller Dennard places her headset on as their launching, and turns towards one of the other helicopters. “Put an A-bomb in that water!” she orders.

Horrified, they watch as an object slides out of the other helicopter, and drops into the Gulf of Aqaba. Stillness until the water shudders and ripples all at once, as if a powerful electrical charge had been sent through it. They fly away.

Extremus: Year 3

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The original idea was to have the captain of the Extremus make the evening announcements every day, as a way for the crew to stay connected to the passengers. After months of this, Halan decided to change this by having a different crew member do it every day. They created a randomized schedule, which wasn’t periodic, but was still designed to be even, so that no one member was doing it too often. The young tech who was first assigned this responsibility was nervous about the prospect. It wasn’t what he signed up for, and it wasn’t in his wheelhouse, so to speak. He didn’t feel the same way forever, though. The more that Eckhart Mercer did the announcements, the more he fell in love with it, and the more the people fell in love with him. He was charismatic, funny, and entertaining. They became a larger affair, about more than just reporting the general status of the ship. People started thinking about what they could do to end up on the speakers, by inventing a new game, or coming up with a fabulous recipe. Eckhart Mercer became a celebrity, and in the end, the general consensus was that they would be better off with him as their permanent announcer. It was more than that, though. He was responsible for keeping up to date on the goingson of the ship, and knowing what news was important. The Captain was happy to adapt the schedule to accommodate this shift in popularity. The rest of the crew seemed fine with it too.

True to his word, Halan left Omega in hock for an entire year. He approved all necessary organic longevity treatments, however, because he kind of had to. Omega is a different subspecies of human; one that was originally designed to last for tens of thousands of years. Ethical conventions are pretty clear that, when in doubt, the standard procedure when dealing with a socially disruptive entity, is to maintain life expectancy. In other words, he deserves to live indefinitely, because anywhere else, he would. And anything short of that is tantamount to capital punishment, which is illegal. There was a debate amongst the executive crew, as well as the security team, whether they ought to place him in stasis. That was, after all, part of the intentions of Omega’s genetic engineer, Saxon. In the end, they determined that this too would be unethical, as Omega deliberately broke free from his nature to lead a different life. The feelings of the individual in question can’t dictate their fate, but they have to be taken into account no matter what. They cannot just be ignored. So he has remained in there with all the luxury of a normal cabin, but none of the luxuries of public spaces. He can’t even hear the announcements from down there.

Airlock Karen continues to be a headache for everyone. They manage to avoid tearing down a wall for her sake, and eventually get her out of there completely. She was more than willing to relocate back to her cabin once Halan gave up, and threatened to throw her in the hock too. Now that she’s in the general population, it’s become clear just how delusional she is. She is completely convinced that the crew is out to get her, and the passengers are generally on her side. The reality is that no one likes her, and they always try to stay away from her. She’ll latch onto a large group when it forms, and outwardly fantasize about being the center of it. People ignore her as best they can, but she is obviously getting on their nerves, and Halan knows he has to be rid of her soon.

“It’s ready,” Old Man says, “but like I’ve been saying, “there is no way to test this. Even if we give it to your two...victims...?”

“Let’s just call them Gatewood-bounders,” Halan corrects.

“Very well.” Old Man goes on, “even if we give it to your two Gatewood-bounders, and they press the button, we’ll have no way of knowing whether it worked.”

“We’re operating at maximum reframe, which means it’s near-equivalent to realtime. I can send a message back to Gatewood to see if it worked,” Halan points out.

“True. In fact, you could send that message right now, because if it will work, they’ve already been there for three years.”

“Let’s not screw with causality just yet. You’re sure you’ve done everything you can to adapt it, right? Pushing that button will send them, and only them, back to 2170?”

“Again, not sure, but there’s no point in me trying to improve it. It either works, or it doesn’t.”

“Give it to me. I need to discuss it with them.”

“You’re going to ask them for permission?”

“No, but I don’t want to just spring it on them last minute, or worse, not tell them anything at all. They have a right to prepare themselves emotionally. Karen has been begging us to send her back this whole time, but she doesn’t know about the button. It’s entirely possible she just wants to be difficult. When I show her that there’s hope for her actually getting what she wants, she may realize she doesn’t really want that. The more I pass by that service airlock, the harder it is for me to believe she went in there for any reason but to draw attention to herself.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” It’s Rita, having come into the lab at some point.

“Good, you’re here. Please have security escort her to the lower deck. Quietly,” Halan requests.

“She’ll be suspicious,” Rita volleys. “We don’t want her causing a scene.”

“Good point. I’ll...invite her to dinner,” Halan decides. “You can take the device down to the interrogation room. Have Omega sent there too, of course.”

“Uh, I think I would feel more comfortable if the Captain handled this by himself.” Old Man lifts the device with two hands, and tries to hand it to Halan.

“Why are you wearing gloves?” he questions.

“Scientists wear gloves,” Old Man replies with a casual shrug.

“So Rita doesn’t need to wear gloves herself?” Halan tries to confirm.

“I really would rather you take it instead. It’s very delicate, and we only have one.” Old Man is insistent.

“Take off your gloves, Old Man,” Halan orders.

“Sir, it’s just...”

“Take off your goddamn gloves,” Halan repeats.

Old Man sighs. He sets the device down, removes his gloves, then picks it back up. He again tries to hand it to Halan.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Halan says to Rita.

“My pleasure, sir,” Rita replies. She’s confused too, but everything has worked out. She takes the device, and heads down to the lower deck.

Halan, meanwhile, goes up to the passenger section, where Airlock Karen is trying to yet again regale her tale of woe to the random people who have accidentally found themselves within her blast radius. He’s going to need to be as charming as possible. “Would you please join me for dinner tonight, Madam.”

The crowd is noticeably uncomfortable, but Airlock Karen is ecstatic. She tries to hide it. “How can I deny my Captain? I will be there in two hours.”

Halan clears his throat suggestively, and makes his eyes wander, almost like he’s looking for someone else to invite instead.

“I suppose I could eat a tad bit early,” she says. “Give me ten minutes to freshen up?”

“Certainly,” Halan says. He points to the nearest security officer. “She’ll escort you when you’re ready.” He turns to leave.

“Thank you,” Airlock Karen says. “I have some great ideas about how to run this place that I think you’ll really respond to.”

He doesn’t turn back, but he retches a little in his mouth. “I’m always happy to listen to my passengers.” He walks away, and heads for the interrogation room. The security guard knows what they’re doing, and what to do with Airlock Karen, even though he didn’t specifically assign her this task.

It was always bound to take longer than ten minutes for her to show up, so the three of them sit in awkward silence while they wait.

“So, how about that local sports team, eh?” Omega asks, evidently trying to break the ice.

“The what?” Halan doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“It’s an Earthan thing that people say.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“You finally figured it out, didn’t you?” Omega guesses.

“Pardon?”

“You figured out how to send me back.”

How does he know about that? “Who’s been feeding you information?”

“No one,” Omega replies, seemingly honestly. “You run a tight ship. I figured out what you were doing, because I’m a genius.”

“I never wanted you here, and neither do you,” Halan reminds him.

“I dunno,” Omega says, looking around. “It’s nice being outside the hock. Maybe I could be useful. I’m not the same man who went in there a year ago. I promise to be better. You have to understand that I grew up in a sea of other versions of me. We were expendable. Many of us died, I don’t think you wanna hear the statistics. I had no control over my life until I took it. I suppose it’s just been hard for me to take orders since then...it’s never done me any good before.”

Halan leans over the table. “If you can follow orders now, then follow this one. Go back to Gatewood. If I only send the one person back, it will look personal. It will look like I attacked her. If you go with her, I think it will smooth over any disagreements that might arise when this gets out.”

Omega smiles. “Yes, sir.” If he’s trying to find an angle, Halan can’t tell what it is.

Rita shows up with Airlock Karen, who doesn’t understand what’s happening, but she’s become suspicious. Dinner should not be all the way down here by the hock, she presumes. This doesn’t make any sense. “Why don’t you have a seat?” Rita offers.

“I’m not sitting next to him,” Airlock Karen declares. “What is this?”

“I’ll explain, but if you don’t sit down right now,” Halan begins to warn, “you’re going into the cell with him.”

She sits down right quick.

“Now,” Halan starts his speech. “Neither of you want to be here.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Omega interrupts.

“I’ve not,” Halan says. “I still don’t want you here...either of you.” He nods to Rita, who removes the device from her bag, and sets in on the table in front of him. “This will send you back to Gatewood at the exact moment that we left. You will watch from the observation deck with all the others who chose to leave. You don’t have to push it right now. I’ll give you a day to prepare yourselves.”

“Why didn’t you give me this before?” Airlock Karen scolds.

“It hadn’t been invented yet,” Halan answers. She doesn’t need to know the whole history about it being adapted from the undo button. “I don’t need Omega off my ship as much as I need you gone. With him, we would have figured something out, he’s at least useful. I had my best engineer working on the problem...for you. So instead of being nasty, for once in your life, could you just be grateful that anyone worked as hard as we have to get you what you asked for. Keep in mind that, in this case, just shutting the hell up is a good way to show that you’re grateful.”

She clears her throat submissively.

Halan goes on, “all you have to do is pull the string, and press the button. You’ll be doing it together, though, as we only get one shot at this. Like I said, you’ll have a day. We’ll retrieve you tomorrow for departure. Omega, you’ll be released until then.”

Just then, they hear banging on the door behind them. They look back to see Old Man through the window, desperately trying to get into the locked room. “I couldn’t wash my hands! It’s not good enough! Don’t push the button!” it sounds like he shouts through the door, but it’s a little muffled.

“What is he talking about?” Halan questions.

“I have no idea,” Rita notes.

“Don’t push the button!” Old Man repeats.

“Screw that,” Airlock Karen decides. She stands up, grabs the device from the table, and takes several steps back.

“Wait,” Halan tries to reason with her. “I think something’s wrong.”

“I don’t care!” Airlock Karen screams. She pulls on the string. “I’m getting the hell out of here!” She presses the button, and promptly disappears.

So does Old Man.

So does Rita.

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