Extremus: Year 139

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Sable has been playing a one-sided game here, which is to be expected, because for the longest time, Silveon was too. A few months ago, Waldemar revealed to her that he had been seeing and interacting with his late wife. Either he is sparse on the details, or Sable didn’t relay everything to Silveon when she told Silveon about it yesterday. He doesn’t know why she waited this long, but he can’t argue with her about it. They have a very fragile partnership, and it’s the only one he has, so he doesn’t want to lose it.

He asked Sable for more information, but she didn’t give it. He doesn’t know how this is changing Waldemar. Their relationship has grown more strained over time as the latter focuses on maintaining his power, and his relationship with Sable. They are probably more or less in a holding pattern, though. He is coming up on a crossroads in his career. In the original timeline, Waldemar threw the rule book out the airlock, and declared himself the One True Captain of Extremus, Eighth of Eight. His acolytes came up with the chant, “eight! Eight! Eight!” When spoken out loud, it sounded like they were saying hate, hate, hate, which in a way, they were very much saying exactly that.

Out of all of their goals, this is the big one. In five years, his and Audrey’s hard work will either pay off, or fail. Will Waldemar do what he did before, or will he follow procedure, and step to the side for a new captain? They were never trying to make him into a saint, but if they can end the tyranny, all of their sacrifices might prove worth it. The question for Silveon right now, though, is who or what is Audrey? He has a decent idea, but he doesn’t want to go digging around to confirm it, because it could mess with what’s happening. He needs to better understand what this Audrey ghost is telling Waldemar, so they know if she’s a threat to the plan, or a boon. It’s gonna be tricky.

“Hey, W,” Silveon says when the door opens for him. “What’s up?”

“What did you want, Sil?” Waldemar questions. He doesn’t sound happy, but he doesn’t sound mad either. He’s concentrating on whatever is on his table at the moment.

This is where Silveon has to be careful. If the Audrey who Waldemar is seeing isn’t the least bit real—like a temporal echo from the past, or a mental projection—and if Waldemar knows that it’s only in his head, Silveon’s next words will be an obvious lie. He might be able to save face, but it depends on the wording he chooses. “I wanted to talk to someone, and I think you’re the only one who may understand. You cared about her as much as I; or more, rather. I can’t trust anyone else.”

Waldemar freezes but stays on his tablet. “Cared about who?”

“Audrey,” Silveon answers. “I’ve been...seeing her. Kind of in the corner of my eye? She doesn’t talk. I thought it was only in my head, but it’s just too real. She’s older, ya know? She’s aged like us even though she’s been gone for so long already. I dunno, I mean, my brain could certainly conceive of that, but stranger things have happened too. Maybe...maybe it’s real. Do you think she could be real?”

Waldemar stares at the man who he once called a friend, and is now becoming a stranger by the day. He stares for a long time. “Of course not, Silveon. Audrey’s dead. Time travel is illegal. It’s the only set of laws I never touched. Go see a psychologist.”

Shit. Their trust is gone completely. Well, at least he’s not angry, or becoming violent. Still, he’s playing this close to the vest, which means that Sable remains the only hope they have of getting through to him, and averting his dark fate.

Silveon shakes his head, bids his farewell, then respectfully bows out of the room.

He returns to his own quarters, defeated. Life should have an undo button.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind him. It’s Audrey. “We need to talk.”

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Microstory 2728: Talking to Yourself

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This. This is why Pribadium doesn’t like to travel through time, because it causes headaches. Just because someone looks like you, doesn’t mean they share your values. Even if you can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are a version of you, you might not be able to trust them. They have been through different experiences. Even if you literally split from each other moments ago, one of you was standing on the left, while the other was on the right. That may not seem like much to a human observer, but that can alter your whole perspective, and with each passing second, the differences only compound. Many time travelers recommend not seeing your alternates as that at all, but as entirely distinct people. Trust, but verify, as you would a stranger.

With Sora’s help, Pribadium!One has locked Pribadium!Two in a special holding cell. Since she’s the one who created it, one might assume that she has a way out of it; that she knows its secrets. It doesn’t work like that. Pribadium knew that something like this could happen. It was designed with that in mind, which is why the codes are random. She didn’t think she would ever have to use this feature, but it was always a possibility. She can’t risk the other her finding a way out just by drawing from their memories. One of them is the prisoner, and one of them is the warden. Only the warden has the code, and it was given to her as soon as that door shut tight.

“Are you going to give me the chance to explain myself?” Pribadium!Two asks.

“What good would that do?” Pribadium!One snaps back. “We’re a liar.”

“You used the collective singular there,” Pribadium!Two points out, “yet you’re othering me at the same time. You can’t have it both ways, so to speak. Hear me out.”

“You threatened to kill me, and now you want me to talk and listen to reason? Oh, honey. Our point of divergence must have been more significant than I knew.”

“I was never going to kill you,” Pribadium!Two contends. “I just wanted to shock you for a sec, so you wouldn’t simply roll your eyes and use the communicator anyway.”

“And look where that got you,” Pribadium!One points out, pointing at the cell.

Pribadium!Two shakes her head. “But it worked, didn’t it? Now you can’t use that communicator because you’re wondering what might be worse than me killing you.”

“But you just said that—”

“It doesn’t matter that I was lying,” Pribadium!Two reasons. “You can’t take that risk. You’re too smart for that. So tell me, do you want me to explain why you can’t use that communicator, regardless of whether you calibrate it for the reality that we’re in?”

Pribadium!One shakes her head again. She doesn’t know what to do in this situation. Hearing her out could do damage, even if it’s only words. Still. Even if the only reason Pribadium!Two doesn’t want her to try it is because it might reveal that this is the main sequence, and the rightful reality in the universe, it’s not a great reason. They would work it out. She wouldn’t let the other reality die. They’re not monsters. Right?

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head,” Pribadium!Two muses. “Have a seat, and I’ll explain. It’s not only about the transversal communicator.”

Pribadium!One stares at her alternate self. It probably won’t hurt to hear the explanation, but she can’t give someone who threatened her life the satisfaction. “When we were down on Doma Tertia, Sora left me in a cell alone for twelve days.”

“No,” Pribadium!Two argues, knowing where this is going.

“I will see you in twenty-four.” Pribadium!One leaves.

Microstory 2722: People in Glass Houses

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“Go ahead and ask your questions,” Pribadium encourages. She’s a good liar, so he can ask whatever he wants, it doesn’t mean he will get the answers he expects.

“How many like you are there out there?” Sora asks as if it’s a complete thought.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pribadium says. “Asset managers, or Chief Asset Managers? I’m the only CAM. There are a few other asset managers below me. There are other chiefs. Would you like me to list them?”

“I’m not talking about chiefs or asset managers!” Sora cries. “I want to know how many immortals there are! Stop dancing around the subject! I know what you are!”

Pribadium is confused. “How many immortals? Billions, I guess. I don’t have the numbers. Did you check the aggregate records? Those stats are probably in there.”

Sora shakes his head, growing even more frustrated. “Not people who became that way through life extension consciousness digitization. I’m talking about real, totally unkillable immortals who can survive being thrown into the air by a pyrotornado, and later falling several kilometers down a giant chasm in the planet.”

Pribadium stares at him. She has no clue what he’s going on about. “That’s not possible. No substrate is strong enough to survive what you’re describing.”

“Well, I saw it happen.” He sighs, seemingly working through a debate in his own head. “Tertius. Does the name Tertius mean anything to you, or Aeterna?”

“I have never heard of them. Are they bands, errr...?”

“Quit joking, and quit lying,” Sora whines. “They’re real immortals. They survived the impossible. I know you know them. I heard them whispering about you in the north dome. They said that survivors of Proxima Doma would end up here, and that you would be able to help. They acted like they knew you, and now here we are on Gatewood.”

She continues to stare. She isn’t lying. She genuinely doesn’t know who that is. The number of people in the timeline who have temporal abilities is a low fraction compared to the total population, but it’s still too many for everyone to know everyone. She has never cared to meet more. “Maybe they knew me, but I didn’t reciprocate.”

Sora buries his face in his palms. “You have to help us. You have to fix this.”

Before Pribadium can ask exactly what she wants him to fix, one of the other hostage-takers bursts into the room. “Shimizu. A Teaguardian is here.”

Sora’s eyes widen. He stands up, and paces frantically. “Shit. Get everyone to the tunnels. Hide. If they can’t find you, they can’t make you leave. I’ll watch the prisoner.”

A soldier suddenly teleports into the room. “Chief Asset Manager Pribadium Delgado? I’m here to rescue you.” She raises her gun when Sora moves a single muscle.

“Wait!” Pribadium orders. “I need him alive. He’s undigitized. In my domain, killing him would be a crime. We had a deal with Teagarden. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I just go where I’m told, CAM Delgado. We need to leave now.” They are about to glass this planet.

“That is not necessary,” Pribadium starts to explain. “We’re already doing it.”

“We know, but my superiors believe that there is not enough time for that. They’re going to do it the hard way. It will recoalesce, but that won’t help these people.”

Pribadium actively stops the soldier from teleporting her out of the room. “I’m sorry, but I’m not done here yet. And you gotta go.” She pushes the soldier into a portal, then turns back to Sora. “You can either come with me, or go with her. Your choice.”

Microstory 2703: Miscommunication by Evasion

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Ronan cries foul. He doesn’t care about the rules. He doesn’t care if this is a separate issue entirely. When he first exited the Nordome Network to deal with this Talus problem, he looked Mayumi up. They have a protocol for this. She has a contact card. He should have been able to get a hold of her. He’s been too wrapped up in the trial that he hasn’t worked too terribly hard, and he certainly didn’t file a restraining order, but if she had entered another simulation, she should have left a message for him. That was what they agreed upon, and she knew that. She obviously didn’t die permanently, or something, or she wouldn’t be here now. He demands that she tell him where she’s been, and why she didn’t make sure to leave a trail for him.

“I wanted out,” Mayumi explained. “I never wanted the Norse experience as much as you did, and honestly, I was sick of us.”

“You could have just talked to me,” Ronan reasons.

“I couldn’t. I tried. Not in so many words, but I did try to work on us, and you just kept pretending that everything was fine. That just made it worse.”

“So, what, you killed yourself? Or did you just capitalize on the opportunity.”

“I installed a suicide inducer,” Mayumi explains. “I just jumped to a new body.”

“That’s enough,” the court agent says. “We’ll let the adjudicator decide what happens here. She’ll know if any of this is relevant, or if they need to change anything.”

They spoke with the adjudicator. As it turned out, Mayumi was indeed rather difficult to find, even for Castlebourne. Smartdust only gets you so far, and it’s possible to hide out in certain dark corners, if only for a little while. The judge is very interested in understanding what Mayumi did, and only grows more interested when Mayumi is rather evasive about it. She abandoned her child, which the adjudicator sort of knew already, but what she didn’t know was that Ronan was not cognizant of her whereabouts, or her apparent attempt to hide. “Where were you?” she pressed.

“I was home,” Mayumi finally clarifies. “I was in my new home. We were in the outer lands, in a small dome which my new husband built for us.” This planet is inhospitable, except in the domes, and the outer lands refers to any space outside of those. You can’t just go and build your own dome, though. When the adjudicator points that out, Mayumi continues to evade, until she finally lets slip, “Talus has experience working with diamond. It’s really not that hard, as long as you find a place. We’re not the only ones.”

The adjudicator is shocked by this. The trial will have to be placed on hold while they run this new investigation.

Ronan doesn’t care about that. This is personal. If the simulation that Ronan is trying to get back to were real, he would have the right to kill the lover, and divorce and disgrace his wife. Is that why she lied, because he’s so fixated on the culture that she thought he would exact revenge? He’s more enlightened than that. He went under the dome for the experience, not because he genuinely wishes he had been born a thousand years ago. There are some lines that he won’t cross, game or no—backup substrates or no. He also straight up doesn’t feel the same way about infidelity as his character might. He doesn’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t want to be with him. All she had to do was be honest, about the whole damn thing. What an idiot. What an absolute incomparable moron. How did he ever see anything in her, and why did he waste so much time keeping them together?

He takes a deep breath, and focuses on Gia, and his whole real family. Vith and Isavet need him, so he needs to leave. But wait. If she’s been with Talus the whole time...who has he been raising for the better part of a decade?

Microstory 2698: Color to a Blind Man

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The conversation was over with the kids. Isavet was excited to learn. She wanted to see the big diamond wall that separated her tiny corner of Castlebourne from everyone else. It’s not, strictly speaking, forbidden, but it’s frowned upon since it breaks the immersion. It’s also kind of impossible to get to. Not really, but sort of. You can only reach it by water, but the walls curve down like a soup bowl. So yes, there is some kind of metamaterial or concrete that you can touch, but the sides are so sloped and slippery that you can’t get out and walk around. The environmental hologram, meanwhile, makes it look like there’s miles and miles of more water and land, even though you’re probably less than two meters from the projection. Still, he would be open to taking her if she really wants to, but only when she’s older. Every time they talk about the outside world, it takes Ronan out of it, and undermines the purpose of the simulation.

Talus couldn’t care less. Giant dome, whole planet; it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t ask questions or widen his eyes at the bombshells. Ronan is seriously considering taking him to get him evaluated by a medical and mental health professional. They would let Ronan back in after an emergency, but if something really is wrong with Talus, then he wouldn’t be able to return to the network, and if that happened, effectively neither could Ronan. Nothing has been decided yet; there’s still plenty of time to weigh their options. Right now, he has to get to the bottom of this flex display situation. Gia has been lying this whole time. “Why?”

“I did it for Isa,” Gia began to explain. “What we just did in there is precisely what I knew I would have to do one day. I never thought I would lose my first partner, and I never thought I would meet someone like you, but this was always the plan. Your plan didn’t exist. You were pretty convinced that Talus was the same as he was before, and would eventually remember everything. When you told me stories of your exploits in the real world, you framed them as things that you might be able to revisit some day, either physically, or nostalgically through reminiscing. You never considered the possibility that you would have to teach someone about domes and simulations. Imagine going back in time to the better part of two millennia ago. Explain any of this to any adult you meet in that period. It simply can’t be done. This was the best time to do it. They’re old enough to have real conversations, but young enough that their brains are still plastic. But they’re still human, and they needed a visual aid. The only other option was calling an elevator, or reaching an emergency exit. Would you rather I have done that instead?”

“No, of course not. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“The display was a necessary evil. And it’s done,” Gia decides. “That’s why I chose this variant, because it will burn up in a fire just fine. See? Watch me.” She pulls it out of her pocket, unrolls it, and hangs it over the flames of the firepit. “I’m just waiting in case you change your mind, but if not, you have three, two, one.” She throws it in. It sizzles and steams as the protective outer layer evaporates from the core. It’s designed to give users a few extra seconds to save it from an accidental drop, or if they changed their minds. Because once it’s gone, it burns up quick; even faster than real paper.

A few months later, they find themselves regretting letting it go when they discover that Gia is heavy with child. Vith, Talus, and Isavet are going to have a little brother or sister to play with. They sit them down for another conversation, and tell them the good news, but Talus is not happy.

Microstory 2612: In a Panic, the Ants Will Scramble For Their Salvation, Even Where it Can’t Be Found

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August 20, 2526. The crowd stands before the monitors as they watch the breaking news feed. They were pushing each other around, trying to get into the train, but that has all stopped now. The handful of people who were already let through are watching the news too. “Tragedy struck at the train station underneath Summerspring Dome sixteen minutes ago. A domaquake shook the platform and caused several support beams to collapse. The vacuum tube was weakened, and ultimately imploded due to the stress. A current count of 815 people were killed in the implosion. Experts are currently working on ways to mitigate the damages that these seismic events have on our infrastructure. One new procedure they will be implementing is single-pod travel. No longer will pods be linked together. They are mapping the quake patterns, and determining optimal safe launch windows so this never happens again. Furthermore, polar leadership recognizes the magnitude of the crisis, and is preparing to receive evacuees, but stresses that resources are low. If you live between the 40th parallels, on either side of the equator, you are urged to evacuate to the higher regions of the Terminator Line. If you are northward of the 40th parallel in the northern hemisphere, or southward in the southern hemisphere, you are being asked to shelter in place for now so that your friends and neighbors in the more volatile regions can make use of the vactrain tubes.

“Some trains are being sent to the poles, while others will be stopping along the way. You are asked to accommodate any evacuees, providing them with food and shelter while we work towards more permanent solutions to this extreme adversity. Experts and leaders would like to remind you that what happened in Summerspring Dome is a tragic but rare event, and assures the public that the vast majority of the vactrain network is safe for travel. To quote the Administrative Council of the southern pole’s official statement: ‘The equatorial regions are quickly becoming uninhabitable, and the southern pole is extending a helping hand towards all displaced communities. Please remember that we are all Proxima Domanians, and a respectful and orderly evacuation is paramount for the safety and survival of us all.’ Comforting words from someone already living in the safe zone, who didn’t have to watch their loved ones die, and their homes get swallowed up by the crust.” He looks off camera, presumably at an angry producer, and clears his throat.

The anchor sits there for a moment in silence, staring into the lens. “Get out. Get out now. Every dome comes equipped with massive land vehicles. If you can’t get in a train, go! Just go! Even if you live in the middle regions, save yourse—” The feed cuts off.

The crowd stands there silently as the images return to the basic weather information for their own dome. The whispers grow louder and louder, threatening to turn this relatively peaceful crowd into a clamoring mob. The Regent is here to coordinate the evacuations. As this area of the planet is not too terribly dangerous right now, the process has gone okay. “Now, hold on!” he cries to quiet everyone down. “There are plenty of vacuum tubes to get everyone out. We will not leave you here. But we will be slowing down the process to make way for the equatorials.”

“You saw what happened!” a rabble rouser shouts. “These tubes aren’t safe anymore!”

“No, they are safe,” the Regent insists. “We have not been experiencing what the others have been. I promise you, they will hold.”

“The tubes are all connected!” another person argues. “If you damage one closer to the equator, it can have an impact on it all the way out here!”

“That’s not how it works,” the Regent contends. “We will be taking the trains. It’s the only way. There aren’t enough land vehicles for everyone, that is not an option.”

“Did you hear that, everyone? There aren’t enough vehicles! We better go now before someone else gets them!” That’s it, that’s all it takes. The swarm of evacuees turn and rush out in the opposite direction. The people who managed to get on the train fall in line behind them. They all run up the stairs, and out of the station. The Regent tries to calm them down, and bring them back, but his voice is drowned out by the heavy footsteps, and is also just ignored. He doesn’t need the stairs. He simply steps backwards, and enters the executive elevator, which he takes back up to the surface.

They are in the main station now. None of the sprinters is explaining why it is they’re running, but it looks scary, so everyone up there just starts running alongside them on instinct. The Regent shakes his head. These people have no clue where they’re going. Those land vehicles were made for specific purposes. You don’t just hop in one, and take a trip because you feel like traversing the treacherous terrain outside the dome. He doesn’t understand exactly where they think they’re headed. He continues to rise in the transparent elevator, up to the roof of the station. He watches them rush out of the building, towards the perimeter, which is a couple of kilometers away from here.

His pilot is walking towards the elevator platform, wiping the grease off of her hands as she watches the army of panicking ants as well. “You’re early, sir.”

“Is it ready to go?” he asks, still watching the people who he was supposed to represent desperately trying to figure out where these fabled cars are.

“Yeah, she’s prepped and ready. Your family’s inside.”

“Then we’re leaving now.”

She shakes her head. “My guy’s not in place to open the airlock.”

“Punch through it.”

“Sir, I’m not gonna do that. The toxic air will kill anyone who isn’t killed by the razor rain.”

The Regent takes out his gun and points it at her head. “Punch...through it.”

“Fine, fine,” the pilot agrees. “My co-pilot isn’t here yet either, though, so I’m gonna need someone sitting next to me to flip a few switches.”

“I can do that, just get us the hell out of here.” They walk over to the VTOL rocket and climb inside, passing his wife and kids on the way to the cockpit. His children smile at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation, but he doesn’t smile back.

“Shut that hatch behind us, and press the button in the top corner.”

“It says SOUND DAMPENER,” he points out, not sure why they would need that.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” she confirms. “Then sit right there and look for a yellow lever sandwiched between the seat and the hull.”

He pushes it, then sits down and fumbles around for the lever. “I don’t see it.”

While he’s turned away, the pilot shoots him in the head. “I’m not...punching through the dome.” She proceeds to sit there quietly for another few hours until her people are in place for a safe and ethical launch.

Microstory 2603: They Divide Themselves Into Clamoring Crowds

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August 17, 2526. Tertius Valerius and Aeterna Valeria are in a dome called Breckenridge. It’s the closest one to where they live, Leviss. Well, Aeterna lives there. Tertius left a while back when he and his daughter had a falling out, and only recently returned. Things have, quite frankly, turned to shit. Leviss has been experiencing intensifying seismic activity. It turns out that Breckenridge has too, but not quite as bad. Their infrastructure is worse, which in some ways, is a good thing. One significant tremor, and a skyscraper can come tumbling down. But sparse handmade houses that are already low to the ground? Not great, but easier to survive. Back in the day, Leviss was the absolute least advanced dome on Proxima Doma, but they intentionally had their memories wiped of their technological origins. They’ve never heard of Earth. They didn’t know they came here in a ship. This is just where they have always been, as far as they know. Breckenridge also opted for a low-tech society, but their memories were left intact, so they knew why they did it, and were able to instill their values into their children. Without this legacy, the Levins have kept advancing until now, when their level of technology resembles that of their ancestors before the split. Unfortunately, it’s all falling apart. And they need somewhere to go.

“Merchant Prince Rinaldi, please,” Tertius begs. “We need to talk about this.”

“Uh-uh-uh, call me by my current title.”

“Uh, Incumbent Rinaldi, please,” Tertius begs further.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Rinaldi contends. “Not until after the vote, and only if I win.”

“This isn’t a vote,” Tertius argues. “This is a caucus, and a bloody mess one at that. It looks like you’re going to win anyway.” Most of the candidates are yelling out their future plans for the dome, trying to entice voters to support them. As incumbent, Rinaldi has evidently found that he doesn’t need to risk his voice. He has the largest crowd at his platform right now.

“There’s no guarantee,” Rinaldi says. “Just look at Bull’s crowd.” He’s right, it’s pretty big too. He stands up, and adjusts his giant ridiculous hat. “Hey!” he shouts across the room. “Get away from that platform! Have you seen his tractor during harvest? Spotless! Guy wastes time cleaning when he should be picking!”

Tertius rolls his eyes, and looks over at his daughter. “We’re not getting anywhere with this guy.”

“It’s like you said, he’s gonna win,” Aeterna replies. “We need him.”

Tertius sighs. “Rinaldi, this is quite time-sensitive. The Levins need to evacuate, but since humans can’t breathe on this planet, they need a dome to go to, and you have more than enough space.”

Rinaldi sits down, but is still staring at his rival with disgust. “Yeah, I’d love to help, but it’s not my place. You should have come last week when I was still in power, or next week when I’m back in power.”

“The quakes weren’t bad enough last week for us to know that they’re not gonna stop,” Tertius explains.

“Yeah, whatever. We’re dealing with them just fine.” Rinaldi stands up again. “Hodge, you get the hell away from those hats! You think you stand a chance? Don’t humiliate yourself, you son of a bitch!” The voting system is even more outrageous than a regular caucus. They decided a while back that, even with these platforms, it can be confusing who here is running for office, and who here is only a constituent. Any candidate can make a declaration on the day of, even hours into the caucus, so people need a way to get the news that someone new wants the job. Someone came up with the idea of having each candidate wear a big hat so they’re easily spotted in the throng. Over time, these hats have evidently just gotten bigger and crazier. Most candidates are expending energy holding them on their heads. They won’t stop, though. It doesn’t look silly to them. Taking the hat means you’re brave and confident, even if it’s unearned. To be fair, it’s what’s allowing Tertius and Aeterna to stand up here on the platform, and have a conversation without worrying about it looking like they’re declaring themselves candidates too.

“The Levins need you,” Aeterna says to Rinaldi, hoping that her words might sway him. “They helped you out with your crops a few seasons ago, did they not?”

“Oh, you mean the superpoop?” Rinaldi asks.

“The...probiotic nanofertilizer, yes. It’s revolutionary.” Of course, when you build a dome—on an inhospital world like Proxima Doma, or anywhere—controlling the weather is as easy as adjusting the thermostat in a regular house. They chose not to do that here. Actually, the Valerii suspect that the weather is indeed controlled, but is deliberately programmed to be erratic to simulate natural chaos. The crops don’t always yield, and despite their unwillingness to advance their technology past a certain threshold, they have been known to accept outside help so they don’t starve to death. That might be key to this whole thing.

“Eh.” Rinaldi waves it away. “We paid for that. We owe them nothing.”

Tertius sighs. “We don’t have time for this.” He and Aeterna switch to Bull’s platform. “I can get you the win, but you have to guarantee taking in the Levins as refugees, and you have to enforce the process before you technically take office. I know you can do that. Your whole system of government is too disorganized for that to be illegal.”

Bull has been screaming his message into a bullhorn that he probably made by hand out of wood. He moves it away from his mouth, and leans in towards Tertius. “You snag me the win, I’ll open the tunnel gates by the end of the night.”

“Grab that scythe for me, hon,” Tertius says to his daughter as they’re walking towards the stage. He’s not really supposed to talk, but no one is gonna stop him. “People, people! Listen to me!” he demands. “If you stand by Bull, I promise an end to your drought! I know where there’s water!” The megaengineers who colonized this world designed it so that liquid water is pumped into underground aquifers by use for people who reject the kind of technology required to do that. It allows them to pretend that it’s not artificial. But there’s a backup system. There are also just tanks, and every dome—even the primitive ones—can access them if they know how.

“How can you guarantee that?” a random citizen questions.

“Hit the floor, then hit me,” he requests of Aeterna.

She does so. She breaks into the floorboards to prove that it’s a real scythe, and not simply a prop. Then she slams the blade against her father’s back. He doesn’t budge, and the metal buckles. “Because we’re gods!” she lies.

Microstory 2602: Hrockas Steward Stops at the Door and Waits

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Hrockas Steward stops at the door and waits. Renata just spent nine months in her chrysalis, but she wasn’t sleeping. It was a taxing and tiring ordeal, so she has had to sleep for nearly a day. She agreed to let Telman monitor her vitals constantly for the time being, and it is showing that she is awake again. He’s not sure if he should knock, though. Quidel’s tracker is showing at this location too, so they’re probably together. According to Telman, nothing is indicating that she’s undergoing strenuous activity the likes of which two people might do together in private, but it’s only been a day, so they’re still trying to establish her baseline.

Renata opens the door. “You know I can see you on my doorcam, right?”

“Sorry, I just didn’t wanna disturb you.” He can see inside her room, where Quidel is stretching, in a way that makes it look like they were only sleeping.

“It’s fine, I’m feeling much better now. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to give you a gift,” Hrockas explains.

She looks down at herself. “Isn’t my new substrate the gift?”

“Uh, no, that was ethically compulsory on our part. We destroyed your old one, and even if we hadn’t, they’re free.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t need a gift. I just wanna figure out what my life looks like now.”

“That’s what this gift is for.” As Renata steps off to the side, Hrockas looks over at Quidel. “Mister Jesperson, you’re welcome to tag along. It might affect you too.”

Quidel sits up with a yawn, then sticks his tongue out like he’s just tasted something unpalatable, but he’s really just still tired. He shuts his eyes, and falls back on the bed.

“I have a bit too much, uh...stamina for him,” Renata discloses.

“I see,” Hrockas says awkwardly.

She throws on a shirt and some pants. “Let’s go.”

Hrockas teleports them both to a hangar, about fifty meters from her gift, which is covered in a tarp. They start walking towards it. “Some friends of mine are upgrading their shuttles. There’s nothing wrong with the old ones, but the technology doesn’t quite fit their intergalactic missions. Instead of trying to cast yourself to another world, or spend extensive periods of time on cyclers, I thought maybe you would like a way to take shortcuts.” He snaps his fingers. The pulley system engages, and moves the tarp to reveal the purple beauty. “Renata Granger, may I introduce you to...The Aerie.”

Renata admires it. “This is for me?”

“I have no use for it myself. I’ll be on Castlebourne ‘til the stars burn out.”

“You said something about shortcuts?”

He nods. “Mm-hmm. You could reach Earth in about two months.”

A hatch opens, and a woman climbs out. “It’s called a reframe engine,” she says. She approaches the two of them. “Hi, I’m Brooke Prieto.” She shakes Renata’s hand, and then looks over at Hrockas. “Unfortunately, due to its small size, it can’t go at full reframe speeds. If you try to get back to Earth, it’s gonna take you about five years. It’s still better than a hundred and eight, though, right?” She grimaces a little.

“It’s fine with me.” Renata looks at Hrockas too. “I’m apparently immortal now.”

“That you are,” Hrockas agrees. “Anyway, I’ll let you two get acquainted. I have some other business to take care of, but don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Thank you, Steward Steward.”

He smiles. “No. Thank you.” He teleports away.

“Did you get everything squared away with Ren and the boy?” Azad asks.

“She’s got her ship. I think she’ll leave to explore the real world for a change. Castlebourne is a symbol of her entrapment, even if she isn’t conscious of that. I can’t imagine he won’t go with her.”

“That just leaves the Marshal,” Azad points out.

“Samani is a soldier,” Hrockas reasons. “He’ll fall in line. I don’t think he’ll be a problem. I don’t trust him enough to read him in, but if we ever have to use the thing, I doubt he’ll cause us problems.”

Azad nods. They’re silent for a moment.

“Did you figure out where the next component is?”

“Not for a fact, but all signs are pointing to Underbelly.”

“If we can’t get the people to vote to move the sun to a new location, we may need it, but we still have time before the Exin armada arrives.”

“Ya know, there would be a benefit to us keeping the Granger girl around. If she can shut down entire simulations with nothing but a thought, she could be of use to us. Not even you have that power.”

Hrockas shakes his head. “I don’t have that power by design. It raises too many questions. I’m still fending off reporters who want to know what the hell happened in the Spydome Network.” He shakes his head more aggressively. “No. These domes stay as they are. We follow their rules, and we let the stories play out naturally. As I said, we have time.”

“We don’t have infinite time, though,” Azad reminds him.

“Yeah, I know. Just keep looking for the other components, and do it quietly.”

“Okay.” Azad’s watch beeps. “Superintendent Glarieda needs something again.”

“Go ahead,” Hrockas encourages. “Assure him that we’ll make sure the votes go our way, one way or another.”

“You want me to say it like that?”

“Obviously not.”

“What should I do with this thing?” Azad asks.

They both look down at the device sitting on the table. “Granger still has access to the lab, and might need to return there for check-ups while she’s still on-world. She can’t know that we didn’t destroy it. She went through a lot to prevent her own mother from using it. She won’t approve of us using it either. Take it to Delta Outpost. But that can wait. See what Dreychan needs first.”

Microstory 2582: Lycander Pulls Into the Lot, and Orders the Fake Police to Surround the Carnage

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Lycander pulls into the lot, and orders the fake police to surround the carnage. He steps out of his car, and approaches Renata and Quidel. They’ve just laid down their weapons, and are holding their hands up just a little, even though they know that they’re all friends here. “Miss Granger. Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

“I didn’t know this bank was a front. I tried to get out.”

Lycander adjusts his pants by his belt, and looks around as his team begins the clean-up procedures. “Yeah, well, that decision was above my paygrade.”

“The question is,” Renata begins, “did they keep me close so they can make sure I don’t do anything stupid, or did they hope something like this would happen, to eliminate me without getting any blood on their hands?”

He chortles, and looks back at all the death and destruction. “Neither. They only assign people they trust to a place this important. You failed your initiation mission, but you showed leadership and ingenuity. There’s no way you could have known whether it was a powder or a gas. The water would have worked if it had been the former.”

She points at Quidel. “He survived. Did the other one?”

“She survived,” Lycander admits with a nod. “She did quit, though. Obviously, we had to protect both of them, but especially Q here, who asked to stay in the program.”

“I don’t blame you for lying to me. Not too long ago, I wanted to be one of the liars.” She takes a breath. “What happens now? I already know too much.”

Lycander nods again. “That’s also above my paygrade.” He looks back yet again, but this time to his car, where his boss is still waiting. “Listen, uh, a very important man is about to come talk to you. Not that you have an attitude problem, but you both need to be on your best behavior. He doesn’t like informality. He sent me over to assess the threat level, so I’m using this as an opportunity to warn you that he can end your career...or your life.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Sir,” Renata says.

He waves at his chauffeur with two fingers. The chauffeur opens the passenger door, and lets Director McWilliams out. He stays there while McWilliams buttons his blazer, and walks over with purpose. “Samani.”

“Director,” Lycander responds.

“So, these are the two that saved our asses this morning?” That’s a pretty colloquial thing for him to say.

“Yes, sir,” Lycander replies.

“Renata Granger, sir.” She holds up her hand, bloodied from the battle. “I would shake your hand, but I better not.”

“I prefer a tight nod anyway.”

She obliges. Quidel does too.

“Miss Granger,” the Director goes on, “I understand that you had some trouble with your initiation. We saw something in you that day, which made us not want to lose your talent. We didn’t know if you were right for field work, but it appears that you have proven us wrong, while proving me right to keep you on the payroll at all.”

“Thank you for saying that, sir.”

Director McWilliams opens his mouth to say something else when a classic burgundy roadster barrels down the road, and pulls into the lot. A couple of fake police try to stop the driver before noticing her placard, and letting her through. “Oh, here we go,” McWilliams mumbles. “Look, Granger, I want you to know that it wasn’t my decision to leave you in the dark. Even I answer to the council.” He could go on, but there isn’t time.

This isn’t how this twist is meant to be revealed. Yes, Renata will usually reappear around this time during the new recruits’ training, assuming they make it a year in, but that whole plotline was scrapped when Renata suddenly failed out. She switched to what should have been more of an Ambient role. The drama surrounding her discovering the truth should have a particular impact on the trainee, which doesn’t matter now that Quidel is a full officer already anyway.

Renata doesn’t let her chin drag on the ground for long before she pulls it back up, and begins to foam at the mouth. She’s speechless at the sight of her mother. Libera has been a part of this the whole time. It explains a lot about how she raised her child and why. These little secondary realizations are all presumably swimming around in her head right now as she watches her mom walk up to them in anger.

“Director McWilliams,” Libera begins accusatorily. “Why was my daughter placed in such great danger?”

“Chief Granger. Didn’t know you’d be here.” He was not happy, but despite technically being Libera’s superior, he was also quite scared of her. He came up in analysis, while she started out in the field. At least, that’s what the implanted memories say. In reality, none of that actually happened.

“Answer my question,” she demands. “This bank was meant to be a low-level asset. Easy breezy. Keep Renata employed and fulfilled, without risking her life. That was our deal.”

“Your deal?” Renata questions. She immediately seems to regret speaking up. She’s not ready. She’s not ready for this. It’s not supposed to be like this at all. A shock, yes, but after months of training; not a traumatic experience like this attack.

Libera doesn’t seem ready to explain herself anyway. “Go on,” she urges McWilliams.

“It was a low-level asset,” the Director agrees, “but over the years, departments have added to it, and its importance as a strategic stronghold have increased. It’s nobody’s fault, it wasn’t planned; it just happened.”

“It didn’t just happen over the course of the last year,” Libera argues. “I was given outdated information.”

“True,” Director McWilliams admits, “but things were recently pushed over the edge with one particular deposit, and the unfortunately timed leak of its existence.”

“Show me,” Libera demands. She faces her daughter. “And then, Renata, I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

Microstory 2578: Marshal 2 Walks into the Room Where Renata is Pretending to be Asleep

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Marshal 2 walks into the room where Renata is pretending to be asleep. He takes a sip of his orange juice as he stares down at her. Then he gets an idea, so he pulls out his phone, and perpetrates like he is talking. “Yeah, I’m lookin’ at her now. She almost died. Yeah, I agree, it would have been better, but what do you want me to do about it now? Well, that can certainly be arranged. We’ll just have to take care of the hospital people too. A few nurses, and a doctor. I’m sure they’ll be missed, but we’ll come up with a cover story. We’ll blame it on Granger; say that she went nuts, and killed half the floor.”

Renata suddenly reaches up, and takes Marshal 2 by the throat. She starts to try to squeeze the life out of him, which won’t be permanent if she succeeds. So he just smiles at her. She lets go. “Oh. You’re joking.”

He puts his phone away. “I’ve been doing this for years, kid. You’re not gonna fool me. But you should be proud of yourself. It’s the breathing. People don’t now how they breathe when they’re asleep for real, so they can’t replicate it. You did a great job.”

“Thanks,” she replies as she sits up, and pulls the pillow down to support her back. The other two?”

“They’re dead,” Marshal 2 lies. They did die, but they came back. Visitors always do, but that’s not something that this NPC would understand. She believes that all of this is real.

“If you were joking about murdering me, I’m hoping that means you won’t?”

“That’s not our style.”

“But I’m done with the NSD.”

“You’re done with the NSD,” Marshal 2 confirms. He doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to spin this yarn. They’re going to reset her memory, and tomorrow, she’ll start the whole charade over again with the same old script. This time, she’ll do it right, and help a new small group of visitors. She’ll inspire them to begin their journey in the simulation, and reach their potential. He won’t be a part of it anymore, though; not with her. They like to change things up, and there’s a theory that it’s necessary. Even though waking up and doing the same thing every day is part of Exemplar 1’s programming, there is still a risk of overfamiliarity. If her training officer is the same person each time, she might start to recognize him. It may even be what happened when she failed the escape room phase. In order to put everyone back on track, they’re going to start with a clean slate. She’ll even be getting a new mother to wake her up in the mornings.

Renata breathes in through her nose, and acts like she’s looking out the window, but it’s pitch-black out there, and bright in here, so she’s not seeing anything.

“How do you feel about that?”

“What do you care?” Wanting to be the best agent who has ever lived is part of her baseline. It’s sad, really, that she has the procedural memory in her brain to excel in the training program, but when she’s assigned to Phase 1, she never remembers. She lives her life in these isolated blocks of repeating experiences, never genuinely connecting them, and never being her true self.

Marshal 2 shouldn’t be worrying about any of this. When he signed up to work in this dome, he knew that he would be encountering a lot of NPCs. The majority of the people in here are AIs of various kinds. The dome has to feel lived in so visitors forget that it’s all scripted. There are Ambients out there who will never meet one of the main characters. They go about their lives day by day, just in case they intersect with whatever story path the visitors choose to follow. Marshal 2 doesn’t know which life is better, and which is worse. An Exemplar’s mind is reset when it’s time to redo the scenario, or start a different one, but an Ambient has no agency at all. He’s thinking about quitting, and maybe spending a decade or two relaxing in one of the recreational domes. No, that wouldn’t work, because they’re run by NPCs too, so he would just keep seeing it. He would have to go somewhere populated by natural-born intelligences, like Underburg. But not there, because that place sucks. “Well, I’ll leave you.”

“Wait. Do I have to sign something? I mean, obviously I signed multiple NDAs before, but is there something new pertaining to the unfortunate incident?”

He smiles at her. “No, you’re fine. It’s all covered. In fact, you’ll be compensated for the danger you faced. You’re not a millionaire, but it will keep you above water while you work on your next chapter. You got skills. Just because you won’t be an officer, doesn’t mean you’ll be stuck working at a grocery store, or something. Now get some rest. Someone will be by later this week to work out the details.” Another lie. They’re not gonna pay her anything.

“Wait. You never told me your name. I know I didn’t pass the test, but maybe you could tell me now anyway?”

He inhales through his nose. He shouldn’t even be thinking about giving her his real name. He decided a long time ago to go by the standard designation that NPC Marshals use, because it doesn’t help his character to have a complex backstory. He left his old life on Varkas Reflex behind, and he’s here now. But again, none of what she learns today matters. It will all be erased. So what’s the harm? “Lycander. Lycander Samani.”

“Nice to meet you, Lycander.”

Microstory 2544: Consort

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I have always wanted children. My problem has always been finding someone to have them with. I just didn’t click with anyone that I dated. Well, that’s too narrow of an explanation. There was always something wrong with the relationship. He didn’t want kids, or he said he did but it was a lie, or he cheated on me, or we grew apart, or he wasn’t responsible enough. I’m not saying anything special. I broke up with my past love interests for all the same reasons that other people do. I don’t have any family, and the job I had before this was very demanding. I could have cut back on the work, but only if I had a partner to help support the family. It wouldn’t have worked out if I had chosen to go it alone. The baby would have been cared for by babysitters, daycare workers, and/or nannies. Not that there’s anything wrong with those jobs, but I wanted to be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully—and this may make me sound like a jackass—I didn’t sign up to be with Landis, or to have a kid with superpowers. I signed up for a baby, and a home to raise it in. Now I don’t work at all, and I spend my whole day taking care of my little guy. There’s a roof over our heads, and three squares a day. That’s all we need. I’m not greedy. That’s kind of a barrier for entry into this program. Unless you have a job that you can do from home, you can’t really make any money from this. We’re not even given a stipend. If you want something, you request it from the Facilitators, and they purchase it for you, using their company accounts. Again, that’s totally fine with us. These restrictions are important, not only because of their inherent value in protecting the legacies, but because they don’t want millions of people signing up. If it were as easy as requesting that they ship potential mothers a sample of Landis’ seed, everyone would want to do it. Might as well. You have to be able to come here, you have to be willing to have sex with Landis, and you have to be all right with staying put, and just being a mother. It’s not for couples. And it’s not for moms who already have kids. It’s for people like me, who want to devote their lives to raising one amazing child. Superpowers or not, I love him and we’re happy.

Extremus: Year 114

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Cloning is illegal on Extremus. It’s very illegal, and has been for quite some time. What happened with Captain Halan Yenant and Lieutenant Eckhart Mercer was already in a gray area, and since then, both the civilian government and crew decided that it was best to make it against the law, full stop. The Question is sort of a workaround for this problem, but the reality is clear in this situation. Waldemar’s clone is an empty shell, and not only does Admiral Leithe have the right to destroy it, but she has the obligation to do so. There is only one caveat. She must report it. She must, in fact, report it to three particular people. The Captain, the Head Councillor, and the ship’s Consul all have to be told first. The silver lining is that she only has to inform those three, and they don’t have to inform anyone else, or place the information on any sort of official record. The problem is, they don’t know what Waldemar becomes. Oceanus seems to have some idea, but the other two presumably know absolutely nothing. What happens if they try to arrest Young!Waldemar for his actions? First, it will make the incident a matter of public record, but also, the charges will never stick anyway.

The clone is older than the original, which suggests that he may be from the future. You can’t be held liable for a crime that you might have committed in the future of only one timeline. That would be unfair, and since there is evidently no one to question about this, besides present day Waldemar, they don’t know if he was responsible for it in this possible future. It’s only marginally more difficult to procure someone else’s DNA than your own. Waldemar’s advocate would have a field day in court, and it would become this huge spectacle. This would likely only cement his popularity as a leader of and for the people, reinforcing his predestined future power over the ship.

As of yet, nothing has happened, but this peace won’t last forever. While AI!Elder is not capable of transmitting his code back to Extremus, he does have power over the Frontrunners. This includes being capable of teleporting Waldemar’s clone to anywhere on the hull, specifically to what they call The Black Deck. Situated at the stern, the Black Deck is the opposite of the White Deck, because unlike the latter, viewports on the Black Deck can be opened. The doppler glow only comes in from the forward ports, which is why they’re closed and locked at all times. The thing is, on the Black Deck, there’s nothing to see. There’s literally nothing to see. It’s just a void. No stars, no nebulae. People describe the experience as being unsettling and profound, which is precisely why they sometimes go up there. If a cloning pod were to suddenly appear in front of one of these windows, someone would probably see it, if only eventually. This is the threat that AI!Elder is making if he’s not released.

At last, it’s time for a meeting with Consul Sevara Sanchez. Tinaya has been keeping AI!Elder at bay for the last several months so she would be dealing with Sevara, instead of the previous Consul, who couldn’t be trusted. Well, it’s more that she didn’t like him, Sevara seems great. “Thanks for meeting with me, Consul.”

“No, thank you. This job has been forever darkened by the first one, who turned out to be a traitor, so I’m glad to have a meeting with an admiral so soon.”

“Well, Vatal was more of a spy than a traitor. But it doesn’t matter. You may not be so happy when you here what I have to say.”

“Oh, my.”

“Do you know who Waldemar Kristiansen is?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know many names yet. Is he on the Council?”

“He’s the eighth captain.”

“Oh, I didn’t think that had been decided yet. It’s a little early, no?”

Tinaya doesn’t respond. This is such a touchy subject, time travel. Neither one of them should know what’s going to happen, let alone be involved in trying to change it.

Sevara seems to pick up on it. “Oh. I see. What can you tell me?”

Not much. Nothing about her son, or Audrey. She focuses on the basics, and the fact that Waldemar’s rise to power is, by all accounts, inevitable. All they can do is try to mitigate the equally inevitable fallout. This means dealing with the clone, and possibly running a quiet investigation to search for any other clones which may be stashed somewhere on Extremus. AI!Elder must be dealt with too.

“Who is this Pathfinder who led you to the Frontrunner where you found the clone?” Sevara asks after Tinaya finishes the overview.

She doesn’t really need to know that. “Well, his name is Pronastus Kegrigia.”

“Good to know,” Sevara replies. Then she doesn’t say anything else.

Tinaya waits a little for Sevara to acknowledge the real point of the story, but it never comes. “So, what do you think...about the clone?”

Sevara shrugs. “Destroy it,” she says, as if it’s an obvious solution, and not morally gray, at best.

“The issue is, I’m not sure that Captain Jennings or Head Councillor Linwood will agree. I suppose I’m fairly confident about Oceanus, but definitely not Linwood. He’ll probably make a big stink, and bring in all his friends for consultation, and it will get out of control. I’m trying to keep the circle tight. I’m not even telling my husband, even though as superintendent, he would be well within his rights to know.”

“In a few months, Linwood will be replaced, probably by Flowers.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Tinaya laments. “AI!Elder won’t wait that long, that is. I barely made it to today.”

Sevara giggles. “AI!Elder? Is that what we call him? I like it.”

“That’s just how Captain Yenant referred to him in his logs. I’m sure the brainiacs gave it some kind of longwinded model number.”

Sevara nods and goes silent again, but only for a moment. “Well. Let’s go with this. You and I will travel to the Frontrunner, and I will supervise the destruction of the clone. We won’t tell Captain Jennings. We won’t tell Head Councillor Linwood.”

“How’s that legal?” Tinaya questions.

“It’s not technically, but it will be our little secret.”

“Consul Sanchez,” Tinaya scolds.

“Admiral Leithe, you are currently being coerced into placing the ship in danger by a known artificially intelligent threat actor. You are under extreme pressure to protect the crew and passengers of the Extremus, which gives you the leeway you need to be discreet with who you confide in regarding this matter. If you want, we can divulge the truth to the new Head Councillor next year, and complete the disclosure requirement, but we need to take care of this right now, before either of them can make another move against us.”

“The whole reason I’m waiting is because AI!Elder won’t release him. I can’t jettison the pod, I can’t teleport it. I can’t even open it.”

“Well, let me handle him. I have authority over the Frontrunner systems that not everyone does.”

“You do?” Why would she? Why would she have higher clearance than Tinaya, except maybe over legal data? Why would she have anything to do with the Frontrunners?

“I do.” She’s quite confident.

After Sevara deals with something else on her tablet, they teleport to the bow together, and then jump a second time to make it to the Frontrunner where the Waldemar clone is being kept. It’s still there, and so is AI!Elder, who is displeased with their arrival. “Who is this woman?” he demands to know.

“This—” Tinaya begins.

Sevara steps forward and holds out a hand like she wants someone to shake it. “My name is Sevara Sanchez, Consul of the Transgalactic Generation Ship Extremus, Seventh of Eleven.” The captains are really the only ones whose titles officially include X of Y ordinals, but others sometimes use a similar format. Consuls are known for adopting the same convention. Tinaya has never known why. The real weird part is that she said Transgalactic Generation Ship, which they stopped using when Halan Yenant altered course into the void. They’ve since moved back into the galaxy, but the name was never changed back. No, the weirdest part is when Sevara shakes the air in front of her as clasping AI!Elder’s hand.

“A consul?” AI!Elder questions. “You brought me a consul? I’ve never felt so insulted in my life. Bring me someone who matters.”

“Let me see the pod,” Sevara asks of Tinaya. After being led into the room, she examines it surprisingly thoroughly. She looks over each side, and even runs her hand along the casing. Does she have some kind of background in cloning tech, or is she just a weirdo? Tinaya is starting to think that maybe she’s just a weirdo. Once Sevara is finished, she takes a breath, and looks up into the aether. “Okay, I’m satisfied. The pod and its occupant must be destroyed. AI!Elder, please disable the magnetic clamps, and release the specimen into our custody.”

“I’m not going to do that,” AI!Elder responds. “That wasn’t our deal.”

“No, you don’t make deals with the Admiral anymore,” Sevara contends. “You’re dealing with me now.”

“Consul, please be careful,” Tinaya urges. She’s whispering, knowing full well that the AI’s sensors are more than adequate to pick up the sound.

“I know what I’m doing,” Sevara insists. She looks back up. “How about those clasps, Old Man? I ain’t got all day.”

“I have been trapped in these subsystems for decades, and I’m ready to be set free, so if you’re going to do that, then this is your chance. If you deny me just one more time, I will instantly transport the pod to the exterior of the viewport on the Black Deck, and magnetize it against the hull. Anyone will be able to come and look, and then you’ll have a ton of questions to answer.”

“I don’t think you’ll do it,” Sevara antagonizes. “I think you’re bluffing. It’s the only leverage you have.”

“I have more leverage than that,” AI!Elder claims. “I can destroy these Frontrunners, which puts you at risk of another meteoroid strike.”

“Hm. I think I can live with that.”

“Sevara. Please.” Tinaya is getting really worried now. This entity has their lives in its hands.

“What are we still waiting for?” Sevara asks AI!Elder. “You said you wouldn’t be denied again, yet the pod is still there. Get on with it, or calm down, so we can talk.”

“You asked for it,” AI!Elder says. Suddenly, the pod disappears.

“No!” Tinaya shouts. She looks over at Sevara, who is just smirking. “Oh, I get it. You’re evil. I wish I had known that before!”

“I’m not evil,” Sevara replies with a laugh.

“What did you do?” AI!Elder is pissed.

“I rerouted the pod’s transport,” Sevara explains. “It’s tucked away safely inside the ship, where you no longer have purview. Thanks for releasing it...like I asked.”

“Kiss your Frontrunners goodbye,” AI!Elder warns. “And your own asses.”

Sevara takes Tinaya by the forearm, and teleports them both to safety, back to the corridor overlooking the plasma bubble. That bubble doesn’t last long, though. They see five explosions before them. All the debris, all the plasma, and probably a whole lot of temporal energy, comes rushing towards them. It’s going to kill them both first, but it could damage the ship enough to end the mission right here, right now. Unexpectedly, though, the oncoming storm just disappears. For a second, it’s only black until a bright gray light forms, threatening to blind them. A hand reaches out, and shuts the panel. It takes a moment for them to regain their sight, at which point they see none other than Waldemar Kristiansen.

“Whew! Just in time!” he exclaims.

“How did you know?” Tinaya asks him.

“You have always been kind to me, Admiral, so I will not lie to you,” Waldemar says. “I’m from the future. I sent my consciousness back in time to stop the apocalypse. I just teleported the ship a few thousand kilometers away, so we’re safe now. We just don’t have any Frontrunners. Rebuilding those will be my first priority as Vice Captain.”

“Vice Captain?” Tinaya echoes. That’s not a thing. That’s not a thing anywhere.

“Yeah, after I came back into my younger body, I couldn’t help fix what happened to Extremus unless I was given some measure of authority, so they came up with a new position for me, and for others in the future. No longer will captains start their shifts without any clue what they’re doing. They’re going to have experience on the crew first, and compete against their rivals until the best one ascends.”

Goddammit. It’s Tinaya’s fault. She’s the one who creates the worst captain this ship will ever see. Fate is such a bitch.

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