| Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1 |
It’s near the end of year 2413, so it’s been 24 years since the latest
captain took the seat. Around this time people are expecting Waldemar to
announce his successor. To quell the rumors, he has decided that he is
indeed going to make an announcement, but for many, it won’t be what they
expect. They’re not going to like it either. The original plan was to simply
say nothing, and coast on the chair, but Waldemar keeps forgetting how
inquisitive and curious people are. They want to know, and they want to know
now. They’re about to find out that it’s not happening.
At one point, they were planning on holding this event in the grand
auditorium, but they have decided against that. It’s too dangerous. Even
though Waldemar has since taken steps to protect himself, he doesn’t want to
give an assassin or an angry crowd the opportunity to attack. If they get
mad, they’ll do it within the confines of their quarters. What they don’t
know is that they will not be able to leave unless the AI security system
detects that they’re friendly to the Captain.
He is sitting in front of the camera, preparing himself mentally for this.
It’s not nerves or fear. He wouldn’t know how to feel those things. What
he’s feeling is concern for the future. He doesn’t care for uncertainty.
That doesn’t mean he’s gonna use time tech to see the future, but it does
make him nervous. Hm...maybe he does feel that too.
At any rate, it’s time to get started. His inner circle is behind him,
figuratively and literally. It’s important that the audience sees that he’s
not alone in this, and that he will have people protecting him, even if it’s
only these few dozen men. They will know what to do. “Begin recording,” he
orders the camera. It’s already on a five-second delay. “My fellow
Extremusians, I sit here before you, humble but powerful. For the last
twenty-four years, I have led you into a period of unprecedented peace and
personal success. I ended the war with the True Extremists using my covert
away teams. I reformed the contribution point system so that all must work
to help make this the greatest colony in the universe. I am not the most
popular leader you have ever had, but your lives are better thanks to me and
my administration.
“I know you’re all wondering who is going to pick up the reins next year.
You’re confused, because no one appears to be on the shortlist. There’s a
reason for that. Unlike my predecessors, I didn’t limit myself to the few
who desperately wanted the job. I didn’t ask for a list of everyone
graduating from the academy on the captain’s track. I looked at every single
one of you. Everyone who would be at least 21 years old by January 1 was on
the table. I didn’t even cap it at a maximum age.”
Waldemar approximates a smile. He’s not good at smiling because it’s an
emotional response, but people know when that’s what he’s doing, and they’ve
grown used to it by now, so it has the same effect as it would for a feeler.
“That’s right. Nearly every adult had the chance to take my place. I was
incredibly thorough. Unfortunately, I was unable to find anyone suitable for
the job. I looked at that comprehensive list, and I looked at what still
needs to be done to make Extremus great again, and I realized that there is
only one person who can do what I do.” He clears his throat. “It is for this
reason that I am respectfully declining to step down. Twenty-four years was
always an arbitrary number. Every crew position here has changed the length
of service according to new laws, except for this one, and I see no reason
for it to remain an exception.
“I want to make it clear that I’m not declaring an authoritarian
state. You are still represented by your civilian government. It is my job
to run the crew, and protect the vessel itself from all threats. Your daily
lives will not change...except for the better. I have the support of my
advisors, most of the crew, the police, and the military. I ask that you
remain calm during this non-transitional period. You do not have to do
anything. But you do have to recognize that this was never a democracy. You
never had any say in who would be your captain. I’m changing the rules
because I am the only one here with the experience and vision to continue
down the correct path.
“I am not guaranteeing twenty-four more years. I will step down when it is
time; when I know that you’re going to be okay without me. And when I do, I
will not be an admiral. That was a travesty of a tradition. Admiralcy
is something that you earn. It’s not something that you should simply
fall into at the end of your useful career. When I have accomplished all of
the ship’s goals, someone will take over for me, but not a day sooner than
that. In the coming week, I will be scheduling press conferences,
interviews, forums, and debates, but I will not be changing my mind. Thank
you.” He taps the correct finger gesture under the desk to shut off the
camera.
“That was amazing, sir. You were brilliant,” Faramund points out.
The rest of his loyalists agree.
“Show me the unit feeds,” Waldemar orders, ignoring the compliments.
The big screen starts with an establishing shot of the entire ship from the
outside. Quickly, the hulls, bulkheads, and walls begin to disappear. The
new cameras he installed don’t just record what’s literally happening. They
paint a broad image of the room. The AI can then compile all of these feeds
into a collective video of what’s happening at the ship. It’s like opening a
dollhouse, and viewing the cross-section, except it’s real and in realtime.
He was shockingly right about nothing changing about their daily lives.
They’re barely concerned. He can’t hear what they’re saying specifically,
since there are thousands of them, but the AI is providing him with a
summary. They’re mostly apathetic about it. They don’t think it really
matters. It’s not that they love him, but that they think no one else will
be able to do a better job. Is that what he wants, for them to not care? He
doesn’t want power for the sake of it. He wants prosperity. No, he wants
prosperity and enthusiasm. His next term will have to be different.
Now that he knows no one is going to stop him, he can definitely arrange
that
One thing he forgot to explicitly mention is that laws aren’t simply
something you write down, and expect people to follow forever. They’re
fluid, they change, and if the people at the top want that change to happen,
they shouldn’t have to cross out what someone wrote before, and write a new
one. All they need to do is make sure everyone knows about it. They sure as
hell know now. He clearly could have been more direct about it, though,
because some of their comments suggest that they’re not sure how far this
will go, and whether he is lying about their daily lives.
“You’re right, Tensil. If you say something with the sense of authority,
people will either believe it, or believe that there’s nothing they can do
to stop it. They’re not rioting, they’re not organizing. They’re not even
calling each other to talk about it.”
“Is that what you wanted, sir...indifference?” Faramund presses.
“For now.” Waldemar stands up, straightens his uniform, and prepares to
leave. Something catches his eye, though. The collective feed has been
orbiting around the ship slowly and randomly. There’s one dark spot that he
can’t see. It’s completely black. He points. “What’s this? Why can’t I see
this?”
“Council chambers,” one of his sycophants explains. “The civil government
didn’t allow us to install the cameras there due to the sensitive nature of
their discussions.”
“Why am I getting the feeling that something in particular is happening in
that room right now?” Waldemar asks. He sighs when someone tries to come up
with an answer. “That was a rhetorical question.” He shakes his head and
tries to teleport there.
He finds himself literally bouncing back, and falling on his ass against his
desk. “I’m fine!” he shouts at the men who try to help him up. “There’s an
anti-teleportation field around it, which shouldn’t be there, because I
didn’t authorize it.”
“You can teleport to just outside the room and—”
“I know the trick, Tensil. I’m not an idiot. “Waldemar tries again, this
time only trying to get close to his final destination, but again, he’s
thrown back. This time, the men are able to break his fall, but it’s still
humiliating. “Argh!”
“Sir, it’s really not that far. We could just walk. Or I can get you a
hoverchair.”
“I’m not old!” Waldemar complains. “Just shut up and leave me alone!” He
teleports away again, but this time to his stateroom.
Finally, this works. If he’s going to be forced away this time, it will
remain private. He teleports yet again, trying to get close to the council
chambers, but not even as close as he tried the second time. He falls down
once more, but instead of boomeranging to his room, he ends up back in the
speech room. Oh, someone is messing with him. When he finds out who, they’re
gonna die. They’re literally gonna die.
“I’ll walk,” he says, holding a finger up before Tensil can reiterate what
he said before, “but I’ll do it alone.” He looks back at his people.
“Disperse.”
Waldemar steps out of the room and takes the long way through the corridors
to the council chambers. An odd sensation emerges in his stomach. It feels
like bugs are crawling around in there. No, more like dull knives. Is this
nerves again? What the hell is wrong with him? He tries the door, fully
expecting it to be locked, but it opens.
He walks to find that the entire council has convened. His girlfriend, Sable
is standing on the dais. To her left is a screen. It’s currently paused on a
frame showing his speech. No, it’s after his speech was done, when
the camera should have been off. He’s mid-blink, but due to his advanced
age, his right eyelid always falls ever so slightly faster, making it look
like he’s trying to wink here. Sable obviously did that on purpose. “What is
the meaning of this? You knew I was giving a speech. Why meet today?”
“We’re here to discuss the future of the ship,” some dumb bitch council
chairperson says.
“That’s what I was trying to do, as you can see. Again, why did you schedule
it for the same time?”
“We were watching your speech,” the chairperson goes on. “We have not
completed the vote, but enough have voiced their concern that I’m confident
in the way it will turn out. Captain Waldemar Kristiansen, you will be free
to continue as captain of this ship for as long as you are able. Your job
will be to remain on the bridge, and supervise the monitoring crew. You will
have no jurisdiction over the rest of the crew, nor anyone else on the ship.
You say laws can be changed? Well, you’re right, they can be, and they are.
This is a civilian vessel now. You have no authority here.”
Waldemar sneers at Sable. “You did this. You orchestrated all of it.”
“You’re out, Waldy. Buh-bye.” She gives him the old four-finger baby wave.
He points aggressively. “I’m fighting you on this. It may turn violent.”
Sable sports that evil grin she usually only does in bed. “Bring it on,
honey.”
