Tangent Point: Pulling it Together (Part IV)

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Ajax immediately ran over to the second shuttle. Reed wasn’t sure if Vasily hadn’t noticed that there was another one in this bay, or didn’t think that they would have time to catch up. But as the true, legitimate captain of this vessel, Ajax had the authority to skip all pre-flight procedures, and just go. Reed tried to follow him and Shasta up the ramp. Ajax turned around, and held up a hand. “No. You don’t have a local back-up body. This could be a suicide mission.” He turned back around and started powering up systems.

“Why would you be concerned with that?”

Ajax just kept working. “Because I secretly agree with you. Don’t tell anyone. Just take this thing, and go save our neighbors. I’ll be on the ground. The Tangent is so new that I only had one local back-up.”

“Shasta,” Reed said simply as he was backing away on the ramp.

“I’ll be here to help the Captain if he needs it,” she replied. “Now go so we can close the hatch.”

Reed stepped all the way out, and let them launch without him. It was frustrating, sending people on missions, placing them in danger. But that was the burden of leadership, and it was a lot better in real life than in the space operas, where death was usually permanent. He watched the shuttle for as long as possible until it disappeared around the bend. Then he just kept staring through the transparent plasma barrier. Bungula was beginning to shrink as they were breaking orbit. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then opened his comms. “Ellis calling the bridge. Seal the bulkheads in this shuttle bay and shut off the plasma. We need to save power.”

“Belay that order,” Shasta’s voice came on. “I’ll be coming in with the elevator pod shortly.”

Reed switched to a private channel. “You survived? How did you stop Vasily?”

“I’ll explain when I get back, but Ajax is gone. It’s just me, so have a security team on standby to secure the VIP hostages.”

Reed went back to the main channel. “Send a security squad to Shuttle Bay Four. We got the pod.” He could hear them all cheering on the radio, but he couldn’t celebrate with them. There was still one more loose end to tie up. Vasily was about to be resurrected in the crazy new chrysalis thing, and had to be dealt with too. If he told his people what happened between them, it would cause some internal conflict. Some here would be okay with murdering a human, and might end up siding with Vasily on this matter. Reed could stick him in hock, but there was no guarantee that he would stay there for long. One ally would be all it took to set him free. This was a very delicate situation. He had a number of options, and each came with advantages and disadvantages. He could even just pardon the guy, or straight up keep it all a secret in order to maintain peace. Even if he found a way to transport him off-ship far enough to shift his consciousness stream from the Tangent to Bungula, he might become a martyr. Vasily was a permanent problem no matter what. “Also, send one team to the chrysalis room to escort someone who is about to respawn.”

“Aye, captain,” his Head of Security acknowledged. “Alpha-Gamma squad, go to the shuttle bay. Beta team to the chrysalis room.”

“Hey, Thistle. Report,” Reed asked his AI as he was starting the long trip back up to the bridge alone. The summary ran for as long as it took him to reach his destination. Everything was going all right. Auxiliary engineering was holding the platform together, the security sweep of the tether complex didn’t turn up any other traitors or spies, and the bridge crew was establishing themselves, and settling into their new roles. The biggest job was the cleanup. There were a lot of dead bodies scattered all over the place, which needed to be disposed of respectfully, according to the user’s own personal wishes. Some of these could be found in the database, while others might have to be contacted later. The mutineers responsible for this work knew who they were, and were doing it without being asked. That went for everyone. Nothing was being neglected. Nothing was falling apart. They might actually pull this off.

“Captain,” his pilot began, “we’ve started acceleration. We’ll be on our way in six minutes.”

“Thanks, that’s good to know.”

“Sir,” his comms officer said, taking her turn. “Mediator Fenwick is on hold for peaceful negotiations.” She used airquotes.

“You didn’t alert me right away?” Reed asked.

“We figured you would want to make him sweat,” she replied.

Reed smiled. “Good call.” He took a deep breath, then did a 180. “On screen.” The image appeared. “Kemper, how the hell are ya? Long time, no blackout hock.”

Mediator Fenwick was already frowning, but deepened it now. “You have the audacity to criticize our judgment after what you’ve just pulled? What I did when I ordered your consciousness frozen was an executive decision that I take responsibility for, but it only affected you. You killed dozens of people—”

“Wait, we didn’t kill anyone. We destroyed some people’s substrates. You’re the only one here who has conspired to murder anyone.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Fenwick contended. “Did someone die in the drone strike? That was only meant to disable propulsion.”

“Now, Kemper, we’ve known each other for decades. There’s no need to play coy with me. I know about your spy.”

“We do not have a spy. I will not stand for this projection. It is you who infected our ranks insidiously, and instituted a mutiny. Now, we all have empathy for the Proxima Domanians, and we recognize where you’re coming from, but making us out to be the villains is reckless, and the history books will not remember it that way.”

“Well, I don’t agree with your prediction, but I’m not talking about the kinetic drone, and I’m not talking about you fighting back against the mutiny. I don’t even blame you for that, your people had every right to defend their post. They will be treated with the utmost respect while they’re on board my new platform. No, I’m talking about Vasily.” Everyone within Reed’s field of vision winced at the accusation, and probably everyone he couldn’t see too. “Now, I don’t know how you got to him, but he placed the VIPs in the elevator pod in grave—”

“Executor Ellis,” Fenwick interrupted. “I do not appreciate being accused of something that I had nothing to do with. If you suffered a betrayal, then I would call that an internal matter. I’ve never even heard the name before, so unless you are not done fabricating tall tales, I would like to move on to the matter of the hostage crisis. For the safe return of all hostages, we are prepared to offer the Tangent passage to Proxima Doma without any interference from the Bungulan military, or the government. It is all you need, let those innocent people go.”

Reed chuckled. “Nice try, Kempy, but I caught your sneaky little semantic trick. The Bungulan military is symbolic at best, which is why you were woefully unprepared for our takeover. Teagarden, on the other hand, operates under an entirely different jurisdiction, and would be under absolutely no obligation to uphold any promise of amnesty that the Bungulan authority might offer. I doubt you’ve even mobilized your own forces. I’m sure your first call was to that Teaguardian I see matching our speed on the port side. Are we quite finished joking?”

Fenwick knew that he had been made. “Reed, you don’t wanna do this. Even if you make it out of Bungulan space—even if you make it all the way to Doma—how do you think you’re gonna pull this off? What, you’re gonna hover over one of the poles for years at the shortest, and then you’re gonna fly to the other pole and do it again? And throughout all of that, the Teaguardian isn’t gonna figure out a way to rescue the undigitized humans, and then blow everyone else out of the sky? You won’t survive that. You’ll be too far from any back-ups. You’ll just be dead. We’ll rebuild the Tangent, and the galaxy will move forward.”

“You still think you’re the good guy here?” Reed questioned. “The people next door are dying. You really wanna do the right thing? Tell that Teaguardian to give us whatever magical engine they use to travel faster than light, so we can get this done, and get out! We will bring the Tangent back. Every single one of my people fully recognizes the consequences of our actions. No one is thinking they’re just gonna go back to their lives as if nothing happened. We’re doing it because no one else is. We’re doing it because you’re a bunch of self-obsessed, elitist nutsacks!”

Mediator Fenwick shook his head. “This is the last chance you will get to talk to me, Ellis. If you finish breaking orbit, it will be out of my hands. The Teaguardians will take over the case, and they won’t be as nice. They may not care about the VIPs. Their ancestors pioneered neural digitalization, and it’s been centuries. A lot of people think we should stop worrying about humans who willfully reject virtual immortality. I’m not one of those people, but you’re about a minute away from it being out of my hands. Abort the burn, come back down. I’m not asking for any hostages yet, or for you to surrender. Let’s just talk about this some more.”

“No more talking,” Reed decided. “I tried talking to you for a week. You offered airdrops—airdrops! A coward’s hollow gesture. I’m sick of looking at your face. Tell your Teagarden contact to bring it on!”

Without his order, his comms officer cut the call.

Reed took a breath, and looked over at his weapons officer, Aletha. “I already know the answer to this, but maybe there was some faulty intel. Does the Tangent have a weapons system?”

“No,” Aletha said. “It’s not a battleship. The only things keeping us from the next salvo of kinetic drones are in that elevator pod that we hooked.”

Reed nodded, then looked back over at comms. “Shipwide message.” He waited half a second. “New crew of the Tangent, Phase One is complete. Aletha will be coming around to collect your weapons from you, and check them back into the system. Only designated security personnel will be keeping their sidearms. Thank you for everything you’ve done. I hope you’re ready to keep going, because there’s no going back now.” He double checked the screen. “We are officially on our way to Proxima Doma.” He could hear more cheers over the radio, and out in the corridor.

“Congratulations, Captain,” Transdimensional Regulator Van Horn said.

“Thanks, Amulet,” he replied, “but I didn’t do it alone. In fact, I took a nap earlier today while everyone else was getting in place.”

Everyone giggled at that.

Reed breathed deeply, and sat down in the captain’s chair for the first time. That was when Shasta walked in, so he jumped back up. “Ajax?”

“He didn’t make it,” she replied.

“In here,” Reed decided, gesturing towards the captain’s bridge office. They went inside for a private conversation.

“It happened quite quickly,” Shasta began. “Vasily was able to send the shuttle forwards, but not particularly fast, so we were able to catch up before it could collide with the pod. I programmed our shuttle to match vector with the target, flying above it, while Ajax sealed the airlock. He wasn’t even wearing a suit. He tethered himself to the wall, and then swung down. I don’t know exactly what happened then, but he immediately broke the synchrony and altered course. He eventually burned up in the atmosphere. I think he killed himself so there would be no question who was in charge here. He did it to protect your authority.”

“No one can know,” Reed determined. “The official story is Vasily, delirious and dying, fought back, and the shuttle was lost. On the record, Ajax must be our enemy. Maybe we’ll be able to thank him one day.”

“I’ll fill out the report. And Vasily himself?” she asked

“He’ll be in hock alone. We need to minimize the amount he interacts with others so he doesn’t influence and infect my crew.”

“Understood.”

The doorbell. “Enter,” Reed offered.

The door opened. A security officer was standing next to—not only a VIP—but the most valuable hostage asset they had on board right now. “Sorry, sir. She insisted. She threatened to kill herself.”

“It’s all right, officer. Delegator Jodene Chariot, it’s an honor,” Reed said without a hint of sarcasm.

She sighed exasperatedly. “Report.”

“Six months. With only two operational fusion torches, it will take us six months to get to the Proxima Centauri system. Once we’re there, we’ll hover over the poles one at a time, and transport as many as we can off of the surface. Once the job is done, I will hand the reins over to you, and you can do whatever you want with me. We’ll negotiate specifics...in six months.”

“When I was in the elevator pod, we only saw one torch get hit by a drone,” Jodene said. “If you absolutely must do this, and no one can stop you, I would like it to get done faster.”

“You can thank the military for the delay. Without that fourth torch, propulsion is out of balance. We can only actually use the two opposing each other. The third one will just be sitting there, doing nothing.”

“Can the fourth one be fixed en route?” she pressed.

“Yeah,” Reed answered. “It’ll take about six months.”

“Why bother?” Jodene questioned.

“We’ll need it,” Shasta interjected. “When we get there to hover over the poles, we will need as much power as we can muster. The repairs will not be a waste of time.”

“Your crew is not equipped to handle such an undertaking.”

Reed smiled. “I’m not allowing anyone else on board. We will be releasing some hostages as a sign of good faith, but my people know what they’re doing. They can handle it. That’s why they’re here.”

“Still, you could use some extra manpower,” Jodene reasoned. “I just so happen to know of a bunch of people who were literally enrolled to work on the Tangent, and could expedite the work, as well as make sure it lives up to code.”

Reed nodded. “You’re just talking about the other hostages. You want some kind of work-release program? You just got on board, and you’re already negotiating?”

“No time like the present,” Jodene said. “Immediately acknowledging the value of the regular crew will go a long way to earning their trust.”

“It will be hard to trust them,” Reed admitted. “It would only take one person to sabotage a vital system function, and take us all down.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Jodene volunteered.

He gave her a funny face. “That doesn’t help. I would have to trust you too.”

“I can’t tell you what to think, but you should know that I have a neural suicide inducer. I can simply deliberately transfer my consciousness in full to a back-up without having to shoot myself in the head, or whatever. I don’t have to stay here.” Jodene pointed to the viewscreen on the wall that was showing the port side live feed. “That Teaguardian over there is fully ready to receive the digitized mind of anyone who dies. They don’t have to have a substrate waiting for them. They’ll just hang out in a virtual environment until a new body can be built.”

“All right, no need to make threats,” Reed contended. “We can make this work. Let’s head to hock right now, and address the crew together, so it’s clear that we’re on the same page.”

They did manage to make it work. It wasn’t easy, and there was plenty of friction, but the two separate crews fell into a routine, and eventually became one. It was difficult to remember which of them was part of the mutiny, and who belonged there legitimately. With the extra hands, they were able to rebuild the fourth fusion torch, negotiating for rare materials by releasing some non-essential crew to the Teaguardian escort, including a couple of VIPs who had almost nothing to offer. While some crewmembers were working on that, others were fabricating the hundreds of pods that they will need, or braiding tethers together. When you’re over the equator at geostationary orbit, the tethers can be fairly thin, but must be ultra-long. Over a pole, it’s the opposite. The strain causes a demand for extra strength, but they can hover closer, so the tethers don’t need to be as long.

They arrived in the Proxima system within five months. By then, the Domanians had been suffering their own socio-political issues. Low resources and high waste heat led to raised tensions, and muted morale. Reed now faced the first actual dilemma to come out of this whole thing. Should they rescue the refugees from the southern pole first, or the northern pole? The people on the ground sure had their opinions about it.

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Tangent Point: Trial by Fire (Part II)

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The chaos on the bridge was hard to track for most, but not for Reed. He knew who his people were, which meant, by process of elimination, he could find all of his targets, which they were choosing to call tangentials. He was grateful to Aletha’s special weaponry, which allowed him to fire nearly indiscriminately, knowing that anyone who died would simply wake up in a new body, and anyone stunned would be unconscious for a few hours. The advantage in this surprise attack was that they were all meant to be friends here. No one was wearing special clothing or markers to identify which side they were on. So the tangentials were actually targeting each other, in addition to Reed and his people. They were clocking everyone as a threat, because it could have been anyone. All they saw were guns raised, and that was more than enough reason to shoot now and ask questions later. In the past, that was only a joke, but the tangentials actually would be able to do that here...assuming they won, which they weren’t going to.

As Reed was taking control here, an AI voice was summarizing the progress in other sectors of The Tangent. The plans in those other sectors were developing more smoothly. The tangentials were caught by surprise, and largely unarmed. Members of the security team were scattered about, and they were firing back, but for the most part, Reed’s commandeerers were winning. According to live reports, their biggest hurdle was engineering. Almost all of Reed’s people had been disarmed. The one who called to warn him about it was able to hold her own, but she was pinned down, and alone. Reed ducked behind a console and tried to whisper, “get me more people to engineering. All available units, help secure engineering.”

Annoyingly, someone hiding behind a nearby console heard him. It was the one who recognized Reed despite his advanced age in this body. Reed recognized him right back, though he couldn’t remember his name. “Security!” the guy yelled into his own communicator. “Get to engineering! Don’t let them take engineering!”

“Argh,” Reed complained, shooting the guy in the head, a bit disappointed in himself for feeling satisfaction at that. Now he had to get to engineering himself so he could assume direct responsibility for it. He assumed that the bridge would be the hardest to hold, but that was looking fine for now.

“Seal the bulkheads!” he heard one of his people demand.

Reed got up to survey the scene. It was theirs. The bridge was theirs. Two of the commandeerers were shooting at anyone trying to make it through the entrance while one of them had a gun trained on the Head Architect’s head as he was sitting in the captain’s chair, cowering.

“Seal them now!” Vasily repeated. “Do it!”

“I—I, I, I don’t have authorization,” the architect claimed.

Reed walked over there with authority and presence. “We know that you do. There’s no way you built this thing without being able to control it. It would have been impossible. Just close the doors, and grant me command access.”

“You’ll have to kill me,” the architect spat.

“That can be arranged.” Reed lifted his own weapon, and pointed it at the architect too. The autophaser switched to stun mode. “You’re undigitized.”

“Is there any other way to truly live?” the architect questioned.

Reed lowered his gun and sighed as he looked over at the other gun threatening the architect’s life. “Vasily. Why is your weapon on manual?”

“Because this is serious,” Vasily replied.

“Take it off manual...right now.”

“He needs to know that we’re not playing around. The doors will close, whether he wants them to or not.” Vasily looked back at his target. “Do you want them to?”

“No,” the architect answered, growing bolder.

They heard a stirring on the floor. It was Ajax, who was not only a captain, but the captain of the Tangent.

“Well, he can close them too, can’t he?” Vasily decided.

“Vasily,” Reed warned.

“You’re next if you don’t help us,” Vasily explained, looking down at Ajax, who was starting to stand back up. Then he shot the architect point blank. He was dead now; not backed-up, not set to heal from his wounds, but completely, totally, and permanently dead.

“Vasily!” Reed cried. “What the hell did you just do!”

“What I had to!” Vasily volleyed.

Frustrated, but more afraid of losing control of the situation, Reed lifted his gun again, this time at his own compatriot. He squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened.

Vasily smirked. “Did Aletha not tell you that it also comes with an anti-friendly fire function? We programmed everyone into the system.”

“That was reckless,” Reed argued. “You created an entire manifest of dissidents. If that had leaked, they could have stopped this all before it began.”

“Well, that didn’t happen, and they obviously know who we are now anyway.”

“But only some of us will be trapped on Bungula after the Tangent launches.”

“Who?” Vasily questioned.

Reed pulled out his knife, and unfortunately jammed it into Vasily’s head.

“Why hast thou forsaken me?” Vasily’s dying brain asked as the blood was running down his cheek.

“We’re rebelling against the cowardly government...not me,” Reed answered.

Vasily’s former substrate fell to the floor.

Captain Ajax stepped over the body. “You want the doors sealed, I’ll seal them. Just don’t kill anyone. Enhanced people still feel pain, ya know.” He tapped his code into the chair interface, and closed the doors. “That code will do most of what you need until it expires, but you won’t have full, permanent authorization, and I’m not going to help you get it.” He contorted his jaw, and crunched down. The cyanide foamed in his mouth, and then he fell down on top of Vasily’s previous body.

Already tired, Reed reached down and input the same code that Ajax had, so his personal keylogger could capture it. After the doors reopened, Reed began to step out. He flung the code to one of the door guards so they could control the systems in his absence. “Hold your post, soldier.”

“Aye, captain.”

“And about Vasily...”

“We’re with you, sir,” the other guard insisted. “You did what you had to. Now go take engineering so we can save our friends.”

“For Proxima Doma,” the first guard said.

“For Proxima Doma!” they chanted in unison. “For Proxima Doma! For Proxima Doma!” Their voices trailed off as Reed was jogging away.

He could hear the firefight as he was coming up on the engineering section. He saw movement in the corner of his eye, so he raised his gun once more, but found it to be a couple of friendlies. It apparently didn’t matter whether he had fired, though. Why did Aletha not tell him about that feature? He held his finger to his lips, and gestured for them to step into that hallway closet, and keep a lookout for tangentials. Reed, meanwhile, went on to enter the fray. “Everyone stop firing!” he cried.

To his surprise, they did all stop.

“If I know statistics—and I know statistics—a great number of you don’t agree with the government’s plan to abandon our neighbors on Proxima Doma! You have two choices, whether you agree or not! You can lay down your arms, and help us execute the rescue mission, or you can lay down your arms, and stay behind! But you’re not winning this! We have the bridge, we have elevator control, and we have everything else! We even have the main cafeteria! This platform is not staying in orbit over Bungula!”

“We will not be party to a mutiny!” someone said. She stepped out from behind a power relay block. “I know who you are, Executor Ellis! Stolen valor is a serious offense, and I do not recognize your authority! Hell, I don’t even see you as an executor anymore. The way I see it, you’re just a criminal!”

“We’re sorry to hear that!” Shasta’s voice said behind Reed. He turned to see her walking into the room very slowly and carefully. She was holding some kind of scary glowing device. It was pulsing with energy, and hurting Reed’s ears a little. He had to move away from it. Everyone else seemed to be feeling the same thing. “Back up! Back up!” She ordered as some tried to inch closer, likely hoping to shut whatever this thing was off. “This is called a blueshift bomb! You walk towards it, it starts rupturing your eardrums! You touch it, it goes off! Trust me, you don’t want it to go off!”

Reed wanted to ask her what the hell she was doing, but he couldn’t get close enough to whisper, and they needed to maintain a united front.

Shasta didn’t walk too far into the room before stopping and setting it down on the floor. “I’m obviously protected against its effects, but no one else is! You should know that it’s highly sensitive to microwave radiation! You don’t even have to fire in its direction to set it off, so unless you wanna die, you’ll put your guns on the floor! It doesn’t care if you’re consciousness is streaming, or if it isn’t! It’s not that smart! It is simply reactive! I probably shouldn’t even be raising my voice! Everyone is going to slowly walk around it, careful not to walk towards it, and come out of the room with your hands up!”

The tangentials reluctantly complied, leaving their guns behind, and agreeing to be cuffed and patted down in the corridor. The commandeerers were allowed to keep their guns, of course, but they had to be holstered for safety. The air was tense, and the process was slow, but things were moving forward. They would clear out engineering, and then Shasta would deactivate the bomb so they could place their own people at the workstations, and finally get moving along.

“Screw this!” one of the tangentials suddenly said just before he could make it over the threshold. “I’m streaming.” He took a few sideways leaps towards the bomb before taking one final jump, and diving on top of it.

Someone thought quickly and slammed their hand against the emergency bulkhead button. Shasta thought just as quickly when she pushed Reed through those doors just in time for him to make it through before the doors shut, allowing herself to be trapped inside. The bomb went off with a painful screeching sound, and pounded dents into the inside of the bulkhead. It was even more powerful than he had guessed. In a few seconds, it was over. Shasta was right, you would not want to be in there when that happened. He was angry that she was in there, and that the man who did it to her was just as far away as she was now, tucked away safely in his little respawn chamber.

“Felaine?” Reed asked, looking over at one of his people.

Felaine wasn’t the one who brought the bomb in here, but she was a demolitions expert, so she definitely knew how a blueshift bomb worked. “All of those substrates are dead. Most of the machinery has been destroyed or disabled. The room was flooded with a ton of deadly radiation. We’re not getting back in there anytime soon.”

“Options?”

“There’s an auxiliary engineering section on the port side,” one of the tangential hostages said. “It’s not as robust, but it will get you moving.”

“Don’t help them!” one of the other tangentials urged.

“This is what helping gets you,” Reed countered. He took his knife back out, and cut the engineer’s cuffs. He looked at the freeman. “Take my people to it, and spool up the fusion torches to prepare to escape orbit. I want to leave as soon as the VIPs are out of the atmosphere. We don’t have time for them to get all the way on board.”

“These people?” one of his commandeerers asked.

“Take ‘em to hock,” Reed ordered. He went off to return to the bridge.

He didn’t get very far before someone called for him on comms. “Captain, there’s a problem with the elevator.”

“What problem is that?” he asked.

“News has traveled, one of the VIPs activated the emergency brakes. I physically cannot restart it from here.”

“Can they go back down?” Reed asked.

“If they reengage the motor, I’ll be able to resume control. All they can do is hold and wait, which I think they’re doing so someone can rescue them.”

“We need those VIPs,” Reed reminded everyone. He took a moment to think as he continued walking. “What is the pod’s current altitude, and can we blow the bolts below it and still make it out of the atmosphere?”

“It’s 83 kilometers over the surface,” the elevator tech explained. “Our Plan B set it at 121 so we could blow the 120 bolts. I’m not happy about it, but it’s technically possible right now. I would be happier at 108 kay-em, so I suppose we’re on Plan D at this point.”

“Sir, I’m seeing a shuttle heading for the elevator,” one of his new bridge crewmembers reported once he had returned. “They’ll reach it in under thirty minutes.”

“Blow it,” Reed ordered. “We’ll blow the 80 bolts. We’ll have to figure out how to drag them out from where they are. Just wait for my cue.” He massaged his temples, noticing that his people were all watching. “We always knew that it wasn’t gonna be easy, right? I didn’t know my best friend would sacrifice herself to save me from a blueshift bomb, and get stuck off-site, but we play the cards we’re dealt, and move on.”

“Sir,” the Tangent’s newest communications officer began. “I assume you would like to speak with the VIPs? Ready on your orders.”

“I need you to block all signals from anyone but me.”

“Already done.”

“Open the channel.” Reed paused for a moment. “Passengers on the maiden lift of the Tangent space elevator, my name is Captain Jean Tiberius Adama. We have retaken control of most of the platform, but there are still some systems in enemy hands. Please secure your persons in your seats, and strap all the way in. Your vertical transportation specialist will assist you if needed. You have thirty seconds. This is for your safety. Thank you.” He motioned for her to cut the link.

There was an awkward silence while they waited for the tethers to pop. “Was that a reference, sir?” a new crewmember asked.

“A few references,” he answered. “I needed them to feel safe, but not so safe that they dismissed my orders, and I didn’t want to impersonate a real officer.”

“Tethers are blown sir,” the elevator tech updated.

“Thank you, Sartore. Now that they’re free, start reeling them in. Who cares about the pod brakes?” He took one beat. “Aux engineering, status of the fusion drives.”

“Magnetic containment fields are at 72%.”

“All right, keep going,” Reed began. “I’ll need updates on the other sections. Let’s start with—”

Alarms started to blare. “Sir!” the sensor officer screamed. “I’m detecting a kinetic drone headed right for our starboard fusion torch!”

“How long?” Reed asked.

“Three seconds!”

Before anyone could do anything, there was a massive explosion, and the whole platform lurched. Artificial gravity was disabled, sending everyone on the bridge careening into the portside hull. “We have three more torches!” Reed cried. “They’re gonna blow them too! Burn ‘em! Burn the other three!”

“I can’t get back to propulsion!”

“I got it!” Reed looked over to see Shasta—alive and well—floating towards the propulsion station. She tapped on the console.

This would save their lives. The torches themselves would vaporize the drones, or at the very least, alter their orbital pattern enough so that any other drones would face navigational issues. In the immediate term, however, they were worse off than they were before. Since the magnetic containment field wasn’t fully operational, this was a dirty burn. That was actually beneficial to them. Since the plasma was unfocused, the chances that it would meet the drone went up. But with only three of the four torches burning, the platform was out of balance, and out of control. Even though the burn only lasted a fraction of a second, that was enough to throw them off. They were now relentlessly spinning in a decaying orbit, well on their way to crashing down on the surface of the planet.

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Tangent Point: Lift a Hand to Help (Part I)

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Executor Reed Ellis stood in the back of the room, not afforded a seat. He was of too low a station to be officially part of the discussion. That was not going to stop him from participating, however, whether they liked it or not. He was rolling his eyes as they put forth all of these pointless suggestions for how they could help. They could drop down food and other supplies. They could spearhead cleaning up the orbital debris. All of that was well and good, and they should absolutely do that, but their neighbor’s planet was dying. They didn’t need help on the ground, they needed help getting off of it. The rocket equation was tyrannical. It would be prohibitively expensive to send them rockets, and then attempt to launch the refugees over and over again until they were all up. There was a reason people didn’t really do that anymore. There was a reason Earthans invented space elevators, and why they had become the most common launch method in the stellar neighborhood.

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Enough!”

“Executor Ellis!” The Mediator spat his name out like it was a bad taste in his mouth. “You will wait to be called upon. We recognize that you have been in close contact with the Proxima Domanians, but we all have the data. We all know what they need.”

“Do you?” Reed questioned. He stepped forwards. A security officer took a step too in reaction. “Really, son? Don’t forget your rank.” He kept walking forwards, aware that the officer was still tensed up, and would not hesitate to take him down to protect the diplomats. “We have to get our friends off that world, and we have to go now, because it is going to take weeks just to get there.”

The Mediator stood now. “It is not a viable option. The equator is fully liquefacted now, and no space elevator is designed to operate at a pole.”

Reed shook his head. “Just because it wasn’t designed to work that way, doesn’t mean it can’t do it. The Tangent can handle it. We’re gonna have to keep the fusion torch array affixed to it just to traverse the distance anyway. If you feed them isotopes, the platform will maintain station. It won’t have to do it forever. My people have been running the numbers. With the proper coordination, we can evacuate one pole in only—”

“Executor Ellis!” The Mediator shouted again. “We have read your proposal. The decision has been made. The Tangent will remain where it is, the christening will commence tomorrow, on schedule, and we will provide aid to the Domanians in the best way that we are capable. You were invited to this forum as a courtesy, but you do not have the right to be here. One more outburst from you, and you’re gone.”

Reed stared at him as he stared back. He would actually prefer to leave. This was the committee’s final chance to do the right thing, and it was clear that they were not going to. He would have to take matters into his own hands, so being in this room had become a distraction now. He might as well go big. “You son of a bitch, you can’t just abandon these people!” He lunged—and not even that far—but still, the security officer straight up shot him in the head. What an asshole. Talk about overkill.

Reed woke up in his backup substrate feeling inconvenienced and annoyed, but otherwise all right. His best friend and assistant, Shasta Clifford was there, looking impatient and panicked. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“They put a hold on your respawn,” she began to explain. “They thought you might do something during the ceremony, so they sentenced you to one week deferred reinstantiation.”

Reed flew out of his pod. “It is illegal to make such a sentence in absentia.”

“They’ve gone crazy,” Shasta decided.

“So we’ve missed our window,” he assumed.

She shook her head. “No. I figured, if we were going to stage a mutiny, breaking someone out of blackout hock would be the least illegal thing we did. The ceremony is starting soon, if it hasn’t already.”

He shook his head now. “There’s no time. I need to talk to our people. We need to make plans.”

“Everyone is already in place,” she assured him. “They know the plan. We’ve been talking, and we all understand what’s at stake, and what you need from us. We’re ready to go, Executor. We just need to get you on that bridge.”

“There’s no time to make it. I can’t get up to the Tangent with enough time to execute the plan. I would have to be on the maiden lift, and there’s no way security is letting me through if I’m meant to be in the buffer.”

Shasta smirked. “You think you’re on Bungula right now?” She opened the door. On the other side of the hallway was a viewport showing outer space. “We’re not even that far from our destination, in super-synchronous orbit with the Tangent. A shuttle is waiting for you to make the intercept.”

If they were in super-synchronous orbit with the Tangent, it meant that Shasta had activated the terminal in a scrapper, which was made to wander around in a graveyard orbit, reclaiming plausibly reusable components from dead satellites. He only put an extra body up here in case he ever needed to bug out from Bungula, or even Rigil Kentaurus entirely. “This is, like, my eleventh back-up terminal.”

“And the one that made the most sense, given our constraints,” Shasta said. “Still, we gotta get going.”

“Okay.” He started to bounce on the balls of his feet. “I just need to do my acclimation exercises.” He stretched, and cracked his knuckles and neck. It was proving to be a little difficult, so he checked the mirror. He massaged his chin and cheeks. “There was something wrong with the stasis field. This body is agèd.”

She was waiting for him impatiently. “It makes you look distinguished and regal, and maybe anyone who knows you’re not supposed to be there won’t recognize you. Now let’s go!”

They walked briskly down the corridor. Reed occasionally tipped over, and had to catch himself on the wall, but he didn’t stop. There was no one else here because material salvage was a fully automated task. At the end of their journey, they did meet a bearded man, who reached out. “Hello, I’m Trilby, and I’ll be your pilot today.”

Reed looked uncomfortably at Shasta.

“Oh, don’t you worry, sir,” Trilby went on. “I have no allegiances, and I am no friend to the Bungulan government. I don’t care what you’re doing, and will never have any reason to rat you out. I just push the autopilot button and keep my head down.”

“We’re only trusting him to get us there,” Shasta explained to Reed.

Trilby picked up on Reed’s sustained trepidation. “Look, if you wanna dock with the planet’s newest space elevator platform without being captured on the sensors, you’re gonna need me. I know how to spoof our signature so we just look like a hull maintenance drone coming in for a charge.” He stepped to the side so they could see into the shuttle. “That’s why this thing is so small. It only fits two, so I hope there’s no sexual tension between you two, because it’s gonna be a tight squeeze.”

There wasn’t, which was actually what made it so awkward. Reed saw Shasta like a daughter, and she saw him as a father figure. It was weird to have her sitting on his lap, but it only took an hour, so they survived it. “Where are you going to go now?” Reed asked Trilby once they were in the maintenance bay, and out of the shuttle.

“I actually do need to charge up to make it to my next run, so I’m gonna sip some power from this very spot.”

Reed was still nervous to trust someone who wasn’t already a part of the plan, but this guy needed to understand why he couldn’t hang around too long. “You need to go now. This station isn’t staying where it is. That’s...sort of the point.”

Trilby winked, clicked his tongue, and pointed finger guns at Reed. “Gotcha. I’ll be gone before you know it. Oh, one more thing,” he added as he was reaching to the other side of his seat. “I was told to hand you this.”

It was a standard operational uniform, except there was something different about it. The signifiers were all wrong. “No, this isn’t mine. I’m only an Exec—”

“That’s what my ground contact gave me.” He pushed the button to make the hatch close. “Have fun with your insurrection, or whatever...Captain!” the hatch closed.

“Was this your idea?” Reed asked Shasta.

“No,” she replied, “but I agree with it. The Tangent must be led by a captain.”

“You can’t just declare a promotion, Shasta.”

“Frock that, of course you can. There’s historical precedent. It’s called a brevet.”

He was shaking his head, very uncomfortable with this.

“I was wrong, what I said before,” Shasta began. “Breaking you out of blackout hock isn’t the least illegal thing we’re doing today. This uniform violation is. So put it on, get to your station, and let’s do this thing! For Proxima Doma!”

He sighed, and echoed, “for Proxima Doma.” They had only been planning this takeover for about a week, but that phrase had sort of become their group chant. And that was really what this was all about. They had an obligation to rescue their neighbors, and if that meant masquerading as someone with a higher rank, then that was what it took. He was going to be court martialed either way. What was one more charge? He dressed himself in his new uniform, and they headed out.

They didn’t go straight to the bridge. They had to make one stop first. This was the main armory of the platform, but it was not busy at all. War was a thing of the past. They maintained a military and ranking system for efficient organization and coordination. They kept it for the structure. But people did not walk around with guns anymore. The integrated multipurpose suits that most people wore regularly were not designed with weapons. In fact if you wanted to carry one, it had to include a special utility adapter since the IMS didn’t even come with holsters. Captains often didn’t wear IMS units. It wasn’t required not to, but many wanted to give the impression of fearlessness and steadfastness. They would go down with the ship, if it came to that. Though, to be fair, their minds were probably streaming to a safe back-up anyway, so it didn’t matter. The advantage it gave Reed today was that it was easier to conceal a weapon within the loose fabric of traditional clothing.

The weapons officer was on their side, and unlike Trilby, Reed could personally vouch for her. She removed the gun from its holster, and presented it to him. She wasn’t being patronizing. He hadn’t ever seen this model before, and while he passed the requisite marksmanship tests just fine, he wasn’t very experienced in firearms. “This is an autophasing maser gun. You can toggle it between stun and kill, but that is not recommended, and if you do that, it will be logged. Even if you don’t actually fire the weapon, simply switching on manual mode will send a report to the relevant ranking officials, which I guess is you now.” She eyed his new signifiers.

Reed looked down at himself. “These are just temporary.”

“Right.” She went on, “when autophasing is active, it will assess a target, and determine their substrate status. If the individual has a quantum consciousness backup stream, it will gladly just kill them.”

“I experienced that yesterday,” Reed said.

“Yes, we remember. To be blunt, sir, that was foolish. It made our infiltration much harder.”

“Aletha, know your place,” Shasta scolded.

“No, it’s fine, I want honesty,” Reed contended. He turned back to Aletha. “I regret it. I was just trying to get out of that room, and dying felt like the fastest way.”

Aletha nodded. “If the individual is not streaming, it will automatically switch the setting to stun mode. That’s why manual mode is not recommended, because you don’t know whether the person you’re targeting will come back or not. Now, they are developing eyewear that will show you the substrate data, so you can make an informed decision on the fly, but they are having syncing issues since it is very possible to point the gun at one target, and be looking at another.”

“Okay,” Reed said. “Just so I can be completely careful, does it have a decoherence setting?” Decoherence weapons were mostly illegal mostly everywhere. If your consciousness was streaming to a back-up, or multiple back-ups, decoherence would be able to disrupt those signals, and prevent reinstantiation, possibly even permanently. In a civilization with ubiquitous and fairly easy mind uploading, this was a way to bring back the true death. A sophisticated enough decoherence transmitter could destroy all signals and all back-ups.

Aletha stared at him blankly. “This doesn’t have that feature. I do have access to weapons that do. It would require executive clearance, but I could probably subvert that.”

“No. I’m asking because I don’t want it, not because I do,” he clarified. “I wouldn’t want to do it accidentally.”

“That’s not a concern,” Aletha promised. She reholstered the gun, and handed it to him. She handed another to Shasta. “The rest of our people are armed with their own already. When you leave, I will be locking this room down so no one else can arm up.” She gestured to the lockers behind her. “So if you see anything else you like, you’ll need to check it out now.”

Reed scanned the lockers for anything that might be of use to their cause, and would not be unethical to employ. “I think we’re set. Thank you for this, Aletha. It will not make your life easier.”

“For Proxima Doma,” Aletha declared.

“For Proxima Doma,” he echoed again.

“I’m going to use the range in the back for target practice,” Shasta told him as he was leaving. “I shouldn’t join you on the bridge anyway. I would just make you more recognizable.”

“Very well, Shasta. I’ll see you on the other side.” He left.

When Reed stepped onto the bridge, he found himself in good company. While the Tangent did have its own captain, a lot of people here were captains themselves, visiting from their respective vessels, here to celebrate the accomplishment. He blended right in, and no one was paying much attention to who he was, or whether he belonged there. The Head Architect of the platform was on a little circular stage that likely wasn’t usually there, though Reed didn’t know much about it. The Tangent was of a unique design, so the general shape of the bridge was already different than what he was used to. The architect was going through their spiel, talking about how this was a passion project of theirs, and how proud they were to see it finally come to fruition. The hologram next to them was showing the interior feed of the elevator pod, where all of the diplomats and dignitaries were sitting for the first trip. Some were gazing out the window. Others were chatting with each other inaudibly. A few seemed to be busy conducting business.

The trip was going to take a while. They were traveling at express speeds, but still needed to cross tens of thousands of kilometers, so it was never going to be instantaneous. Reed consulted his watch. They were waiting to begin the takeover until after the pod passed out of the planet’s atmosphere. If all went according to plan, they would sever the tethers just under the pod, and let them drift down to the surface. The pod, meanwhile, would be stuck with the Tangent, and when they commandeered the platform, all of those very important people could serve as hostages. It wasn’t going to be pretty or nice, but he wasn’t going to hurt anyone; not permanently, anyway. He just needed the authorities to think that he would, so they wouldn’t blow them out of the sky.

“Boss,” came the whispering voice of one of his compatriots through his earpiece. “Clear your throat if you can hear me, but you are in mixed company.”

Reed cleared his throat.

“There is a problem in engineering. I’m hiding behind a coolant tank, but the others have been caught. I’m blocking all outgoing transmissions except for mine, but they are about to send someone out of range, and call for help. What do we do?” This was too early. They weren’t ready yet. That elevator pod absolutely had to come with them. There were some rather important people here already, but the ceremonial travelers were vital to counteract the fact that they were slower than everyone else. If a Teaguardian got in the fight, without leverage, it would be over in seconds.

Reed quietly separated himself, and found a humming auxiliary power monitoring station to sort of dampen his voice. “Lift control, are you in position?” He heard a long beep, a short beep, another long beep, and another short beep. That meant yes. “Okay,” Reed replied. “Your job has become more important than ever. Take control. Take it now. Don’t let that pod stop or reverse. We have to move up the timetable, so—”

“Hey!” someone shouted on the bridge. “Hey, he’s not supposed to be here! Yeah, you, Ellis! You’re not a captain!”

“Everyone execute your directives!” Reed ordered hurriedly. “Go now! Go! Take the platform!”

The fight began.

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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 2601: Renata Breaks Through Her Chrysalis and Emerges Anew

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Renata breaks through her chrysalis and emerges anew. She falls onto the floor, some gunk falling out with her. She’s not slimy, but she’s not entirely clean either. The light. The light is too much. “Turn it off. Please.”

“Lights to eleven percent,” Hrockas commands.

Quidel bends over, but stops. “Do you...do you want me to help, or not touch you, or...?”

“Help would be nice,” Renata agrees, holding her hand up so Quidel can take it, and lift her onto her feet.

While they’re doing that, Azad is opening a drawer, and pulling out a towel. He tosses it to her so she can start wiping off the pilly gunk.

“Mirror?” she requests.

“Mirror,” Hrockas echoes.

One of the wall panels transitions from an opaque white to something more reflective. Renata pivots over to it to get a better look at herself. She doesn’t look extremely unlike she did before, but she’s definitely in a new body. It’s weird, seeing this stranger move exactly as she does. It’s going to take some getting used to.

“I don’t understand,” Quidel admits.

“We realized that the emergent bomb—as I decided to call it,” Renata begins, “was a product of my body, not my mind. So they uploaded my consciousness to a central server, and sent a lifeless husk up into outer space where it could do no harm when it exploded.”

“I sent it up there,” Azad clarifies. “I teleported as far as I could, above the ecliptic plane.” Funny, he doesn’t seem like the type of brag.

“I appreciate it,” Renata says to him.

“No, I surmised that much,” Quidel says. “I just mean, what is this thing? It’s not an artificial gestation tank, nor an egg sac.”

“I didn’t have any DNA,” Renata goes on. “My substrate was bioprinted, which is only now becoming viable for more organic bodies. I decided that I didn’t need to look exactly as I did, but I also didn’t just want some randomly generated genetic base.”

“This is highly experimental technology,” Hrockas goes on for her. “Synthetic Production Dome has been working on it for decades. It’s a bit over my head, but it basically assembles an organic substrate based on a consciousness entity’s intentional but abstract desires. It takes your dream, and turns it into reality. It’s still DNA, but driven by intuition, rather than puzzle-piece gene splicing.”

“I agreed to be their guinea pig for the first prototype, and so far, it’s working out for me.” She drops her towel, and admires herself again. She tries to lift her breasts, but they don’t have far to go. Naturally perky this time. She didn’t even know she wanted that. She didn’t have to consciously think about every single trait. The special intelligence who was scanning her IDcode knew what she was looking for, and probably used some kind of algorithm to fill in any blanks.

“Well, we’re glad to have you back, soldier,” Lycander says to her with a tight nod.

Via the mirror, Renata notices Quidel frowning. “Qui? Are you disturbed by this?”

“No,” he assures her. “I just...I really liked the old you.”

“She can always return to her original likeness,” Hrockas promises. “While her synthetic variant neither had, nor needed, genes, we can recreate it using the usual cloning processes. Miss Granger, I’ll send you the file, so you can do whatever you want. You’re one of us now. You can wear a new body every week, if you like.”

“I probably won’t do that, but I don’t mind having the option.” She sees that Quidel still isn’t convinced. “You’re still disappointed?”

“I’m sorry. I know that it’s you, and you are you, whatever you look like. I just...people have a different way of looking at things. When they developed cloning and bioprinting technology, some chose to make themselves into entirely different beings. Animals belong to a not unpopular niche. But I...I just always wanna look like me. I’m not religious about it, but I feel more attached to my identity than how others feel. I know, I’m projecting my sentiment onto you—”

She shut him up with a passionate kiss. It feels totally natural to her, naked amongst these three men, and kissing one of them. It shouldn’t. Her implanted memories are telling her that this is too private a moment. She should be dressed, and the two of them should be alone. But she doesn’t think things are like that anymore. The hang-ups that she was programmed to have are outdated, and likely bizarre to those living out there in the real world. This is fine. It’s fine. No one else seems uncomfortable. She lets go.

Quidel catches his breath. “Yeah, I guess I could get used to it.”

She smiles. “All right, show’s over. I need a shower, and some new clothes.”

“Shower, clothes,” Hrockas commanded.

What she thought was only a column rotates open, revealing a shower. Meanwhile, a wardrobe materializes from the wall, and opens automatically, giving her some options. It will take her some time to choose the right outfit to wear to her debut. She doesn’t know what she looks good in anymore. She doesn’t even know what her best colors are. She starts heading for the shower, and the men start heading for the door. Renata places a cheek against her shoulder and says, “wait.” She takes a beat before twisting her hip to look Quidel in the eye. “You look like you could use a shower too.”

He smiles warmly. “Maybe we wait on that.” Such a good guy.

“Maybe I’ve been waiting long enough.” She turns back around, and continues towards the shower. “Your call.”