The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 21, 2565

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Things were awkward and tense on Ramosus, though it was no one’s fault. It wasn’t even Romana’s, though she definitely felt like it was. They were in a holding pattern. Ramses believed he had successfully cleared all the corruption in her by flushing her system of all foreign bodies, but they still weren’t going on missions, even though they received two pings from the alert system. They were all saying it was because they were burnt out, but they just wanted to stay and support Romana. Yet that was exactly what she didn’t want. She didn’t want to be coddled or protected, because it just made her feel worse. She clearly had other things on her mind anyway.

Romana was brushing off their concern. She seemed to be more worried about Boyd at this point, which was fine. Mateo would be fine. Ramses had a lot of data on who he really was, and what separated him from any data corruption. Boyd, on the other hand, was a threat—to them, and to himself. She wasn’t even allowed to talk to him.

Mateo was in her room now to check on her. “Hey. I’m not gonna ask you how you’re doing.” He coolly sat down on her bed next to her. “Instead I’ll say...what’s up?”

“We have already talked,” Romana said. “We do not need to go over it all again.”

“That’s why I asked that question,” he pointed out. “You decide on the topic.”

“I wanna talk about those outstanding pings,” Romana decided. “You should go.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Mateo insisted. “Before you say anything, I know you don’t need to be cared for like a little baby, but I think you need to be distracted, and it’s easier to do that if the distraction is being created and controlled by someone else. If you spend all day dwelling on what happened—even unintentionally—it will eat away at you. You run the risk of it becoming part of your personality. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Guilt and regret are facts of life,” she responded. “They serve a necessary function. They prevent future potential mistakes. I don’t wanna dwell, but I don’t wanna forget either. I’m going to spend the appropriate amount of time reflecting on it.”

“I respect that,” Mateo admitted. “And if you really don’t want to do something with me, like play a boardgame, I won’t force it. But I still need to be here as an option, not off on some colony, helping aliens decide where to plant their grapes, or whatever.”

“Someone should respond to the pings,” Romana reasoned. “It might not be the problem of low-stakes garden design. It could be really serious.”

“No, that’s the actual problem,” Mateo explained. “It’s a grape conflict. They don’t know which side of the river is the best, and don’t have time to observe the seasons.”

“Why would the system flag that?” Romana questioned. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Because the computer calculated a high probability of it leading to what will initially appear to be a compromise by planting on both sides. But this grape species is high maintenance, so they will have to live in two separate communities. Years from now, the computer thinks it will start a war. It has apparently run a lot of simulations.”

Romana was annoyed. “So you should go. Why are we arguing about this?”

“That could take decades,” Mateo dismissed. “They will still be there a few days from now. I’m staying here. Again, we don’t have to do anything, but I’m not leaving.”

She sighed. “Yes, you are.” She reached up and slapped the back of his neck.

It stung. He tried to pull it out, but whatever it was burrowed into his skin.

“Boyd helped me build that. You won’t be able to return to Ramosus until you’ve completed whatever task you went there to do. This is my decision as navigator.”

He teleported into the on-base slingdrive, which powered up on its own, and sent him away, along with Ramses and Angela. A second trip took the other three.

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Extremus: Year 137

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Sable knows that she needs to get back into the mix, and try to figure out how to get Waldemar to marry her. It’s time to fix what he’s broken, and the only way to do that apparently is to act like a friend. She’s just still in a funk, though, due to what happened last year. She has been free from her time loop for months, but it’s still a part of her. She spent entirely too long willingly reliving the same day over and over again. The truth is that she was tired of it long before she put an end to it, but it became part of her routine. It gave her a sick sense of comfort, always knowing exactly what was going to happen, even though it was bad. But she eventually ended it anyway. It was time.

“Thank you for confiding in me,” Silveon says after refilling her tea.

“Well, you were honest about your time travel adventures, I figured it was only right that I do the same,” Sable responds.

“What of the woman—the one who can see across timelines—is she still dead?”

“She’s alive,” Sable explains. “Had I broken the loop after killing her, that would have been it, but I kept going, so she’s fine.”

“Are you sure that she’s fine? Have you talked to her since? She might be traumatized by the experience,” Silveon explains, in the same voice that he uses to condescend to Waldemar. Is that what he thinks? Does he think she’s a psychopath too?

“I saw her a few times in the loops, and a few times since I ended it. During the loops, she remembered that I was going to kill her, but she didn’t remember the death itself. Now she doesn’t even remember most of the loops, and definitely not her death. She only remembers the last one. We have not talked about it, though.”

“Do you think what you did was okay?” he presses. “Do you feel good about it?

“Look, I know you have your moral high ground, and I respect that, but I was going through something while my mother was dying, and acting out. I knew that the timeline woman would survive. You think I tested it on an innocent person first? I was angry and grieving. And don’t start talking about your own parents, and how you never did anything like this. You and I wired differently. I’m wired to push boundaries, and experiment. You are solely focused on the mission. Which I think means we complement each other. Don’t you forget that I helped you. I took you to Verdemus, and let you be present at Audrey Husk’s memorial. So I don’t need your judg—”

“I’m not trying to judge you, Sable, but I do want you to try to learn from your mistakes. I have. I have flaws. I try to look for them, and fix them. You seem to treat life as the warm-up to something else. Even before you could rewind time, you always acted like there weren’t any consequences. Do you regret anything? Anything at all?”

“Of course I have regrets. But I don’t like to dwell on them, because you have to move forward, you know? What I was trying to get to, before we got off on this tangent, is that I’m going to marry him. You two have grown apart. We need someone back in his good graces. I was going to do this on my own, but since I’m the one who asked to be your partner, I figured I would bring you in first. Do you object to this move?”

“Not inherently, no. You’re a lot older than you were before. But again, you’re acting like if you want something to happen, it’s just going to happen. Have you asked him? Have you two discussed it? Have you considered the possibility that he’ll say no?”

“Not really. Have you seen my boobs?” Sable pulls her shirt down a bit.

“No, thank you, though I see where you’re coming from. But it’s no guarantee.”

“Well, what would you propose instead?” Sable asks.

“I think you should start over with him, forming essentially a new relationship.”

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Microstory 2718: Whatever it Takes

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Isavet has been allowed visitors, but she hasn’t allowed anyone in. She said what she wanted to say to her family, and heard what she wanted to hear from them. She may see them again one day, but she might not. Until then, she wants to be alone. That is evidently not an option this time. The so-called owner of the entire planet is here. He wants to speak with her personally, which sounds incredibly ridiculous to her. She has to remember, though, that genuine murder is all but impossible these days, out here in the real world. The fact that she attempted it probably shook everyone to their core, so it makes some sense that he would want to meet the killer.

“May I sit?” a man named Hrockas Steward asks. He’s flanked by his personal bodyguard, Azad Petit, who is the one who warned the family about Talus’ indiscretions.

“It’s all yours, sir,” Isavet replies. The way she sees it, the sentence has been handed down. She’s going to the same place where her brother is. She doesn’t have to pretend to be unhinged anymore. She can be polite and cordial.

While Azad remains a statue next to him, Hrockas sits and adjusts his outfit. “Has anyone ever explained to you where you’re going in terms that you understand?”

“A friend of mine told me about Varkas Reflex,” Isavet begins, referring to Caleb. “It’s not like a regular prison. For most people, only their minds are there. They convert your thoughts and memories into tiny flashes of light, and throw your body away.”

Hrockas smiles, and doesn’t quite chuckle, but he clearly wants to. “That’s one way to put it. If you choose the right simulations, you will one day understand it even better. And I do hope you do that. I know that Danmörk speaks to you, but there is so much more out there, and you can have it all without moving a centimeter. Miss Truett, you’re special. That body you’re in right now is the only one you have ever had. It is for that reason that it is illegal for anyone to destroy it. Even if your mind is safely uploaded to a server, it just can’t be done. So where you’re going, you get to keep it.”

“Yes, my friend told me about that too, before the lawspeaker explained.”

Hrockas nods and leans forward. “On the planet in question, there are very few people in quarantine. It’s just not something that needs to be done. The majority of the population are there for recreation. It’s not unlike Castlebourne, except you the world can be anything you want, even if it would break the laws of physics. Honestly, it’s technically better than what we have. One day, my planet will be shut down. It’s cool, doing all these things in base reality, but it’s not gonna last forever. In millions of years, the idea of having a physical body at all will probably seem quaint. Until then, if you want your pick of VR, you go to Varkas Reflex. The initials are a very lucky coincidence.

“Anyway, the quarantine zone, as you might imagine, is far separated from everyone else, and it’s quite small. They anticipated a few guests such as yourself and your brother, but not many. My primary adjudicator has a particular affinity for it. There actually are still physical penal colonies for those who have also not been digitized. She almost sent you to one of those. I’m glad she chose otherwise.”

“Sir?” Isavet asks. Why would he care where she goes?

Hrockas leans forward even more. “I know what your plan is.”

“Sir?” she repeats.

“You are not as opaque as you believe. Don’t worry,” Hrockas assures her, “I don’t think your family sees it. They’re young. They don’t know what life was like when we had scarcity. They tend to see the best in people. I’ve seen the darkness. I see it in you. And you’re smarter than they give you credit for. I know you knew what would happen when you killed that couple. I know you wanted to get sent to Varkas Reflex, and I know why.”

“I just want to pay for my transgressions,” Isavet lies.

He doesn’t hold back a laugh this time. “The Viking boy must have told you a lot about virtual quarantine. When you go there, you will not be in the same room as the younger Talus. You will not see him unless I let you. I’ve made quite a name for myself in this galaxy, so I have friends. I can give you what you need to do what you are hoping to do, but in exchange, I’m going to need something from you.”

Oh, there it is. “And what’s that?” Isavet asks.

Hrockas turns his head towards his bodyguard, but doesn’t actually look up at him. “Plausible deniability.”

“Sir,” Azad protests.

“I’m backed up. Go,” Hrockas insists.

Azad clears his throat, and looks at Isavet. “I have a license to kill. I’ll need it to fight in the war that’s coming, but I’ll use it now if you give me a reason, even if he survives anyway. So think about that before you do something stupid.” He disappears.

Isavet is so shocked. Are they already in the mind prison, or is there more going on with this world than she understands?

Hrockas turns back at her. “You and Talus Junior are not the only people in quarantine. Most of the people, I don’t care about, but there is one which threatens every living being in the universe. She’s smart. She was born in a virtual world, and she is incredibly patient. She will find a way to break out one day. What I need you to do is break out first. You can kill your brother, but I need you to kill this other entity as well. It won’t be easy, but I can give you the tools. Are you up for it?”

“This feels like a trick; like you’re waiting for me to confess to my intentions so you have a reason to imprison me somewhere else,” Isavet worries.

“I own the planet. If I want something to happen, it does. I don’t need a reason. This is real. You don’t have to admit to anything. Just submit to a simple procedure.”

“What kind of procedure would this be?”

“An undetectable implant in your brain,” he answers. “When you’re digitized, you become code, and killing code isn’t easy, but it is possible. With a zero blade.”

Isavet leans back and eyes this strange little man. She has met many strong and powerful men in her day, but none who owns a planet. Everyone she has talked to about him says he does. That obviously doesn’t mean he can be trusted, but he should definitely be respected. Even if there is only a remote chance that he’s being truthful, she has to say yes. She always knew that she might need help. Caleb acknowledged only knowing so much about the prison. “Okay. Show me.”

Hrockas snaps his fingers, and they’re suddenly in a different room. A doctor there named Telman explains the procedure. He can cut into her brain, insert a hidden, dormant little bead, then seal it back up like magic. It sounds crazy, but necessary, and Hrockas says it will help her with Talus too. As long as it gets her what she needs too, she’ll do anything he wants, or anyone else for that matter. So she lies back in the chair, and accepts whatever weird thing they’re going to put in her head. She’s not scared. She and pain go way back. After she’s settled, she breathes deeply. “Do it.”

Microstory 2712: First Things First

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Isavet doesn’t know how many people from other worlds have come to this one to pretend to be real Norsemen, as she is. Either her parents don’t know, or chose not to tell her. She remembers asking questions when she was younger, but then real life took over, and it didn’t seem relevant anymore. She did sometimes listen to the two of them when they would have their private conversations about it. She was a terribly curious little girl. Now that she’s older, she has decided, however, that only one thing out there interests her, and she is not yet ready for it. This is her home, and she will fight for it, even if it doesn’t matter to everyone. Like this guy, Caleb. What kind of name is Caleb?

“I don’t know what kind of name it is,” Caleb answers. “It’s my real name.”

“Maybe we could go somewhere a little more private to talk?” Isavet suggests.

Caleb looks over at his mercenaries. “Nah, that won’t be necessary. I’m the only visitor here, and when you talk about things they don’t understand, they’re programmed to just ignore it. They’ll say something like, I wouldn’t know anything about that, and just move on from there. Have you not interacted very much with the NPCs?”

Isavet flinches. She’s heard that term before. She doesn’t know what it stands for, but it doesn’t sound very nice. She also doesn’t want to get into this. “Look, I was born here. I don’t care where you’re from, or what lies beyond the walls. This is where I belong. Now I’m looking for someone to train me. I didn’t know I would run into someone like you. If I have to move on, I will. Just tell me before I waste my time.”

“No, it’s okay,” Caleb says. “You looked like you were immersive, but I didn’t know that you were full native. Let’s have some lunch and talk about what you need.”

He respects her wishes, and doesn’t push it. She must admit, she is glad that he’s just a normal person. He’s not following any sort of programming, as her father would call it. She doesn’t have to prove herself further. He’s just going to help. Caleb didn’t come in here with meaningful knowledge of Isavet’s culture, or any sort of training. It sounds like he woke up one day and simply decided to give it a try. He has been here for the last seven years. That is what she never understood about her parents, who have been here even longer. What kind of life must they be leading where they can simply take a break for decades to lead an entirely different life? No, she doesn’t care about that. One day, she will venture through the gates and complete her final mission, but she will have to wait. She will have to protect the family she has here first.

Caleb gives her some options for who might be able to teach her how to fight better than what she learned from watching her father and Vith. This is where one of those so-called NPCs comes in handy, because none of her family members grew up like this, so their training honestly can’t be trusted. If one of these men has simply been magically given the skills that she needs, then they might be the best tools for her to receive them herself, since she can’t experience the same magic.

As it turns out, Hamarr, who all but attacked her when she arrived, is one of the candidates from which she can choose. She selects him for the irony, and because she takes the blood bond they formed seriously. They don’t waste any time. They get right into it after lunch. They start...with chores. She’s annoyed at it, but very experienced, and she’s going to respect their ways. Hamarr says that with his wound, he cannot chop wood, so she has to do it for him. Caleb doesn’t contradict the claim. So she agrees, but she will only do this to a point. If she finds out they are only using her, they will regret it.

Tangent Point: Reads Like Science Fiction (Part VI)

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Breanna Jeffries didn’t want to tell Reed about the man in the photo, but he didn’t actually need her to say anything. He asked his AI, Thistle instead, who informed him that the man was still on board, and also where to find him. His daughter had recently given birth to a baby girl, and while most of the evacuees were gone, she had chosen to stay here. The child had already been through so much, they wanted her to wake up every day with some level of familiarity and comfort. The doctor who delivered it eventually evacuated from Proxima Doma as well, and was still here too. She asked the mother if she could continue to look after the baby, and the mother agreed. “You said there was something weird about the birth?” Reed asked this doctor.

Dr. Duward looked almost paranoid. “You understand that most kids being born these days gestate in artificial tanks, right?”

“I do.”

“That’s because giving birth kinda sucks,” Dr. Duward explained the obvious. “Proxima Doma has—I’m sorry, had—more live births than anywhere in the galaxy, which is why I still have a job. I’ve been doing it for 550 years now. If you’re trying to do that math, I was twelve years old when I had to deliver my older sister’s baby. Mama was drunk, daddy was at work, and I was in charge. Since then, I have successfully welcomed over 100,000 new human beings into this universe. Every single one of the mothers was in pain, whether we gave them drugs or not. Granted, traditional births are my specialty. Nanomedicine can make even live births painless, but that’s just not what I do. They come to me because they don’t want that. This woman, Aeterna refused any sort of pain relief. She refused an IV; everything. The baby just slipped out. She came in to inform us that her water broke, and it was time, then she crawled in bed, and let it out. No struggle, no contractions, barely any labor time. It started, and it was done. We have some impressive transhumans in the galaxy, but I’ve never seen anything like her.”

“How’s the baby?”

“Little Dilara is fine,” Dr. Duward replied. “We performed the very basic tests, and followed procedure, but didn’t have to provide any unusual treatments. She cried a little bit but stopped quickly. I hesitate to say this, but it was almost like she was putting on a show...like she knew we expected her to cry, but after that, she quieted down and just lay there against her mother’s chest.”

“Who else have you told about this?” Reed presses.

“No one,” Dr. Duward answers. “Like I said, she came in so quick, the only people there were me and my nurse. And she won’t tell anyone unless I order her to.”

“No bots need their memories erased?” he suggested.

“We didn’t use bots down there. Traditional births, remember?”

“Right. Well, I need this family on my side, so keep it to yourself. In fact, if you could just move on and pretend like it never happened, that would be for the best.”

“This sounds important to you,” she noted.

He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I want the quantum signature for New Earth.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Reed replied honestly.

“I gave a consultation to a Teaguardian a few weeks ago, and overheard them talking about it. They’re about to go on assignment there, and are actually happy that you delayed their departure. It’s very hush-hush, but they said it was 121 light years away. They’ll have to give it a huge berth because I think it’s a protected human preserve. No advanced interference. It sounds like it’s basically a base reality ancestor simulation. They’ll need a good OB/GYN.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have access to that. I’m just a Bungulan captain.”

“I suggest you find it,” the doctor said. She was not who he thought she was just a moment ago when they first met.

“I don’t like being blackmailed.”

“I don’t like being ripped from my home, but things happen.”

Reed nodded. “I’ll get you to this New Earth place, but I need to speak with the family first.”

“Go right ahead.” Dr. Duward stepped off to the side.

Reed walked down the hallway, and rang the doorbell.

A man quickly opened it. “Hey. They’re both sleeping,” he hissed.

“That’s not what the door indicator says.” Reed pointed at the indicator tube, which lit up for different conditions, such as sleeping, emergency, or unoccupied.

“I don’t know how that stuff works,” the guy said. He looked back to make sure that mother and baby weren’t awakened, then slipped out of the room, and closed the door behind him. “Can I help you?”

“First of all, I’m Captain Reed Ellis—”

“I know who you are, I’m not impressed. What do you want?”

“The Vellani Ambassador. You seem to be a crewmember of it. Tertius Valerius?”

“Not really anymore, why?” Tertius questioned.

“There are whispers that it can travel faster than light,” Reed said.

Tertius folded his arms. “Lots of ships can do that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say lots. It seems to only be Teaguardians, and yours. Do you work for Teagarden?”

Tertius snorted. “No. The Ambassador is a stateless vessel. Well, I think it technically flies the Castlebourne flag now, but that’s more of a matter of logistics.”

“Well, anyway. You are aware of the circumstances of the Tangent, aren’t you? I commandeered it.”

“I know.”

“Your daughter bene—”

Tertius waved his hand dismissively to interrupt Reed again. “Don’t play on my sentimentality. Just spit it out.”

“As of today, we’re maybe one-third of the way through our rescue efforts,” Reed continued. “Months from now, when it’s over, and the last evacuee is safely off the platform, I have promised to release the hostages, and forgo my leverage. What I have not promised is to return the Tangent and turn myself in. My crew hasn’t done that either, and I don’t want them to have to. I don’t know where we would go, but if we try to run with what we’ve got, they’ll catch us. I don’t want to hold hostages past the rescue. I certainly don’t want to hold them forever. I don’t want to condemn my people to decades of prison either, though. You have no obligation to do anything for us. If you refuse, you and your family can stay as long as you want, or leave whenever you want. You are in no way hostages. I’m asking you with my tail between my legs, and my hat in hand, will you help?”

Tertius stared at Reed, presumably in thought. “Over a hundred years ago, the brightest minds in history you’ve never heard of held a meeting. It was called The Edge. They had developed certain advanced technologies, and limited their use to a select few who needed it. I won’t get into who these inventors were, or anything about our subculture, but the year 2400 marked the end of that exclusivity. It was inevitable that the general population would uncover the truths. So these inventors agreed to hand out some of these technologies to some others, in some ways. Don’t ask me for details, anything I happen to know about The Edge is still not common knowledge. What I’ll tell you, however, is that The Vellani Ambassador operates under a special form of FTL that was not a part of any agreement, with Teagarden, or anyone else. That will probably never be made public. It’s too powerful, it’s too dangerous, and it has some serious theoretical applications that could quite literally destroy the universe. The reframe engine, however, is a different story. That is what the Teaguardians use. It caps out at 707c. That’s a fundamental physical limitation of the mechanism, and there’s no going beyond it.”

“Okay. I’m not picky. Even simply being on par with them would be useful.”

“Well, I’m not an engineer, I don’t know how to build a reframe engine. The way I understand it, it’s only half of the equation. In order to reach maximum reframe, you have to already be able to reach maximum sublight. Can the Tangent do that?”

Reed sighed. “It can’t. It uses classical fusion, not antimatter.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Tertius said. “Let me put it this way, if this thing were moving at its maximum speed, and traveled one light year, how long would it feel like on the ship?”

Reed tapped on his wrist device to make the calculation. “About 1.73 years, but it would take two years in realtime.”

Tertius nodded. “If someone smarter than me installed a reframe engine, it would take you 1.73 years. That’s what you would experience, and that’s how much time would pass for everyone not on the ship. That’s what the reframe engine does. It makes those two numbers the same. It doesn’t just arbitrarily go fast. You still have to reach certain speeds, the engine just consolidates the reference frames. It reframes the passage of time so everyone ends up on the same page.”

Reed leaned his head back at hearing this, and regarded Tertius. “That’s why there’s a maximum speed overall. You’re not actually breaking the light barrier.”

“Bingo.”

“But this Ambassador, it goes faster. It indeed breaks the light barrier. True FTL.”

“I wouldn’t tell you how it worked, even if I understood it. I won’t even name it for you, because that alone would give you too much information.”

“Would they be willing to help, though?” Reed pressed. “Maybe they can just pull us away once, and then leave us wherever, just so we can find someplace to hide, and maybe some lasting peace.”

Tertius looked up at the walls and ceiling. “The VA’s mission is not unlike yours. They rescue people from bad situations. The difference is, they didn’t steal their ship to do it. The intelligence that designed it is still there. Well...the person who designed the special FTL tech isn’t, but they gave their contribution away freely. Anyway, the people they rescue are innocent. The people they’re rescuing them from? Not so much. You...are neither. Mirage would understand why you did what you did, but she wouldn’t reward you for it. She would expect you to accept the consequences of your actions. I know her well, I can hear her say that in my head. Before you ask, the person who came up with the magical FTL isn’t available until...” He tapped on his handheld device. “Let me do my own calculations...August. And even if we were able to find him on that date, he would only be able to help you for a day, and then you would have to wait a whole year for his return.”

“Huh?” Reed didn’t understand all this FTL stuff, but he wasn’t even following the logic of what Tertius just said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tertius replied, shaking his head. “The point is, it can’t be done. I would love to help, but it’s just not gonna happen. I can reach out to Mirage, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. And if by some miracle, she does say yes, you’re not keeping the Tangent. It would be like trying to stuff a skyscraper in the trunk of your car. At best, she would ferry all the people somewhere safe.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Reed pulled up his contact card. “You can reach me any time. It has my quantum signature on it if she’s on the other side of the universe, and wants to talk to me personally. Now, before I leave you, how big is this reframe engine?”

“I think it scales to the size of the vessel,” Tertius answered. “I can probably get you the specs, but you’re gonna be done with the evacuation in, what, a few months? It’s gonna take longer than that for you to build one from scratch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Mister Valerius. I’ll let you get back to your family now. Please do stay in touch. I’ll give you anything you need.”

Reed walked away and returned to his bridge office.

Shasta was already there, which was good. “Hey. I wanted to let you know, Vasily has been asking for you. I have no idea what it’s about.”

“That can wait,” Reed decided, possibly forever. “We have more important things to worry about. I need ideas for how we can prolong the southern evacuation. We need to stall for time while we come up with a more long-term solution to our little problem.”

Shasta considered it for a moment. “Well, if that’s what we need, that unauthorized express trip was actually good news. Maybe we need more time to inspect all the tethers. Maybe the constant up and down placed too much stress on them, and they all require maintenance. And maybe to prevent that from being a problem again, we need to slow the trips moving forward.”

“Okay, those are all good ideas. Let’s start working on it, but obviously don’t explain to anyone why.”

“I don’t even know why,” Shasta admitted.

“Good. I’ll tell you later so it’s easier for you to spread the new plan. Slower ascents and descents. But not too bad. It doesn’t need to take years, and in fact, that would backfire on us. Just maybe another month.”

“Got it, I’ll talk to Trilby to calculate the math on that. He won’t ask questions.”

“Actually, I need to talk to him myself. I’ll go with you.” His device beeped, so he stopped to check it.

It was a message from Tertius. Found this while I was digging up the specifications for the reframe engine. I didn’t realize that The Shortlist gave Teagarden access to this tech. It might have come in handy a few months ago.

Reed tapped on the file, and read the overview. “On second thought, I’ll talk with Trilby later. Go ahead and do your thing. I need to set up a meeting with someone else.”

It was only a few hours later. Reed was back in the dusty hot interrogation room of a virtual environment. President Burkhart Abrams resolved in front of him, sitting in the chair. “What am I doing here, Ellis? Something wrong with the evacuation? Can’t stay in place? Are you demanding pizza for all the gunmen and hostages?”

Reed threw a tablet on the table hard enough to make it break in the real world, but it landed undamaged. “If you already knew, then this won’t come as a surprise, but if you didn’t know, then I encourage you to verify it...quietly.” He needed to test him.

Abrams reluctantly picked up the tablet, and started looking over the info. He threw it down with nearly as much gusto. “This reads like science fiction.”

“It’s not, it’s real. I’m guessing you didn’t know about it, because you’re not that good of a liar. So now you have to ask yourself, for the first time in all of this, are we on the same side?”

“Why the hell would we be on the same side? Teagarden is only letting you do this because you have leverage. You and I are not friends.”

“What about Matar Galo? Is she a friend?”

“She’s my superior officer.”

“Right.” Reed leaned forward, and repeated, “right” as he was swiping to the next page. “And because she’s your superior, she had no obligation to tell you about this.”

“If it’s true...if it exists, then no, of course she didn’t. She didn’t invent military secrets. What are you driving at here?”

Reed shook his head. “You commanded two Teaguardians for Proxima Doma. These people were your friends. You were here to protect them, and the one time when they really needed you, you couldn’t do shit. You just sat there, staring at the screen, utterly hopeless. Useless. A giant paperweight floating in space.” He angrily pointed at the tablet. “If you had this kind of technology, you may have been able to save them all.”

Abrams scoffed and shook his head.

“Maybe not all, but a lot; at least more. I wouldn’t have needed to steal a damn thing. It wouldn’t have occurred to me. I just didn’t think we had any other options. But she—she had this. Your military had this.” He swiped over again. “Apparently, Gatewood has it too. Why does Gatewood have it? Nobody lives there!”

 “You’re right. This would have been a game-changer, but if she didn’t come here with it, she must have had her reasons. Maybe it’s not ready. Maybe only a tiny shuttle has a prototype of it. We don’t know. This document doesn’t say anything about the actual operational deployment. It just claims that it exists, and it’s in the Teagarden’s privileged data vault. I’m not going to ask how you got your hands on it, but this...this means nothing. It proves nothing.”

“Burkhart, this is real. They have teleportation, like freakin’ Star Trek. They left your friends to die when they could have just beamed them into the sky. They didn’t even read you in. They did nothing.” Reed pointed to his own chest. “I did something. I came here. I risked everything to save the people that you were sworn to defend. Aren’t you angry about that? I would be livid. I am.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I believe you, and I’ve never been more pissed off about anything in my whole life. What the hell does it matter? The south is stable. The elevators are working. There’s no point in rocking the boat now. Just finish your mission, and turn yourself in, like you promised.”

“I never promised that.”

Abrams dismissed it. “That’s not my problem. They’re not gonna give us teleportation. What are you gonna do? Try to steal it?”

Reed shook his head. “No, not that. Like you said, we don’t know where it is. But I need to steal something else, and to make up for being unable to do anything for the Proxima Domanians before I showed up...I want you to help me.”

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Tangent Point: Consensus (Part V)

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Reed was in a virtual simulation again, along with Delegator Chariot, as everyone was allowed to come as a duo. They were in a much more comfortable environment than the one that they had been using separately. Now was the meeting where they were all coming together to hammer this out. As the Tangent approached Proxima Doma, they had to come to an agreement. There was only one elevator platform, and it couldn’t be in two places at once. Both poles were going to be evacuated, but each one would take months, so who had the honor of going first?

They were all sitting around a table. It was a purple theme, evidently based on a known diplomatic ship called the Vellani Ambassador. Portraits of the crew were even on the walls, suggesting that this simulation took real imagery from base reality. The meeting was small. Two representatives from the northern pole, two from the southern pole, and two from Teagarden. Most star systems were afforded a couple of Teaguardian ships to watch over them in case something happened. Obviously, that had already proved insufficient, but they were still here, and would be able to help with the evacuation procedures. The platform was going to hover over each pole, and expend massive amounts of fuel to do it. They needed resupply to make that work, and for constant transport off the platform. Every body weighed it down, so evacuees weren’t going to be staying there for long. Climbing up the tethers was only the first step.

The leader of the Teagarden’s contingency held the rank of president. It was one rank above captain, and the president assigned to the Proxima Centauri system was indeed here in this construct, but in a secondary capacity since he was not the highest ranking member. No, more Teaguardians were dispatched from neighboring systems, including Bungula. There were presently eleven of these ships in the system. But still, not even the coronel of those eleven Teaguardians was in charge. This went all the way to the tippy-top. Matar Galo was only called in for really big issues. Reed would have thought that she was too busy with other things, but apparently, this took precedence. None of this was real, but she was nearby in base reality, in one of those Teaguardians. Reed really wanted to know how they traveled faster than light.

Matar Galo cleared her throat. “Welcome to the evacuation dispute between the northern and southern poles of Proxima Doma, Proxima Centauri, as it relates to the emergency rescue efforts provided by the Bungulan Space Elevator Platform known as The Tangent. I am your host, Matar Tiare Galo of the Teagarden Stellar Neighborhood Aid Service, and I would like to remind you that these evacuation procedures happen at the pleasure of Teagarden. The Tangent is a stolen vessel, and while we have tentatively agreed to the continuation of this mission for the sake of hostages, we do so under heavy duress. This is not a question of whether Executor Reed Ellis has the authority to maintain his command over the Tangent, nor what rights the Bungulan government has over it. That is a separate issue, which is why no Bungulan representatives are present. It is important to note, however, that decisions are subject to change, and what we decide here may be rendered irrelevant before certain actions can be completed, or indeed even begin. Furthermore, Executor Ellis, while we recognize your leadership for the time being, it is not up to you which pole receives aid first. It is up to them to come to the decision between themselves. You are here predominantly as a guest, and will listen respectfully, speaking only when appropriate. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir, it is,” Reed replied.

“Delegator Chariot?”

“Agreed,” Jodene replied.

“Very well,” the Matar continued. “This is not a structured debate. I am here to facilitate discussion, but I am not an official moderator. The representatives from the poles are free to proceed as they see fit. I will only step in if talks devolve into unproductive or unrelated speech, or escalate towards violence.” She paused for a moment before prompting, “go ahead.”

Reed had already heard all of their arguments, and was prepared to hear them all rehashed here. There were more people in the north, so they needed to be cleared out more quickly. The south argued that that was a failure in leadership. The reason things were better for them was because they made a concerted effort to rescue those who lived in the lower latitudes. They built a four-kilometer bridge in a matter of hours after the ring faults broke apart. They figured they ought to be rewarded for their hard work, not punished for being too good. And besides, there were fewer people because a giant mountain range made the southeast arc of the Terminator Line too treacherous to colonize. The northerners were going to contend that there was a brand new dome in the south pole, which was more than enough to sustain the refugees for a while. The north was maxed out, they needed help the most. The south could be rescued faster due to their lower population, but that didn’t really matter. The number of people who could be transported—and more importantly, the number of people who were waiting for transport—would be the same, regardless of which side got to go first.

“We’ve already worked it out,” Delegator Sarkozi began with a weird smile. “The southern polar region concedes its bid, and congratulates the northern pole on its win.”

They swung their chins towards Xaovi Rue, who nodded. “The northern polar region accepts the southern pole’s concession, and happily welcomes the Tangent to begin evacuation procedures as soon as they are in place.”

“What happened here?” Matar Galo questioned.

“You said you wouldn’t get involved unless you had to,” Delegator Sarkozi reminded her. “Things are fine, we came to a decision amongst ourselves beforehand.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds suspicious,” Matar Galo says. “It sounds like we could be dealing with blackmail, or something worse, like an abduction.”

“Your mind goes to 21st century b-movie intrigue,” Xaovi argued. “It’s nothing like that. We’ve decided to snag the quickest win first. It will take a little bit longer to evacuate the south as it will the north, so the math just makes sense to us now.”

“That’s not true,” Delegator Chariot insisted. “The northern polar region has a much higher population, even though the northern hemisphere suffered more deaths during the initial evacuation.”

“Delegator Chariot, you were not asked to weigh in,” Matar Galo scolded. “That being said, I too would like an explanation.”

“We’re not leaving,” Xaovi replied. “Most of us aren’t, anyway. This is our home, and we’re going to make it work. The ground is stable, and anything we’ve lost, we will rebuild. Make no mistake, we will not prevent anyone from evacuating from the north. In fact, we encourage it. It will just give us more room, which we need. The new carbon scrubbers we added are great, but we don’t want it to last forever.”

Reed shook his head, but kept his mouth shut. He wanted to argue that they were being foolish. Researchers still didn’t understand the long-term effects of living on that planet. The cataclysm appeared to end months ago, but they didn’t know for sure that nothing further was going to happen. Lava could be trickling in through natural underground tunnels. They just didn’t know. The whole reason he and his people stole the Tangent was to execute this rescue. They were only here for these people. Colonizing this world had turned out to be a mistake. It was unsafe. They couldn’t go back in time to fix that, but that certainly didn’t mean they had to stay. They were being stubborn and stupid. The only logical response to this mess was to get the fuck out.

“Executor Ellis,” Matar Galo began, “I appreciate you biting your tongue.

“Call him Captain Ellis,” Delegator Chariot all but demanded. “Even if you don’t agree with how he came to power, he does have that power now. He commands a full channel of crewmembers.” The two of them had grown closer over these last few months. Jodene had a hard time rectifying this in her head. The mutiny was immoral, that much she believed, but she had come to believe in the mission too. She was quite conflicted about it, and he tried not to push her. They held their philosophical discussions when they weren’t putting out fires together, but they never argued. She had come to see things in a new light due to the success of their work. They suspected that the Teaguardians felt about the same way. Their attempts at stopping them midflight were laughably weak...almost unbelievably ineffective.

“Very well,” Matar Galo said. “Captain Ellis, I think we all know your position here, and in this case, I must admit to agreeing with you. Premier Rue, I urge you to reconsider. You and your people can always return, but if you don’t leave now, there will be no second chances. After evacuation is complete, I will be demanding the Tangent move on from here. Whether you’re first or second, once the platform leaves, it’s gone. You won’t be able to change your minds.”

“Actually, I won’t bite my tongue,” Reed jumped in. “If you do end up changing your minds after we’ve left, I will not be returning. Matar Galo and the Bungulan government will not need to convince me to leave permanently. The hostage crisis will be over at that point, and I will relinquish my leverage. Xaovi, don’t do this. Clarita, persuade it not to do this.”

“As I was saying,” Xaovi went on, not letting Clarita speak, “I will force no one to stay, but I won’t force them to leave either. If you would like to try your hand at convincing them to get in those pods, go ahead. I’ll give you the broadcast codes freely. We’ve been listening to our people. They want to stay. I will be staying with them.”

Matar Galo breathed. “Captain Ellis, Delegator Chariot, I assume you have a plan in place. You know the logistics of how you’re going to get people up the tethers?”

“We do,” Reed responded.

“Then do it,” the Matar ordered. “Maneuver the Tangent into position over the north pole, drop the lines, and start pulling people up. No more decisions need be made, this meeting is over.” She stood up. “Thank you all for coming. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get to a quantum meeting with the Altaren ambassador.” She de-resed. There was something different about it, though. It didn’t look like it did from most simulations. It was more like the flickering of a hologram. Maybe this wasn’t so virtual after all.

Reed and Jodene de-resed as well, waking up in the former’s office. He was leaning back in his chair while she was lying on the couch. Shasta was still in the guest chair, doing something on her handheld. “How did it go?” she asked them.

“We’re going north first,” Reed answered.

Shasta started to leave. “I’ll inform the pilot, and prep the ground crew.”

“I wanna be on that,” Jodene said to her.

“We’re meeting in Drop Bay One in twenty minutes to go over safety procedures,” Shasta told her without turning around.

Jodene turned back to Reed after the door reclosed. “Don’t think I didn’t catch the way you worded your little speech in there. You said you would be giving up the hostages, but you never said you would be giving the Tangent back to Bungula.”

Reed only cleared his throat.

“You’ve said you would before. It was one of your main arguments, that this was temporary. What’s changed?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She smirked. “You think you can escape. With four torches, you think you can escape? Reed, the Teaguardians have FTL.”

“Not all of them,” he reasoned.

“The ones who do will catch up. They could be clear on the other side of the neighborhood, and they will still eventually catch up to us.”

“Us?” he echoed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she echoed him right back. She stood up. “You said you would go to jail willingly. Obviously, you don’t actually—”

“I don’t care about me,” he explained. “I care about them.” He gestured towards the door. “Even the original crew has been helping us, and some without much convincing. I’m worried about two things here. I’m worried about Teagarden’s superior firepower, and I’m worried about Bungula’s grudge, and plans for revenge. Neither party has what the other does, so we either need to take away Teagarden’s advantage, or Bungula’s motivation...not both. And I do mean we. I want you with me...all in.”

She nodded. “Let’s see how the evacuation goes. I won’t place my chips on a square until I see where the ball is gonna land.”

“Well, you can’t wait, the casino would kick you out. It would be an illegal move.”

“This all started because of your illegal move.”

“Touché.”

Sixty-nine days later, the northern polar region was evacuated to the extent of their inclinations. Matar Galo stayed in the star system to spearhead a campaign to change people’s minds, but it was impossible to know for sure if her words made any impact. On an individual level, they didn’t know what anyone was planning to do before she started speaking on it. The numbers did seem to go up in her favor, but that could have been the result of poor polling methods. It was now time to move on to the southern pole. The very last elevator pod was just coming up the tethers. It was mostly only carrying the Bungulan ground workers, but also a few Proxima Domanians who agreed to stay down there for over two months to help coordinate.

“Wait, they’re already here?” Reed questioned. “As of thirty minutes ago, they hadn’t even left yet.”

“They made it an express trip,” Shasta explained. “A quarter hour total.”

“I didn’t approve that.”

“They were anxious to get back up here.”

“Were the Domanians with them even trained for the high-g acceleration?”

“The report didn’t say, but they were on it, plus one single final straggler.”

“I would like to meet them,” Reed ordered, “the Domanians, and whoever decided that it would be an express trip.”

Shortly thereafter, they arrived. He first spoke alone with the two crewmembers who claimed responsibility over the decision to pull the elevator up at extremely high speeds. Express trips were not uncommon, but they did not have time to install inertial dampeners in every single pod, and the stress it placed on tethers outweighed the benefits of it anyway. That was why they hadn’t been doing it like that the whole time. Now those tethers would have to be thoroughly examined, and potentially repaired or replaced entirely. They were sent to hock—probably while covering for other responsible parties—for twenty-four hours, and would be assigned tether testing duty. They accepted their fairly light punishment without any argument, and would not be a problem moving forward.

He was now standing before the five Domanian volunteers, looking over the report. “What’s this thing with you?”

One of them peeked over the edge of his tablet to see what he was seeing. “That’s Heracles, our beetloid. He saved Calypso’s life, and has been all-around helpful.”

“A beetloid,” Reed thought out loud.

“You don’t have those on Bungula?” the apparent leader asked.

“We do not. Something like that might come in handy on the Tangent. Would you be willing to provide us with its specifications?”

“We don’t have them,” a man said. “He’s a survivor, like us. None of us designed him, though.”

Reed nodded. “Forgive me. I should have started with introductions. I’m Captain Reed Ellis. And you are?” he asked, holding his hand out to the leader.

“Breanna Jeffries,” she answered, shaking his hand. He shook the hand of the rest as she listed them off. “This is Cashmere Hartland, Notus Konn, Calypso Rotola, and Sorel Arts.”

“It’s nice to meet you all. According to this report, you did a fine job on the ground when you could have done the bare minimum to satisfy the Delegator’s impromptu enlistment. If it were me, I would have just let you up here with a tight nod, but she was in charge down there. I am wondering what the plan is next. Have you thought about where you might want to go? Teagarden is facilitating ferry trips to the interstellar cyclers. Some are going to Earth, others to Bungula, but that’s proving...politically challenging in this situation.”

“Are you asking us to stay?” Breanna questioned.

“There’s plenty of room for a bunch of go-getters like you,” Reed explained. “We could sure use your help with the southern evacuees. It’s going to be a much bigger job, and you already know what you’re doing.”

“I wasn’t a part of that,” Sorel said. “I was transferring people off-world digitally, mostly to Castlebourne, and would like to continue doing that, if you’ll allow me to take a pod back down to the surface.”

“That can be arranged,” Reed determined. “The uploading option makes it easier on us, so we’re in favor of it. And the rest of you?”

They exchanged looks and came to an unspoken consensus. “Yes, I think we can keep going. We never made any plans for the future.”

“Great,” Reed said. “One more thing. What can you tell me about these two?” He showed them a picture of this group from Elevator Ingress months ago, standing next to a man and a woman who looked like they could be related. He had seen the man before, in a portrait at the meeting on the Vellani Ambassador.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 30, 2543

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When the team first came out of the woods on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, they found a lone homestead. There were several bags of produce sitting on the grass several meters away from the entrance. A young woman was begrudgingly starting to carry them inside. They offered to help, which she accepted, explaining that the delivery drone kept using the wrong precise coordinates, but she couldn’t get it changed so that it always dropped them off right on her porch instead. After they were finished, Romana declared that she had officially become the team’s navigator, having won the bet with her mother. When Leona questioned it, Romana pointed out that they never specified the threshold for being at the right place at the right time, or helping the right person. That could have meant anything, from saving the world, to carrying groceries. She decided that it meant the latter, and since Leona never argued about it before their little tiny baby mission, she didn’t have any room to argue now. Romana was the navigator, and probably deserved it for successfully executing her foxy trick.

“Well, then, where are we going?” Ramses asked. They had spent all day at the homestead, completing chores, and enjoying the beauty of nature. Now it was a year later, and they were back in the timestream.

“Oh, uh...” Romana acted like she hadn’t even thought about it yet. She knew that she wanted the job, but now she was the dog that caught the car. She stood there awkwardly for so long that everyone just sort of faded away and moved on to other things for a while.

Mateo approached her later when everyone else was out of the room. “I thought you were doing this for your mother. I thought the whole reason you made yourself navigator was to get us back to her.”

“Ramses isn’t ready,” Romana replied. “I’m not ready,” she added in admission. She sat down on one end of the couch.

“I get it. That was a very mature choice.” He sat down on the other end, but more in the corner, so he was facing her.

“Yeah, but I still should have made some choice today,” she argued. “That wasn’t very mature of me. I looked like an idiot.”

“This is a beautiful planet,” Mateo pointed out. “There’s no reason why we can’t stay here for a bit. In fact, I think I’ll go for a swim in that lake.”

“After what happened to Proxima Doma as soon as we left, I’m not so sure that that will be true for much longer. Castlebourne practically went to war too. Maybe we’re cursed.”

“Those two problems were inevitable, and far beyond our control. Proxima Centauri is more unstable than anyone thought, and if you hadn’t helped all those refugees find safety on Castlebourne, maybe they wouldn’t be at war, but they would be oppressed. They carried their problems with them. That’s not on any of us.”

“I just don’t want something to happen here, that’s all,” Romana said.

“Is that why you couldn’t come up with an answer?” Leona asked as she was coming back into the common area.

“We left Doma just as things were falling apart,” Romana pointed out. “Had we stayed, we could have helped.”

Leona shook her head. “Centauri’s poles flipped, sending a massive coronal mass ejection towards the planet. The cataclysm was over in a matter of days. Everyone who died did so within that period. If we had returned a year later, there would have been nothing for us to do.”

“I don’t have to wait a year,” Romana contended.

“You still couldn’t have fixed it,” her father tried to explain. “The fact is, we’re on the other side of The Edge. We don’t have much information on what happens in this time period. We’re kind of flying blind here, and I think we’re all feeling that. It’s perfectly reasonable to see this as the calm before the storm. It’s unsettling. But I say, let’s just enjoy it. Let’s not leave Bida until we come across a reason to. That’s how it’s always been.”

“That’s not why I asked to be the navigator,” Romana said. “I was trying to put us in the driver’s seat for once.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think it works like that. Even without the powers that be forcing our hands, I don’t think it works like that.”

“I’m not sure I’m worried about the storm. I might be worried that there is no storm. I’m worried about purposelessness. I guess I’m not suggesting we caused all those issues on Doma and Castlebourne, and wherever. But I’ve read about your past exploits. You used to be busy every single day. You didn’t have breaks. You didn’t have vacations. Doesn’t it feel like things have slowed down? And don’t you think that’s weird?”

“It’s not weird, it’s by design.” Now Marie had come back. She walked over and turned on her fireplace, presumably for ambiance. It wasn’t like they got cold anymore. She sat down in an armchair. “When our ancestors were banging rocks together to make fire, every day was interesting for them too. Everything they saw was new, and they had to constantly solve problems. Sometimes, their solutions led to more problems. For millions of years, this didn’t stop. Those ancestors didn’t concern themselves with yearly taxes. They wouldn’t even understand the concept. Taxes were a solution to the problem of regulating the exchange of goods and services. The exchange of goods and services was the solution to the problem of high population and limited individual skill. The human race kept progressing, adding complexity, increasing the complications. In some ways, advancement made life easier, but it certainly didn’t make it simpler. We think of the Edge as some division between the common time traveler era, and the unknown ever after, but the truth is this has been in the works for a while. What the Edge really did was become the final move in a fundamental shift in how we advance.”

“What are you saying?” Not even Leona seemed to understand.

“I have been looking into it,” Marie went on. “That is what I’ve been spending my time on. The reason we’re no longer so busy is because almost no one is. Even new colonists don’t have to work hard. They send their automators ahead of time, they usually arrive via quantum terminals, they don’t start with low tech. We’re not advancing into complexity anymore, but for the first time in history, we’re advancing into simplicity. We’re trimming all the fat, and thriving with fewer things. An IMS unit has everything you need to survive except for gravity. A centrifugal cylinder or coin can get you that, or even just a hammer hab. Even the seven of us stopped needing a ship. So you have that, a synthesizer for replacement parts, maybe a virtual environment or two, and some means of generating power. That’s it. That gets you everything you need. You don’t even need a community anymore, as we see here on Bida.”

“How  do you explain Castlebourne then?” Ah, it was Angela’s turn now.

“Castlebourne is contrived complexity,” her sister argued. “No one has to live the way they do there, under those domes, having those adventures. That’s actually why they’re doing it, because real life has become too boring. There’s no struggle anymore. I admit, I can’t explain why they prefer those simulations to virtual constructs, but they still serve the same purpose. They’re there to keep you occupied, and from going insane. And the best part about them is that they’re relatively safe. Since they are designed, they’re controlled. No one in Zombiedome is in any real existential danger. The largest remaining population of undigitized humans was on Doma, and now that’s done with, either via death, or the holdouts giving in and finally digitizing their minds.

“We solved death, we solved boredom, and the only reason we are bored right now is because we don’t think we’re worthy of the free time. Mateo, you’re the first of us to have this pattern, and while you didn’t always know why, it was clear to you that there had to be some kind of reason. You don’t know any other way to live, because you’re still holding on to that higher calling. But it doesn’t exist anymore. Things do change, but they happen over longer time scales now. The days of the one day mission are simply over. The most interesting thing happening right now are the Ex Wars, and the reason we regretfully bowed out was because we all realized how useless we were. We can’t do anything, and that might be scary, but we need to stop trying.”

“So, this is it?” Olimpia asked from the doorway to her unit. “We have reached the end? There is just nothing left for us to do? We’ll just hole up in these belts, and have fun in simulations?”

“No, no, this can’t be true,” Mateo reasoned. “There are still some things we know about the future. That Everest Conway guy. We met him out of order. We haven’t met him for the first time yet,” he said with airquotes. “And we went on that unremembered mission with that guy named Amal. What was that? When was that?”

“Maybe that will never happen,” Marie offered. “Maybe we undid the futures they came from by meeting them out of order, and stepping on a butterfly together.”

“Or maybe we’re just in a lull,” Mateo decided. “Let’s go with that instead. I don’t really want bad things to happen, but I don’t want to be aimless either. If we were to be like that, why are we bothering to skip time anymore? I’m sure Ramses could find a way to suppress our patterns permanently.”

They all looked over at Ramses’ door, half expecting him to waltz back in too, but he was likely working on something important. When he didn’t show, the rest of the team seemed to agree that they didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was pretty depressing, and while Marie’s thesis was interesting, they fittingly wished that it was more complicated than that. As Mateo said, they didn’t want bad things to happen so they could swoop in and fix them, but it would be weird if they just did what the general population was doing, and just had fun all day. They were decidedly different than the masses. They were special. There weren’t many time travelers around here, so it kind of fell on them to represent. They did decide on one thing, though. If by the end of the day, nothing happened that specifically kept them on this planet, they would leave, even if Romana couldn’t think of anywhere better to go.

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