Extremus: Year 115

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The Induction Ceremony. When Extremus first launched, the captain had a lieutenant as their second-in-command. That sounded practical, and it didn’t seem like they needed anything more. Later on, the lieutenant became first lieutenant, and a second lieutenant position was added. Neither lieutenant rank is a stepping stone to captain. It’s a separate track, and while it’s not technically impossible for someone in this position to eventually become captain, it’s never happened, and that’s not the intended protocol. Anyone of age can be appointed as captain. Hell, Tinaya could have selected some random 18-year-old who failed every class in school, and had severe behavior issues. She would have had no support, and the idea would have been vetoed by the council, but the point is, there is no particular rule for where the next captain comes from. Oceanus has changed all that.

There will now be three vice captains. It’s not entirely apparent what these people will be doing, just that they will compete for the top spot over the course of the next six years. Silveon guesses that they will take turns shadowing Captain Jennings at first, then gradually begin to take on more duties as they become more comfortable with the work. This never happened in his timeline, but he remembers Waldemar partially running his campaign on the idea, along with other broken promises. It was only a misdirect, of course, so he could get in a position of power, and keep it permanently. Now he doesn’t need all those lies. He’s already in, and just needs to beat out two other contenders. Their identities are currently unknown. Waldemar’s selection has been kept under wraps as well. Tinaya knows because he told her directly, but he wasn’t meant to, and technically, he shouldn’t have known yet either. The competition has already started, however. Three dozen young hopefuls submitted their applications last year, and took tests to see who out of them would win the precious few coveted roles. They weren’t aware that they were vying for only two spots, though, rather than three.

Tinaya has the unfortunate honor of announcing the winners. She doesn’t know why they chose her for this. It really should be Oceanus, since this is his thing, but they probably want to use this as an opportunity to suggest that everything is hunky dory in the executive crew wing. “Waldemar..Kristiansen!” she cries with a feigned tone of excitement. The crowd cheers. The other contestants clap too, but not too loudly, because their chances just went way down.

 Waldemar claps as well, and pumps his fist in the air as he’s jogging across the row, and down the aisle, which actually brings a little more energy to his competitors. He knew that he was gonna get picked, yet he chose a seat in the middle so it would be a bigger deal for him to climb over a bunch of people that he just bested. It’s all a performance. Once he’s on stage, he walks over to Lataran, who hands him his ceremonial dagger. Neither of them can figure out the symbolism there. Daggers aren’t part of standard dress for a captain, nor some meaningful symbol of their ancestors. It seems kind of random, but people are loving it. Waldemar stabs the air with it triumphantly, as if he’s a general preparing for battle, causing an uproar in cheers. Maybe it’s a symbol of masculinity. The other two candidates will probably be men too, so...that makes some sense, if you wanna be cynical about it.

Tinaya starts to open the second envelope. She didn’t just pick whichever one was closer. They were quite clear on what the order was. This is Envelope Number Two, and the last one will probably be a bombshell. They’re using envelopes in the first place to be reminiscent of ancient Earthan award ceremony traditions. But. Whatever. “Détha..Partanen!” Okay, maybe it won’t just be a boy’s club. Well, good for them, making it look like there’s any semblance of fairness, and the game isn’t rigged. At least they’re starting to understand optics.

Détha walks to the stage, briskly but with a lot less enthusiasm. Instead, she’s cool and composed, already giving off an air of authority. Tinaya isn’t familiar with her, so she’ll have to look up her file later. That was probably a mistake. There were only 38 applicants; she should have been studying them for the last couple of months. They could be in great danger. If Waldemar feels that his future is being threatened, he could resort to unsavory tactics; even violent ones. Détha, and whoever is in this third envelope, has now fallen under Tinaya’s protection. Hopefully she won’t die herself in the meantime. Détha takes her dagger, and immediately magnetizes it to her utility belt. She doesn’t need to perform.

Okay, it’s the third envelope. Let’s finish this up. Tinaya slices through the sticker with her fingernail, then slips it back through to open it. She stands there for a moment, staring at the name before her. This is bad. This is really bad. Thank God she’s holding it with two hands. She carefully reaches over to her watch, and secretly taps on the clockstopper button. Very few people on this ship have access to this feature. No one else even knows about it. And it’s not private. It’s an all-or-nothing deal, where time stops for everyone, except for the tight inner circle. For a few seconds, she’s frozen in place, like nearly everyone else in this room, except that she and the other clockstoppers are still conscious. This is to give them a baseline position. When she restarts time, they will return to this exact orientation, so no one is aware that time was ever stopped. This can be overridden, if necessary, but they’ll worry about that later.

Time restarts, but only for the few. The majority of the people on the ship, and indeed, the entire universe, is still frozen in time. “What’s the problem?” Oceanus asks, standing up from his baseline.

“You know what the problem is,” Tinaya says, pointing the envelope at him accusatorily.

“I don’t,” Lataran says, shaking off the baseline freeze. There are no lasting effects, but it’s an uncomfortable feeling, being a statue.

“You’re complaining to me?” Oceanus questions. He points towards the section of the audience for people who didn’t apply to be vice captains. “Why are they awake?”

Arqut and Silveon are starting to walk towards them. There’s no teleporting when the clocks are stopped.

“I hacked the system,” Tinaya admits. “They are the only people on this ship, besides Latty, that I trust. I made them clockstoppers, because I need support against people like you...for shit like this.” She shakes the envelope again, but more angrily. It slips out of her hand, and falls to the floor.

Lataran picks it up, and reads, “Silveon Grieves.”

“What?” Silveon asks as he’s approaching with his father.

Lataran scoffs. “We knew it was rigged, but...”

“I did this for the ship,” Oceanus begins to explain. “You told me that Waldemar becomes a tyrant. Silveon is my ace in the hole.”

“I’m a steward,” Silveon explains.

Oceanus shrugs. “Détha is a soldier. It doesn’t disqualify her.”

“I didn’t apply,” Silveon argues.

“Waldemar applied for you. I’m guessing he wants you to fail intentionally, so he can win. But you don’t have to. You can fight. You can become the next captain.”

Silveon is seething. “My mother was captain, and her aunt before her. It’s already a dynasty, it has to end.”

“I barely accepted the position,” Tinaya adds. “I was already worried about the whispers, but they begged me to take it. I’m still not sure that it was the right decision. Now you want to risk even more? Waldemar is a family friend. We can’t add Silveon to the mix. It screams nepotism and cronyism at the same time.”

“You had nothing to do with the selection process,” Oceanus reminds her, “and you will have nothing to do with ascension.”

“Oh my God, we’re not actually calling it that, are we?” Tinaya shakes her head in disgust.

“I know this is weird,” Oceanus acknowledges. “But Waldemar told me the ship was destroyed, and you confirmed it later. I didn’t agree to the vice captain program until he proved that he was from the future, and that proof came in the form of you and the Consul. I was bound by my word after that. I’m just trying to find a loophole.”

“There is no loophole!” Silveon yells. “Waldemar will become king whether any of us likes it or not! All we can do is make him less of an asshole, and spare some lives along the way. If he doesn’t get what he wants, people will get hurt. His ascension,” he says with airquotes, “is inevitable.”

“Why is it inevitable?” Oceanus claps back. “What, is he wearing the hundemarke, or something?”

Silveon grows silent.

“Holy shit, he’s wearing the hundemarke,” Oceanus realizes. “It was destroyed centuries ago.”

Silveon sighs. “You can’t destroy an object’s past, only its future. It still has a few more fixed moments in time that it needs to create.”

“Speaking of which,” Arqut jumps in, “I’ve seen the studies. We can’t keep time stopped much longer. It’s not healthy. The safeguards will kick in, and the way I understand it, you do not want to be too far from your baseline when that happens.”

“Read the name,” Oceanus insists to Tinaya. “It’s already done.” He faces Silveon. “You make your own choices, but I urge you to do everything you can to win. Please. Your ship needs you.”

“I’ll respectfully decline,” Silveon contends.

“You can’t,” Oceanus returns. “As I said, it’s done. If you back out, it will just be down to a race between Waldemar and Miss Partanen. We won’t replace you with another candidate. It’s you, or no one.”

“Let me see that,” another voice demands. It’s Head Councillor Regulus Crusan, who literally just had his own induction ceremony an hour ago. He wasn’t even here when the clocks were stopped. Tinaya is a little surprised that he was already turned into a clockstopper. Evidently, bureaucracy can work fast sometimes. He must have been so confused when he was mingling in a crowd, or talking to a friend. He takes the envelope from Lataran, and examines it, closing it back up to see it from all angles. “I don’t like how this looks, but we have to agree on it before we restart the clocks. Otherwise, we put reality in unnecessary danger.” He shakes it like Tinaya before, but not so angrily, just demonstratively. “Admiral Leithe reads the name, and whoever it is shall accept their role with grace and poise. Understood?”

Oceanus smiles. “Understood.”

“Admiral. Steward,” he prompts.

Silveon takes another breath. “I think you’ll mean vice captain.” He doesn’t like it, but it will keep him close to Waldemar, which could only help in his mission to lessen the negative impact of the Kristiansen Regime.

“Right,” Crusan says. “Do as you’ve been ordered, Admiral.” He hands the envelope back to Tinaya.

Everyone returns to where they were when time was stopped, and gets as close as they can to how they were before. Tinaya waits until they’re all in position to do the same. After she begins the time-restarting timer for eleven seconds, she approximates her own baseline, reopening the envelope at the last moment. She doesn’t even get the chance to smile before she’s frozen up again, millimeters away from her guess. Time then restarts, and she’s free to continue. Now she can smile. Head Councillor Crusan, you sneaky snake. She lowers her hands, and looks out at the audience. “Pronastus..Kegrigia!”

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Microstory 1866: Garden Path

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My family had more than enough money to afford college, but I refused to go, because I already knew what I wanted to do with my life, and four years of studying math and history weren’t going to do me any good. My parents were disappointed, but they understood. They worked long hours to earn that money, so my father’s parents chose to move closer to us so I could go over there after school every day. My grandmother would read me classic books while I was curled up in a plastic storage bin, and my grandfather would teach me things he thought every growing child should know, like how to hold a baseball like a pitcher. But we all three worked in that garden together. It was so beautiful that neighbors would ask them to landscape their yards for them. They were both retired, and appreciated the opportunities to do something productive with their lives. They didn’t start a real business, but I knew that it could become that one day, and that I would be responsible for it. By the time I graduated from high school, they were too old to be on their hands and knees all the time, so I took on the clients alone, and started charging money for my services. I kept getting more and more requests, and before I knew it, I had to hire some help to get everything done. In only a few years, I had an office clerk, an accountant, and two separate crews so we could serve two homes at the same time. I was making a real name for myself in the industry; so big, in fact, that I risked not being able to do what I loved, because I ended up with so many administrative duties. That was when a new opportunity knocked in my door.

A wealthy man who had already founded and sold off two companies had decided to break ground on the headquarters for a new organization right here in my community. Back then, before the internet, it was hard to determine who was a good guy, and who was bad, but I couldn’t find any skeletons in his closet. He asked me to design the landscaping for the building. He didn’t like the idea of anyone working in an office setting without windows, so there would be no cubicles, and no interior rooms, except for bathrooms, and storage closets. If it had a desk in it, it also had a view. To maximize the space, it was built with four separate courtyards that weren’t even all at the same height. So I guess some people would be working without windows, but for good reason. It was a company that shot commercials for other companies, so the soundstage had to be big, and soundproof. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. The point is the courtyards. The landscaping had to be gorgeous and extravagant, because hundreds of people were going to be looking at it, and living in it, every day. It was a huge project. I wasn’t sure I could handle it. I certainly wouldn’t have any time to plant any trees myself, which is what I always loved. Still, it was good money, so I had to take it. Once it was complete, the founder was so impressed that he essentially donated his nephew to me. The nephew wanted to be a businessman, but he didn’t want to work directly for a family member. He seemed perfect. He could handle all the boring stuff, and I could return to what I did best. It went well for the next few years until he pushed me out using some legal maneuvering that I still don’t understand. His uncle was horrified, but he said there was nothing that either of us could do. Except that wasn’t true. I started a new company from the ground up, using my good name to accumulate clients, and before I knew it, I was bigger than the nephew ever hoped to achieve.

Extremus: Year 33

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Admiral Olindse Belo is a decent leader, served as a good captain, and is a great person. She listened to her advisors, and the people, and dispensed reasonable and righteous orders. She treats everyone with respect, even when they don’t really deserve it. Unlike Kaiora and Halan, she is not a manipulator. She knows how to lie, but she doesn’t know how to deceive, or steer people in the direction that she wants. She speaks plainly, and unambiguously, and genuinely cares about other people’s needs. Despite what Vice Admiral Perran Thatch tried to teach her about the art of war, Ovan and Dvronen were able to see right through her scheme. So when they were released for a week, along with Halan Yenant, they acted like model citizens, not causing trouble, or starting any revolutions. That’s not what Olindse wanted. She wanted Halan to look like a hero, so the ship would eventually agree to release him from hock. Then again, it is indeed what she wanted to happen. Temporarily releasing the other two could have spelled doom for the mission, but they were so scared of rocking the boat that they didn’t do anything even remotely wrong. In the end, that is a much greater achievement than any sort of conspiratorial deep state could hope to replicate. Peace won out after all.

Since the brief prison release experiment, things on Extremus have been going swimmingly. The people who have strong feelings against incarceration saw a little bit of justice, according to their moral standards. The people who believe strongly in favor of paying for one’s crimes saw all three long-term prisoners returned to their cells relatively swiftly. Everyone saw that their leadership was fair, open-minded, and very much not tyrannical. It was a win-win-win-ad-nauseum, and Olindse was pleased with herself for having come up with yet another great idea that turned out even better than she hoped. At the same time, she has gone back to not being needed.

Tap, tap, tap. “Hello?”

“Umm...hello?” Olindse asks the aether.

“Is this Vice Admiral Belo?” the mysterious voice asks. Tap, tap, tap again.

“Full Admiral, who is this?”

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t sure when I would reach you. I’m in the mirror.”

Olindse keeps the time mirror she uses to communicate with Thatch in her drawer when she doesn’t need advice from him. Who is this person? She pulls it out, and sets it on the desk.

“Thank you, I feel like I can breathe again, even though I’m obviously not actually in the mirror,” the man muses.

“Who are you?” Olindse presses.

“This is Captain Kaison Summerling, Seventh of Eleven.”

Oh, someone from the future. “Eleven? How did that happen?”

“Let’s just say...there was a death in the family,” Kaison replies.

“Kaison, you say? How do you—”

“K-A-I-S-O-N. It’s a family name. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“This is highly irregular,” Olindse points out.

“So is doing the same thing as this with Vice Admiral Thatch.”

How does he know about that? “That’s different, he has a way of erasing his own memories without anyone else’s help.”

“So do you,” Kaison points out. “It’s hidden in the mirror. Place the tips of your six middle fingers against each other, and lay the pads down on the base. Like this, watch me as I do it in the air. Anywhere’s fine. Now simultaneously tap one pinky, and the opposite thumb down. Do the same for the opposite ones. Slide your fingers apart, and a little compartment should pop open.”

He’s right. A tiny little door opens on the stem. Inside is the little green bottle of eyedrops that Thatch supposedly uses to erase his memory of an entire day.

“One drop per eye should take care of a day, maybe a little longer. If I ever need you again in the future, I plan on reaching out within seconds of our last meeting, from your perspective, so you only have to do it once.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Olindse tells him.

“Please, I need your help, and you’re the only one I can trust. You’ve already traveled through time; you understand the risks.”

“Is everything that happened to me common knowledge?” she asks.

“No, it’s just my knowledge,” he answers.

She turns the bottle around in her fingers. “Fine. Just...choose your words carefully, and keep it as short as possible.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s your problem?”

“Well, you noticed how similar my name is to your Captain’s. I am Kaiora Leithe’s grand-nephew.”

“So, when you said there was a death in the family...”

“I meant it literally.”

“Is Kaiora the one who dies?” Olindse will not be able to retain this information about the future, but this version of her has her memories intact, and is dealing with the issue right now in this moment. She has to hear the truth, regardless of whether she’ll be allowed to recall it later or not.

“No. It was my mother.”

“Your mother?” Olindse questions, aghast at the possibility. “Three captains, one family?”

Kaison sighs. “Four. My father finished her shift for her when she died.”

“Jesus Christ, Kaison, this isn’t how the system was intended to work.”

“We all got here on our own merits, even my father. They met each other in school, both on the captain’s track, and he almost beat her out of the position before. You have to understand that a lot happens after Kaiora completes her own shift. Things were weird, and the people demanded someone reliable, and almost familiar. Mom fit that description, and she was excellent before she passed. No one thought about the fact that she was a legacy.”

“Still. The crew considering her in the first place, knowing she was related to a previous captain...it’s not right. And then you come along...they shouldn’t have even let you apply to the program.”

“Well, I did, and I made it, and I earned it, but some people...”

“Doubt you? I would think so.”

“I just need your advice on how to lead them without being manipulative. You’re famous for your integrity, against all other previous and current executive crewmembers.”

“My advice?”

“Yes.”

“No matter what it is?”

“Absolutely.”

“How long have you been in the seat?”

He takes too long to respond.

“Kaison.”

“A day.”

Olindse rolls her eyes. “Well. It’s not a good sign that you sought my help quite this early in your shift, but it works to our advantage. My advice is to step down. Tell them you changed your mind. The people who make these decisions chose you,but you weren’t the only one they were contemplating. There’s a runner-up. In fact, there are at least two. They just don’t release these other names to the public. There’s still time for you to fix this, but the longer you wait, the shittier you’ll look. Do the right thing, and get out of there. End the dynasty. People don’t like things like that, because the kings of old used to take their positions based purely on the bloodline, which is a ridiculous and archaic way of finding leadership.”

Kaison looks away, and shakes his head, but then he begins to nod. “You’re right, you’re right! This is unfair. And even if it isn’t, it will always look like it is, and I inherently will not be able to be a good leader. I guess I knew this, and I just needed to hear from someone which history has shown that I can trust.”

“Can you promise me you’ll do it, or are you deceiving me?”

“No, I promise.”

“Okay. Good. We should end it here.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. She turns off the time mirror, and begins to open the eye drop bottle. He surely won’t need to speak with her again if he’s no longer going to be Captain.

“Hello? Admiral Belo?”

Olindse stops, and looks down at the mirror. He looks older—he looks a lot older. “Kaison, what the hell are you doing? You were supposed to step down.”

“I did. After we hung up, I literally transported right up to the Consul’s office to declare my decision. Nobody tried to talk me out of it. I basically got an annulment. The real Captain even just went by Seventh of Eleven, instead of twelve. Things were great, it was the right decision. Unfortunately, it did not come without its consequences, at least as far as we’re concerned. I kept the mirror, because...who else can be trusted with it? But I don’t have any other privileges. I’m not even allowed to join the crew in any capacity. It would reflect poorly on everyone. I accepted this, and things were great for twenty-four years, but I kind of need to be in a position of power now, because of the new, new captain.”

“I don’t think I should hear about this.”

“You have to,” Kaison insists. “You’re still the only one I can trust. He is bad news, Olindse, I’m tellin’ you, they made a big mistake. He is—I mean, if you thought Ovan Teleres was a problem, you...he—like, Ovan is a sweet puppy dog compared to this guy. He’s gonna get us all killed. He is clinically insane, and I don’t think anyone can stop him.”

“Who else knows about this?” Olindse asks.

“Just you and I would guess the scattered few others who have picked up on the signs. I haven’t discussed it with anyone, though.”

“So he isn’t outwardly evil?”

“No, but I can tell. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s like Ovan, but he’s not Ovan. Please, this is bad.”

“Kaison, I can’t do anything about it, and neither can you. If he hasn’t done anything wrong, then it’s over, he’s Captain.”

Kaison is shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Come to me with proof,” Olindse advises. “Something I can hang my hat on. That’s the only way you can get anything done. But if you commit a crime to accomplish it, you’re not doin’ the ship any favors, so you have to think long and hard about every single move you make from here on out. If he’s as dangerous as you believe, you can’t get caught looking for evidence.”

“Okay,” Kaison says with a nod. “I’ll begin my own investigation, but I’ll do it slowly, and carefully, and methodically.”

“Good. Contact me when you have something.” She takes a gander at her watch. “In a few seconds. I’ll hold off on the eyedrops until I know you’re safe, and whatever problem may arise has been resolved.”

“Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome again.”

Seconds later, a figure appears in the time mirror, but it isn’t Kaison. It’s a woman. “Admiral Belo?” she whispers. She seems nervous and frightened. A light above her flickers, and she jumps in a panic, darting her eyes to make sure she’s still alone.

“Can I help you?”

“You were the one that dad always used to talk about?”

“Dad?”

“Kaison Summerling.”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Your advice was good, but...he wasn’t. He couldn’t pull it off. He’s been in hock for years. The good news is that his crazy theories were right, so he’s been validated.”

“What happened?”

“We’re running scared. I was able to get a message from him, but all it said was to find this mirror, and talk to you. The hock is in a section of Extremus that we can’t get to. There’s a border separating us. On one end is the real bridge, and on the other is the original bridge...the one they called The Perran Thatch. Each side controls some systems, but neither controls all of it. We’re in the middle of an internal conflict. It’s a war.” She shakes her head, still scared, even though it sounds like the enemy can’t get to her. “It’s a war we can’t win.”

“If the border separates the bow from the stern, that means the Extraction Room is on your side of it. Is that true?”

“It is,” the unnamed woman confirms.

Olindse takes a second to think about if she really wants to do this. This isn’t her fight. Her fight is decades prior; it’s now. But there is no fight now. Things are fine, and it’s the future of this mission that’s at stake. Kaiora will have to understand. They’ll be fine without her. They won’t even notice that she’s gone. She disappeared for months, and people just moved on. It seems as though that was a dry run for the mission that begins today. “Extract me. I’ll come and help.”

“Really?”

“Open the portal before I change my mind.”

“Thank you.”

Olindse takes out a slip of regular old paper. The portal opens up on the other side of the room. Before she can scribble out a goodbye note, the normal door opens up.

Captain Kaiora Leithe is on the other side. She darts her gaze over to the portal. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not needed here, but I’m needed there, in the future.”

“Olindse, don’t,” Kaiora commands.

“Take care of my ship, so it’s still there when I get to the other side.”

“Admiral Olindse Belo, I order you to stand down. Do not step through that portal. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kaiora places herself between Olindse and the portal, but the thing about portals is that they connect two points in spacetime together. There is no reason you can’t use one in tandem with other time technology.

Olindse activates her teleporter, and jumps right through. In a second, the portal is closed, and the only living admiral this ship still had left is gone.

Kaiora looks over at the desk, and eyes the memory-wiping solution.

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