Extremus: Year 120

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Tinaya and Arqut wake up on the floor. The first thing that she notices is that there is something rather heavy weighing her ankle down. She lifts herself up at the waist and looks down to find a shackle, attached to a chain, attached to another shackle, which is wrapped around her husband’s leg. His clothes keep changing colors. They’re mostly orange, but occasionally flicker to yellow or purple. Hers are doing the same. It apparently worked. They pleaded with the AI in charge of The Buffer to keep them on ice until it was time to be downloaded into new bodies, and finally see the Extremus planet. It didn’t sound like it was working, but something must have changed.

“Oo, I’ve never seen a couple come through here before,” a voice behind them says. It looks like some kind of authority officer, maybe police. His uniform has green and purple stripes, which seems like an odd choice, but who knows how much has changed in the last century?

“We did a lifelink,” Tinaya explains, standing up, and helping Arqut do the same.

“Never heard of it,” the cop says. “I’m sure the judge will know what to do with you, though. Right over there. Lucky you, you’re in the short line.”

“The short line?” Arqut questions when they look over to see a minimum of a few dozen people snaking their way towards an entrance.

“Yeah. As opposed to that one.” The officer points in another direction. It’s hard to parse, but he’s right. Once they realize what they’re even seeing, they realize that the line in the distance has many thousands of people in it, possibly more. The floor curves upwards as if they’re in a centrifugal cylinder of some kind, which they might be.

“A judge? We have to see a judge?” Tinaya asks. “We were to understand if we answered yes, we would be downloaded to new substrates, no questions asked.”

The officer winces and chuckle-scoffs. “Downloaded? You think you’re being resurrected? Ain’t nobody gettin’ resurrected ‘til Pinocchio gets what he wants.”

“Who is Pinocchio?”

“You’ll learn.” The officer waves the back of both of his hands towards them. “Now, shoo. Shoo! The line waits for no one, not even two people sharing a hock chain.”

They step in line. Other people’s clothes are shifting colors too, with that same orange base, but various other colors instead. “I think it’s a caste system,” Tinaya postulates. “We haven’t been judged yet, but maybe the system has some kind of idea of where we belong, so it changes.”

The next person in the queue turns to face them. “Well, which colors are best?”

“No idea,” Tinaya admits. “Probably not orange, though. This endless bureaucracy screams guilty until proven innocent to me, but I could be wrong.”

“No, that’s what I guessed too,” the woman agrees.

“When did you die?” Arqut asks.

“Arqut,” Tinaya scolds. “That’s a sensitive question.

“No, it’s all right,” the woman says sincerely. “It was 2388.”

“Same as us,” Arqut replies. “Admiral Emerita Tinaya Leithe, and I’m Superintendent Arqut Grieves.”

“Oh, interesting. And this is an army you commanded?”

That was a weird question. Their names could have fallen out of the history books over time, but not within the year. That would be crazy. Who could have possibly not heard of the recently deceased Admiral? “Where did you die? Where were you living?” Tinaya presses.

“Proxima Doma, in a dome called New Hertfordshire,” she answers.

Tinaya and Arqut exchange a look. Proxima Doma is a planet in the stellar neighborhood. It is, in fact, the nearest exoplanet to Earth, which is why it’s called that. They’re not in The Extremus Buffer, but somewhere else. This is something, perhaps...universal, maybe the real afterlife?

“Where are you two from?” she goes on.

“We’re on a Wanderer. I mean, we were.” They’re not entirely sure if this is a current term. It’s the closest one that fits their description, since they ought not to give away the truth about time travel and other universes, and all that. A Wanderer refers to a ship that is designed to be the permanent habitat for its residents. Instead of settling somewhere around a star, it flies—or even drifts—somewhat randomly. Star systems being what they are in the way of being predictable and relatively evenly distributed, the Wanderer isn’t looking for strange new worlds. They just are...somewhere out there, often without even any quantum connections to any other worlds. They’re basically hermits, though some communities can be quite large, and they’re not necessarily misanthropic or distrustful of others. Arqut knows the term because that’s what the history books called them before they existed for real, but their last update was a very long time ago, so the concept may have evolved since then, or just changed names.

“Oh, fun!” She seems to be familiar.

“Do you happen to know why our line is so much shorter?” Tinaya asks her.

“We all just died,” she explains, nodding her head. “All those people have been dead a long time, possibly for millennia. Apparently, something has changed with the process and they’re all getting new assignments,” she continues with airquotes. “That must take a long time, but we’re sittin’ pretty because people don’t really die that much anymore.”

“No, they don’t,” Arqut agrees. It’s not exactly true from their vantage point. Everyone on Extremus dies, and while they don’t know how any of them will respond to The Question, it’s not like it is in the stellar neighborhood, where you’re all but crazy if you don’t opt in to virtual immortality. At least that’s how they understand it. Again, their copy of the central archives isn’t up to date.

There’s a commotion behind them, which the woman notices first since she’s already looking that way. It’s growing louder. When they turn to look, they can’t really see what’s going on. They can just tell that the gigantic line, which once was uniform, has now been broken. It’s moving erratically, be it from an attack, or maybe an escape? If there are good assignments or bad assignments, there are probably some who are reluctant to accept their fates. And as they say in the old movies, everybody runs.

And they are running. At first, it’s just a wall of green heading this way, but faces begin to appear. It really does look like they’re trying to escape, which suggests that green is one of the bad colors. “I don’t know what the hell to do here,” the officer says.

“Are they dangerous?” Tinaya asks him.

“They shouldn’t be. Greenies don’t have the best lives here, but they do okay. They should be rejoicing.” Why would people like that be escaping?

A man suddenly appears. He’s wearing a rainbow of colors. So he has all the assignments? What the hell is this place? “I can’t stop them all,” he kind of says to no one before turning to the officer. “Court Agent, Usher all of these people into the courthouse, then close the doors behind you.”

“Yes, sir, Pinocchio, sir,” the agent responds.

It’s then that this Pinocchio fellow notices Tinaya and Arqut, and their orange chain. “Hm. You’re too interesting to be judged by one of the others.” He reaches out and pokes them each in the shoulder. Their clothes stop fluctuating and settle on pink. “It’s only temporary, so don’t get too excited.” Just before the oncoming storm can crash into them, he teleports the three of them away.

They’re standing on a platform in the middle of the ocean now. No structures besides this little wooden dock can be seen before the horizon. Pinocchio steps over a little and bends his knees, materializing a throne just in time before he can hit the floor. He waves his hand, and generates two arm chairs behind Tinaya and Arqut. “Where are you two from? No need to lie about anything, by the way. I can always look it up in your file. I just prefer to have a conversation.”

“The Transgalactic Generation Ship Extremus,” Tinaya replies. Currently roughly 84,000 light years from the stellar neighborhood.”

Pinocchio nods. “Yes, I remember reading about that. It was quite difficult for my predecessor to install the relay station on board without anyone noticing or discovering it later. He has spies everywhere, though.”

“Relay station, sir?” Tinaya asks. They don’t know who this guy is, but it seems prudent to treat him with respect until they have more information.

“Quantum communication is more difficult across vast distances,” Pinocchio begins. “It’s obviously possible, but it’s better to package up whole IDCodes, and keep them intact. Since it doesn’t make sense to mirror you remotely, they installed a dedicated server onboard your ship, which manages the codes, and sends a data burst back to us only when necessary.” He flicks his finger around, and pulls up a hologram, which is blurred from their perspective. “Looks like you died almost two years ago. The farther out you travel, the fewer bursts it delivers. It’s an efficiency constraint.”

“So, we’re not really dead?” Arqut asks.

“In any meaningful sense, no. In the present day, the consciousness mirroring tech we use isn’t that much more sophisticated than the living establishment has already developed on their own. We’re just very, very good at it, and very, very accurate, and we don’t tolerate coherence errors. You’re in a computer simulation, which was first created some eleven thousand years ago. Everyone who has ever died since then has come here. They were assigned levels to determine their lot in afterlife. If you were a good person, you got privileges. If you were really good, you got more. If you were bad, you went to hock, and if you were really bad, you were just erased. I’ve recently taken over responsibility, and I’m making a few changes to the system.”

“The giant line,” Tinaya acknowledges.

“It’s been slow-going, but necessary,” Pinocchio claims. They used this hyperintelligence to judge everyone, and I didn’t like that it was just this one entity. Everyone who is already here needs to be rejudged. It’s a mess, but I promise, it will all be better in the end. The colors are good, I like the colors. It’s the nuance that needs to be reassessed, especially since people aren’t really dying anymore. Like I said, the living have mostly taken over the responsibility of maintaining continuity of consciousness. If anything fails on their end, I’m not sure we should step in as a backup plan anymore. Sounds like overkill to me, to be perfectly ironic.”

Tinaya and Arqut look at each other awkwardly.

Pinocchio glances back at their file on the hologram. “I see that you had the option of being backed up locally instead, and for whatever reason, that failed. Don’t worry, nothing has been decided on that yet. I’m not going to zero you out just because I’m reconsidering the policy. The question is, what level do you deserve, now that you’ve made it here?”

“Is it possible for us to go back?” Tinaya asks hopefully. “Is that one of these colored levels?”

Pinocchio smirks. “Level Eleven, White, Resurrected. It’s incredibly rare, but it has happened. I’ve never done it myself as I’ve been focused on the reassessments. Let’s call it a hiring freeze. I don’t know why I should unfreeze it for you.”

“Our son,” Tinaya starts to explain. “He died a few minutes after us. He was murdered. We have to fix that.”

“It’s more than that,” Arqut adds. “We have to stop his murderer from taking over the ship. The problem is not that he killed Silveon, but that he’s clearing house so he ends up with no opposition. If he succeeds, it could destroy Extremus entirely, and all those souls—even the ones who have already died—will be coming here. But if you’re thinking of changing that policy...”

Pinocchio holds up a hand to stop him. “I appreciate your concern. Typically, I don’t worry about living sociopolitics, but your link to each other has intrigued me, and I am not without mercy. Let’s take a look at his file, and see his status.” He waves his hand again, and changes the hologram. “Silveon Grieves. One hundred and five years old, died on January 5, 2388. Presently...awaiting integration. I’m sorry, he’s already here. He probably would have ended up in line right behind you had that horde not come running for the hills.”

“Who were those people?” Tinaya questions. “Why were they trying to escape? It sounds like green isn’t bad?”

“It’s not, but they’re not supposed to be green. There are people here who have almost as much power as I. Level Ten, Purple, Unrestricted. They can do just about anything they want, and sometimes what they want is to cause chaos. Not everyone was happy that I took over. They didn’t like the simulation’s creator, which would have been good for me, but they adored the woman who took over for him just before me, so that leaves me at a disadvantage.”

“Let us help you,” Tinaya pleads. Make us two of these purple people, and we’ll combat the insurrectionists.”

“Tina,” Arqut says to her, not sure that he agrees, but not sure that he doesn’t.

Pinocchio thinks it over. “You were just asking to be sent back for your son. Now you’re asking to not only stay here, but to be two of the most powerful people in the simulation? Fascinating tactic.”

“Our power is your power,” Tinaya clarifies. “I assume you can always take it away, and unlike the others, we would let you. Since we will do whatever you want, that is not what we get out of it. What we get out of it is you send Silveon back to Extremus. He must be saved, because he can save everyone else. Plus, we wanna talk to him first.”

Pinocchio considers it again, incorporating these new parameters. “I’ll do it, but unpurpling you isn’t as easy as it may sound, so I have one condition.”

“Go ahead,” Tinaya offers, not surprised.

“Your ship, it’s cut off. Your son goes back to prevent it from blowing up, but if it does anyway—or if individuals just die for other reasons—none of your people comes here. Dead is dead is dead is dead.”

Brief pause. Tinaya takes a breath. She shouldn’t have this kind of power. “Deal.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2567: Congressperson

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

I am a United States Congressperson in Missouri’s fifth district, so I serve my country very close to Landis Tipton’s operation on the Kansas side. I was always skeptical as I have seen a lot of charlatans in my day. A not insignificant part of my job is finding constituents in need amidst a cacophony of people who are, quite frankly, not mentally well, or actively trying to waste my time. Still, I was civil about it, and cautiously optimistic, and I let him prove himself. But I didn’t just let him run wild. I asked questions, and I got more information. I did my due diligence. Now that he’s proven himself, we face a new threat. Just because he’s the real deal, doesn’t mean he can’t cause problems. In fact, I’ve seen the numbers, and he absolutely will. Or I should say, the Foundation will. I don’t want to put this whole thing on one person’s shoulders, because if he really were that much of a danger to us on his own, he would probably be a criminal. As far as I know, no one there has committed any crimes, but they don’t see the detriment that they will do. I’ll be blunt. The panacea will tank the economy. I don’t want to stop it, but I’ve been fighting to slow it down so we can get ahead of this thing. People have been so anxious for its release, and believe that it’s taking too long, but based on projected announcement dates, everything is happening far too fast. We might never recover from the devastation if this thing goes to market, free or otherwise. Again, I don’t want to halt development, but we need time to create programs which will protect U.S. citizens, and everyone else in the world, from the fallout. My concern is with my nation, and particularly, my district, but this will have worldwide repercussions, so even if I did manage to prepare my community for the changes, I can’t help the world alone. I need people on my side. I need people who understand my position, and will do what they can to contribute to the cause. I know that no one is trying to cause such harm on purpose. They all have good intentions, which is very noble of them, but they’re only worrying about their one little niche, and thinking that the changes will only have an effect on that. But it’s connected. It’s all connected. Everything we do in the modern day is a result of a million plus decisions that billions of people are making now, and made in the past. You have to look at the big picture. As I said, I can’t do this alone, so please, if you can do anything to support this cause, every dollar counts, and ever voice matters. Thank you.

Extremus: Year 119

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Decades ago, Tinaya and Arqut connected their lives together through a lifelink. When one of them gets hurt, so too will the other. They weren’t sure if the procedure had worked, because it wasn’t always reliable. There were times when one was sick, and the other was not. It was never really the point, though. This is why they did it. They have just died at the exact same time, which is rare on this ship. Everything that they were dealing with—all the trials and tribulations—it’s all behind them now. Their son is technically older than them, and this isn’t the first time that he had to say goodbye to his parents. Silveon will be okay without them, armed with his memory of future events, and a lifetime’s worth of knowledge and wisdom. He and Audrey bid farewell and let them go, as did everyone else here who deserved it. Now they can move on. Now they can finally rest.

There is one thing left to do, however. It is time to answer The Question. Tinaya has known about it for many years, and eventually told her family. It’s a secret from just about everyone else, though. It violates a major principle of the Extremus mission, but again, they have known about it for so long, they’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it. There is no way to know how many people answer yes, and how many answer no, because it should come as a surprise for most. At the moment of their deaths, Tinaya and Arqut’s consciousnesses were uploaded to a special server. If they agree, their minds will be put on ice for another century, until the Extremus planet is reached by their descendants. When it comes time to settle their new homeworld, everyone who answered yes will be downloaded into new substrates, and become part of the colonists. If the two of them were normal, it would feel instantaneous to them—assuming nothing destroyed the ship in the meantime. But they’re on a different track. When they say yes, they will be going somewhere else.

“Hello, and welcome to The Buffer,” a woman says warmly.

They were standing in the Attic Forest, though obviously a virtual simulation of it. The two recently deceased are now young again, which makes sense, and feels nice.

“Does everyone come to this place?” Tinaya asks. “The forest hasn’t always existed.”

The welcomer smiles. “You were clearly prepped beforehand, so I will skip the usual explanation. To answer your question, the simulation scans your thoughts, and generates what it believes will be the most pleasant and comforting place for you specifically. For most people, it looks something like this, as we all wish to find Extremus. For you, it sounds like it’s more specific. I hope it pleases the both of you. We don’t get many duos. I’m guessing it’s a lifelink?”

“Yes, and I helped build this place for real in base reality, as did my now-husband,” Tinaya explains, “so it’s important to us both.”

“Ah, yes. I have heard of you. Miss Leithe, right?”

“Admiral Emerita Leithe.” Tinaya doesn’t usually care about formalities, but it felt important to her to clarify her title in this case.

“Apologies. And you?”

“Superintendent Arqut Grieves. You didn’t know that we were coming?”

The woman shakes her head. Her voice is still calming. “I do not receive a manifest beforehand, or even an alert of a forthcoming arrival. My job is to ask you The Question without judgement or preconception. It doesn’t matter to me who you are, or who you were. You’re entitled to answer.”

“Who are you?” Tinaya asks, “Or, who were you, if you prefer?”

“I am Dr. Itri Meziani, thanks for asking,” she replies. “I was the Executive Grief Counselor many years ago.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Meziani.” Tinaya shakes her hand, then Arqut does.

“I suppose that you already know what I’m about to ask you, but I still must ask it,” Dr. Meziani says.

For a long time there, Tinaya intended on saying no to The Question. She only changed her mind relatively recently when Thistle showed her that her whole family line has been kept alive in base reality on an asteroid which Tinaya herself colonized and called Eleithium. It gave her some perspective. She doesn’t wanna die. The problem now is that Thistle is no longer the AI in charge, and they don’t know whether they will be rerouted to the colony, or just kept on ice with everyone else. Did he set it up so that it will happen automatically? Truthfully, she forgot to ask him before Oceanus stopped allowing their visits. Do they have to be honest with this Dr. Meziani about their sort of get out of jail free card? In the end, they decided to just come clean and tell the truth. They can’t risk something going wrong with the process. If it doesn’t work, they’ll just go on ice, and still be alive. All they know is that they’re not going to say no. They really want to see the Extremus planet, and they almost have to see Silveon again.

“We have somewhere else to be,” Arqut begins. “A friend of ours set up...an alternative option. I’m not sure how we go about getting there, though. He’s sort of...indisposed at the moment.”

“I can check for a rerouting subroutine,” Dr. Meziani says graciously, “but I can’t guarantee anything. If your friend can’t control it from the outside, I can’t get you there. It wouldn’t be that I wouldn’t want to. Again, it’s not my job to make judgments. You don’t have to do anything in particular. Hell, if you can will yourself back to life in your own body, go for it. But understand that there is a time limit. I can’t tell you what it is. It’s after five minutes following the next death, so that could be any second now. The Buffer must be kept open.” She looks to the left, presumably searching for the path that will take them to Eleithium, and hopefully finding it. She suddenly jerks her head to the right. “Something’s wrong.”

“What is it? Did you find it?” Arqut asks.

“Your time is up,” Dr. Meziana tells them. “Someone else just died.”

“But we have five more minutes,” Tinaya reminds her.

“No.” She starts breathing heavily, which doesn’t make sense given that there’s no air in this virtual environment. “You don’t.” Without warning, she pops away, leaving a faint puff of smoke behind.

A shadow appears in the trees in the distance. It’s moving in an eerie serpentine pattern, but drawing nearer. As it does so, its silhouette becomes clearer and clearer. Finally, it looks like a person, and soon after that, it looks like someone they know.

“Pronastus?” Tinaya questions. “You died?”

“Just for a few minutes,” Pronastus says in a weird tone that doesn’t really sound like him. “The flatline device that I found will revive me in about six minutes.”

“Did you have something to tell us?” Arqut presses.

“Or ask us?” Tinaya adds.

“You gave me the ability to do this,” Pronastus goes on. “You’re the one who helped me find the consciousness transference technology that I needed to hack in here. I was looking for it, but I could not find it, because it was for me. I can’t do anything for myself. I have to be searching for someone else. Fortunately, you never realized just how close you were to it. For reference, it was in a closet, in the first Frontrunner you teleported to; the one where you met AI!Elder.”

Oh, right. AI!Elder did say that there was a cool helmet in there. She should not have ignored that quip. “So you’re, uh...evil...errr...what’s goin’ on here?”

“What’s going on is that I am sick of doing everything for everyone else. I found a workaround, and it’s thanks to that helmet. Coming here was a necessary latent step, but not my endgame. I’m going to send my mind to another body. Bonus, I get to keep my pathfinding powers, and finally use them for myself!”

“What do we have to do with any of that?” Arqut spits.

“You know me,” Pronastus reasons. “You know me better than anyone. Others know that I’m a pathfinder, of course, but they don’t understand it. When Captain Jennings dies, I’ll have to make sure that he also answers no. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry about Silveon. He’s too preoccupied with his own life, I don’t feel threatened by him, so I don’t care what answer he gives when he dies. However, if any of you put yourselves on ice, and come back in a hundred years, you’ll see right through my disguise. I have long-term plans. Running the ship is just the first part of it. I don’t plan on ever dying, because that’s a retarded provision that our ancestors never should have decided upon or agreed to.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that word.”

“That’s your issue? I’m about to straight up murder you, and you’re arguing with me about political correctness?”

“We’re not too worried,” Tinaya explains. “Tyrants like you and Waldemar always create their own resistance. It’s not gonna last. You may be a pathfinder, but eventually, you will run out of paths that lead you to joy. You’ll always want more, and it will be your downfall. Extremus will get through this. It suffered but survived Consul Vatal, and Ovan Teleres, and Mister Radomil Cernak. It will survive you too.”

Pronastus smirks. “Will it survive Waldemar?”

“You’re obviously undoing that timeline,” Tinaya replies.

“Am I?”

“Oh, shit. The clones.”

“The clones,” Pronastus confirms. “They were never made by him. What would be his reasoning?”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. You needed me to ask you to lead me to the Frontrunners for the consciousness transference technology. That’s where I found the first clone. You didn’t know about it beforehand.”

Pronastus smirks again. “I’m not in this alone. Others know where the path should go, and have known that for decades. They just didn’t know that I would be the one to take the first step in the right direction. Eight. Eight. Eight,” he says in a low and intimidating voice.

“What?”

“Eight. Eight. Eight,” Pronastus repeats. Oh, it’s a weird chant. “Eight. Eight. Eight.” It kind of sounds like hate with all that breathiness. His watch beeps. “Oh, my time is up. Don’t wanna wake up with brain damage, do I?”

“We’ve not given an answer,” Arqut tries to reason. “How exactly are you gonna force us to give the wrong one?”

“You have a time limit, remember?” Pronastus says.

“But you’re the time limit, and you’re not really dead. You have to go back in a minute or so. I doubt the Buffer will force us out. I mean, it hasn’t yet.”

“I started the clock,” Pronastus begins. “The next death will stop it. Some overlap is acceptable, but not three death events.”

“How do you know there’s gonna be another death soon?”

One last smirk. “Because I caused it, just like I caused Détha’s. Trust me, I didn’t miss anything.”

“Who did you kill?” Tinaya demands to know.

Oh, no. This is his last smirk.

“Who did you kill!”

Pronastus winks, then disappears.

“Response window expired,” a disembodied computerized voice that they don’t recognize announces. “Answer null. Prepare for IDCode purge.”

“No!” Tinaya and Arqut exclaim. “We answer yes! We answer yes!” Tinaya continues.

“Mom?” Silveon asks, having just appeared before them.

“NO!” they both repeat. Everything turns black.

« < » > Table of Contents

Extremus: Year 118

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

It’s the end of the year, and the end of Tinaya and Arqut’s lives. The whole ship is in mourning, even though they’re not quite dead yet. They’re in the same room that they’ve slept in for years, but it has been modified to accommodate their new situation. The bed has been pulled out to be replaced with two hospital beds. People have been coming all month long to say their goodbyes. The doctors don’t let too many people in over the course of only one day, so they have to spread it out. Audrey, with nothing else to do, is in charge of maintaining a healthy and comfortable schedule. Captain Jennings has his turn now, as it is nearing the couple’s final days, and he should be one of the last. His relationship to the two of them hasn’t always been perfect, but they have a mutual respect for one another, he will still be saddened by the loss. That’s not the only reason he’s here, though. There is some final business to take care of. “You must appoint your successor.”

“Ask me in a year,” Arqut quips. Gallows humor.

Oceanus tries hard not to smile. He doesn’t know that it’s fine. They’re in their nineties, for God’s sake. “Please. I want them to be as good as you.” He looks around in paranoia, like someone might be watching. “Things have been changing. Waldemar is gaining popularity.”

“We knew he would,” Tinaya says. “He’s a populist.”

“Yeah, but...please,” Oceanus begs.

“Who is in third place?” Arqut asks him. “If Waldemar is number one, who is number three?”

“That would be Détha. Why? Are you considering her for the role?”

“I can’t just say, whoever loses becomes the Superintendent instead,” Arqut explains. “I have to choose a name, and it will take that person out of the running. They obviously can’t be both the Captain and the Superintendent.”

“We all know that neither one of them is going to win,” Oceanus says, “Détha nor Pronastus.”

“Right, but second place will become lieutenant, won’t they?” Arqut presses.

Oceanus frowns. “We weren’t telling people that.”

“You don’t always have to tell me something for me to know,” Arqut clarifies. “Well...you don’t have to tell my wife.”

“It’s a little bit of padding,” Oceanus explains. “If that man has to become captain no matter what, at least we can put someone at his side who we can trust. If it can’t be Silveon, let it be someone we know and like.”

“Détha is the same,” Tinaya says. “I didn’t know her before all this, but I’ve been watching her. She would make a good superintendent or lieutenant, but let’s have her as the former. Pronastus has work to do when it comes to policy, not just staffing.”

“So we’ll have two good people in power, and one not so good,” Oceanus determines. He breathes a sigh of relief. “I was hoping you would say something like that. She has to be informed first, though. She has the right to decline, and move forward with her bid for the captaincy.”

“Well...” Arqut begins. “Bring her to us.”

“She’s not on the schedule,” Audrey warns from the corner.

“Who is?”

“Head Councillor Crusan,” Audrey answers. “After him, you’ve hit your quota. You’re not allowed any more visitors, besides me and your son. Doctor’s orders.”

“We’ll see him tomorrow,” Tinaya decides.

“Tomorrow is a day of rest,” Audrey reminds them. “They’re all days of rest after today.”

“Then push it back. The day after that will be the start of our swan songs,” Arqut insists. “He’s right, I should have picked a replacement sooner. I just wasn’t thinking, and honestly, I forgot whether I had the authority to do so or not. There was a time when we thought I didn’t. I have the power to move staff around as needed, but does that include my own position? Anyway, please retrieve her for us. But maybe wait an hour or two. We both need a nap.”

Oceanus looks up at Audrey. “Just let me know when they’re awake and up for it. Détha will jump when I say so.”

Détha ends up not being able to come until nighttime, when her watch as active Vice Captain is over for the day. Technically, once she’s on break, she’s free to do whatever she wants. It’s kind of the point to transition to the next Vice Captain three times a day, so none of them has any sort of help from the others while they’re active. During each watch, they are expected to be the one and only. This is a different situation, though. She’s not in command at the moment. “You wanted to see me, sirs?”

“There is no time to beat around the bush,” Arqut starts to tell her. He’s sitting up now, feeling better than before, but he knows that he’s going to have to go to sleep again soon. “Are you aware of your place in the competition?”

Détha is a straightforward person. She recognizes the value in lying, but is very good at seeing what others know, and what they don’t, so when lying is pointless, it becomes counterproductive. She knows that Tinaya and Arqut already know the answer, so any optimism or confidence will come across as unearned, even though she got to where she is due to all that confidence. Fake it ‘til you make it, except unfortunately...she’s not gonna make it. And she knows that too. “I’m losing, sir.”

“Do you know why that is?” Arqut goes on.

Now she’s hesitating.

“Be honest with us about your perspective,” Tinaya encourages her. “We’ll take it to our grave, which is coming up soon.”

Détha clears her throat, and tries to straighten up, but really, she was already standing at high attention. “It’s a boy’s club sir. It has been for over twenty years. I’m sorry if that offends.”

“It doesn’t,” Tinaya assures her. “You’re right, but that’s not the problem. I’m guessing that you would be happier if Pronastus won. Not as happy as if it were you, but better than the alternative?”

Détha hesitates again, but pushes through it. “He should be in first place. He’s clearly the best, I’m not sure why he’s not. He understands people. He knows what they need. He has literal superpowers. Waldemar, on the other hand, is...”

“Incompetent? Reckless?” Arqut tries to guess.

“Inhumane? Dispassionate?” Tinaya adds.

“Lost,” Détha contends. “Sirs. He gets confused about why he should care what others are going through.”

Arqut nods. “As Superintendent, when active, I don’t have the power to relieve a captain from duty, unless under extreme circumstances, and even then, I would need a lot of people backing me. I wouldn’t be able to just do it.”

“Sir? Is there a problem with Captain Jennings? Is he corrupt?” Détha asks.

“No, not him. It’s Kristiansen. He’ll be a problem.”

“Apologies, but it appears that you won’t be the Superintendent anymore, sir.”

“Exactly,” Arqut confirms.

Détha winces a little. She’s not quite connecting the dots, but she’s close. Or maybe she’s there, but she doesn’t want to assume.

“We need you,” Tinaya says. “We need you to take his place, so you can be in a position to help when the day comes that this ship requires an active Superintendent again. As he said, you can’t remove a captain, but maybe you could move enough other people around, and gather enough support.”

“You’re planning a future coup,” Détha argues. “You won’t even be around to suffer any consequences.”

Tinaya sighs. “There are things we know about the future. I’m breaking laws just by telling you that, and I won’t say anything more, except that you are a variable that we didn’t see. Perhaps...you can make things better. Based on your track record, I don’t think you can make it worse. You and Vice Captain Kegrigia are the only two people who might have a chance of keeping Extremus in one piece. One of your should be lieutenant, and the other the new Arqut.”

Détha considers the offer. “You don’t think I can win?” she asks. “You don’t think something can change within the next two years?”

“You deserve it,” Arqut says to her, “but no. Time is usually fluid, even for time travelers who have knowledge of future events, but sometimes, there’s nothing you can do. We believe that this is the best course of action to take right now. It might be the only one.”

Détha nods respectfully. “I accept the position. I will take on my new responsibilities with honor and grace.”

“Now, you understand that you won’t have power over the vice captains either, right? They’re just like the captain in this regard. If we were still doing things the old ways, you couldn’t veto a candidate. They’re insulated, by extension of the captain. So even though you’ll be starting by the end of the competition, you won’t be able to change the outcome.”

“I understand,” Détha replies. “With all due respect, I can promise you nothing when it comes to my future decisions. I will have to be my own Superintendent, and if I calculate that Waldemar Kristiansen is the absolute best thing to happen to Extremus, and its mission, then I will support him appropriately. If you’re looking for someone to carry a set of instructions that you write down before you die, you’re looking at the wrong girl.”

“We would never expect that,” Arqut says sincerely. “I would not be choosing you if I thought I could. That’s the point.”

Détha nods again. “Then once more, I accept.”

There are a few minor details to iron out, but there’s very little that she needs to know before she starts her job. They won’t announce the decision for another few days, and she won’t actually start anything until Arqut dies, or if he’s declared mentally unfit to continue. They are considering asking the doctor to do just that so she can go ahead and get started. It’s not like they would be lying. He gets tired all the time, and he’s on his actual deathbed. Technically, he’s mentally stable enough to make decisions, but in a practical sense, he should also be able to attend council meetings. Even sitting up in a chair has become difficult. They don’t get the chance to do any of this, however. A couple of days later, Détha is found dead in her stateroom.

It was clearly murder, but they have no evidence that Waldemar was involved. It doesn’t even kind of look like he might have done it. Only a few people understand his full motives. Since he was winning the competition for the captain’s seat, to outsiders, it doesn’t look like he would have much reason to feel threatened by her. If anything, he should have killed Pronastus to secure his own win, but that’s not what happened. Their best guess is that he found out that Détha spoke with Tinaya and Arqut, even though she doesn’t know them, and wouldn’t have been on the list of visitors unless it was something that wasn’t in Waldemar’s best interests. Murder is wrong, of course, but he’s not crazy to hold these fears. They are plotting against him, just probably not in the way that he thought. Or she confessed to him, either beforehand, which led to the murder, or during the violent act, as a desperate plea for her life. So they don’t know what he knows. It doesn’t matter for long, though, because Arqut and Tinaya die at the exact same time just a few weeks later anyway. They never found a new superintendent.

« < » > Table of Contents

Extremus: Year 116

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Oceanus was furious that Crusan switched the envelopes. He demanded to know how he even did that, but it really wasn’t that hard. The printer was literally behind the stage, unlocked, and all the presets were still engaged. All Crusan had to do was type a new name, print it out, and switch it with the real one using some sleight of hand. What they didn’t know before was that he likes to study old Earth magic in his free time. He was already coming in to see who won when Tinaya stopped the clock, so he heard most of the argument about Silveon being the real chosen one. His exact motivations, however, are not yet apparent. Oceanus argued with the braintrust in secret, but there’s no going back now. It’s irrelevant which envelope is real. Tinaya said the name out loud, and the written evidence is all the proof that anyone would need to declare it legitimate. Crusan destroyed the original, and even if Captain Jennings pointed to the file version history, Pronastus’ name is the one that everyone heard. Going back on that now would just make him look incompetent. The best thing they can do at this point is move forward with the three candidates for this ship’s new captain.

The true wrench in the works is that Waldemar was the one who asked for the competition to be rigged. He was expecting his friend, Silveon’s name to be called instead. It was Oceanus who had to explain his reasoning. Tinaya wasn’t there, but he reportedly used it as an opportunity to teach Waldemar a lesson about leadership. The ship cannot be managed by one man alone. You are always having to work with others, and even if you have authority over them, they have the inborn freewill to defy you. Working through these conflicts with a cool head is an important skill to master. This would be great advice for just about anyone else hoping for an executive position, but this is a special case. It has probably set their progress back with Waldemar a little bit. He likely sees it as a bad lesson, favoring the search for a workaround which would allow him to do whatever he needs without any pushback.

Speaking of Waldemar, something must be done about his clones, if any extras exist. Consul Sanchez never told Tinaya where she rerouted it when AI!Elder attempted to reveal the truth about it on The Black Deck. The logic is that it’s in Tinaya’s best interest not to know. Plausible deniability, and all that. She said that it was disposed of properly, but AI!Elder claimed there were others. He could have been lying for all she knew, but if he wasn’t, they have to be found. The hunt has been slow going. She doesn’t have any leads. She has to literally look for them in unoccupied sectors of the ship. Well, she isn’t doing it herself. Silveon has been working on it, with his fast legs, and ability to use them for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Audrey helps too. It’s been easier for her to get out of her quarters, now that Waldemar is officially busy with vice captain duties. They have tried to ask Pronastus for help, but his magical superpowers are evidently not leading him anywhere. Perhaps there’s nothing to find.

Silveon sighs, and plops down on the couch. He’s tired from the search, as well as his normal stewardship responsibilities. “We have to learn to accept the possibility that, if there are more clones out there, they’re being kept somewhere that isn’t out of the way. We don’t know where the one you found came from, so it could have been created by a Future!Waldemar, or the one we have with us today, or it could be someone else entirely, storing one of the pods securely and secretly in their own linen closet.”

“You’re right,” Tinaya says. “I’m sorry to make you go looking for it. You’re off the hook. You should be living your life. How old are you now, twenty-seven?”

“A hundred and two.”

“Oh. I was close.” Tinaya smiles, and then starts nodding off a little.

“You should get some rest, mom,” Silveon suggests. “You don’t have to go to the launch party.

“No, I wanna be there, but I think I will take a quick nap.” Her eyelids are really heavy now. “Just...need to talk to you...about...finding...your own...”

Silveon sits there quietly for a moment before standing up, and starting to leave.

She hears the doors slide open. “Place,” she finally finishes.

Silveon stops. “What?”

Her eyes are closed, and she’s half asleep already. “You’re a big boy now. You just said it. You’re a hundred. That’s older than me. You shouldn’t still be living with your parents.”

“Mom, I don’t live with my parents. My parents live with me.”

“That would be one way to frame it, except this is the admiral’s stateroom.” It’s the admiral’s stateroom now because Tinaya is an admiral, but it’s the same one they lived in when she was still captain. It’s an executive stateroom really, but her point stands. It will never be Silveon’s. In fact, it would never even be Arqut’s. If they weren’t going to die at the same time, and she went first, Arqut would have to move out. And Silveon will have to when that day comes. He might as well do it now. They should not have let it go on this long, even though it’s obviously a nicer unit, and he probably hasn’t hated the luxury.

“I just mean, I’m here to take care of you. I may be older, but I don’t look it, and I don’t feel it. You’re frail and tired. You can’t even open your eyes right now. Nor should you have to. You should be able to retire. Or it’s not really a retirement, but they make a new rank above it, which basically means retired. I’ve thought about this.”

“The Captaincy is a lifetime responsibility,” Tinaya tries to explain. “We all know that going in.” She falls asleep again before she can say anything else.

Tinaya was mad that Silveon and Arqut let her sleep though the launch party, but she was secretly relieved. Even if she had woken up, being around all those people would have been exhausting. She is the oldest admiral this ship has ever seen, and it’s not something that anyone ever really thought about. Based on the ideal timing, any admiral who reaches this age should have a younger admiral for the captain to lean on more heavily. Nothing changes officially, but in practice, she ought to be working less. But Lataran isn’t that much younger. Should she be expected to carry the burden alone from now on?

People love The Search for Extremus. It really speaks to their sadness that they’ll never see the planet for real. Oceanus and Waldemar took their credit for its development, but gave Tinaya some credit too, which was nice. It was her baby, after all. She watched the event later from the comfort of her own bed. It looked like a real hoot, but also a little too rowdy. It’s been a couple of months now, and it hasn’t lost steam. Every player really wants to be the one to find the new homeworld. Tinaya doesn’t play it herself, but she reads the summary updates to see if anyone has made any real progress.

She’s getting an award this evening. They won’t tell her what it is, but it’s probably the Lifetime Achievement award. It’s given mostly to members of the civilian government, but executive crew members qualify, and everyone who reaches the rank of admiral should get it eventually. She has to take a nap before she leaves, which Arqut does with her, but then they get up, get dressed, and get going.

Silveon is evidently the one who is going to present it to her, which is nice. “Admiral Tinaya Leithe is the hardest working person on this ship, and has been since her youth, and I can say that, because she’s my mother. She’s been a builder, a grower, a caregiver, a fixer, an explorer, a First Chair, a Captain, and an Admiral. She still is most of those things. She bridged the gap between sides, and has touched every department. She has made this journey better than it ever has been before, and she’s still clocking in every single day, putting in the time to make everyone here happy. This game you all love, she made that for you. She came up with it, because she knows how hard it is to be a middler. She too was born on Extremus, and will never see our home. She deserves this promotion more than anyone.”

Silveon looks over his shoulder at Tinaya before continuing his speech. “Captain Jennings and I have been working on a special project, which will shift the paradigm of the executive crew. They’ve already done that with the new vice captain position, so we figured we might as well go for it. In years past, the admiral position has been underutilized, but Admiral Leithe didn’t accept that. She kept moving. She redefined her own job, just as she did with all the other ones she had before this.” He looks at his mom again. “At the risk of sounding insensitive, mother, you’re done now.” He starts to tear up. “It’s okay for you to get your rest. You’ve earned it.” He turns back to the audience. “There is no retirement for an admiral. As my mom pointed out a few weeks ago, everyone who signs up to be captain understands that. But it doesn’t make it right. So Captain Jennings and I came up with a workaround. Tinaya Leithe, please stand up to accept your new insignia. I have the honor of officially designating you Admiral Emerita.”

Tinaya stands, and walks over to him. Silveon removes her old insignia, and attaches the new one. Shiny. She’s crying as he does this. He hugs her. Lataran was sitting next to her, of course, and hops up to hug her too. Oceanus is standing now. He reaches out to shake her hand, but Tinaya insists on a hug. It’s less warm though; more professional and formal. Still, it’s nice. They used to be so close, and maybe they can get back to that one day. If she lives long enough. After this, the congratulations become less organized. Vice Captains Pronastus and Détha step up to express their own respect. Waldemar does too, but his hug is weird. You would think the mechanics of it would be obvious enough from seeing other people do it, but without a conscience, he’s totally lost and awkward. It’s not surprising, though. Fortunately, right afterwards, she gets to hug Audrey, which feels real good right now.

After the ceremony is over, they move on to the celebratory portion of the day. This started early, fittingly because this is about letting Tinaya rest now. So the party is fairly chill. There aren’t too many people here. Consul Sevara Sanchez is one of them, though. They lock eyes from across the room. Sevara waves at Tinaya with her pinky finger alone while holding a drink. She keeps talking to some guy who has his back turned right now.

Head Councillor Regulus Crusan sidles up to Tinaya. “That one’s bad news.”

“I don’t know who it is,” Tinaya replies. She keeps looking forward, as does he.

“You don’t know the Consul?” Regulus questions.

“Sevara?” Tinaya questions right back. “I thought you were talking about that guy. Why would Sevara be bad news?”

“She’s a believer. She knows what’s coming, and she welcomes it.”

“What do you mean? What’s coming?”

“Waldemar Kristiansen, Eighth of Eight.”

“I’ve never heard that title before. How do you know about that?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s been on...the Bridge.” He’s not talking about the bridge of Extremus, but the Bridger Section.

Oh, man, another spy? How many have they turned? Literally everyone? “Are you trying to stop it?”

“I’m trying to make it better,” Regulus explains.

“Pronastus,” Tinaya says simply, nodding. That’s why he switched the envelopes at the award ceremony last year. He didn’t pull an applicant name out of his ass. He chose one for very specific reasons.

“Kegrigia knows where the timeline is meant to be, good or bad. It’s less that Kristiansen needs an advisor like that, and more that the ship needs it, to protect them from what Kristiansen might do on his own.”

This is probably a stupid question, and it’s definitely a dangerous one. “What do you know about the clones?” At least it was vague?

“I know that there are eight,” Regulus begins. Maybe he really does know what she’s referring to. “I saw the codenames once. I wasn’t supposed to be looking at it, though, so let me try to remember. “The Seed, the Potato, the Softie, the Morph, the Prime, the Gravity, the Elder, and what was the last one...?”

Tinaya nods. “The Clutch.”

“Yeah, that’s it. So you already know.”

“I didn’t know there were eight, but that makes sense.”

“Why would it make sense?”

“You just described the Seven Stages of Aging. The Seed sometimes refers to an embryo, but it can be a foetus too. The next six are after you’re born, and were part of the original system. A filmmaker came up with them centuries ago. Basically, if you want to cast a character whose entire life will be on screen, you need six different actors. The Seed was added later when the concept was adapted to cloning and artificial gestation technology.”

“There are eight, though.”

She nods again, and sighs. “The eighth one only belongs in our world. A Clutch is an immortal who can shift to whatever age they please. You only need one.”

“Oh, I think there was an asterisk next to that one,” Regulus adds.

“I can’t be sure what that means, except we don’t have clutch technology. It’s not even so much as mentioned in the archives. The asterisk could mean that it’s proposed, but not yet existent. I don’t know. I only found the Gravity.”

“I can help you find the others. I just need something in return.”

Of course he does. “You need what?”

“Just a vial...of your husband’s blood.” And there it is.

“No.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Extremus: Year 115

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

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!”

« < » > Table of Contents