Microstory 2661: Destratified

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Resi Brooks has feet of stone, and his legs are on fire. His torso sloshes around, spilling drops of water on the steaming ground. His headwinds pull upwards, trying to force him into the sky. He takes another step. His left leg begins to harden, but it doesn’t last long. The fire beats against his knees, and takes back over. That’s his mother, trying to bring him over to her side of the island. That would be okay. Any of the Houses, he would be proud to be in. He just doesn’t want to end up in Kinkon. His family would be so disappointed. He can feel the stars in his eyes. They’re a smaller part of him than they are for some. Many have willingly crossed the ocean, and joined the colonists and their descendants. And they have returned, bringing their new bloodline with them. He does not come from a family of bigots. He welcomes his brothers and sisters, and the strangers. He just does not want to become one of them. Kinkon isn’t a real House. It’s just what they call it when you don’t fit in anywhere else; when you embrace the colonial lifestyle. Again, there’s nothing wrong with it. He’s been known to partake in their technology, and enjoyed their media. They make good stuff. He would miss his loved ones too much, though. He would have to leave to learn their ways, and while his family members have completed their Mori journeys, and would be free to visit him, they wouldn’t. They like it here too much. God is the one who brought their ancestors here in the first place, and they want to stay close to Him. Of course, everyone knows that it was The Mirror, the Flyer, and the Bird who actually rescued them from the Ash Death, but they believe that he was working through them. They still thank him for this world.

Resi has been so much in his head this whole time, he didn’t even notice that the wind has begun to take over his body. It’s down to his shoulders now. It’s not strong enough to lift him from the ground, but it will happen soon if he’s not careful. But does he want to be careful? House Enaiyo would be a perfectly acceptable selection. He doesn’t have any family there, but his parents would be just as proud of him, and they’re not too terribly far away. It feels like this Kidjum is taking a long time. When he would watch the ceremony as a child, the sleepers would reawaken much faster than this. Perhaps that has all been an illusion. After all, when he’s just having a regular dream, time passes differently inside than on the outside. Still, he doesn’t want to be the last to wake up with his declaration. The others won’t tease him for it, but he doesn’t want the spotlight to be on him, and he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time. Kidjum ceremonies are boring for anyone who isn’t in it, or doesn’t personally know someone who is. He remembers that from childhood. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. The way they described what it was like to be in the dream sounded fascinating, but not something worth watching from the outside more than once. It’s only interesting now.

He wakes up. No warning, no final decision. He’s just awake, and it wasn’t even finished yet. The audience is clapping. Oh, no. He really is the last one. Oh, how embarrassing. He rolls over to see the cot next to him. The dreamer in it has not awoken yet. He sits up and looks around. No one else is awake. He’s not last? Why the hell are they clapping then? They’re gonna fall silent once he tells them that he never came to a decision. Does he have to pee? Why in the world did he wake up before his time! What is he supposed to choose? He never got his answer! The Kokore walks over, and reaches out to help him up. She has a huge smile upon her face. She guides him towards the audience, who are still clapping and cheering. They know more than Resi does. She holds his hand up triumphantly.

They cheer louder. Resi notices that the kids are clapping too, but they look just as confused as he is. Whatever this is, it must be something that you don’t learn until after your own Kidjum, which explains why he doesn’t understand why he’s being singled out when the other dreamers haven’t even opened their eyes yet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in over 200 years,” the Kokore begins, “I give you a founding member of House Kutelin!”

House Kutelin? That’s not a thing. It just means five.

“Resi Brooks, First Tongue of Aether, you honor us with your presence.”

Aether? What the fuck is that?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 6, 2550

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Things were a little awkward at first. Leona was a lot less powerful than Senona originally believed. They didn’t think to ask Echo or Clavia about it at some point, or the truth might have been clarified earlier. Senona lived in another universe, and their access to information about other universes had its limitations. They were aware that one Leona Matic was a time traveler in Salmonverse, but not that there were multiple people who went by the same name. They were thinking of an alternate version of her, who was far more powerful, and therefore better equipped to help with the effort at Origin.

This other Leona was from a different timeline, and only survived the transition because she was the one who went back to the past to save Mateo from torture, thereby creating the new timeline. She had a number of different time powers, which she managed to procure using organ transplants. The exact details of her exploits remained a mystery to this day. Senona didn’t realize the discrepancy. It wasn’t like they hadn’t heard of alternate selves before. It was simply an unknown unknown to them. The issue was that Alt!Leona never promised to aid in the efforts at Origin. To their knowledge, she had never even been there. Once discovering the difference between the two, Senona’s initial reaction was to let this Leona return to her life with the team, but she didn’t want to do that. After she asked for her own wish way back when, Senona mentioned that they would have to call someone for aid. When she pressed for clarification, they explained that that was how it worked. They couldn’t do much on their own, and could not leave Origin themselves, so they always recruited others. Leona volunteered to be one of these agents should the need ever arise. It now had.

For two years, Leona was the boots on the ground of the operation. Even though she couldn’t do as much as the other Leona, she wasn’t powerless either. Besides her normal teleportation, Senona provided her with temporary abilities. These included the means to travel all over the bulkverse on her own, do so invisibly, and with a certain knack for persuasion. She also had a number of ancillary abilities, like stamina and strength, which let her do the job without getting sleepy or fatigued. She did still sleep, and had time off. In fact, she had full permission to travel to any universe she wanted, and do whatever she wanted. But like professional chess, the clock only ran while she was working, and she didn’t want to delay her return to the team.

Meanwhile—if such a concept had any relevance outside the normal passage of time—Olimpia and Ramses were getting to know their son, Echo. They didn’t have to do any work for those two years, though they joined Leona on precisely two occasions, when the wish went beyond her scope alone. Today was the last mission. After this was done, the team members would go back to Salmonverse to be with their friends. Clavia would return here, and rejoin her brother. They weren’t slaves or anything, but they were not allowed to live in Salmonverse. That was something that I decided long ago, and while I gave them a pass on that for recent stories, it was never going to be a permanent thing. They are too powerful. Any problem which comes up here can be solved nearly instantaneously if they’re involved. They got to go.

“We understand,” Echo said, psychically, but also out loud. “But I demand periodic visits.”

That can be arranged. We’ll talk later.

“Oh, are you taking requests?” Sanaa Karimi interjected from wherever she was in the timestream. “I would like a real life pink pony. Sparkly fur. It has to cuss a lot.”

Sure, I’ll get right on that. Hold your breath and wait.

“I’m gonna tear out your eyeballs, and jam your thumbs into them so you can’t type anymore,” Meredarchos added.

You know where I live, asshole.

With the brief and unhealthy transuniversal psychic conversation over, Echo refocused on this last mission. He and his parents wanted to help make it a good one.

Leona was watching him. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” he replied. “What do we got?”

“This is a funny one,” she answered. She had barely finished her last job, and was still wearing her adventure clothes. Since she couldn’t be seen, this wasn’t necessary, but it helped her get in character. “Not funny, ha-ha; more funny, oh God. A young man is playing a game called Scourge of the Valley, and his older sister has asked that we make sure he wins. The way it works, you and your competitors are summiting a mountain. In this world, death is more of a nuisance, and not final in most cases. If you reach the summit first, it’s yours, but only temporarily, unless you made it there without killing anyone. If you killed anyone on the way to get an edge, they will come back as ghosts, and fight you for the summit. If you lose that second round, you will die for good. Our man is not a skilled climber, but he won’t try to kill anyone. He wants to prove that it’s possible to win without violence. She doesn’t think he can do it.”

“This sounds too easy,” Ramses decided. “All we have to do is kill everyone so this man doesn’t have to. He’ll win by default. As long as they really will come back to life, and it’s fine...”

“Senona doesn’t think it works like that,” Leona explained. “If we serve as the man’s agents, invisible or no, he will be technically responsible for those deaths. They will become his enemy ghosts. We have to keep them from winning without killing them. We have to give him what he wants: a clean and bloodless win.”

“That’s impossible,” Olimpia thought. “If this guy’s sister doesn’t think he’s a fast enough climber, he’s probably not. The competition is probably fierce, and they will be killing each other for that top spot. As soon as even one of them makes it, he’ll have no chance. It will be over. We can protect him from attacks, but we can’t help him climb.”

“Wait, what are the physical laws of this universe?” Echo questioned. “Do they have temporal manipulation? Can we just teleport him there without raising eyebrows?”

“They don’t have anything like that. However, according to the sister, they will probably accept something weird. If he’s at the summit, and didn’t kill anyone, he’ll win. The culture is really weird like that. But that’s just the bloodthirsty audience. Apparently, a lot is riding on this. It could potentially change the world, because no one has ever done it nonviolently. But that won’t work if we use tricks. It has to look like he did it the way he claims he will. That’s what the sister is really asking for, not only a simple win.”

They went quiet, and started thinking through the dilemma individually. Every once in a while, one of them would think they had an idea, or even articulate it, but it wouldn’t work. Too many ideas relied on people noticing that it didn’t seem genuine. Finally, however, Olimpia thought that she had it. “Help me understand how this multiverse thing works. Every dream anyone has ever had, and every story that has ever been told, exists somewhere as a real, tangible, universe?”

“Yeah, essentially,” Echo agreed. “Some are more stable than others, though. Dreams don’t last very long. If their laws of physics are weird, they won’t survive past the duration of that dream. Even if they’re mundane, they’ll probably collapse anyway, because of how fleeting they’re being observed and utilized. Branes based on stories are generally more stable, but the less popular ones still don’t last long.”

“I think the one I’m thinking of is pretty popular, so likely stable, but it still might look weird,” Olimpia began. “If all of the other competitors suddenly act confused, and even fall asleep, it will look suspicious, won’t it? It’s not exactly violence, but they’ll assume he poisoned them, and the revolution part of his win might not succeed.”

“Ah, you’re thinking of the Honan Enchantment,” Ramses realized. “You’re probably right about the optics, but it’s still not a bad idea. We just can’t do it to all of the competitors. Fortunately, that would not be the only universe we have access to, and we have all the time in the worlds, right? We need to find out how many competitors there are. A ranking would be great for us, so we’ll know how to prioritize. Then we can come up with a list of ways of slowing people down. One or two of them fall under the Enchantment, another one goes temporarily white blind—we’ll make sure they don’t slip off the edge—and a third—I dunno—gets the runs, or something.”

“That’s pretty gross, father.”

“I’m just trying to get this done without hurting anyone,” Ramses defended. “Diarrhea is only temporary, and everyone gets it. We’ll pick the guy who ate a big breakfast.”

Leona thought about it for a moment. “This is going to take more time than I hoped, but as long as we get back home in 2550, I’m willing to at least produce these two lists, and see if we can come up with enough ideas to avoid violence. The rankings are a good idea. If the brother isn’t the absolute slowest contender, we could leave some of them alone, and let them lose naturally.”

And so, the agents got to work. They really rushed through it, zipping in and out of various branes, taking whatever they needed, even if it was only an ultra-strong laxative. Some of the ingredients were harder than others. For instance, for some reason, they were fully visible to the locals where they were trying to retrieve Honan Enchantment. It took a little time to convince them to give some of it up, but since they only needed a very tiny bit, it was okay, because it wasn’t enough to condemn a large population.

All told, they needed 24 ways to interfere with the brother’s competitors in Flipverse. Six of them were probably not going to win either way, so they were left alone. The competition was still pretty heated. The woman unfortunate enough to be saddled with diarrhea just powered through it, and didn’t let it stop her. It did slow her down, though, which was enough to get her killed by the guy whose ropes they lathered with glue. He accused her of sabotaging him, and freehanded his way up to her, cutting her rope in retaliation, and plummeting to his own death with her.

They severely underestimated one of the untouched competitors, but the interesting part was that he too felt no need to kill anyone. Though, to be fair, that was probably thanks to the agents, and not his convictions. They reached the top at about the same time, and the rule in that case was that they would have to fight to the death. In a twist, despite barely knowing each other, they pulled a Hunger Games, and tried to jump off the cliff at the same time. Normally, the judges wouldn’t care. Suicide wasn’t a big deal for them. But there were no other contenders at that point. Everyone else had failed or been killed. A ghost couldn’t win unless they had someone to best at the summit. They simply could not allow there to be no winner at all, so they were spared, and declared joint winners. A little derivative, but it was ultimately better than one of them winning alone. The world they were living in wasn’t ruthless, and the judges weren’t evil. But society had kind of turned to shit. Even though it was technically okay to die, it was unhealthy to be so casual about murder. Not even Castlebourne was so careless. They were more focused on pushing life to its limits, rather than making death itself feel the goalposts.

“It sounds like it went well,” Senona said once they were back on the platform on the waterworld where they lived.

“I would say so,” Leona agreed. “Our task was to help him win this one game, not the whole revolution. That’s up to the natives now, so I think we objectively succeeded, even if it was a tie.”

“Makes sense,” Senona said. They turned to Olimpia, Ramses, and Echo. “Have you three said your goodbyes? I was unable to procure a daypass for you, Echo. You will be staying right here, while they switch places with Clavia.”

“Yeah, we had a meal together in Moderaverse,” Echo responded. “We are prepared to part ways...for now.”

Now back to Leona. “Did you find some moments of joy during this job, or were you always just itching to leave?”

“No, it was a rewarding experience,” she answered honestly. It wasn’t that way every time, though. Some people asked for not-so-great things, predominantly for military purposes. Senona didn’t discriminate, and Leona tried not to judge. The simple rule was, if they figured out how to get to Origin, and their wish was feasible, it was granted to them.

They nodded tightly. “Perfect. Your commitment is hereby complete. I thank you for your service.” Senona whisked them away.

They found themselves in an unfamiliar place. They had no idea where the hell they were. A gargantuan tree trunk towered over them, and disappeared into the clouds. The rest of their team reappeared before them after a few seconds. “Oh, hey,” Mateo said. “Welcome back...to Ramosus. This here is the Tree of Axis.”

“What?!” Ramses exclaimed.

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Extremus: Year 124

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Waldemar was being dramatic last year when he promised Sevara that he would make big changes to the ship. He is smart enough to know that jumping right into his endgame will get him kicked out of the captain’s chair. He can’t let that happen, not in his first term. Yeah, he’s calling them terms. It never made any sense to say that they were shifts. A shift is something you do for a matter of hours at a time, not the entirety of your role. It’s little things like that that he’s changing first. They’re also officially calling the place you go when you’ve been bad the brig, because that’s what it’s called! It’s been filling up. Some people think it’s wrong, but for too long, the passengers have been getting away with doing whatever they want, and that stops now. There are cells here. There are so many cells in the brig on this ship. The ancestors obviously anticipated more crime. The fact that they mostly stand empty is a point of pride among most, but from Waldemar’s point of view, it just looks like the bar has been set too low.

Silveon has become Waldemar’s personal steward, which should have been the case from day one. He doesn’t care if it looks like he’s playing favorites. That’s the whole point of being in power. Cronyism is supposed to be a dirty word, but it is a well-trusted Earthan tradition. If you’re loyal, you’ll be rewarded. Anyone who thinks that disloyal people should be rewarded instead—based on this stupid concept called merit—is an idiot. Loyalty is everything, and it’s time they recognize that. Not everyone agrees. Silveon doesn’t. Which is ironic, but that’s okay. Waldemar isn’t a crazy person, who thinks that no one else should have their own opinion. Silveon’s perspective is not only not a problem, but actively helping. He doesn’t just want to be surrounded by sycophants. He needs to understand the other side of these issues, so he knows how the people will react to his changes...so he knows how to fight against them. Silveon is the most important person in his career, but not in his life. For that, he needs another.

Waldemar and Sable have grown closer and closer by the week. It started out as only sex, but he’s starting to feel real feelings for her. At first, he denied them, because he doesn’t have those, but maybe he was wrong about that. Most of how he understands his own psychology comes from his mother. Even though he hated her, and she’s gone now, it’s not like those lessons went away. She raised him using a certain—evil—method, based on what she thought he was, from his birth. How does he let go of the damage she’s done? Well, being with Sable helps. They’re lying in bed now. He’s idly running his fingers through her hair. It doesn’t even feel like he’s putting in any effort. His hand has become a perpetual motion machine. They are one.

She’s looking at his chest. “You were shot.”

“What?” The wounds completely healed a long time ago. He didn’t even suffer permanent internal injury. She shouldn’t know anything about it, unless Silveon told her, or Sevara before she met her quite timely death. “What are you talking about?”

She props herself up by one hand, and looks down at him with a kind sadness. With her free hand, she places her finger where one of the bullets went in. “Number one.” She moves on to the others. “Number two, number three, number four...A.” She reaches under his back. “Number four B.”

She knows too much. Lying about it now will only serve to ruin the special thing they have together. So he might as well acknowledge that she’s right. “How do you know about those? Did Silvy say something?”

Sable makes a face. He may not see emotions, but he understands coinfusion. “Who? Your steward?”

“Yes, and your mother’s late friend’s son.”

“He and I are not friends. We see each other occasionally when mom invites him over for a meal. No, he didn’t randomly tell me about how you got shot five times.”

“I thought maybe there was a chance that you and he were...”

“No!” she argues. “I’m with you. Only you.”

“It would be okay if you weren’t. You know that Audrey and I are still active. She doesn’t know about us, and I still love her. I’ve been honest about that, and I’ve never told you that you couldn’t have a life outside of this room.” This is a special room. When you’re captain, you can take whatever you need for whatever you need it for. This is only for the two of them. It’s located in an otherwise not-yet-populated sector of Extremus. They don’t even have to walk here. He granted her teleportation privileges for this reason. He doesn’t think she uses it for much else.

She gets on top of him again, and kisses him passionately. “I’m only here for you. I don’t have a problem with you going home to Audrey. I don’t mind sharing.” She kisses him again. She smiles like a villain. “In fact, I get off on the thrill.”

They’re not going to have sex again. He only has so much sexual stamina at this age. Waldemar hasn’t figured out how he’s going to convince the ship to become immortal. It goes against everything everyone believes in. There’s a big difference between conforming the crew’s job titles to a more cohesive convention, and completely dismantling generational indoctrination. Speaking of which, he has to get back to the grind. He is more free to have a personal life than past captains, but that’s because he’s so efficient. He’s had to fire people, but now he can delegate work to others, confident that they’ll get it done, or else. Still, it’s not like he doesn’t have anything to do himself. At the very least, he needs to be seen to maintain his control. “I wish this didn’t have to end, but—”

“But you’re trying to save our people from themselves. I get it.” One more peck on the lips, no tongue. “Get back to the grind.” She hops off of him, and heads for the head to brush her teeth, and then shower. That word. He used it in his own thoughts. It’s weird that she came up with the same one. It’s not entirely crazy. It fits the situation, and he’s probably said it before. That’s why they’re so perfect together, because she knows him so well. Then again, she knows about the bullets...

Waldemar begins to gather his clothes. “Think about what I asked you earlier.” He blows a final kiss to her.

She catches it. “‘Kay.”

He disappears.

Sable typically prefers to take a traditional shower with real water, instead of just a sonic misting, but she doesn’t have time. She usually doesn’t anymore. Ever since Silveon took a job working with the captain, they don’t have a ton of time to talk. Each time Waldemar leaves Sable, it means that he’ll be expecting Silveon to return to his side rather quickly. There’s a very short window here. She jumps straight to his office.

Silveon shoots up from his chair. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, why? Why would you think he hurt me?”

“Well, you’re practically naked.”

She looks down at herself. “Yeah, I’m in a hurry. You don’t mind, do you?”

“It just looks bad, okay? If you were violated, this is exactly how you would show up. I’ve told you before, I’ll—”

“Oh my God, I just told you I was in a hurry! Stop talking.” She knows what he’s gonna say anyway. She can back out of this assignment at any time. If she doesn’t feel safe, they can relocate her to Verdemus. It’s fine, she doesn’t need this. If Waldemar were gross, it might be harder, but she does technically enjoy being with him physically, which makes faking the love part easier.

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“He wants me to paint him. He wants me to sit there behind an easel, and paint him while he poses, like the ancients did.”

“Oh, he told me about that. He’s going to hang it above the fireplace in his office.”

She stares at him blankly. “He has a fireplace?”

“He does now. He had the synthwrights install it. It vents to the fusion torches.”

“It’s a working fireplace?” She shakes it off. “Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me he was going to ask me this?”

“I didn’t know he would ask you. He said he wanted a portrait. I thought he meant a blown-up photo, not an oil painting, or whatever.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I’m not actually good at drawing. The album I carry around isn’t actually mine?”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” Silveon retorts. “It’s not like I’m the one who gets you those pictures from the real artist.”

“What are we going to do about it?” she questions. “Are you going to teleport in while he’s mid-blink, and switch it?”

“I don’t know what we’ll do, but we will figure this out. If he asked you, he’s not going to ask anyone else. You have to say yes...unless, of course...”

“I’m not quitting!” she snaps back. “Stop suggesting that. I’m not a little baby.”

“I’m sorry, it’s hard not to see you as young. I was there when you were born, and even back then, I was an old man.”

She didn’t know about that. “Gross. You saw my mom’s wrinkly old vagina?”

Silveon looks away in disgust. “Jesus, no! I didn’t mean I was in the room! Why is he so obsessed with you? You’re kind of an asshole.”

Yeah, he likes assholes. “I think you just answered your own question.”

“That’s not how Audrey is. She’s nice.”

“Yeah, and he’s cheating on her, with me. So...”

“Good point.” He checks his watch. “I should probably get back to the bridge. We’ll talk more about the portrait. We’ll freeze time, or you’ll tell him you prefer to draw from photos.”

“That won’t work, he’s already said he doesn’t want to do that, because that’s not what kings did in the past. But okay. Thank you, I just wanted you to start thinking about it. It’s not urgent. I’m sorry that you had to see me in my bra.”

“It’s fine,” he promises in the most professional way possible.

“Oh, really?” she teases.

“Just get out before he shows up. He usually calls first, but we can’t be sure.”

“See ya later, Uncle Sil.” She disappears.

To get ahead of it, Silveon calls Waldemar instead. “Need anything, Cap?”

“Nah,  just the usual,” Waldemar replies. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Silveon knows that he means the opposite of what he’s saying. Waldemar is calling a meeting with his secret police, and knows that Silveon wouldn’t approve, so he keeps him out of it. It’s annoying, but also an impossible situation. He can’t just tell Waldemar to disband the force. Their relationship has never worked like that. He’s never been able to tackle it so bluntly. It takes finesse. “Okay, thanks. You’re a good boss. You’ve gotten better at knowing what others deserve.” That’s not wholly relevant to the secret police problem, but it will hopefully help in a more general sense.

“I agree.”

Silveon shoots a quick message to his contact in the police. She thinks that the information she’s providing Silveon is helping to keep Waldemar safe. His reasoning is that if it’s leaking to Silveon, it’s less likely to leak to someone else. That’s kind of ridiculous, but Waldemar didn’t hire the best and brightest for the job. He hired followers. She knows that Silveon is smarter, so his plan must make sense. Silveon sends another message, then immediately teleports to the rendezvous point.

Audrey is somehow already there. “It took you long enough.”

“How did you beat me?” he questions. “I hit send just before my jump.”

She holds up her watch. “New model. It sends you backwards in time, just a little bit; not enough to make any meaningful changes. It only works at long enough distances, so you can’t interfere with your own past self.”

“That’s time travel, it’s illegal.”

“Oh, and we wouldn’t want to break the law, would we?” she jokes. “Anyway, what do you have for me?”

Silveon tells her about the painting problem. “Can it be done?”

She massages the back of her neck. “Well, I know of one way, but it’s risky. I think you might like it, though, because it takes Sable out of the equation entirely.”

“How would that work?” he presses.

“I would just dress up like her, and wear a hologram. We’re about the same size.”

Silveon thinks through it a little. “You’re right, that is risky. We would need an uninterruptible power source, and you would have to learn her mannerisms. Waldemar doesn’t recognize people that well. He’s learned to tune to things that others don’t notice, like gait and chin tilts.”

“I think I can figure that out. I know Sable. I know how she moves. I’ve obviously never tried to impersonate her before, but I have time to practice, don’t I?”

“Yes, you’ll have some time, but you should get started.”

“Will do, boss.”

He shakes his head, unable to hide his smile. Everyone’s giving him attitude today. “How are you doing? Any domestic issues?”

“Nope. We still have sex. The guy’s insatiable, but I don’t mind.”

“All right. You know your options, so I won’t bother repeating them. I’ll leave you to it.” He disappears.

Audrey teleports to Sable. “Don’t you worry. I always knew he might ask to watch you, and I’m locked and loaded with an idea. I just need to watch you walk and eat.”

“What? Why?” Sable asks. “Wait, you’re the real artist? Why keep that from me?”

Sable’s mother, Lataran stands up. “She’s gonna pretend to be you. Before you volunteered for this assignment, that’s how we thought we would do it.” She looks at Audrey. “But if it goes well, he’ll ask her for more. Holograms won’t work long-term, or maybe not even short-term. We need that consciousness-transference tech.”

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Microstory 2659: Nightmare Fuel

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Zombiedome is obviously full of zombies, but Malika has been here before, and it was never this bad. It feels like every square meter of the surface has a zombie in it, though it probably tapers off in the distance. A player would not be able to move around, let alone have any hope for survival. There also aren’t any buildings, which Malika says isn’t right either. It would obviously be a ridiculous setup. If there’s nowhere to run to or hide behind, it’s not really a game. There’s something very wrong here. If Jiminy spent a third of his time in this dome, how could he have dismantled all of the infrastructure without the Custodians, or the executive administrative authority, noticing? It really doesn’t matter, though. The undigitized organic humans are in trouble.

“What do the residences look like?” Mandica questions. “All we can do is split up and check every one in order. When you find the right one, holler.”

“No, that’s a poor use of time. When there are this many of them, the zombies aren’t enemies; they’re the weather,” Reagan argues. “We could never kill them all. Many of my people are posthumans. They will protect the others. We have to find a way to close the portals. Look at all of them. Something is keeping them open and stable.”

“Do you have some way of finding the power source, or the controls, or something that can help us put an end to this?” Jaidia asks him.

“Oh yeah, let me just take out my transdimensional window detector. Shit, I think I left it in my pure gold airplane.”

No one responds. They just keep hovering, watching the horror.

“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to think of how to fix this,” Reagan says.

“Can y—ear me?” Elysia asks. She’s speaking through comms, but it’s garbled.

“Yes, but barely,” Jaidia replies. “Are you still in Seagate? We’re in Zombiedome.”

“I see you, I’m on my way,” Elysia says. She starts out as a flying dot over the ground before getting bigger and bigger as she draws nearer. “Report.”

“We’re hoping to find the source of all this,” Mandica says. “It has to be some kind of machine. Maybe it’s integrated into the dome’s own power systems—”

“This isn’t Zombiedome,” Elysia interrupts.

“What? What other dome could have been filled up this much already?”

“Well, it is, but it’s not our Zombiedome. That’s why I could hardly reach you when I was near the portal, and why we can’t talk to the EAA from here. We’re in a...different reality, or something. That’s why Jiminy was able to accomplish all this without anyone noticing. It’s a different world, parallel to our own. Which means our only priority is shutting it down. Once we close the portals, the military will only have to deal with the attackers that are already on the other side. But there’s a problem.”

“That’s not the problem?” Malika questions.

“They’re not just coming from here. There are also portals linking to an alternate Bloodbourne, and even an alternate Botfarm full of crazed androids, as well as a number of simulations which were originally privately held intellectual property. We have to close every one of them. All nightmares have descended upon the real Castlebourne.”

“But bottom line,” Reagan begins, “the military has been deployed.”

“Yes,” Elysia confirms. “They’re prioritizing domes which have the most UDOs in them, like State of the Art, and the residences. Your people are being cared for. We are not alone in this. The villain opened portals in our domes first to keep us busy, but he underestimated how fiercely non-superheroes would protect the innocent. We mostly designed our bodies with the best powers, but transhumanism is perfectly legal anywhere else. So let go of your anxiety, and focus on our task. We’ve been given this assignment because of how fast we can move. Any ideas of where it would be?”

“I don’t think it would be here. It’s too random,” Jaidia decides. “If they’re drawing from multiple domes, and there is a central command center, we have to think like Jiminy, or maybe even Morgana. Would he be in this dimension, or the real one?”

“We have to understand what he wants,” Malika says. “If he just wants to destroy the world, as bad as this is, it’s not a good permanent solution. Most people will survive it. If you truly didn’t want them to, you would go after the backup terminals, and all consciousness maintenance infrastructure. You would do it quietly and meticulously. You wouldn’t just throw monsters at as many people as possible.”

“They’re only a distraction,” Jaidia agrees. “He’s banking on our drive to fight back. That’s why we all entered Underbelly in the first place. He obviously has a thing for Pinocchio. I say we look for him in Collodidome.”

“No, there’s a reason he dressed himself up as Morgana, and did it in two domes. He’s either in Ravensgate or Loegria,” Malika counters.

“He only did that to get under Mandica’s skin,” Jaidia argues.

“Why would he need to get under her skin?” Elysia jumps in. “He hasn’t gotten anything from her. I think he was just playing a part. I think that was a distraction too.”

“Well, he can’t be in Loegria anyway, because that’s where he died,” Jaidia adds.

Malika shakes her head. “That’s exactly why he would be there, because we left.”

“We left to go to Ravensgate, and you thought he could be there instead!”

Reagan flies between Malika and Jaidia. “Guys, he’s not in either of those places, or Collodidome, or if he is, then he’s on this side. It’s the safest place for him. There’s no authority, he controls everything, he can draw an ungodly amount of power. The portals are coming from here, so it stands to reason they’re being controlled from here too.”

“I’m the key,” Mandica utters quietly.

“What?” Elysia asks.

“When you were all dead, it was just me, Vanore, and Jiminy. He said that I was the key. He said it like that, he emphasized the word. He needs me to open something. I don’t know what, or why it has to be me, but he’s been keeping me alive for a reason.”

“He stabbed you with a sword in the jewelry store,” Elysia tries to remind her.

“Right next to the Philosopher’s Stone,” Mandica reminds her right back. “He knew it was real. He probably put it there. And that sword? That was a special sword too. He used it once, and then never again. None of this makes any sense unless you frame me as being the ultimate target. But why? What’s so special about me?”

“You were a UDO,” Reagan answers. “That’s pretty special these days.”

“You said it yourself,” Mandica responds. “There are others like me in the residences; your people who chose not to back themselves up. They were closer.”

“We’re not vonearthans,” Reagan explains solemnly. “We are descended from a generation of ancestors created in a lab under vastly different conditions. We all received special shots when we came to this region of space. Our biology is different. They’re not even sure if we can procreate together. They consider it unethical to test it.”

Mandica stares at him for a moment. Without saying a word, she leans backwards and dives towards the ground. She pushes herself to supersonic speeds, which is incredibly dangerous inside of a dome, but she needs to break away quickly. Her friends can’t know where he’s going. She doesn’t know where he’s going. It just needs to be away from here; away from this whole mess. Before she’s reached the ground, she collapses her wings into her body. She shuts her mouth and plugs her nose, then slams herself into a bunch of zombies as hard as she can, absolutely pulverizing their bodies, and leaving her covered in their undead viscera. Now that she smells like the other zombies, they begin to leave her alone. She blends in with them, making her way through the crowd to a more distant portal. It can’t be the one she landed near, because that is where they’re going to look for her. It takes hours to meander through, like a neutrino in a star.

After she walks through the portal, she doesn’t know where she is right away, but it’s a good thing she didn’t wait even one second longer, because it closes right behind her. In her absence, her friends managed to figure out how to shut them down. They may have found the controls for the interdimensional technology, but they didn’t likely find Jiminy, nor what he’s truly after. He’s not going to make it easy on them. She’s going to take a page out of his book, and do the same. She’s going to rob him of the one she does know he wants. She’s depriving him of her.

She discovers she’s in Party Central, which is a great target to send a bunch of zombies and monsters. It was on Trilby’s green dome list so she was free to come here back when she was just a boring and delicate human. She still needed to be careful of falling disco balls and spiked punch, but she has had to be worried about freak accidents her whole life. She finds a fur coat on the ground. It’s covered in blood and guts, but that’s okay, because she fits right in with all the party-goers who were just attacked. People with guns and other weapons are here, cleaning up the last of the monsters. They’re not dressed in military garb, but some of them match. Her guess is that they’re from Mêléedome or Shmupdome. Those were on the red list because their only point is violence. She ignores them, doesn’t talk to anyone, and goes on her way.

She finds a public water closet where she takes the opportunity to clean up, throwing all of her clothes into the trashbot, which she pats on the head in remembrance of the one who got her here. After the shower, she grabs one of the robes, and walks back out. No one is paying any attention to her. They’re all still reeling from the assault. She continues to walk until she finds a remote building that is currently under construction. There’s an incinerator here to dispose of unrecyclable materials, so she switches it on, sets a timer, then dives in. It’s agonizing, but she needs answers.

Unlike the other times she’s died, she comes back to life this time with some memory of what happened to her. She doesn’t have many details, but she knows enough to get by. Jiminy was the lieutenant for a dangerous man named Pinocchio, who was once in charge of wherever Mandica goes when she dies. After being stripped of power, he eventually downloaded himself into base reality, where he continued to carry out his nefarious plans, predominately in the Spydome Network, until he was caught and locked away. Mandica is sure that Jiminy wants to break his boss free, and this stone and Mandica are collectively the way he does that. She can’t let that happen. She has to stop fighting, and start hiding. So she crawls out of the furnace, gets cleaned up again, and then simply attends the nearest party. This is where she lives for the next five years.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 5, 2549

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On a scale from robot butter-passer to ecumenopolis, the infrastructure that Ramses’ forge core was able to construct during their interim year sat at about a 5.6. This logarithmic scale was designed by a team of futurologists back in the very late 21st century; not just something that he made up himself. The core’s interface was very intuitive for even the dumbest of dum-dums. It was basically a store, where they added things that they wanted to a shopping cart, and the cost—the time it would take to complete the whole project—automatically calculated in the corner. At first, all they wanted was to build a Nexus, which took a healthy chunk of time alone due to its sheer complexity, outmatching all other buildings on their plans combined in that category. Without it, the starter nanites could have resulted in a continent-wide civilization-ready network of interconnected megacities. But what they ended up with was more than enough. There were only nine of them, including the three on the away mission.

There were several arcological megastructure tripods now. If any Earthan were to move here, they would feel right at home. They weren’t actually expecting that to happen, though. They only built all this because they were trying to maximize the time available by hitting that 365-day mark. They figured it was better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. They had no idea what they wanted to use any of this for yet, but that was where the Nexus came in. People from anywhere in the galaxy, or farther, would be able to travel here near-instantaneously. It only had the capacity of a few dozen people, so it wasn’t suitable for some kind of mass-exodus, but it wasn’t useless either. If Hrockas had had access to this level of technology back when he was building Castlebourne, it could have been completed in under a decade. Now there was the simple question of what to name all this.

“I’ve been trying since we got here,” Romana revealed.

“What have you come up with?” Mateo asked her.

“Nothing good. The best ones are Lorramm, Ramlorm, and Marmorl.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...” Mateo said.

“They’re all seven of our initials.”

“Oh.”

“Not enough vowels.”

“Right.”

“We could add E and C for Echo and Clavia,” Angel suggested.

“Leave me out of this,” Clavia insisted, weirdly offended.

“I thought this planet was named Echo,” Marie pointed out.

“Yeah, on the other side,” Romana agreed. “Firstly, I started thinking about this before the weird interversal portal we went through. And secondly, I was brought up to believe that there is no such thing as an alternate self. We’re each unique, even when we come across people who look just like us, and share our memories. I think that goes for planets too. That’s Echo. This is somewhere else.”

“That’s completely true,” Clavia agreed. “When Olimpia screamed the Sixth Key pocket universe into existence, she based it on the original Milky Way, but it’s not an exact copy. It was just mostly close. You should name it something else. My brother would say the same thing if he were here right now.”

Mateo nodded in agreement. “Well, let’s keep thinking while we explore. We also need names for the various domes and cities, I guess. And there’s still the issue of what the purpose of this planet is.”

“I think it’s whatever it needs to be,” Marie began. “If there are more refugees, we can bring them in. If people want to come here for vacation, we will have recreational facilities available too. If someone is in need of a prison, we’ll build a remote site somewhere here, and house them safely. Even if they escape, where are they gonna go? It’s an all-purpose planet. It will serve as the central hub for the Milky Way galaxy one day, and maybe sooner than you think.”

“Well, if that’s the case, we need someone to host,” Angela said. “We need someone who is here every day of the timestream.”

They all looked over at Clavia.

“Oh, no. That’s not my job,” she contended. “I don’t even live in this universe. I’m just here to keep an eye on you people until your friends and lovers come back.”

“Most of our permanent friends are on Castlebourne,” Mateo pointed out, not expecting her to change her mind. “We would have to poach them.”

“Wait, wasn’t this supposed to be a sanctuary,” Romana argued. “I thought it was going to be just for us; a place that no one else could get to. They wouldn’t even know about it. Whatever happened to that plan? We got so wrapped up in what we could do with the forge core that I think we lost the plot.”

“It was always going to end up like this,” Marie countered. “We don’t stay out of things, even when we try. If we ever do need a real sanctuary just for our team, we’ll use some other distant world that Rambo’s Operation Starframe colonizes for us. It doesn’t even have to be big. It could be a hollowed out asteroid, like Linwood’s.”

“That’s gonna take over a hundred years from these staging grounds,” Romana volleyed. “I’m not saying we can’t build out, but my Future!Dad was warning us about something. Even if this planet had nothing to do with anything in his timeline, there might be an inevitable threat that us coming here only worsens, or at least doesn’t alleviate. We keep making these choices which have lasting consequences for the universe. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for your meddling. I would not exist if my Past!Dad hadn’t randomly ended up on Durus at the exact right moment, but what he and Leona did that day resulted in more than just me. It impacted the future of an entire civilization.” She focused her gaze upon her father. “Present!Dad, you helped make Dardius what it is today. I still believe we hastened the carnage on Proxima Doma. Who knows what we’ve done to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida just by helping a woman carry her potatoes? Again, I’m not saying we bury ourselves in a hole, but let’s try to think things through. Romana Nieman, youngest one here, unlikely voice of reason.”

Romana was right to be cautious. Despite only living one day out of the year, their actions have rippled out in ways that few could have predicted. They would need someone like Bhulan Cargill to see all the branches. That metaphor gave Angela an idea so she went off alone to unpack it. The rest had their own things going on. Marie left the city entirely, reacclimated to the planet’s natural atmosphere, and took a walk in the wilderness. Clavia accompanied her for protection since they didn’t know what else could be out there, and no one should be alone outside of the controlled environment of a dome. Mateo tried to activate the Nexus for a test. Everything seemed to be in working order, but they had not been given their own term sequence. The gods only assigned it once everything was engineered to absolute perfection, but he didn’t know what was wrong, and obviously could not have fixed it either way. Romana just sat down on the dirt, apparently to meditate. This far out, no grass had been planted yet.

A few hours later, Angela called everyone back, claiming to have figured it out. They didn’t know what exactly she had been working on, but they came anyway. After a moment of silence, she began with a single word. “Ramosus.” She uttered it in an accent a couple of times, like she was getting the feel of it, before returning to her normal voice.

“Is that a band, errr...?” Romana hadn’t gotten the chance to make that joke yet.

“It sounds like a corruption of Ramses,” Marie suggested.

“It is,” Angela confirmed. “But it’s not just that. Romana certainly helped point me in that direction, but your comment about branching timelines is what really led me there. It’s Latin for branched, which I think works because the initial hope for this outpost was to serve as the launch point for Starframe. Plus, it has natural life on it. I love those willow-like trees we saw that we think recycle their water by sending it up the trunk, running it across the stems, which hang down, and dripping it back into the soil.”

“Yeah, I like it,” Mateo decided. “It’s good that he’s not here, or he would argue against it. We need to find ways of solidifying the name so it’s established before he has the chance to come back here and put a stop to it. Maybe we build a welcome sign?”

“We can start to spread the word,” Romana offered. “If we send it out into the universe, what’s done will be done, whether he likes it or not. People in the past will probably even hear about it. Were you able to turn on the Nexus?”

“On?” Mateo questioned. “Absolutely. Power is not the problem. It just won’t go anywhere. It’s a cell phone without service. I think we need him and Leona back for that. I probably shouldn’t have even tried. It was too risky for an idiot like me.” When they were all silent, he added, “wow. Not even gonna argue that I’m not an idiot. Thanks.”

They all laughed.

“All right,” he went on. “Clavia, do you have anything to contribute?”

“Like I said,” she began, shaking her head, “I’m just here to protect you. I’m not a part of the team.”

“Well...” Mateo thought about it. “Olimpia is my wife, and Echo is her son, and you’re Echo’s sister, so whether you like it or not, we’re family. That doesn’t mean you have to help, or even stick around. Romana’s sisters don’t, but we still love them.”

“I have plenty of family,” Clavia reasoned. “Thanks, though.” She didn’t sound pretentious or arrogant, more just trying to keep her distance. That was fine.

“We don’t need the Nexus,” Marie said after the group relocated from the middle of nowhere to a picnic table. The biggest bottleneck in construction was managing heat dissipation. The laws of thermodynamics always slowed rapid deployment down when not utilizing temporal manipulation technology. Life, on the other hand, was a different story. It would take years to make this dome look less artificial or dead, so for now, this park was only a placeholder. It was just this one table and some fast-growing resilient shrubbery. “We have our tandem slingdrives. We should go to Castlebourne. We’ll let Hrockas know what we’ve built, and give him an idea of where we are. If some refugees from the Exin Empire would like to move, now they have a new option.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” Angela figured.

“They’re making decisions that affect the multiverse,” her sister reasoned. “They can stand to come back to a surprise or two.”

“They’re your wives best friend,” Romana said to Mateo. “I say it’s your choice.”

“Let’s wait until tomorrow,” he decided. “If they’re not back, we’ll pull the trigger. For today, let’s focus on the capital. I think I have an idea of what we should do with the dome. Let’s lean into the branching theme.”

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Extremus: Year 123

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Waldemar teleports right into the room. He aimed perfectly so he’s standing right before the stasis pod. He looks down at the man inside. It’s unsettling to see this, even though he knows it’s not really him. It’s really about what the future holds, or rather what it might hold. When this mission was being planned over 120 years ago, their ancestors decided to ban most transhumanistic upgrades. That was stupid. It was a total mistake. He can’t go back and change that now, because he would not have been born in such a radically different timeline. He doesn’t really even care whether anyone else lives forever anyway. He only cares about himself, and maybe Audrey and Silveon. And this woman too, because she’s so loyal to him, and she practically begged him to be loyal right back. He will be, as long as she does what she’s told, but if she ever steps out of line, she’ll become one of his enemies. She knows this, and probably won’t do it.

“Oh, sorry,” Sevara says from her bedroom in her bad sexy voice. She’s wearing a silky pink robe, and nothing else. It’s hanging open, and barely showing him the goods, which she knows he likes. She’s such a thirsty bitch. “I was waiting for the doorbell.”

“Is it time?”

“It can be. If we revive him right now, he’ll die in a matter of hours. If we wait another couple of years, he’ll only last minutes. So it’s up to you.”

“Why did you call me then?”

She puts on her pouty face as she’s very slowly walking towards him, lifting her legs high. “I wanted to see you. It’s been so long. You’re always with that little whore.”

“Sable is not a whore,” he spits angrily.

“Sable?” Sevara questions with a tight frown. “Who the hell is Sable? I was talking about your wife. Audrey? Are you stepping out on me?”

“I chose you to torture Pronastus for me,” Waldemar argues. “I reached across time for you. This has never been about sex. You mean nothing to me. Once his torment is over, and he’s dead, I’ll be done with you.”

He forgets sometimes that normal people don’t like to hear the truth. She moves briskly the rest of the way, and backhands him against the chin. She is incredibly strong, so he drops to the floor. By the time he stands back up, she’s hovering her finger over a button. “When you contacted me from the future, I felt honored, but I was alone with this thing for years after I stole it from AI!Elder in the Frontrunner, and I have my own allies. Say one more unkind word to me, and I’ll clutch the son of a bitch. He will be just as young as you are today, and can go right back to impersonating you. We’ll put you in this thing instead so you can see what it feels like. Is that what you want? Do you want to throw everything we had away?”

Waldemar stands and wipes the blood from his lips. “Do you know the problem with walking around with only a sexy robe on?”

“That it’s wasted on a psychopath like you?”

“No, it leaves you unprotected.” He reaches for his sidearm, but succeeds only in palming his own hip. He looks down out of instinct, but he already knows it’s because his gun is no longer there.

Sevara swings her arm out from behind her back, and points his weapon at him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reminds her. “They’re DNA-locked. Only I can fire that.”

She glances down at Waldemar’s clone in the pod, where Pronastus has been going insane for the last 114 years. “I know, dumbass. I have your DNA.” She shoots him in the gut and chest four times.

Waldemar, meanwhile, tips over again, but doesn’t fall to the floor. He’s on a bed, though it is not his own. It’s Silveon’s. He’s the only person he can trust, except for Audrey, but he certainly doesn’t want to bloody up their shared sheets. He’s not very comfortable in this position, and is about to slide off the edge. He pulls his injured body backwards to get more horizontal, then starts to remove his uniform. “Argh! Stupid bitch almost hit my heart! Argh!”

Silveon appears. He’s the only one who Waldemar exempted from the no teleportation rule, as long as he only ever does it where no one is looking. “What are you doing here?”

“I got shot, can’t you see?” He winces in pain. Is this what people feel like when they get overwhelmed by their emotions? Silvy tried to explain it to him once, and likened it to physical pain, but until now, Waldemar had never experienced quite this much pain.

“I can see that. I mean, why aren’t you in the infirmary? I’m not a doctor.”

“No one can know I got shot,” Waldemar argued. “I need you to get me into your parent’s Admiral’s Stateroom. I know you turned it into some kind of shrine, but if you left any surgical instrumentation in there, I need the codes.”

“It’s not a shrine, and there is no medical equipment in there. They took all that back after my parents died, so others could use it. Others...like you. You have privilege. The Chief Medical Officer has to keep your status confidential.”

“Unless my condition threatens the security and continuity of the mission,” he argues. “I need total privacy!” He doesn’t know why he’s yelling. If the locked stateroom doesn’t have what he needs, then it doesn’t have it, and that’s not Silveon’s fault. Waldemar knows that. He’s just in so much pain right now, and can’t think straight. At least one of the bullets is still in there. He can feel it, picking at his insides.

Silveon sighs. “Okay, I’m gonna teleport you somewhere, but it’s probably gonna hurt more than it already does.”

“Just do it!” he commands.

Silveon slides his arms under Waldemar’s back and knees, triggering more screaming. He doesn’t pick him all the way up, he just needs to make enough contact to execute a safe teleportation. They jump to a small room. The lights are only now starting to turn on. They’re entirely alone. Waldemar is lying in a medical pod now. He’s never seen anything like this before in real life, though he recalls studying them in Earthan Developmental History class. His friend is tapping on the interface, starting to run the procedures. “I hope you’re not married to that uniform, because it’s gotta come off.”

Lasers appear from all angles, and begin to burn through Waldemar’s clothes. Claws come out of the walls and pull pieces of the fabric away, stuffing them into a little slot at his feet. He’s fully naked now, and can really see the damage. It’s a huge mess, there’s blood everywhere. It all goes away quickly, though, when more little tools come out and start cleaning him off. What’s left are four little holes which, given the size of a human body, make Waldemar almost feel like it’s not that big of a deal.

Silveon tilts his head at the screen. “It’s detecting that the bullets are ferromagnetic. Most aren’t, but yours are. Did you shoot yourself?”

“Of course not!” He sighs before adding, “but it was my gun.”

“Who shot you?”

“Would you just get them out? Why does it matter?”

“The tool matters,” Silveon explains. A very thin cable with a light on the tip emerges from the wall now, and bobs around like a snake threatening to strike. It dives into one of Waldemar’s wounds, returning rather quickly with one of the bullets stuck to the end. It didn’t even hurt coming out. It’s very precise. It dives in two more times to extract the other two bullets. The fourth must have gone through-and-through. “Ultra-advanced, or advanced?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want the treatment process to be ultra-advanced, or just advanced?”

“What’s the difference?” Waldemar questions.

“They’re both illegal, Silveon begins. “But one involves more probes going in to make repairs, and the other is simply an injection of nanites, which make those same repairs internally, and if necessary, harvest your waste tissue to replicate themselves.”

“How did you find this pod? How do you know about it?”

“Do you want treatment, or not, and if so, what kind?”

Silveon has always had his secrets. Even though Waldemar doesn’t understand emotion, he is a student of behavior. His friend was extremely precocious as a child, which is why they were even capable of getting along despite a significant age gap. Since he’s been so helpful throughout his life, Waldemar generally lets him keep those secrets, but this is a big one. As he said, this technology is illegal on Extremus, and more than enough to put Silveon in hock for the rest of his life. Waldemar doesn’t want that, and won’t let it happen, but he has to give him something. He has to provide answers. First things first, though, he needs treatment. “Let’s split the difference. Let the pod itself fix my outside wounds, but then give me those nanos to finish the job.”

As the glass lid curves around him, more tools come out. One sticks him in the arm, and recedes again. Waldemar begins to feel very hot. Even when cooling nozzles turn the environment into a refrigerator, the instruments are generating more than enough heat to keep him from shivering. He doesn’t know precisely what’s happening inside his body, but he knows that these little machines are doing something.

“The immediate threat will take eleven minutes in your condition,” Silveon tells him through the glass. “As for the deep tissue and muscles, it will take another couple of hours. I know you’re strong, but people will notice if you don’t rest while it’s happening. You just need to be patient. Once they’re done, it will be as if nothing ever happened. Tell me who shot you, so I can remediate the situation out there.”

“I need you,” Waldemar ekes out. Okay, he’s shivering a little now.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Silveon replies, a bit annoyed.

“I mean, I need you to be my personal steward. I should have promoted you a long time ago. No one else has been more helpful. Damn the optics.”

Silveon shakes his head. “We can talk about this later. Who shot you?”

Waldemar smiles. It must come with some kind of pain management drug. “I shot myself. I’m such an idiot.”

He’s irritated. Waldemar recognizes that emotion. “This pod is also a diagnostic tool. It scanned your body, and measured the trajectories. There’s just no way that you shot yourself, unless you have telekinesis, or you can make bullets curve.”

“It doesn’t matter, they won’t get another chance to hurt me.”

“Waldemar,” Silveon warns. “There are other ways to hurt you. Is Audrey safe?”

That’s a good question. “She might not be, but I’m not as worried about her as I am about Sable.”

“Sable? Sable Keen?” he questions. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“She and I have been...” He doesn’t wanna say. Silveon would not approve.

“Jesus. Double-U, she’s 23 years old.”

“Which is an adult,” Waldemar defends. “Don’t tell Aud. She would be devastated.”

“I know. I’ll place them both somewhere safe, but separately. Then we’re having a longer conversation about all of this. Don’t get up. You could do permanent damage to your body if you don’t let it finish the work. You are more than superficially hurt.” Silveon disappears.

The door swings open. “Ugh, I thought he would never leave.” It’s Pronastus. He’s still wearing Waldemar’s clone, but it’s no longer the old version of him. They look virtually identical now. She did it. That bitch Sevara really did it. Now this asshole can go right back to impersonating him. He worked so hard, rebuilding his image, and none of it matters. He made one mean comment to one of his sidepieces, and she completely derailed their plans. Emotions only screw things up. What more proof do you need?

“I should have killed you before. I should have taken the pod from her, hidden you somewhere else to serve out your sentence, and ended it on my terms.”

“That never could have happened,” Pronastus claims. “No paths lead to my death. I will always come back. I will always—” A fist comes out of nowhere, and jacks him in the temple, sending him hard into the floor. He never stands back up.

Sevara chuckles once as she looks down at the guy. Waldemar can see that she’s holding his sidearm loosely towards Pronastus, but he can’t see the man himself from this angle. “Thanks for finding him for me.” She shoots four more times. Waldemar doesn’t hear any coughing or gurgling, so he’s guessing it’s a headshot. She steps over the body, and leans towards the glass to tap on it with her finger. “Hey, there, fishy. Feeling trapped in your little bowl.”

What would Silveon do in this situation? Him, with all his rules about how to behave. He would say something sappy, like forgiveness or compassion. No, that doesn’t sound right. It’s close, but not quite there. Let’s think...right, forgiving her won’t work. She thinks she did nothing wrong. She thinks that Waldemar is the bad guy here, so he needs to let her think that. But how? Again, what would Silveon say? “I’m sorry.”

“What?” She was not prepared for that.

“I am sorry for hurting you. Our relationship means more to me than I was willing to show. I’ve just had to keep people at arm’s length my whole life. You know, because of my mother? She was an abusive drunk.”

“Oh, save it. You don’t have feelings, and you’re terrible at faking them.” She looks over at the control interface. “Let’s see, does this thing have a self-destruct, or can I suck out all the oxygen perhaps? What does this one do?” Music starts playing. “Ah, not that. Oh, whatever, I’ll just shoot you.” She points his gun at him once more.

“Exterior seal complete. Prioritizing internal regeneration,” the pod announces.

“What does that mean?” Sevara questions.

Waldemar pulls the lid open, and grabs her by the neck. “It means you’re dead.”

The fear in her eyes, it’s intoxicating. “I’m sorry for interrupting you earlier. You were in the middle of apologizing?” She gasps for air, but her trachea is being crushed.

“Not anymore. I’m done pretending. The real Waldemar has come out, thanks to you and Prony. Everyone on this ship will get on board with my new rules, or they’ll end up like you both.” He squeezes the life out of her. He forgot how good it feels.

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