Extremus: Year 144

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It’s near the end of year 2413, so it’s been 24 years since the latest captain took the seat. Around this time people are expecting Waldemar to announce his successor. To quell the rumors, he has decided that he is indeed going to make an announcement, but for many, it won’t be what they expect. They’re not going to like it either. The original plan was to simply say nothing, and coast on the chair, but Waldemar keeps forgetting how inquisitive and curious people are. They want to know, and they want to know now. They’re about to find out that it’s not happening.

At one point, they were planning on holding this event in the grand auditorium, but they have decided against that. It’s too dangerous. Even though Waldemar has since taken steps to protect himself, he doesn’t want to give an assassin or an angry crowd the opportunity to attack. If they get mad, they’ll do it within the confines of their quarters. What they don’t know is that they will not be able to leave unless the AI security system detects that they’re friendly to the Captain.

He is sitting in front of the camera, preparing himself mentally for this. It’s not nerves or fear. He wouldn’t know how to feel those things. What he’s feeling is concern for the future. He doesn’t care for uncertainty. That doesn’t mean he’s gonna use time tech to see the future, but it does make him nervous. Hm...maybe he does feel that too.

At any rate, it’s time to get started. His inner circle is behind him, figuratively and literally. It’s important that the audience sees that he’s not alone in this, and that he will have people protecting him, even if it’s only these few dozen men. They will know what to do. “Begin recording,” he orders the camera. It’s already on a five-second delay. “My fellow Extremusians, I sit here before you, humble but powerful. For the last twenty-four years, I have led you into a period of unprecedented peace and personal success. I ended the war with the True Extremists using my covert away teams. I reformed the contribution point system so that all must work to help make this the greatest colony in the universe. I am not the most popular leader you have ever had, but your lives are better thanks to me and my administration.

“I know you’re all wondering who is going to pick up the reins next year. You’re confused, because no one appears to be on the shortlist. There’s a reason for that. Unlike my predecessors, I didn’t limit myself to the few who desperately wanted the job. I didn’t ask for a list of everyone graduating from the academy on the captain’s track. I looked at every single one of you. Everyone who would be at least 21 years old by January 1 was on the table. I didn’t even cap it at a maximum age.”

Waldemar approximates a smile. He’s not good at smiling because it’s an emotional response, but people know when that’s what he’s doing, and they’ve grown used to it by now, so it has the same effect as it would for a feeler. “That’s right. Nearly every adult had the chance to take my place. I was incredibly thorough. Unfortunately, I was unable to find anyone suitable for the job. I looked at that comprehensive list, and I looked at what still needs to be done to make Extremus great again, and I realized that there is only one person who can do what I do.” He clears his throat. “It is for this reason that I am respectfully declining to step down. Twenty-four years was always an arbitrary number. Every crew position here has changed the length of service according to new laws, except for this one, and I see no reason for it to remain an exception.

“I want to make it clear that I’m not declaring an authoritarian state. You are still represented by your civilian government. It is my job to run the crew, and protect the vessel itself from all threats. Your daily lives will not change...except for the better. I have the support of my advisors, most of the crew, the police, and the military. I ask that you remain calm during this non-transitional period. You do not have to do anything. But you do have to recognize that this was never a democracy. You never had any say in who would be your captain. I’m changing the rules because I am the only one here with the experience and vision to continue down the correct path.

“I am not guaranteeing twenty-four more years. I will step down when it is time; when I know that you’re going to be okay without me. And when I do, I will not be an admiral. That was a travesty of a tradition. Admiralcy is something that you earn. It’s not something that you should simply fall into at the end of your useful career. When I have accomplished all of the ship’s goals, someone will take over for me, but not a day sooner than that. In the coming week, I will be scheduling press conferences, interviews, forums, and debates, but I will not be changing my mind. Thank you.” He taps the correct finger gesture under the desk to shut off the camera.

“That was amazing, sir. You were brilliant,” Faramund points out.

The rest of his loyalists agree.

“Show me the unit feeds,” Waldemar orders, ignoring the compliments.

The big screen starts with an establishing shot of the entire ship from the outside. Quickly, the hulls, bulkheads, and walls begin to disappear. The new cameras he installed don’t just record what’s literally happening. They paint a broad image of the room. The AI can then compile all of these feeds into a collective video of what’s happening at the ship. It’s like opening a dollhouse, and viewing the cross-section, except it’s real and in realtime.

He was shockingly right about nothing changing about their daily lives. They’re barely concerned. He can’t hear what they’re saying specifically, since there are thousands of them, but the AI is providing him with a summary. They’re mostly apathetic about it. They don’t think it really matters. It’s not that they love him, but that they think no one else will be able to do a better job. Is that what he wants, for them to not care? He doesn’t want power for the sake of it. He wants prosperity. No, he wants prosperity and enthusiasm. His next term will have to be different. Now that he knows no one is going to stop him, he can definitely arrange that

One thing he forgot to explicitly mention is that laws aren’t simply something you write down, and expect people to follow forever. They’re fluid, they change, and if the people at the top want that change to happen, they shouldn’t have to cross out what someone wrote before, and write a new one. All they need to do is make sure everyone knows about it. They sure as hell know now. He clearly could have been more direct about it, though, because some of their comments suggest that they’re not sure how far this will go, and whether he is lying about their daily lives.

“You’re right, Tensil. If you say something with the sense of authority, people will either believe it, or believe that there’s nothing they can do to stop it. They’re not rioting, they’re not organizing. They’re not even calling each other to talk about it.”

“Is that what you wanted, sir...indifference?” Faramund presses.

“For now.” Waldemar stands up, straightens his uniform, and prepares to leave. Something catches his eye, though. The collective feed has been orbiting around the ship slowly and randomly. There’s one dark spot that he can’t see. It’s completely black. He points. “What’s this? Why can’t I see this?”

“Council chambers,” one of his sycophants explains. “The civil government didn’t allow us to install the cameras there due to the sensitive nature of their discussions.”

“Why am I getting the feeling that something in particular is happening in that room right now?” Waldemar asks. He sighs when someone tries to come up with an answer. “That was a rhetorical question.” He shakes his head and tries to teleport there.

He finds himself literally bouncing back, and falling on his ass against his desk. “I’m fine!” he shouts at the men who try to help him up. “There’s an anti-teleportation field around it, which shouldn’t be there, because I didn’t authorize it.”

“You can teleport to just outside the room and—”

“I know the trick, Tensil. I’m not an idiot. “Waldemar tries again, this time only trying to get close to his final destination, but again, he’s thrown back. This time, the men are able to break his fall, but it’s still humiliating. “Argh!”

“Sir, it’s really not that far. We could just walk. Or I can get you a hoverchair.”

“I’m not old!” Waldemar complains. “Just shut up and leave me alone!” He teleports away again, but this time to his stateroom.

Finally, this works. If he’s going to be forced away this time, it will remain private. He teleports yet again, trying to get close to the council chambers, but not even as close as he tried the second time. He falls down once more, but instead of boomeranging to his room, he ends up back in the speech room. Oh, someone is messing with him. When he finds out who, they’re gonna die. They’re literally gonna die.

“I’ll walk,” he says, holding a finger up before Tensil can reiterate what he said before, “but I’ll do it alone.” He looks back at his people. “Disperse.”

Waldemar steps out of the room and takes the long way through the corridors to the council chambers. An odd sensation emerges in his stomach. It feels like bugs are crawling around in there. No, more like dull knives. Is this nerves again? What the hell is wrong with him? He tries the door, fully expecting it to be locked, but it opens.

He walks to find that the entire council has convened. His girlfriend, Sable is standing on the dais. To her left is a screen. It’s currently paused on a frame showing his speech. No, it’s after his speech was done, when the camera should have been off. He’s mid-blink, but due to his advanced age, his right eyelid always falls ever so slightly faster, making it look like he’s trying to wink here. Sable obviously did that on purpose. “What is the meaning of this? You knew I was giving a speech. Why meet today?”

“We’re here to discuss the future of the ship,” some dumb bitch council chairperson says.

“That’s what I was trying to do, as you can see. Again, why did you schedule it for the same time?”

“We were watching your speech,” the chairperson goes on. “We have not completed the vote, but enough have voiced their concern that I’m confident in the way it will turn out. Captain Waldemar Kristiansen, you will be free to continue as captain of this ship for as long as you are able. Your job will be to remain on the bridge, and supervise the monitoring crew. You will have no jurisdiction over the rest of the crew, nor anyone else on the ship. You say laws can be changed? Well, you’re right, they can be, and they are. This is a civilian vessel now. You have no authority here.”

Waldemar sneers at Sable. “You did this. You orchestrated all of it.”

“You’re out, Waldy. Buh-bye.” She gives him the old four-finger baby wave.

He points aggressively. “I’m fighting you on this. It may turn violent.”

Sable sports that evil grin she usually only does in bed. “Bring it on, honey.”

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Extremus: Year 142

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The plan did not work as well as Waldemar and Faramund hoped. Some thought Waldemar was faking being an idiot while others claimed they thought he was stupid the whole time. This experiment has mostly served to show him who his friends are, and who his enemies are. So that’s something. He’s afraid that some have fallen through the cracks, though. What if his true enemies are smarter than that, and know how to keep themselves hidden? They could be conspiring against him right now, and he would have no idea. He needs help. He needs someone he knows might be powerful enough to track everyone on this ship. And she just so happens to be his girlfriend.

He’s sitting on the couch with Sable now. He knows he can’t trust her fully, but they’ve been getting along, so he will take this risk. It’s the only way. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, Waldy,” Sable replies. “What is this about?”

“I need something from you, but you may not like it. You may not agree with it.” He sighs. If she blabs to anyone it could ruin him. He won’t be able to control an uprising. Even some of his loyalists will fight back. This ship needs stability. No one else can give them that. They wouldn’t even try, because they don’t have the stomach for it.

“What is it?” Sable presses. “You’re making me a little nervous. Just say it.”

“I have reason to believe that there are people on this ship who don’t like the way I’m running things. I believe that they are plotting against me. Finding every single one of them might not be possible. It might even be multiple parties who have nothing to do with each other. I could never truly know. Unless I track everyone. The ship’s privacy controls are unalterable. Believe me, I’ve tried. They’re hardcoded into the design.” Probably to prevent this very thing. “So I need a workaround. I know that you’re an expert in time tech. I think you can help me. Would you be interested in that?”

“You want to spy on everyone?” Sable presses. “Would anyone be exempt?”

“Besides you and me?” Waldemar asks rhetorically. “No. No one can be trusted.”

“How can you be sure you can trust me?” Sable questions. “I could be faking my relationship with you. You don’t know. You can’t read emotions, let alone thoughts.”

“I don’t know it,” he admits, “but I have to ask someone for help, and you’re the best. There’s a way to know what’s happening on Extremus by peering through spacetime. It subverts all cameras, all spatial locks, everything. It can’t be avoided.”

“Are you sure that this technology exists, or are you simply guessing?”

“I know the tech exists,” he says. “What I don’t know is if you have it. Don’t deny that you have abilities. I remember killing you once. I thought it was a dream, but now I’m certain that you traveled back in time to undo it. It’s fine, I’m not mad. I don’t actually have an inherent problem with secrets. I just don’t want people to use their secrets against me. I don’t have the time or bandwidth to get people in trouble for every little thing they do. The surveillance tech would only be used to find rebels, full stop.”

“Well, how do I know if I can trust you? You say that that’s all it would be for. You might even mean it at this very moment, but you could always change your mind.”

“You can always turn it off,” Waldemar says. “You will retain that power.”

Sable appears to think about it. “Hm. That’s not good enough. I would have to suspect that you’re abusing it and then turn it off. Besides, you’re in a tricky spot, being the captain. You should distance yourself from this anyway. I won’t give you the tech—which I admit, does exist, though I would have to make some modifications—but I would give you the intel. I retain full control over it. I surveil, and report my findings.”

Waldemar considers her proposition then offers her his hand. “Deal.”

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Microstory 2746: Undercover Boss

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They ran out of time there at the end. Pribadium initially set a very low differential for the time slowdown, which already made their decision dire, but it didn’t stop there. What she didn’t realize was that the time bubble was contracting at the same time, thanks to the pressure of the contraction of the universe itself. Their localized time was starting to catch up to realtime, and once that happened, they would either die in the vacuum or be crushed by the dimensional barrier. There was no happy ending if they didn’t leave. She didn’t have time to make the necessary calculations.

She couldn’t remember exactly how far back they needed to send their minds, and even if she did, that’s not how the timechairs work. You don’t just set a date and press return. It requires very precise parameters to both make sure her current neurostate maintains cohesion, and that her past mind gets overwritten entirely, instead of lingering. A lingering partial consciousness is torturous and unethical. If you’re going to overwrite your past self, do it all the way, like putting a dying animal out of its misery.

Pribadium hoped that she and Sora would wind up back on Doma Tertia a few days before the planet was blown up, or even earlier. Instead, they land in the interrogation room at the very moment when everything changed. In seconds, a Teaguardian is going to teleport herself into this room, trying to arrest Sora, while also trying to rescue Pribadium. Not long after that, the whole planet will be destroyed. They can’t let that happen. It will ruin her chances to annihilate it the right way, so it doesn’t eventually recoalesce. She has to put a stop to it. In the first timeline, she and Sora escaped into..the space. This time, they have to go into the belly of the beast.

Pribadium leaps over and takes Sora in her arms. She releases the nanites from her body, and wraps them around him. She is intending to jump them to the interior of the ship, but if it has an anti-boarding lock, they might bounce off the hull on the outside. As soon as the nanites finish generating a spacesuit for him, they disappear.

There was a lock, but Pribadium’s teleportation algorithm knows how to break through it since she was part of the group who invented the technology in the first place. They’re now in the firing bay of one of the ships. The two engineers don’t even notice Pribadium and Sora because they’re busy powering up the weapon. They shouldn’t be.

“Stop!” Pribadium tries to order. “I am Chief Asset Manager Pribadium Delgado, and that is my planet. I am ordering you to cease fire! I will speak with the Klavis, but I demand that you stand down this instant. You came here to rescue me, and that’s done.”

The engineers only stare at her. One of them reaches over to sound the alarm.

Pribadium sighs. “We don’t have time for this.” She teleports over to him, then teleports him away. She then comes back for the other one before returning to Sora.

“Where did you take them?” Sora asks her as he’s trying to collapse his suit.

Pribadium smiles, and pulls her nanites back in. “I put them in hock.”

“They’ll just send more people. They probably don’t even need the engineers. They can control it from the bridge, or elsewhere,” Sora reasons.

“Good point.” She taps on her wrist interface, then places her hand on his waist.

“Buy me dinner first,” he jokes as his new teleporter belt is formulating around him. “You always could have used this to escape me. Why stay, to humor me?”

Pribadium is still watching his belt form. “This will let you jump anywhere, even through suppression fields. We must throw everyone in hock, and not just in this ship, but all three.” She looks up at him. “I stayed because I believed in you...because I believed you could become the man that you are today. I’m glad I did.” She cups his cheeks and kisses him passionately on the lips. “Remember, everyone in hock.”

“You take this one, I’ll take the other two,” Sora volunteers.

Pribadium chuckles. “The other way around.” She teleports away.

Together, they throw every single Teaguardian in the cells, knowing that it’s going to get them in trouble. The thing is, though, there is really nothing anyone can do to her. She is singularly too powerful. She will get out of this. She has friends in high places. The Shortlist gave Teagarden the tech, and they can take it away. They put failsafes in place to prevent or undo abuse. She doesn’t even have to ask for help. Someone will simply show up. She could end up in one of these cells too, and there will always be someone to get her out. She has never taken her political power for granted before, but she has to save this planet, the people on it, and the future of the Gatewood project.

Once Pribadium confirms that everyone has been successfully locked up, she returns to the first ship to address the Klavis, who is in charge of all three of them. Actually, a klavis should be responsible for four ships, which is concerning. Strictly speaking, they don’t have to travel in a formation of four. In fact, they usually don’t. It’s just possible that an extra one is sneaking around here somewhere. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, but I couldn’t let you fire those weapons. It wasn’t right, or smart.”

“I understand,” the Klavis replies.

“You do?” Pribadium questions. That’s an odd reaction from a military man.

“Yeah, of course! Why don’t you unlock these cells, and we’ll talk about it?”

“Oh. I see.” Pribadium completes a short breathing exercise. “Gatewood is an independent division of the Core World Consortium. We provide more good to the galaxy than Teagarden could ever dream. That’s why we have so much latitude to run it ourselves. We do not need your protection, because I’m here. I had the situation well in hand before you swooped in and screwed everything up. I’m not going to dissolve the relationship that we have with Teagarden, but I am going to kick these three Teaguardians out of my star system for the duration of the obliteration project. You may return once the planets are destroyed, but you will be taking up a distant patrol pattern. Again, I don’t actually need you to do anything.”

“You don’t get it,” the Klavis responds. “That is not for you to decide. You are the Chief Asset Manager, not the emperor of the galaxy. I have my orders.”

Pribadium nods. “And I have mine. There’s plenty of food in the cell synthesizers. I’m going to sync your ships, and send them on a relativistic loop. By the time they get back, the job will be done. We can fight then, but I won’t let you interfere with Project Ross 154.” She leans in real close and taps on the glass like a kid with a new pet turtle. “We all answer to the Core, but the Core answers to people like me. We’re the drivers. If you take your complaints high enough up the chain of command, you end up with me. I’m like an undercover boss. So enjoy your vacation. We’ll be fine without you.”

Pribadium disappears, and jumps to the bridge where she left Sora. “What is it?”

He’s looking up through the main viewscreen where a ship has just come into view. “They don’t look like a Teaguardian. I don’t recognize the design at all. Do you?”

Pribadium watches it too. “Yes. It’s my design. But I never built it.”

Sugar’s face comes on screen. “Captain Delgado...permission to board?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 23, 2567

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For space colonization purposes, the galaxy was divided into regions. The closest regions had an obligation to maintain some semblance of cohesion with the other colonies, and Earth. Even a charter world couldn’t secure a charter if they wanted to go out there and do bad things. And you did have to have a charter, however small it might end up being. You couldn’t simply say, we found a star system that’s only fifty-six light years away, but we don’t need any help. But we’re gonna purge every year, okay?

In order to gain that level of freedom, the boundary lay 200 light years from Earth. They devised several other divisions wider than that, but the rules did not change, which was that there were no rules. If you made it that far, you could do whatever you wanted, and the state couldn’t and wouldn’t stop you, no matter how bad it was. That didn’t mean you were free from consequences. If necessary, you would have to defend your way of life. Because anyone who showed up was also in the Extended Bubble or beyond, meaning they didn’t answer to the Core Colonies or Earth either.

It was Team Matic’s intention to travel throughout these distant colonies, and help where needed. They were naïve. They didn’t think they would have to harm them. But as it turned out, the Exin Empire wasn’t a fluke. It was just the most blatant example of human nature because the creator used time travel to establish itself a long time ago. The people who colonized Tarantella had the same idea, just more recently.

Tarantella was barely over 200 light years away, but it didn’t start out that way. They were originally in the Charter Cloud, but two years ago, something changed. They had constructed a massive stellar engine, which pushed the star farther out. It was already moving pretty fast on its own, but they gave it a boost. Why did they do this? Well, because their charter gave them a huge inventory of donated embryos, as well as the resources needed for that stellar engine. Gatewood didn’t think anything of it, them being this close to the border. The exact distance was impossible to prove, but they had to come up with a number, and both parties agreed to it. Now the Core was regretting it, because it locked them in to a number that had since changed, and that could be proven.

The colonists told Gatewood that they were wanting to move their star system to a more hospitable region of space, but in reality, they wanted to cross that border. They wanted to use those embryos as a slave labor force. Ethics didn’t count out here. There were probably a lot of things happening this far from the neighborhood that the team wouldn’t like. These colonists didn’t have to follow any rules. Literally nothing was illegal. That was why they traveled this far. At last, they were free to make their own choices, and the Teaguardians could do nothing about it.

Team Matic could do something about it and had been working on it for two years.

Leona sighed. “I really wish Ramses were here to check my calculations for me.”

Olimpia hugged her wife from the side. “I’m sure you did everything perfectly.”

“He’s never done anything at this scale before,” Leona pointed out.

“He’s never had you before,” Olimpia argued. “Look at his face. He’s ecstatic.”

Kayetan noticed them looking at him. Without a smile, he gave them a thumbs up.

“You’re right.” After the ding, Leona reached over and pressed the comms button. “Power threshold achieved. Merge whenever you’re ready. Focus on the coordinates.”

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He reached out to the other side of the border, within the Charter Cloud. It took over 100 years for the hopeful slavers to move the star two-tenths of a light year, and moments for Kayetan to force them back. Now they were committing a crime. Now the Teaguardian could step in and arrest them all.

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Extremus: Year 141

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After a few months, Waldemar makes a second declaration, now deciding to call his new righthand man by his real name, instead of Audrey Husk. He only initially called him that on accident as a Freudian slip. To save face, he claimed that it was simply another way for him to exert his power. It worked. It worked so well. It was trivial and meaningless, but it has sparked passion in his followers’ hearts and minds. Because it means that Waldemar is in total control of everything, no matter how small. If he says something, it’s true. He could tell them he doesn’t have a butthole, and they would believe it. That’s exactly what he needs, so changing the name back was no big deal, because in many people’s eyes, he no longer needs a reason to do anything.

So that solves the problem of his true loyalists, but not everyone else. The secret is out. Now everyone has heard that he intends to be the first captain to break the twenty-four year barrier. He ended up not being able to trust everyone in his circles, and the rest of the ship found out. Of course, many just don’t believe it, and that’s the story he’s spinning, but this will make him a liar when he actually does follow through with the plan. It won’t matter, though. If it starts a war, it starts a war. He’ll survive either way. If he has to rebuild society from scratch, fine. He’ll be immortal. He’ll have time.”

He’s now in a strategy meeting with Faramund Tensil, formerly known as Audrey Husk, formerly known as Faramund Tensil. He needs a plan to assuage any anxiety people have over the very true rumor that Waldemar will be a two-term captain.

Faramund shrugs with his face. “You don’t need to do that. You can lean into it.”

“What do you mean?” Waldemar has come to trust this man more than anyone because he’s like the emotional version of Waldemar. He knows how people think and feel, but he also doesn’t care about it, which makes him a master manipulator.

“What we need to do now is confirm everyone’s fears. I know what you’re thinking, they’ll start fighting you. And it’s true, if you stand up there alone and make your claims, that’s exactly what they’ll do. But we can stop them from standing up if they think someone is already standing up for them.” He smirks, letting that sit for a moment. “We need to build an opposition base for you. Make it loud, make it articulate, but keep it small. If we don’t want the people rising up, we need to give them a champion. We won’t be controlling this person, or their limited team. All they need is a profound grasp of law, so they can continue to assure the public that you can’t be captain for more than twenty-four years. This will calm them. They’ll think they’re safe.”

“But then I’ll keep contradicting it?” That doesn’t make any sense to Waldemar.

“Yes, because you’re kind of silly,” Faramund explains. “You’re getting old, and you’re leaning on your advisors more. Have a couple of health scares—nothing too serious; just enough for people to not take you too literally. Make up some other lies that are more difficult to believe, or which can be proven untrue. Say that this is already your second term, and you’re going for the turkey. Tell ‘em we’re living on a planet; whatever. Over time, your credibility will drop. They will grow desensitized to your nonsense. Meanwhile, your loyalists will keep trusting you, because they love you...because you reward them. When there is no voting, all you need are the loyalists.”

Waldemar thinks about it. “Strangely, I think I get what you’re saying now. People hate liars; that’s a known fact. If I make myself crazy, then I’m not lying, I’m just mistaken. And when what I say turns out to be true, it won’t be my fault.”

“Exactly,” Faramund agrees. “It’ll be a natural consequence; out of your hands.”

Waldemar smiles. “Let’s do it. Write me a speech. Make me sound like an idiot.”

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Microstory 2743: Dead Woman’s Switch

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They have figured it out. They know how to push the lab through a tear in the membrane of the universe, and enter the bulk. The breach will not be open long, and it will not be very big, but they will make it through as long as they have enough power.

“We don’t have enough power,” Sugar reports.

“We don’t?” Pribadium questions. “Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” Sugar replies. “I went over the calculations three times. If we try to squeeze both the outpost and Tau Station through the portal, probably neither of us will go through. It’s like that slapstick gag where two people try to enter the doorway at the same time. If we had more time, we could siphon energy and store it up, but then we would have to invent an entirely new type of battery, and that’s just not viable.”

“The barrier is upon us,” Runaway reminds them. “We barely have time for this.”

“Okay,” Pribadium says. “If we have to choose one, I choose the outpost. Runaway, could you please teleport everyone over here. Send them to the hangar bay.”

“I can’t do that,” Runaway argues. “I can only make them move in real space.”

“No, don’t put them back in the shuttles. That’s stupid. Moving them again makes no sense.” Pribadium looks around at the part of her outpost that she can see. She worked really hard on it, and never thought she would lose it. But she knows that it will be okay. Everything she built can be rebuilt, thanks to a little inspiration from an old friend. She runs over and starts to decouple her forge core. This has everything.

“What is that?” Sugar asks.

“We’re abandoning ship,” Pribadium replies. “It won’t take but a second to transport the four of us over to Tau Station.”

“It’s more than that,” Sora says, almost proud of himself for having realized. “You can’t open the rift thing from there, can you? You have to move your machine too.”

The three ladies stop and stare at him. It is becoming a habit. “We can’t do that. We can’t transport the machine. It’s integrated into the whole outpost,” Sugar reasons.

“Someone has to stay behind,” Pribadium decides. “Someone, meaning me.” Before Runaway can argue, she holds up a hand. “You have to stay with the people. That’s a given. Sugar, I may have needed you for your clarity of mind, but I still understand this tech better than anyone. There’s no argument to be had.”

“You can try to teleport over to us at the last second,” Sugar suggests.

“I will,” Pribadium promises, “but I won’t count on that. It’s okay. You’re an alternate version of me. You’re missing a lot of my memories, but they weren’t the most interesting ones anyway. If I die, I’ll do so knowing that a part of me still lives.”

“That was never good enough,” Sugar contends. “There’s a reason your Pribadium!Two didn’t want to be resurrected after her last moments weren’t recorded.”

“It will have to be,” Pribadium determines. “Now go. Take Sora with you.”

“No,” Sora says. “I stay with you. Don’t bother arguing, I’ve already linked us.”

“How exactly did you do that?” Pribadium asks him skeptically.

“I was afraid that you would throw me out an airlock,” Sora explains. “I connected us, so wherever I go, you go...within a certain range, of course. I am guessing that another universe falls outside of that range. I’m glad I did that now, just for different reasons.” He notices all the girls smirking. “What? You can’t undo it, can you?”

“No, Sor,” Pribadium says. “You just solved it. You made me a deadman’s switch.”

Microstory 2742: Pushing Through

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Over the last hour, Runaway has been reaching into the minds of her progenitors, and making them escape wherever they happened to be so they can find refuge in Tau Station. The station, meanwhile, has been moving closer and closer to the center of the universe, as has Pribadium’s lab. The Little Crunch, as Sugar—which is what Sora has chosen to call her—has decided to call it, is still heading their way. So far, there have been no casualties, but that’s only coming off Runaway’s knowledge. It could have happened prior to her genesis. And soon, there will be no safe place left to hide.

That’s why their priorities have completely shifted. They no longer have two objectives, but one. The barrier is dangerous, and a huge threat to all. They have no choice but to refocus their efforts on saving everyone. Having the mobile command center would be great, but it’s not worth people’s lives, and it’s an all-hands on deck situation. Runaway may be more powerful, but her knowledge doesn’t include anything about the lab, and Sugar is literally out of date, so Pribadium is in charge.

She has been barking orders at all three of them, Sora included. She gave him a teleporter vest so he can jump to various parts of the facility. He is mostly sealing bulkheads manually since all available power has been rerouted to propulsion. Runaway has done the same thing to Tau Station. This only solves the immediate issue, though. They are trapped in this pocket universe with no apparent escape.

“We have to punch through it!” Runaway argues. She’s figured out how to multitask, so she can carry a conversation while fully in control of her progenitors.

“Through what, the gravity generators? I’ve already thought of that,” Pribadium explains. “It won’t work. It will only crush us faster.”

“No, the dimensional generators,” Runaway argues.

“Those are for pocket dimensions. They’re not going to get us back to real reality,” Pribadium reasons. “We would still be crushed, except we won’t see it coming anymore.”

“Dimensional generators synthesize temporal energy. Don’t use them correctly. Break them open. Focus the energy through a hot pocket purge, and create a doorway.”

Pribadium shakes her head. “You’re talking about an artificial wormhole. Just because it’s manmade doesn’t mean it will be any more stable than a natural wormhole.”

“Stop!” Sugar suddenly cries before Runaway can push back on Pribadium.

Everyone halts. “What is it?” Pribadium questions. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I have the only idea,” Sugar contends as she’s stepping over and gently moving Pribadium and Runaway’s hands away from the controls that they were hovering over. “We are going about this all wrong. The only reason the walls are closing in is because we’re trapped between the membrane of the universe, and the false vacuum we call outer space. We may think we have to slip back in to survive, but even if we manage to punch a hole in the dimensional barrier, the resulting explosion could be catastrophic...for us, and anyone else in the vicinity.” She looks at her future self. “Pribadium, you wanted to leave the universe. You wanted to create your own. That’s exactly what we have to do. The bulk is a stable equilibrium. We will be safe there.”

“But we’ll be trapped,” Pribadium says. “These people can never go home.”

“Can’t they?” Sugar questions. “Isn’t traveling the bulkverse the whole point?”

They think quietly on their own. “So we push through,” Runaway determines.

“We push through,” Pribadium agrees.

Microstory 2741: Cosmic Contraction

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Things are moving quickly, and it’s time to make some moves. Their pocket universe is getting smaller by the minute, and at this moment, a small construction base is in danger. Pribadium!Two was on her way to the dimensional barrier when it dispatched her to the other side, destroyed her ship, and killed her. She was intentionally attempting to cross it. Even so, the still-living Pribadiums have no reason to believe the same thing won’t happen to someone who gets caught up in it when the barrier descends upon them. They need to leave now, and there’s no time to explain.

“I can do it,” Runaway claims. “I can make them move to the escape pods, and head in this direction. Is that what you want? It has to be a joint decision.”

“Why do we have to agree?” Pribadium!Zero questions. “You have the power.”

“This won’t be all on me,” Runaway reasons. “If something goes wrong, I will accept responsibility, but not alone. We have to come to a consensus.”

“Yeah, get them out of there,” Pribadium!One decides, shaking her head.

“Absolutely. Agency is great until it’s an emergency. We can clarify later.” Pribadium!Zero then looks over at Sora, as do the other two.

Sora nods, but doesn’t vocalize his response. He’s kind of staring into space.

“Is that your answer?” Pribadium!One asks him. “Do you agree with us?”

“Me?” Sora asks. “Wait, I get a say in this too? Since when?”

“Since always,” Runaway insists. “You’re the only other one here who has any clue what’s really going on around here. We expect you to shoulder the burden as well.”

Sora takes a deep breath. “Yeah, sure. For this one question, I agree with the group. Morality takes precedence over ethics every time. But I want out. I don’t want to make any other decisions. You three may see yourselves as different people, but one of these things is not like the other, and I’m clearly the outlier. I have no business making decisions that impact a whole universe, no matter how small that universe might be.”

The girls don’t really agree to his pleas, but they have to move on. Runaway piles the workers and colonists into two escape shuttles, and pilots them away from the oncoming barrier. The nearest outpost is Tau Station. Before the event, it was on a wide orbit around Barnard’s Star, and would have taken ten years to complete a single revolution. It’s still attempting to complete that orbit, because the star system’s barycenter has not changed. It won’t make it unless it too moves out of the way. Which it can do. Pribadium!One decides to use it as a hub. As others need to be moved out of harm’s way, that is where they will all go. They really shouldn’t all be coming here.

After the immediate threat is over, the ladies continue working, to understand Runaway’s abilities and limitations, and to hatch a real plan. They have two objectives: to save everyone trapped here, and to pull this region of space out of its current state of reality. Whatever they end up doing, it all needs to happen at the same time, so neither move interferes with the other. That’s what Pribadium!One has to pivot to now, figuring out how they’re actually gonna get this pocket universe fully into the bulk.

They probably only have a couple of days to make this work before it becomes all but pointless. If they wait it out, the walls will literally close in, and they will end up with only one objective. Everyone will have to escape, even if it means abandoning the pocket altogether. Pribadium!One is more determined than ever to not let that be the outcome.

The universe seems to have other plans. The contraction of it is accelerating.

Extremus: Year 140

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Waldemar has gathered his most trusted advisors and loyalists in a sector of the ship just for them. He knows what these people think, and how they react to news. Still, he’s not just going to stand here and blurt out the plan. He’s divided everyone into circles. A lot of people in history seem to have had inner circles, and then everyone else, but he’s chosen to have nine of them. The outermost is simply the entire population of the ship, though, so it doesn’t really count. And they are certainly not all here today.

This isn’t just for the ninth circle either, though. Those are the ultra-loyalists. He could literally extinguish the entire population of Extremus, and they would still be on his side, as long as they personally survived, of course. That’s obviously not on the table, but it’s important for him to know who those people are, and to keep them happy. Right now, he’s standing before the seventh circle, which includes the niners, and everyone in the eighth as well. Only the people in this room are even aware that the circles exist. The people in the sixth circle outwards can be trusted to varying degrees, but never enough to let them in on all this. Even so, he has to play this smart. He has to play it cool.

Waldemar is the one who came up with the vice captain program. It was great for him—it got him the job—but now it’s a threat. Most people expect him to step down to let the next one step up. He has no intention of doing that. He only allowed the program to continue to find his last true loyalists. Unfortunately, none of the candidates passed the secret tests he ran on them while they were undergoing the overt tests. So they’re not here. It’s time. It’s time to start planting the seeds. Will some intelligent people figure it out before the time comes? Yes. Will they voice their concerns? Absolutely. Will it matter? It won’t if he rewards his current army of loyalists...and curates more.

That is why there aren’t too many people here today. It will be their jobs to go out and start spreading the good word, so to speak. He first has to teach them subtlety, though. Well, he won’t be the one to teach them subtlety. He is not particularly good at it, because he still doesn’t understand human emotions. But he has someone right by his side for that. “And now—you all know him, you all love him—it’s my new steward...”

His late wife has been haunting him. He still doesn’t know how it’s possible, but Silveon claimed to have seen her too. That’s one reason he had to fire him. They’re not enemies, but he’s only in the fifth circle now. He just doesn’t get it. Ghost!Audrey doesn’t either. She keeps trying to get him to change his ways, but if anything, it’s made him more determined. She almost invariably shows up when he’s alone. That’s why it was so hard to prove to himself that she was a ghost, and not simply alive and teleporting around at will. But she’s here now. She has just suddenly appeared on stage right in front of his steward. Waldemar is too confused to stop himself. “Audrey Husk!”

The crowd was ramping up into another cheer, but they fall deathly silent. They know that name. They know it’s not the name of his steward. They don’t know what to think. It is certainly an odd mistake to make with no explanation. She has been gone for many years now. Why would he call his friend that, accidentally or otherwise?

Waldemar freezes. He has never been so embarrassed. No, he has never been embarrassed at all. He doesn’t feel shame, because he doesn’t care about other people’s opinions. How can he save himself now? What explanation could he give? “That’s right!” he decides to say. “It doesn’t matter what your name was, or what you prefer to be called! If I want to call you something else, that is exactly what I’ll do! You are now the new Audrey Husk! That’s the only name I’ll ever let you use! Accept it...or die!”

The new Audrey accepts it.

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Microstory 2740: It’s Getting Crowded in Here

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Pribadium!One rolls her eyes. “What do you mean, no?”

Pribadium!Zero crosses her arms like a pouty child. “I want to be a real girl. I want my own body, and to have my independence. I deserve at least that much.”

Pribadium!One sighs. She set up the revision history retrieval system to capitalize on her ever-changing cognitive milestones. As she always says, two heads are better than one if both of them are her. And she thought that a past version of her mind would allow herself to be shut down for the greater good, but it’s like the others were saying; she thinks, therefore she is. Pribadium!Zero now is, and she doesn’t wanna stop being.

Sora steps forward with a demeanor of protective determination.

Pribadium!One holds her hand up. “Stand down, soldier. I don’t need to hear it. You’re human, which means your grasp of quantum metaphysics is rudimentary at best. If a self-aware and conscious individual asks for freedom, it is entitled to freedom. That is a core tenet of intelligence development science, and there is no reason it shouldn’t apply in this case either.” She faces her alternate self. “Which model would you like?”

“Stonehenge,” Pribadium!Zero replies, evidently already having thought about it.

“Stonehenge is taken,” Pribadium!One explains. “That is why we’re here.”

Pribadium!Zero presses her finger against her cheek. “Hmm...Sugar ‘n’ Salt.”

“Why do you wanna be white so bad?” Pribadium!One asks. “We’re not white.”

“Is Sugar ‘n’ Salt available, or is it not?” Pribadium!Zero questions.

Pribadium!One shakes her head. She strides over to the workstation that can control the other substrates in the library, and starts uploading her mind into the body.

While that’s processing, the entity in Stonehenge walks in. “I know what I want to be called, and I know what sets me apart from other amalgam consciousnesses.”

Sora regards her with interest, but Pribadium!One is getting a bit tired of all this.

The entity clears her throat. “You may address me as Runaway. I started to feel odd once I took a walk to clear my head in the west wing. Instead of alleviating my burden, it was enhanced. I can hear them. I can feel them.” She waits for a response. “Aren’t either of you going to say anything about that? This is big news,” she insists.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pribadium!One argues.

“What are you feeling? What are you hearing?” Sora asks, less combatively.

“All of them,” Runaway says. “All of the people who I come from—my parents, so to speak—I connect to them when I leave the heavy shielding of central operations.”

Pribadium stares at Runaway. “You have psychic powers? That’s new.”

“Yes, and there’s also this.” Runaway reaches up and removes a chunk of her own hair from her head. She presents it casually, like it doesn’t bother her at all.

“Stonehenge can’t handle the psychic energy,” Pribadium!One decides. “It’s not designed for psychic connections.” She looks over when a nearby pod beeps.

Pribadium!Zero steps out wearing the Sugar ‘n’ Salt model. “What’d I miss?”

“Everything.” Pribadium!One faces Runaway. “You need a new body too, but I’ll need time to develop it, so in the meantime, stay away from the west wing, for your safety.” She will never know what Runaway is thinking, but the links she maintains with her source consciousnesses will undoubtedly come in handy. Mind control is unethical...unless of course it involves efficiently transporting innocent people to safety.

“We’ll need time,” Pribadium!Zero corrects. But is it true?

Microstory 2736: Introducing Pribadium!Three

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Pribadium didn’t think that Sora—or anyone, for that matter—would be able to bypass her security protocols, so she doesn’t rush to chase after him. Once she sees him enter the substrate library, however, she grows worried. She immediately tries to teleport into the room with him, but the closest she gets is outside in the hallway. He has managed to not only breach the sector, but lock her out if. How did he do that?

She bangs on the hatch. “How are you doing this?” She bangs on it more.

Sora looks at her through the view window with a frown. He holds up an object so she can see. It’s a cephalobud, and it looks like it’s already been used and spent.

Pribadium invented it a few decades ago. It’s somewhat comparable to other neural drives, except this model can pull information directly from the timestream. It allows a user to download whatever digital data they want into their brains. Unlike other kinds, this will transfer knowledge even if you’re not digitized. It’s very dangerous, especially for a normal human like Sora. Time travelers have different neurology and biology, and that’s who she designed it for. It was kind of a weekend project that she forgot about. He must have found it in her lab, though, when she left him alone earlier.

“Your external security is extremely robust,” Sora explains, “but your internal security is laughable. I didn’t download the secrets of the universe, but I did capture the specs of this base. I thought you might turn on me, and I would need to escape.”

“You’re the one who has turned,” Pribadium argues. “Don’t do this.”

Sora looks around, presumably searching for Pribadium!Two’s next substrate. “I like this one. She looks even less like you than you two before. It will be easier to tell you apart.” He approaches the console, and starts working it like a pro.

“Sora, this isn’t what she wanted. She’s literally gone to a better place. It’s fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Sora responds as he keeps working. “You two split from each other over a year ago, according to her. She and I apparently...” He trails off. “You don’t know her anymore. She was a different person, and I’m going to give her a choice.”

Pribadium shakes her head. “That goes against every principle you have. If you truly felt that way, you would have digitized and enhanced yourself years ago, yet here you are, a totally normal organic human. You of all people should understand our ways.”

“I’m not normal anymore.” He taps on the back of his neck where he would have applied the cephalobud. “Now I know why people do this. It’s better to have power than to not. Even if you don’t use it, it’s better to not let others have power over you.”

Pribadium sees the pod power up. “Don’t! You still have time to undo it!”

Sora hovers his hand over the interface and turns his head to look at Pribadium. “She’ll thank me one day, even if she’s mad now. Elle pense, donc...elle est.” He hits it.

The stasis pod continues to power up as Sora stands back. He watches it as he sidesteps over and unlocks the hatch for who now has to go back to being called Pribadium!One. They both watch now as the IDCode downloads and unpacks itself in the new body, rewiring the neural pathways in realtime to bring Pribadium!Two back to life. This wasn’t part of the plan, but there is nothing to be done about it now. Now that she’s alive, she will want to stay that way, which Sora would probably point out means she always deserved to. Duping is philosophically complex. Millennia after it was first being contemplated, ethicists have still not figured it out.

The pod opens. The new Pribadium!Two climbs out. She regards them. “Report.”