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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Microstory 2651: Wildly Successful and Alive

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Reagan jumps out of his seat. He doesn’t press himself against the wall, but he looks incredibly scared of Mandica, and is not relaxing. He starts clutching his chest, and for good reason. With Mandica’s heightened senses, she can hear how hard his heart is beating. “How are you alive? How are you here?”

Mandica hops off the table, and strides over to the mirror to check her back. The stone is still embedded in her skin, exactly where it was before. It’s glowing again, just as it was in the mortuary. Why is he so confused? It worked again, that makes sense. “Was your memory erased?” she asks him. “I don’t understand why you’re surprised.”

“You were a pancake,” Reagan retorts. “There was—oh my God, it was horrific. You were completely unrecognizable. I...I don’t want to describe the carnage in greater detail, but there was nothing left besides the stone. It was perfectly unharmed, but that’s it. After they removed the train, I swiped the stone, because I didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands, but I didn’t think it would bring you back from that. You...Jesus, Mandica. I’ve not been able to sleep for the last two nights. I felt responsible. I encouraged you to become the Ravensgate Rescuer. I helped train you. I...I...”

“I’m sorry for that. I guess we didn’t know the extent of the stone’s power.”

“I was in love with you!” he cries. “Well, I still am, but I started to mourn, and now I’m profoundly confused. I should be relieved, but it feels unreal.”

Mandica nods. “It’s a shock, I get it.” She looks down at her naked body. No injuries, no scars. No blemishes either. Everything looks brand new. It is new. If her body was pancaked under that train, then the stone would have had to rebuild her from scratch, which is probably why it took two or three days for her to come back this time. “We’ll get through it, though. This is a gift. I think I might not be able to die at all. I mean if a 300-ton train couldn’t do it, what could? I’m like you now, and our friends. You don’t worry about them dying, do you? Your anxiety will go away.”

“Their minds are backed up. That I understand,” he reasons.

“This is even better. I seem to walk around with my backup. As long as the stone survives, I will too.” She places a hand on his shoulder, feeling him twitch at her touch.

“We don’t know that the stone is invincible. Maybe blunt force isn’t a problem, but it has some ridiculous weakness, like battery acid, or...chocolate.”

She smiles as she pivots his body so they’re facing each other. “What kind of life would I be living if I couldn’t have chocolate?”

“Stop joking. We can’t get too excited. It might turn you into a zombie, or—”

“You stop,” she insists. “You’re spiraling. These worst case scenarios are not helpful. I’m not gonna go looking for death, but I’m not gonna hide away either. I’m done with that. I put on this suit without us even knowing that the stone wasn’t a one-time thing. Now that we know it’s not, I’m emboldened. I was hesitant out there with Velvet Thunder. It’s what got me killed. I’m not saying it won’t happen again, but this experience has given me a huge boost in confidence.” When he looks away again in sadness, she gently pulls at his chin. “I want you there with me. If Blue Umbra doesn’t come back, I would like us to be partners. I can’t promise you anything beyond that,” she adds awkwardly, “but I think we make a great team.”

He sighs. “We don’t know that yet. All I know is how I feel. I’ve met a lot of superheroes, but none like you. You walked right in here without protection. You are the bravest person I know; probably the bravest in the galaxy. But yes, I would rather have a working relationship with you than nothing at all.”

“And would it be okay if Cardinal Sin is with us as a trio? She expressed interest.”

He smiles now, starting to relax. “She doesn’t go by that anymore. She realized that it didn’t make any sense to maintain her original name if she switched sides. She’s Cardinal Virtue now. People are really starting to accept her. She reacted quite strongly to your death, and people saw that. Even though Velvet Thunder didn’t technically drop the train on you, they’re blaming him for it. He never wanted to be that hated. He may exit the game because of this. You should go see him.”

“I think I will. I don’t want him to feel any guilt.”

She doesn’t end up doing that. Instead, Reagan invites everyone to a meeting, reportedly to discuss funeral arrangements. It was Mandica’s idea to lie. He reaches out to Malika, who has to return from Castlebourne’s north pole first. Elysia left the simulation too, but was closer by. She will not say where. It sounds very hush-hush. Once everyone has arrived, Mandica makes her grand entrance. They’re all upset and all overjoyed at the same time.

No one else confesses their undying love to her, but Elysia does give her a certain look. After the hubbub dies down a little, she pulls Mandica aside for a more private conversation. “Listen. After you died a few days ago, I threw myself into work. After I died, the executive administrative authority offered me a sort of...job. I was holding off on making any radical commitments because I was training you, but I thought that was over. I didn’t want to think about what happened, so I tried to put Ravensgate in my rearview mirror.” Wow, a lot managed to happen in the last few days. “Since you were dead, it didn’t seem to matter, but now that you’re back, you should know...they know about you. They saw what happened at the jewelry store, and the train yard. They’ve been watching you. I didn’t get the impression that they were all that upset about it. I mean, they had weeks to pull you out, and didn’t. Still, you have a right to know.”

“I suppose we should not have been too optimistic about that. They got cameras all over the place. They were bound to notice. Thank you for telling me, I’m sure it will end up okay.” She means it. “Can you tell me about the project? Will you be going back?”

Elysia nods. “Ravensgate has been wildly successful in their eyes. They only built one city under one dome so as not to waste resources on an unproven concept. After decades of play and hype, it’s become one of the more popular destinations for visitors. They have had to start a waiting list because there is too much demand. You don’t want too many superheroes in one city, so they’re building a new one, under a new dome.”

“Oh, cool. That’s impressive. Congratulations,” Mandica says to her.

“Thanks. It’s not yet announced, but since my version of the Rescuer is dead, they might have me become a new character, after I’m done helping design it.”

“That’s really great, Lys, I’m happy for you.” She notices Malika eyeing the exit door. “I wanna hear more about it, but I need one moment before Malika escapes.” She jogs over to her other friend. “Hey. Are you going back to Aquilonian Deep?”

“Yeah. I’ve just been going through my own stuff. It’s not about you.”

“I can appreciate that, and I don’t wanna pressure you, but if you’re gonna be out there, maybe you could take a detour? I can’t leave the dome even though it might not matter anymore. Could you pick something up from someone who owes me a favor?”

Microstory 2643: Fresh Pair of Eyes

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Mandica awakens once more, but doesn’t open her eyes. There is something wrapped around her head, and for a second, she forgets the trauma. Then it all comes flooding back in. She’s lying in a bed, but obviously can’t see where she is. Someone brought her here, but they could be bad or good. It could be Cardinal Sin, not finished with her after mutilating her face. So she just remains relatively still—not rigid so as to pretend to still be asleep, but not getting up. She’s unmotivated, because what would be the point of doing anything? It’s a miracle that she’s still alive, but she feels no gratitude.

The bed jostles a little, and she feels something pressing against her leg. “How are you feeling?” a feminine voice asks. “Are you in any pain?”

Actually, she’s not, so she supposes that’s another miracle. “Not right now, but I’m eyeless. I don’t think you understand, they’re not going to heal. I’m not going to transfer back to another body. Or if you’re just an NPC, none of this means anything to you, and you’re either confused, or you’ve been programmed to ignore anything which might break your interpretation of the world around you. I really don’t care anymore.”

“I’m not an NPC,” the voice claims. “And you’re not eyeless.”

Mandica feels the woman’s hands upon her face, and flinches, but relaxes, because it seriously doesn’t matter. Her life is over. She made a mistake, and it cost her everything. The hands gently lift Mandica’s head off of the pillow, and slowly unwrap the bandages. Shards of light appear before her. How is that possible? Some kind of weird neural firing in her optic nerve? People are supposed to have eyes, so maybe it’s not used to being without, and is still trying to produce an image. As the bandaging becomes thinner and thinner, the light becomes more uniform and even, until it’s all gone, and she sees the ceiling above her, as well as the young woman’s face. “Did I imagine it all?”

An old man’s face appears next to the woman’s. “My finest work,” he muses.

“This is Sigurd Olander,” the woman explains. “The best tissue regenerator in the sim. Don’t worry, he’s clueless.” She looks at the man. “None of this is real. You’re just a robot with skin. I could pull off your head right now, and I wouldn’t even get in trouble.”

Sigurd doesn’t look at the woman, or acknowledge what she’s saying. He keeps smiling proudly at Mandica. “I’m sorry, I may not have gotten your eye color quite right. Unfortunately, I did not have much to work with. Your original eyes were too badly damaged. I may be able to fix the color, though, if you prefer. Can you move them?”

Mandica switches her gaze to the wall on the other side of the bed. She sits up, and looks around the room. It’s pretty bare, probably because personal lives don’t matter much to people pretending to be superheroes. There is a nightstand to her left, a desk against the far wall, a metal rack of clothes instead of a closet or wardrobe, and Jaidia. “Jaidia!” she cries. She clambers to the corner of the bed, trying to use the blanket and pillow as armor. “Get away from me! Get away!”

Jaidia holds her hands out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t do this to you.”

“No, I saw you!” Mandica argued. “You tore out my eyes!”

“That wasn’t me,” Jaidia insists. “I would never do that. Even to an NPC, I’m not that sick.”

“Oh, you’re gonna tell me you put on that red costume, and you turn into a different person?” Actually, that’s not that crazy of a scenario. Real world technology would absolutely allow a player to shift personalities to more fully immerse themselves into the simulation. That’s what they do in Zombiedome. If you get infected, you can turn into a zombie, and—no, why is she thinking about Zombiedome? It’s not relevant.

“No, it just straight up wasn’t me at all,” Jaidia claims. “It was a shapeshifter. We believe that she didn’t design a regular body for herself at all, but is composed entirely of interlocking nanites. This allows her to appear as anyone or anything with the right amount of volume. I don’t know why she made herself look like me, or why she targeted you, but I promise that I had nothing to do with it. I’m sorry you went through that.”

When Mandica looks over at the other woman, she nods. “She’s telling the truth. We came here to fight each other for fun. Mildred’s backstory, and Cardinal Sin’s modus operandi; they’re just figments. She doesn’t actually ever do any of that stuff. We time our battles so I show up before she can go through with it. Morgana, on the other hand, is not a part of that. She has her own plans; her own script. I genuinely had to fight her off. I shouldn’t have won, though. She’s more powerful than anyone, so that tells us she wants me to live, and she wants you to live too.”

Mandica sighs. “Morgan Le Fay was a shapeshifter in the stories, but I don’t understand why Vanore would do this to me. We weren’t in love, but we parted on decent terms, and I’m the one who should be mad at her; not the other way around.”

“We’ll help you figure it out.” She offers a hand. “My real name is Elysia MacNeil, but in here, I go by Alanis Morrissey. Unless I’m in costume, in which case, I’m—”

“Ravensgate Rescuer. Yeah, I teased that out. Your masks don’t exactly conceal your identities, you know that right?”

“We do know that,” Jaidia replies. “It’s tradition. Superheroes are intentionally dressed in poor disguises so the movie stars playing them can still be clearly seen.” She circles her own face with her finger. “No one wants me to cover this up.”

Mandica nods, and begins to climb out of the bed. “Do you have a mirror?”

“We can bring you one,” Elysia offers.

“I would rather get up, and get moving around,” Mandica contends. “Just point me to the bathroom.” Jaidia holds her hands out awkwardly as Mandica is slowly making her way across the room, prepared to catch her if need be. Mandica doesn’t need any help, though. Her body is weak because she’s not eaten in a while, and she wouldn’t call what she was doing before sleep, but all she needs is a sandwich. And to see what she looks like. She flips on the light, and approaches the mirror. As the man said, these are not her eyes. They’re the wrong color, and maybe shape? That can’t be right. She turns her chin side to side for different angles. Can the color of the irises make them look entirely different? Maybe she’s imagining it. Or Morgana did damage to the rest of her face, so that had to be reconstructed too.

“I’ll let you ladies help her acclimate,” the doctor says as he’s walking towards the exit door. “I must leave for another appointment, but you have my number if anything goes wrong.” He stops and stares at Mandica. “Truly my finest work.” He leaves.

Mandica was going to thank him, but he wouldn’t get it anyway. He’s a program with hands and feet. She turns back to the mirror, almost wanting to smile, but this never should have happened, and won’t again. She is not fit for this world. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Elysia asks.

Mandica looks at her. “I’m unregistered. They had to give me spoof lenses so I could move about at will. Now those lenses are gone, and I’m stuck here. Forever.”

Microstory 2373: Earth, October 6, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m relieved that you’re feeling better, but I’m still worried about you. What are your message quotas? Maybe you could send me daily updates? Yeah, I’ll always be a week behind, but I’ll feel better if I can count on something coming in every day. Or maybe that would be even more stressful, because what if you’re too busy, or you forget? It might make me start freaking out. I dunno, you decide. I just want you to be okay. Who else do you have in your life besides Bray? Does Velia help too? Is she someone you can rely on when things are rough? It’s so frustrating being so far from each other. Okay, I don’t wanna be too pushy or overprotective. You live your life however you think you should. In school, we learned about the dangers of living in space. They told us how risky it is just being out in the vacuum, and how lower gravity can impact bones and muscles. But they didn’t say anything about the pathogens that do—or more important, don’t—start going around. You’re in such a controlled environment, which sounds like a good thing, but I guess there are consequences. We’re probably going to experience the same thing here on Earth, with our giant dome habitats. Or maybe the giant part is a good thing.  Perhaps they’re big enough where it’s basically like living on Earth before the poison gases. I don’t know anything about this stuff. Have they done studies on it? Do space colonists have weakened immune systems because they’re not exposed to random environmental foreign contaminants, or whatever? Perhaps someone should be comparing twins for this instead of behavioral differences. I shouldn’t say that out loud, give anybody any bright ideas. For all I know, that was part of what they were trying to study in us.

Thinking of you always,

Condor

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 5, 2487

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Alarms were blaring, internal inertial dampeners and artificial gravity generators were faltering, and sparks were flying. Everything was falling apart. They were suffering severe damage from the onslaught of weapons fire. The teleportation field was not designed to handle this much debris all at once. “Who the hell is shooting at us?” Leona shouted.

“No idea, Captain! Sensors are down!” Marie cried back.

“Twenty-eight percent of the objects are crossing the teleportation field!” Angela added. “Some of them are hitting uncomfortably close to the generators themselves!”

“Slingdrive!” Leona questioned.

“Overheated!” Angela replied.

“Reframe engine!”

“Offline!”

“Teleporter drive!”

“Where should we teleport?” Marie asked. “Our sensors are down. We could be jumping deeper into the battlefield.”

“We don’t even know if it’s a battlefield,” Angela noted.

“At least tell me we’re still in full stealth mode,” Leona asked.

“Yes,” Angela confirmed, “but we are taking hits, and whoever is firing might have a predictive algorithm that measures the trajectory of its projectiles, which could lead it to detecting a discrepancy in the final trajectory results.”

That was an insightful answer. The team was learning. Though, it would have been really nice to have Ramses here, or even Mateo with his idea to shoot people with solid holograms.

“Sir?” Marie prompted. “Do you want us to fire back?”

“We purged the hot pocket before we left,” Leona reasoned. “We have nothing to fire.”

“The hits were taking on are recharging it,” Marie explained. “We’re not at full capacity, but we have something.”

Leona shook her head. “Like you said, we don’t have sensors. We would be shooting blind.” She sighed. “Helmets on. I’m gonna shrink us down to model size...lower our surface area.”

“Can we survive that?” Angela asked.

“Ramses tested it in Stoutverse. Helmets on. Where the hell is Olimpia?” As if to answer, the hits suddenly stopped. “What just happened?” Leona asked.

“I did, Captain,” Olimpia replied through comms. “On screen.” The monitor turned itself on. It was fuzzy from the damage, but they could see enough. Olimpia was somewhere else, holding a knife to Bronach Oaksent’s throat. “We got eem.”

“You have nothing,” Bronach contended.

“If that were true,” Olimpia began, “why did you stop firing?”

Bronach didn’t answer.

“He’s got a teleportation block on now,” Olimpia said to Leona. “I don’t know why he didn’t have it activated before, but I can’t escape, and you can’t come get me.”

“What’s your, uhh...endgame here, Pia?” Leona asked.

“You kill me, they’ll kill you seconds later,” Bronach said to Olimpia, surely referring to the crowd of guardsmen standing at the ready behind them.

“I don’t understand,” Leona said, confused. “If you knew we would be here, why would you come yourself? Why not just send an army of redshirts?”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” Bronach clarified. “I was shooting at them.”

“Sensors back online,” Angela announced. The rest of the monitors switched on, giving them the panoramic view of their surroundings. They were indeed in the middle of a battlefield. A fleet of ships were at their port while another was at their starboard. It looked very neat and organized, like a battle formation that the Regulars liked to use during the Revolutionary War. Not very efficient, and too restrained. They were not in any star system, but apparently out in interstellar space somewhere.

“How do you suppose we’re gonna rectify this situation?” Leona asked Bronach.

“Well, I was thinking that your bitch here could put down her knife so I can pick it up, and slit her pretty little throat. Then you could stick your heads between your legs, and kiss your kitties goodbye—”

“That’s enough,” Leona said defiantly. She turned an imaginary dial in the air, which prompted the computer to genuinely mute Bronach’s words. She stood there for a while, staring at her enemy in the eyes. His lips weren’t moving anymore, but that didn’t mean he was finished expressing his vulgar thoughts. She turned to Angela for a private conversation. “Do you know where they are? Which ship, which part of it?”

“It’s the big one that looks like a compensator,” Angela answered. “Specifically, they are in the tip.”

“They have a real viewport to the outside?”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

Leona turned the dial back. “Are you done acting like a child?” she asked him.

“Are you done acting like a—?” he started to respond until Olimpia tightened her grip around his neck. “Yes, I’m done. I don’t know how to resolve this.”

“Olimpia,” Leona said with a raised voice.

“Sir!”

“Remember that show we watched together, with the guy in green tights?”

“Sir?” Olimpia asked, puzzled.

“I pointed out one of the characters, who’s a lot like you.”

Olimpia thought about it. “I think I remember that. Are you asking for me to put on a performance?”

Leona sighed. “Sing your heart out.”

Without letting go of Bronach, Olimpia pulled off the necklace that she used to suppress her echo powers. She screamed towards the screen as loud as she could. It didn’t take long before the feed was disrupted by the noise. The VA’s monitor automatically switched to the next interesting thing that the sensors were picking up. The window on the tip of the phalloship had shattered, and dozens of people were being expelled into the cold vacuum of space. The view narrowed in on Olimpia, who was still holding onto Bronach. They expected all the guardsmen to die, but they were still moving around; not convulsing, but reaching out towards their weapons. Some of them were too far away, but they had backups in their holsters. They weren’t human.

“Shit,” Leona muttered under her breath.

“She needs to let go,” Angela decided. “We don’t want him on our ship. She needs to let go of him, and teleport.”

“She can hear you,” Leona explained, tapping on her comms. “Olimpia. Let him go and teleport back in.”

The guards all had their guns trained on her. Olimpia seemingly managed to disappear just in time before the bullets started flying. They shot up Bronach’s body instead. He apparently was still human.

“Get us out of here,” Leona ordered the twins. She jumped to the infirmary, where Olimpia was already lying down in a medical pod, beginning to convalesce. “Report.”

Olimpia opened her mouth.

“Not you. Computer, report.”

“Patient is suffering from mild hypoxia and minor subcutaneous emphysema. There is also a single gunshot graze just over her left ear. Body temperature is low, but rising. Prognosis: the patient will recover within the hour.”

“You did a brave thing,” Leona said to Olimpia.

“Thanks—thanks—thanks,” Olimpia replied in an echo. She reached up with her necklace to try to put it back on.

Leona gently took it from her. “Just rest. We’ll reattach it once you’re fully recovered.” She felt that Olimpia was distressed and confused. “The scream. It took a lot out of you. That’s why you’re not recovering as fast as you would have. Hopefully you’ll never have to do that again.”

Olimpia nodded, then looked back up towards the ceiling, and closed her eyes.

Leona almost jumped out of her shoes when she saw Tertius walk into the room out of the corner of her eye. “I forgot you were still aboard.”

“I stayed off the bridge,” he began to explain. “I don’t have much experience with this kind of technology. I would just be in the way.”

“It would have been fine had you been there,” Leona said. “But you can stay with her now, let me go back.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Leona returned to the bridge. They were currently traveling at reframe speeds, zigging and zagging to confuse anyone trying to track them, as well as occasionally teleporting to random vectors. “Good strategy. I appreciate you taking over.”

“How’s our girl look?” Marie asked.

Leona tapped her comms off, so Olimpia couldn’t hear. “Not great, but she’ll get through it.”

“We intercepted a transmission,” Angela said. “Bronach’s not dead. I don’t know how he survived, they didn’t give any details, but they’re confident.”

“I’m not surprised,” Leona responded. “I shouldn’t expect it to be that easy. Maybe he has an upgraded body too, or persistent consciousness backup, or some other wacky contingency. Right now, we have to focus on finding Mirage.”

“I made contact, but I think we should hold off on a rendezvous,” Marie explained. “I suggest we intentionally destabilize attitude control for half an hour, and vacillate the power conduits to appear derelict. If we’ve been tracked, I don’t want us to lead them to Mirage’s location.”

“Another good idea,” Leona said. “I don’t think y’all need a captain anymore. Computer, can you do as she said?”

“Randomizing maneuvering thruster activations, and power distribution systems now.”

While they were waiting, Olimpia continued to recover, and Leona looked over the diagnostics for the slingdrive to make sure that it was recharging, and going through the proper automated maintenance procedures. Ramses had installed a coherence gauge, which measured the drive’s readiness factors, boiling them down to a color-coded scale. Red meant that it was too early to make another safe jump. Violet meant that it was fully charged, stable, and ready to go. He warned against using it again until it was at least in Green. Right now, it was still on Orange, so it was likely at least a couple of hours from being ready. Leona also finally realized that it was July 5, 2487. They had jumped a year into the future. The navigation system was not calibrating correctly, so Ramses would have to look at it again. They had to get back to Castlebourne first, though, which might be a bit of an issue. A ship was on approach.

Leona jumped back from the engineering section. “Have they announced themselves?”

“No, sir,” Angela replied. “Should we open a channel?”

Leona watched the main monitor. The VA was spinning—supposedly out of control—but the computer was compensating for this, and keeping the image of the other ship straight. “No. If they think we’re derelict, we want them to keep thinking that. We’ll only react if they send a message, or launch a salvage team. I’m not sure if the people in the Goldilocks Corridor do that.”

“They might shoot us out of the sky,” Angela said. “They’re powering weapons.”

“Ready the hot pocket, but keep all available power queued to plasma shields.”

“We have plasma shields now?” Marie asked. “That wasn’t in the lessons.”

“They’re untested, and a huge power drain,” Leona said to her. “But they’ll stop pretty much anything. The EM deflector array isn’t as effective, and the teleporter field only works with projectiles. But yes, we technically have all three now.”

“Why aren’t they firing?” Marie questioned.

“The  guns aren’t pointed towards us,” Angela said as she was looking at the screen. “They’re pointed at nothing. Maybe they need to occasionally purge too, like our hot pocket?”

“Wouldn’t explain why they don’t just kill two birds with one stone, and use it against us,” Marie offered.

“They’re firing,” Angela said.

They were indeed projectiles; missiles, to be exact. Two of them flew off in the same general direction for no apparent reason. Suddenly, though, another ship appeared, right in their path. They had no time to react before the missiles struck the hull simultaneously, and all but vaporized them.

“Vellani Ambassador, this is Captain Mirage Matic of the Enlister. We know you’re playing opossum. Please respond.”

Leona just nodded at Marie, who opened the channel for her. “Mirage, it’s good to hear from you. This is Leona.”

“Welcome back, stepmom,” Mirage said with humor in her voice.

“Restore normal operations,” Leona ordered the twins. “Mirage, we would like to negotiate a new conflict tactic, if you’re up for it,” she said into the mic.

“Allow me on board, and I’ll teleport right quick.”

Leona nodded again. “Direct her jump to Delegation Hall, please.” She jumped over there herself, just before Mirage showed up. They shook hands. “Where’s Niobe?”

“Still on the Enlister,” Mirage answered. She looked around. “I’ve been scanning your systems. You’ve made some upgrades.”

“I hope that’s okay.”

“This here ship is yourn now. I heard about the Rock Meetings. Nice to know you’re using it for diplomacy, as was its original premise.”

“Yes, and we would like to keep using it for nonviolent purposes, though not necessarily diplomatic discussions. Before we talk about that, I have a more pressing question. We killed Bronach Oaksent, but he survived. Do you have intel on that? Is he posthuman?”

Mirage laughed. “No. He has the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Leona tilted her chin. “As in...Nicholas Flammel?”

“As in the dome of the Insulator of Life.”

“That’s where that is,” Leona whispered. “It’s powerful enough on its own?”

“The Philosopher’s Stone is more powerful on its own. There are four main components of the Insulator: the actual insulator, the revitalizer, the primary memory chamber, and the regulator. The first one is the exterior of the glass itself, so the dome contains part of it—enough of it to maintain someone’s life under certain circumstances. The rest of the dome is the revitalizer, as well as temporary memory storage. When all four components are combined, the regulator prevents the revitalizer from generating a new substrate for someone in storage. That’s why you have to transfer someone’s consciousness into a clone, or an android, or whatever.”

“So without the regulator, the stone can just make a new body.”

“It’s not that it can, it’s that it will. There’s no way to control it. It’s like a computer without I/Os. I think it takes a few days, but it will do it whether you want it to or not.”

“So he’s effectively immortal, as long as he has the stone in his possession.”

“There’s a downside,” Mirage goes on. “Once it resurrects you, you’re bonded to it. You’re the only one who can use it until this bond subsides. If someone else uses it, you will experience their damage. So in this case, it’s bonded to the Oaksent. If, say, his lieutenant takes possession, and gets a cut on his arm, a cut will appear on Oaksent’s arm. If he breaks his leg, he breaks Oaksent’s leg.”

“And if he dies?” Leona proposed.

“If the lieutenant dies, he basically steals Oaksent’s life. Oaksent will die for good, the lieutenant will live again. But then he has to keep it protected until his own bond fades.”

“How long does that take?”

“I’ve never seen it firsthand, but I believe months; maybe a year. I think the time gets extended when you keep using it. So if you cut your own arm every day, the bond will never dissipate. I’m not sure why you would want that as I consider it a bug, not a feature, but I dunno.”

Leona stared into space, and nodded. “I don’t wanna kill anyone, but...”

“I know. Is that why you’re here?” Mirage asked. “Is this a reluctant assassination attempt?”

“What?” She came out of her trance. “Oh, no. It’s a rescue mission. Rather, a rescue operation. I’d like to see you captain this ship once more...for a new crew.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 1, 2483

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After adjusting to the lights of the infirmary, Romana looked over at her father, but seemed to be focusing on her own breath. It started to look like she was trying to speak, but she was home now, and everything was going to be fine, so there was no reason to rush this.

“It’s okay. I’m here, and you’re safe. Only talk if you can,” Mateo encouraged.

She struggled to bring her lips closer together to formulate words. She didn’t look like she was in any pain, though, and the pod didn’t indicate that there was any medical issue to be worried about. She didn’t make a sound until she was ready to produce the word, fully and clearly. “Report.”

They told her what had happened, and asked if she remembered anything.

“Nothing,” Romana answered. “Ramses turned his new machine on, and then I woke up here.”

“That might be for the best,” Olimpia hoped. It didn’t appear that she was ever tortured or abused, but there was no telling how difficult it was to be trapped in Buddy’s particles. They might try to find out more information later, but for now, they were just grateful that she was back.

Romana needed physical help getting out of the pod, and then into the tub to be washed up. Olimpia graciously assisted with that. Mateo didn’t feel comfortable participating, and Romana probably preferred it this way too. While she had no apparent memory of the dark particle prison, she still looked traumatized. Perhaps the ordeal had a nuanced impact on her psyche, or maybe her mind was repressing it to protect itself. This gave Mateo an idea, to find a way to let her use his rendezvous card, so she could speak with Dr. Hammer. That was against the rules, but if it could improve his mental health, the Center might make an exception. And anyway, once he made sure that Romana was better, Mateo probably wouldn’t need the support group anymore.

He gave the two of them space, and went back to the bridge. “What’s the word with this thing? Are we in danger of another tangent?”

“Probably,” Leona replied. “But the risk can be mitigated with some careful planning.”

“Two jumps,” Ramses added. “I can probably only muster two good jumps a day, though it’s best that we spread them out by several hours. And I’m only guessing that due to our past experiences. We’ve obviously pushed the limits before, but it hasn’t always worked out, so for the sake of a successful jump, we should probably consider that the safety margin. That doesn’t mean I know what’s causing it. It could be a design flaw, an inherent limitation from the ship that the slingdrive has been retrofitted to, or it could be because of the quintessence itself. Perhaps it doesn’t like people to mess with it until it’s had time to settle down. I need more time, and more tests...again.”

“Before, when we were testing the navigation function,” Mateo began, “it was to save Romana’s life. Now we’re okay. Now we can afford to take a little time. Do what you need to do, but take the pressure off.”

Ramses nodded with a frown.

“And don’t feel bad about what happened,” Mateo continued, noticing that this was not his friend’s real concern. “Buddy is an antagonist who took advantage of an accident that you even predicted. We all knew the risks, including her. I’m not holding it against you, and I would like to see the day when you don’t hold it against yourself. Romana will be fine. She’s back now, and the tethers are holding. We’ll never lose her again. I love you, man.”

“Love you too,” Ramses replied.

“There’s something else,” Leona said, now that the serious conversation was over. “It’s about the Insulator. While he was getting us back, I was conducting my own research.” She stepped to the side to reveal the glass object sitting on the console. “As you can see, it’s missing the dome that’s supposed to go on top. Glass insulators have no moving parts, yet it’s been removed as if it could be popped off like a snap fastener. We scanned for the dome out in the black while we were at our last pitstop, but it might be lost forever.”

“Cool,” Mateo said. “I don’t care about it, though.”

“You should,” Leona insisted. “I was able to make minimal contact with the inhabitant. I can hear her, but she can’t hear me. Mateo, it’s Dubra.”

“My sister?” Romana was here, totally naked, but not worried about it.

Olimpia rushed up, and wrapped a towel around her body. “Sorry, she suddenly hopped out of the tub, and ran off.”

I could hear their conversation in their minds,” Romana explained. “If Dubra is in there, I can turn that minimal contact into a real conversation.”

“Be my guest,” Leona agreed, moving away even farther.

Romana stepped up to it, took a deep breath, then lifted her arms, apparently to prepare to touch it. Her towel fell right back off of her.

“Maybe you should get dried off and clothed,” Mateo asked.

“I got this.” Olimpia was wearing a splash tunic, which was a hydrophobic garment caregivers used to aid someone in bathing, whether as a family member, friend, or medical professional. She pulled it off of her own body, and dropped it over Romana’s, since the latter didn’t seem to be bothered by the mixed company. Now Olimpia was the one without clothes on, but that was fine.

Romana adjusted the shoulders of the tunic, then refocused on the task at hand. She placed fingers from both hands upon the Insulator. She stood there for a few minutes, occasionally showing mild signs of active listening. She nodded definitively, and separated. “Okay.”

“Okay, what? Is she all right?” Mateo asked.

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

“Is that all she said?” Leona pressed.

“No, she said quite a bit.” Romana was acting like these were perfectly complete responses.

“Such as what?” Ramses asked.

“Oh, uh...sister-sister confidentiality.”

“That’s not a thing,” Mateo argued.

“Yes, it is.” Marie was walking onto the bridge, followed by her own sister.

“I’ll just talk to her myself. How do we get her out?” Mateo questioned.

“I’ll have to build her a new substrate,” Ramses reasoned, “but I don’t have her DNA, so I can’t make her look as she did.” He consulted his watch. “And it will take me a real year.”

“Go on and get on it,” Leona said. “Just give her something temporary, and we’ll transfer her to something else later. She might know how we can acquire a sample of her DNA somewhere in the past.”

“Let Romana ask for consent first, please,” Mateo suggested.

“Yes,” Romana said. She went back to briefly speak with Dubravka. “She’s in. Something temporary is fine. It will take some effort to make her the real thing, and she wants to be involved in that. I’m so glad I won’t have to wait a whole year to meet her for real. I really don’t care for telepathy.”

Romana had to wait an entire year before she even had a chance to meet her half-sister in person. She was sixteen years old when Mateo and the team returned to the timestream. Instead of jumping forward like she was used to, she found herself stuck in realtime. She spent that year trying to stay busy by helping Hrockas to prepare for the Grand Opening. There was nothing else she could do. Ramses and Leona were the only ones with any hope of figuring out what might have gone wrong, and more importantly, how to fix it. She certainly couldn’t understand it herself. She didn’t have a whole lot in the way of a formal education. She knew what little she knew thanks to books that her family was able to procure for her over the years, but her unstable lifestyle was not conducive to studying in a classroom. She didn’t have access to Ramses’ ground lab either, or she might have tried to initiate Dubra’s download process herself.

She was depressed, and feeling left behind, but she had all year to come to terms with missing the bus, and the delay in the big family reunion. She also grew up hearing stories of Team Matic’s fantastical adventures, with their top-notch engineer and captain. Together, they could fix anything. So she was confident that they would solve the problem quickly.

“You noticed these, right?” They were back in the realspace infirmary on the Vellani Ambassador. The patient was sitting on the exam table, legs hanging off the edge. Leona was no doctor, but she had a penlight, and she knew how to point it at someone’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Romana replied. “I’ve tried to flush them out, but they’re not exactly...tangible.”

“What are you talking about?” Mateo was standing off to the side, arms crossed, and thinking about the most painful way to tear Buddy’s limbs off of his body.

“The dark particles,” Leona answered. “There are still some in there, floating around. I can’t tell exactly where; behind the cornea, maybe? Or they’re in another dimension...”

“Then figure it out!” Mateo cried.

“Stop it,” Leona instructed. “We’ve talked about your anger.”

Mateo took a deep breath. “I know it’s not your fault, I’m sorry.” He pulled the rendezvous card out of his sleeve pocket. It was red, just as anyone would expect out of someone this angry.

“What are you thinking?” his wife asked.

“I’m thinking that Dr. Hammer is not just a psychiatrist. She has diagnostic equipment that Ramses wouldn’t be able to develop, or know how to use properly. She may have even seen this before.”

“That’s not what that card is for,” she reminded him.

“My daughter’s back, I don’t need therapy anymore. I need her to be healthy.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing.”

“No,” Romana jumped in. “I know what you’re saying. But Matics are time-skippers. It’s what we do. I don’t wanna lose that.”

“I’m just making sure you understand your options,” Leona told her.

“My options,” Romana began before a pause, “are to find the man who did this to me, and make him fix it.”

Mateo shook his head. “I get the impulse. Believe me, I want to ring his neck. But Rule Number Fifteen is probably the most important one when it comes to us, so if you’re going to be a part of our team in any capacity, you will need to learn to follow it. Buddy is powerful, fragile, and whimsical. In my experience, that combination equates to sudden outbursts of excessive retaliation. His objective is to bring a fruit from the past into the future. He has the power to simply go back to the past, and pick one whenever he feels like it. He’s going to extreme lengths to accomplish something stupid and pointless. You can’t reason with someone like that, and we certainly can’t fight him. We try to handle this on our own. Locating him is a last resort.”

“Okay,” Romana agreed. “Then can someone help me get back down to the planet? I want to be there when Dubra wakes up.”

“Okay, but then we’re talking about Snake Island,” Mateo called to her as she was trying to leave.

“Whatever, just let me get this gown off!

Leona sighed. “We’re not going to Snake Island.”

“Leona...”

“We’re not going to Snake Island. We like Dr. Hammer, but we don’t know her all that well. Your own cousin became an adversary in the Third Rail. We need to be cautious, and follow the rules. Now go get your daughter, and go down to see your other daughter.”

Ramses’ ground lab was a lot bigger and better than the one he had in the pocket dimension attached to the ship. He had been wanting this forever, and finally found a place to build it. Starter nanites constructed it for him while they were gone, with the first room being dedicated to the Insulator of Life, as well as the equipment necessary to produce a new body.

Mateo peered at it, floating there in its amniotic tank. “What DNA did you end up using, since we don’t have hers. I assumed it would just be one of those public-use template things.”

Ramses was running through his tasklist before the download procedure. “Uh...don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t too terribly worried before, but now I really am. What did you do?”

“It’s fine, don’t—it’s fine.”

“Ramses Abdulrashid,” Mateo enunciated like a disappointed parent.

“Yours,” Ramses answered. “Yours and Leona’s. I mixed them together, like what would happen if you had your own kid.”

The room grew extremely tense. “Oh,” Romana said quietly and accidentally.

“Ramses. Leona and I did conceive twins. She lost them.”

“This isn’t either of them,” Ramses reasoned. “Couples have multiple kids, they don’t look the same. The DNA always combines differently.”

“Ramses,” Mateo said once more. “You can’t give my daughter that I had with Serif a body created from what might have become the daughter that Leona and I had together. It will remind her of that trauma.”

“Well, I can’t undo it.”

“Make her a new one.”

“What?”

“Make a new body.”

“Well, what am I meant to do with this one?” Ramses questioned.

“Whatever you do with it, don’t tell anyone; least of all my wife. Start over, and just use one of the templates.”

Ramses breathed deeply, and looked over at Romana as if she would somehow be able to alter the outcome of this situation. It didn’t matter how either of them felt about it. This was Mateo’s decision, and nothing was going to change it. Mateo shut his eyes and nodded. “Okay. It will be another year for us. I’ve obviously developed a method of accelerating time to expedite the maturation process, but I still don’t have it down to less than a day.”

“Sorry, kid,” Mateo said to Romana. He then looked back over at Ramses. “Get it going, and automate the process. Then focus on my other daughter. Let her jump with us. She shouldn’t have to wait a whole other year.”

Ramses got to work on the second major project, but couldn’t figure it out. The team jumped forward without her, and came back to a seventeen-year-old. Fortunately, she wasn’t alone. Now with access to the lab, she was able to initiate the download process herself, and meet Dubravka for real. They had grown quite close over the last several months.

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