Microstory 2397: Earth, May 5, 2182

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Dear Corinthia,

I regret to inform you that my son, Condor Sloane has been missing since January 4, 2180. I was made aware that he was hired for a new job working with a global outfit that has since been defunct. They were trying to restore this planet to its original health before the toxins, and while they were moderately successful, they have since lost all steam, and talent. Condor could have been a great asset to them, but he never made it to their rendezvous point in the North Queensland Dome. The initial suspicion was that his truck broke down on his way out there, and he succumbed to the environment after life support ran out, or that he crashed, and lost life support right away. I spent weeks combing the desert, looking for any sign of him. I searched the road, I searched off the road, I searched detours, I searched everywhere. And once I had finished searching everywhere I thought he could possibly be, I began to search everywhere else. I heard reports of someone spotting him somewhere near Bowen Orbital Spaceport, but when I went to investigate there, I couldn’t corroborate the witness’ story, and when I tried to reach out, this witness was nowhere to be found either. I’m sure it was just a prank. For the last two years, though, I’ve kept searching. I’ve run down every lead. He didn’t just disappear into thin air. I thought maybe my old neighbor had gotten to him, or Condor’s old nurse. They have both lied, and maybe there was more to the study that Condor was on the verge of discovering, and they had to shut him up. Or maybe they just wanted to study him again. Maybe us asking all these questions only served to renew their interests in the endeavor. I found nothing. I found no evidence of anything. My best guess at this point is that he ended up in the water, somewhere along Australia’s eastern coast. It would be impossible to find him under these conditions. It could have happened anywhere from Old Brisbane to the Blackbraes dome. I wish that I had better news, and I wish I could keep going, but I buried my son. I held a funeral for him, and everything. I’m an old man now, and can’t keep traveling like I used to. I’ve recently settled in a region that was once called Ecuador. The poisonous gases are still here, and it’s still deadly to go outside, however, this close to the equator, the sunshine is able to break through. You can see the sky from the ground during the day, and shortly after nightfall, you can even make out a few stars before the particles recongregate, and it fogs over once more. It’s a highly coveted place to live, and a great place to retire. Condor would say that I’ve earned it, and I’m trying to honor him that way. I’m sorry. I know he meant a lot to you. It was a lovely service, you deserved to be there. I should have recorded it for you. I just wasn’t thinking. I’ve attached the program, though, so you can imagine having been there.

Bittersweet to hear from you again after all this time,

Pascal

Microstory 1979: From the Shadows

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Leonard: No, she’s still not here. Ophelia? Ophelia? Can you hear me?

Micro: *walking up from the shadows* I’m blocking all signals.

Leonard: Report.

Micro: *smiling* Report. You’re learning, young padawan. First off, are you okay? You, Ophelia, and the prisoner? How did you get back here?

Leonard: We used one of Anaïs’ contacts to get across the borders, and then a bus.

Micro: *nodding* I’m glad you’re okay. I wanted to help, but we couldn’t tip Sachs off. Not that it mattered. Parsons escalated things at the safehouse, and we were forced to reveal the truth in front of Sasho. We still don’t know if we can trust him. That’s why I asked you to come here. This was our only way to keep Vogel safe and alive until we can figure out how many moles there are left in the government. He is alive, isn’t he?

Leonard: He’s fine. He’s in a safehouse that I set up for myself while I was free, but before DExA began. *looking around* I assume this is yours?

Micro: All I could do was hope that your parolee told you where the Salmon Civic Center would be if we were in Salmonverse.

Leonard: We had lunch in this area once in my home universe. He pointed it out. Seemed innocuous and meaningless at the time.

Micro: I’m glad that he did.

Leonard: I’m taking Vogel to Parsons. Enough of this cloak and dagger crap. We are not equipped to hold onto the suspect on our own, and every day we spend in the cold gets us closer to being burned.

Reese: I’m pleased to hear you say that. *walks up from the shadows*

Leonard: This was all just a test?

Micro: Have you heard of Lima Syndrome where you’re from?

Leonard: No.

Reese: We don’t have it either. Apparently it’s when you start to sympathize with someone you have in captivity. I had to be sure you weren’t compromised. Or Ophelia.

Leonard: Oh, the Grapley Effect. Yeah, we have that.

Reese: *hands Leonard a folder* This is what we have on Sachs. I had a friend from my military days look into it independently to verify it. He’s been playing us the whole time.

Leonard: I assume he took a shot at Vogel to shut him up?

Micro: That’s our assumption as well. We need to find out what—and who—he knows.

Leonard: *looking over the documents* This begs the question...

Reese: Director Washington? She’s the one who assigned Sachs to our department. Yeah, I’m worried about her loyalties too. That’s not our job, though. The Internal Compliance Commission will investigate on their own.

Leonard: In the meantime, what happens to us?

Reese: We’ve been shut down. But there’s hope for us yet.

Leonard: In what way?

Myka: *coming out of the shadows with a bunch of others* We’re working out of here now. Congratulations, Miazga, you’ve just joined a rogue operation.

Leonard: Not my first.

Microstory 1977: Deflection

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Reese: No. No. You’re not going anywhere. I want everyone in this room right now.

Sachs: This isn’t everyone. Where’s the paroler, and his partner? And where did the agent just run off to?

Reese: I sent Agent Altimari to the rendezvous point to find the other two you mentioned. She’s the only one here who I trust. The three of you, however, have some explaining to do. Let’s start with you, Sergeant. Why did you fire your weapon?

Sachs: You ordered me to.

Reese: No, I did not.

Sachs: Yes, you did. My spotter told me that I had a shot, and then you said to shoot. I distinctly remember it.

Reese: I told you to only shoot upon my order. If I had wanted you to actually shoot, I would have said fire. That’s why we use two different words; for contextual clarity.

Sachs: Well, that’s not how  I was trained. Something must have gone wrong with the comms. *scowls at Micro* That’s not my department.

Micro: There was nothing wrong with the equipment. I heard his orders just fine. He said, and I quote, shoot only on my command.

Sachs: I’m telling you, I didn’t hear that part. I thought he was telling me to shoot.

Reese: Mr. Dreyer?

Sasho: *looks over at Sachs*

Reese: No, don’t look at him. I’m your superior, you answer to me. Did you hear my complete sentence?

Sasho: *relenting with a sigh* Yes, I heard it. He told you to wait.

Sachs: This is bullshit. I don’t understand why you’re interrogating me when it’s obvious that your buddy and the ex-con are the problem here. They were headed up the stairs, probably to rescue their friend, and now all three of them are gone. They didn’t reach out to you. They didn’t leave a note.

Reese: They’re probably at the rendezvous spot, like I said.

Sachs: And if they aren’t? Are you going to keep trusting them, or are you going to start listening to reason?

*a mug on the table suddenly explodes*

Reese: *sidearm in hand* We’re under attack. Defensive positions!

Sachs: *stands up, and turns around* I told you! *stiffens up, and falls to the floor*

Micro: Tell me, Agent Parsons, do they have psychology in your universe? *turns Sachs to his stomach* And did your psychologists ever come up with the idea of deflection?

Reese: *pointing the gun at her* Explain yourself.

Anaïs: *coming in from the back* He’s the traitor. We have proof. *holds the tranquilizer gun at Sasho* We don’t know anything about this guy, though.

Sasho: I didn’t do anything. *drops his own gun*

Reese: Everyone, drop your weapon. Micro, once you’re done tying him up, do the same to your partner, then Dreyer, and then yourself. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I detected your private channel during the stakeout. What did you say to Leonard?

Micro: I’ll explain everything, but only in a whisper...and you have to be naked.

Microstory 1974: Team Alpha

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Micro: What do you think of these names? Team One? Team Prime? Team Alpha?

Anaïs: Not the most common practice. They usually just use colors, but I’ve heard of this technique before, to prevent anyone from feeling subordinate or inferior.

Micro: I think we all know who the B-team is here. We’re stuck at the second location.

Anaïs: I’m stuck at the second location. Parsons is still mad at me for being cagey about my past. You’re here, because I need a babysitter.

Micro: I would have been at the computer either way, poring over all this data, looking for anything that might help us catch this guy, and whoever he may be working for.

Anaïs: Do you want to be in the field?

Micro: It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I just think these equality names are funny. Being part of a group doesn’t mean that everyone is the same, and being equal doesn’t mean that either. It’s okay to just call it like it is. Someone ought to always be in charge.

Anaïs: Well, many would agree with you. Hold up, what is this?

Micro: What? *looking over at Anaïs’ screen* Let me check what it says here.

Anaïs: [...] Does that mean what I think it means?

Ophelia: *through the radio* Team Lead, this is Team One. We have eyes on the target. He’s heading upstairs.

Reese: *through the radio* Team One, this is Team Lead. Hold fast. [...] Team Prime, do you have a visual?

Sasho: *through the radio* Negative, Team Lead. We can’t see the front.

Reese: *through the radio* Okay, Team Alpha, go, go, go. Take him down at his door.

Anaïs: What do we do? We don’t have time to verify any of this?

Micro: Better safe than sorry. If we’re wrong, we have a better image of this guy now, so if he gets away today, we’ll get him again. Make the call.

Anaïs: You do it. Parsons may have told everyone not to trust me.

Micro: *into the radio* Team One, if you can hear me, male, clear your throat, and female, smack your lips. *the sounds come through* I’ve switched us to a private channel. When I give the word, tackle the suspect, and pull him to the floor. All three of you need to get to your stomachs, but not too soon.

Anaïs: Is this going to work?

Sasho: *through the radio* You’re clear, Prime A. You’re pointed right at ‘im.

Reese: *through the radio* Shoot only on my command.

Micro: *into the radio* Team One, DROP! NOW!

Sachs: *fires rifle*

Sasho: *through the radio* I lost visual! There’s too much dust!

Micro: *into the radio* Team One, we’re still on private. Please respond.

Ophelia: *through the radio* We’re here. We’re okay.

Micro: *into the radio* Apprehend the suspect, and run. Lose all trackable tech. Do not proceed to the agreed upon rendezvous point.

Leonard: *through the radio* What’s this about?

Anaïs: Are you gonna tell them?

Micro: That Sachs is a traitor? *into the radio* Wait for me at the Salmon Civic Center.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 7, 2398

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Leona is sitting in her wheelchair while Mateo is sitting up in her bed. He’s mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV, but it’s impossible to find something good. He’s sure there are plenty of great programs here, but they always make him a little uncomfortable. It feels like Third Railers are on a slightly different frequency than normal people. Their idea of entertainment isn’t wrong or even weird, it’s just a little too different than what he’s used to. It’s hard to explain what he doesn’t like about it, but he can only stomach about ten minutes of it before it makes him shiver, and he has to change it to something else.

“I’m getting hungry,” Leona notes.

Mateo checks her watch. She’s not allowed to wear jewelry while she’s checked in as a patient, in case they need to take her out for tests. It shouldn’t matter now since no one is running any tests of the sort, but they don’t want to piss the hostage-takers off any more than they already are. “Rations were meant to come an hour ago.”

“I hope they’re late because patients in critical need of nutrition are taking priority, and not that they’ve decided to starve us.”

“Want me to go out there and check?”

She shakes her head vigorously. “Nope. I don’t want you to draw attention to you or us at all. Maybe you could sneak back over to Cheyenne’s room again, though?”

“Okay.” He peeks his head through the doorway. The coast is clear—too clear, like a scene in a horror movie that you think is maybe a dream sequence, but it turns out the killer’s not dead, and he’s found her, and the hospital floor is totally empty only to increase tension, despite how unlikely that is. Mateo slinks down the hallways, and slips into Cheyenne’s room.

Marie is in there with her. They’re playing a card game across the bed. “Problem, or is she still just worried?” Marie asks.

“The second thing,” Mateo answers. “Have you heard anything? Are they going to let us out anytime soon?”

“It depends on what you mean by soon,” Cheyenne replies. “Santiens are pretty hardcore. They won’t stop until they’ve purified everyone they deem to be unclean.”

“Yeah, and you’re sure that doesn’t mean they’re going to kill them, right?”

“Positive,” Cheyenne assures him.

A group of heavily armed people belonging to a religion called Santienism took over the hospital when they learned that a group of Suiliens were involved in a bus crash, and were brought here for treatment. According to Carlin and Moray’s research, the two sects were once one, but Santiens broke away when they became obsessed with using natural remedies to cure disease. This caused the Suiliens to both metaphorically and literally dig into their own beliefs. They sleep in the dirt, and don’t ever bathe, believing that nature is the closest thing to divinity. Neither one of them believes in real science, and members of both sides get sick a lot because of their unhealthy habits. When their medical issues become too much for them to bear, they will go against their convictions with real doctors, but they are not meant to visit the same facilities due to a self-imposed policy of segregation. These are extenuating circumstances.

They have locked the building down so that no one can come in, and no one can leave. They have installed signal blockers to prevent communication to the outside world, which is why Mateo and Leona were unable to make their rendezvous with Ramses. They don’t know if he and Alyssa left without them, or if they’re still waiting in that park upstate. All they would have had to do, though, would be to check the internet for current events in the area. This isn’t national news by any stretch, as things like this happen from time to time, but it’s noteworthy enough to be reported on locally.

It’s been two nights since this debacle began, and now it’s early morning. How long exactly does it take to purify a bus full of your enemies, whether that means killing them, or not? Mateo looks towards the door, but that’s not what he’s thinking about. This is a team of action. They don’t do well just sitting around, waiting for other people to make things happen. His instincts are telling him to go out there, and make the situation better...or maybe make it worse instead, but brief.

“Don’t do it,” Marie urges him, knowing him well enough to predict his impulses. “This isn’t our problem.”

“We’ll be out of here by the end of the day,” Cheyenne believes.

“No, you won’t, and it’s your problem now.” One of the hostage-takers is standing in the doorway, aiming a gun at them from his waist like a buster in a film noir.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Marie protests.

“What religions are you?” the man with the gun asks, stepping closer menacingly.

“Unaffiliated,” she replies.

“The marker on your door indicates that you’re Caducean.”

Cheyenne leans forward to look at the faith indicator, but she can’t read it. “I hadn’t noticed. My friends must have put that there. Caduceans tend to receive priority treatment.” Caduceans do believe in science, and most medical professionals affiliate.

“Lying about your faith is an offense.”

“It’s not illegal.” One might think it would be, but not as long as the lie isn’t accompanied by other crimes. Still, some find the practice irreverent. In this case, he should just let it go as he obviously has more important stuff going on right now.

He relaxes his hand, but keeps his gun at the ready. “There are too many people in this room. One visitor at a time. One of you has to go back to your room, or downstairs with the other non-patients, depending on which one agrees to leave.”

“I’m going,” Mateo says.

“No, I’ll go,” Marie insists as she’s standing up. She gives Mateo a look that hopefully means don’t bring Leona into this, just stay here, because that’s how he’s interpreting it.

Ramses suddenly appears out of nowhere. “Oh. You have company over. I’m so sorry to disturb you.”

“Where the hells did you come from?” the gunman questions angrily.

“Umm....the bathroom?”

“The bathroom is behind me.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Ramses takes Mateo and Cheyenne by the hands, and teleports them to the rendezvous point in the park. Leona is already there, as are Winona and the AOC. Ramses makes one more jump to the hospital for Marie.

“What’s going on?” Mateo asks Winona.

She shakes her head and sighs. “Those guys who bombed the studio; they only did it to steal money, but nobody knows that yet. Someone was inspired to try to fix what they thought was a mistake. There is a bounty on Leona’s head. We had to act.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 6, 2398

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Ramses tries to deliver The Bridgette back to the park in New York, but it seems that Winona has managed to lock him out of all systems. That’s impressive. These Third Railers are more resourceful than he thought. He’ll have to remember that moving forward. He doesn’t like being surprised, or the one beholden to someone else. He’s always meant to be in control, and once he clears the override feature that Winona installed on this craft, he’ll get back to that. For now, he has to do what she says. They need their starship back, and this is the way they’re getting it. It’s not the first time their plans didn’t go as planned. They always figure out a workaround to the obstacles.

Winona sets her tablet on the console, and lets it sync with the Bridgette. “Constance, please navigate us to these coordinates in realspace.”

“Prepare for liftoff,” the AI replies.

“I’m sorry I had to do that,” Winona says to Ramses. “I like Leona; I consider her one of my own. But I had to make a call. We will get her up into space, I promise you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Ramses says, “but I can. I can also promise you that getting on my team’s bad side never works out for people. You live in your own little reality, but we always win. You apologized with words, now do it through action.”

Winona nods. The computer beeps. She looks down at the console. “We’re here.” She activates the radio. “Amberjack, this is Pelican. Come in, Amberjack.”

“Amberjack Actual here, go ahead.”

“Permission to land and come aboard. Three visitors total, limited equipment.”

“Permission granted.”

“Constance, please land. Once we’re aboard the Amberjack, dive to a depth of thirty meters, and travel three hundred kilometers to the Northeast, avoiding detection along the way. Once there, resurface, launch, and return to base.”

“Understood,” Constance replies.

She regards Ramses’ expression. “The Bridgette will be fully yours after today.”

“Clearly.”

They land the Bridgette, and board the sub. They’re surprised to see what must be a full crew waiting for them. It’s hard to walk through, there are so many people. They were to understand that there would only be a few left around, while the rest rested and relaxed in Bermuda. Winona and Executor Ongaro go into his office to have a chat about it. When they come out ten minutes later, Winona explains to Ramses and Alyssa that rumor spread about what kind of mission they were going on, and everyone wanted to be a part of it. She questioned why he didn’t just order them to go on shore leave, being the Executor and all. He claimed that his own curiosity made him feel like he couldn’t rob others of the opportunity. Bad leadership, if you ask Ramses, but nothing can be done about it now. They have already begun the dive.

By the time they reach the bottom, Ramses has started to receive a signal from the AOC. So not only is it close, but it’s on and operational. That’s good, it strongly suggests that life support is still active. Even if it’s not, it shouldn’t be too hard to re-engage it. Once they’re close enough, the sub’s lights shine upon the vessel. It’s sitting neatly on the ocean floor, right between two little rocky cliffs. Either it was damn lucky to have fallen right in the perfect spot, or the AI is still on, and navigated it well enough to protect hull integrity.

“Wow. This is yours?” one of the crewmen asks.

“Yes,” Ramses replies, not super happy about having all these eyes on his ship.

“It can fly to the stars?” another asks.

Ramses looks over to Winona. “You have some leaks to plug up.” He’s not referring to the sub, or the ship.

“A lot of people had to be read in for this, Winona defends.

“How do we dock with it?” Executor Ongaro asks them.

“We don’t.” And now for the hard part. There are more people here than Ramses was led to believe. Keeping the secret amongst a smaller group would have been easier, but they probably know enough already anyway. He’s just gonna teleport in, now that he has a target. “You have a torpedo room, right?”

Executor Ongaro laughs. “Yeah, but you’re not going to be able to fire one from there, if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s just where they’re loaded.”

“That’s not what I was thinking. I just need privacy. Can you give me that, or are we gonna have a problem?”

Ongaro sizes him up, but decides to agree. “That will be fine.” He doesn’t think there’s anything he can do in that room that they won’t be able to find out about.

The torpedo room offers them a plausible way off of the sub, and onto the AOC. It’s ridiculously impossible at this depth, but they will probably assume that Ramses used some kind of crazy supersoldier serum that allowed him to traverse the distance safely. What he won’t guess is that he can inject himself with a magical formula that will allow him to teleport over there without getting a single drop of water on him. Ongaro leads him down to the other side of the vessel, and shows him into the room, ordering the crew manning their stations to leave. He makes a mistake, though, when he accidentally looks up to the security camera in the corner. That’s fine, disabling basic surveillance is incredibly easy for Ramses with his trusty mission kit.

Winona closes the door behind them. “They’ll still be watching.”

“They’ll try.” Ramses presses the button on his signal scrambler, and shuts off the cameras and microphones. Then he places a magnetic lock on the door, in case going blind pisses them off enough to try to get back in here.

“You’re not going to try to stop me from coming with you?” Winona asks.

“I can’t leave you here with these warmongers,” Ramses tells her. “I’m mad at you right now, but we’ll get through this. That’s what it means to be on our team. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes.”

Ramses injects himself with the Existence Water. “Then hold onto me tightly.”

Both Alyssa and Winona take him in a bear hug, and let him transport them into the AOC. He was right, life support is fine. A cursory glance at the diagnostics screen shows that everything is fine. The hull did suffer a few scrapes on the way down, but it repaired itself without any prompting. Ramses takes out the data drive where he keeps the base code for the AI that he got from The Constant. He plugs it into a dataport, and uploads it as an upgrade. “Constance, can you hear me?”

“Five by five,” Constance replies.

“Run full diagnostics on yourself, please.”

Once the perfect diagnostic finishes, Ramses says, “okay, then. Please teleport to the last New York coordinates where the Bridgette was.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 5, 2398

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Ramses left New York, and came back to Kansas City. The best way to help Leona is to get himself down to the bottom of the ocean, where he can recover the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Mateo had the idea to just go to the surface of the Bermuda Triangle, and utilize the temporal energy there to teleport down, but that’s too risky. They don’t know exactly where it is, and they don’t know if the interior is habitable. It may have all been crushed under the pressure of the ocean, for all they know. The best and safest way to do it would be to take a submarine down there, and enter manually. He is procuring temporal energy injections to be used in an emergency, but hopefully it won’t come to that. The only problem is that they do not have access to a submarine capable of reaching such depths.

“Okay, I’ve secured you a submarine capable of reaching those depths,” Winona says as she’s entering the team’s new laboratory, not looking up from her tablet.

“Really?” Alyssa asks. She stayed in the area, and has been handling the transition for Ramses. No one asked her to do that, but she didn’t want them to have to worry about that. He’s on the roof right now, upgrading the satellite dish, so they can communicate with the AOC once it’s up there.

“Oh,” I thought you were him. “Where is he?”

“Roof satellite,” Alyssa answers.

“Ah.” Winona nods awkwardly. “I’m Winona Honeycutt.”

“I know that. We’ve met. Many times.”

“Right, but we were never really introduced; not formally.”

Alyssa smirks in a confused-but-whatever sort of way. “Alyssa McIver.”

Winona nods awkwardly again.

“Do you want me to go get him, errr...?”

“Yeah, if you could, I think that would be okay.”

Alyssa could just ping his handheld, but Winona is clearly uncomfortable being alone with her. She must have her reasons, which may be as simple as the fact that she mainly deals with the core team, instead of ancillary members like her. So she leaves.

She comes back quickly with Ramses. “I hear you got a sub for me?”

“My superiors are very interested in the prospect of activating a ship designed to travel the stars. The Marine Corps has a deep sea sub capable of reaching the bottom of the ocean. It’s obviously usually busy with other things, but as luck would have it, the majority of the crew is being given shore leave in Bermuda. The skeleton crew remaining has agreed to take a detour to the coordinates that you provided, but we gotta go now if we want to rendezvous with them. They won’t wait for us forever.”

“Us” Ramses questions.

“I’m the liaison. I’m going.”

Ramses looks in the general direction of New York, where most of the rest of the team is. They don’t all have to join them on this mission, but one of them certainly does. “We have to pick up Leona first.”

Winona checks her watch. “We don’t have time for that.”

“The whole point of getting the AOC back is to heal her.”

“It is only one reason,” Winona contends.

“It’s the only one that matters. I don’t know what you’ve sold your superiors on, but your scientists aren’t getting their hands on my ship, and neither is your military.”

Winona sighs, and looks at her watch again. It’s been fifteen seconds. “Some of your magic water is in the Bermuda Triangle, right?” She goes on without waiting for a response, “let’s take your new vehicle there, fill up on whatever you need, quickly jump up to New York, and finally jump back. You did say that the engine you built for it can store enough power for two or more jumps?”

“Yes,” Ramses confirms. “The concentrator filters regular water, so that only—”

“Great, let’s go,” Winona says, urging them on with a wave of her hand.

“I want to go too,” Alyssa announces.

“Fine, whatever.” Winona waves more. “Let’s all go. But we gotta do it now.”

Ramses and Alyssa grab their go-bags, and head for the garage. “Constance,” Ramses speaks into his watch, “run a pre-flight check on The Bridgette.”

“Acknowledged,” the AI replies.

“Working title,” Ramses explains when Alyssa gives him a look.

“I mean the name of your AI,” Alyssa clarifies her expression.

“I got it from the Constant,” he says with a shrug.

“By the time they board the craft, the pre-flight check is complete.”

“Constance,” Ramses speaks into aether this time. “Please fly us to Site W-5.”

“Proceeding to the center of the Bermuda Triangle,” Constance responds.

During the flight, Ramses contacts Mateo to ask him to pick a secluded area upstate where the Bridgette can teleport to. He should transport Leona there, so they can get her all the way to the Triangle, down to the bottom of the ocean, and up into orbit. It’s nearly midnight central when Ramses, Aylssa, and Winona reach the very center of the Triangle. He lands the vehicle in ship mode, and collects enough water to fill his special engine’s storage tanks. Once it’s ready to go, he teleports the whole thing to Harriman State Park. It’s off-season, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the area to witness their arrival and departure. To be honest, he was afraid that it wouldn’t work at all, but they make it to the clearing, and land on the ground to wait for their friends.

Mateo and Leona are nowhere to be found, so Ramses tries to call them, but they don’t answer. Winona keeps urging them to get back to the Triangle. The sub is on a very tight schedule, and there is only a short window to make this detour dive happen. If they miss this window, the sub will move on to its next mission, and she can’t guarantee when they’ll ever have such an opportunity again.

“They’ll be here,” Ramses promises for the upteenth time.

“We can find a way to get her into it later, but right now, we just need to recover it,” Winona insists.

“It doesn’t work like that. Leona is in a fragile state. I can’t just teleport her up there naked. She needs to be in the vessel when it launches.”

“I’m sorry, we can’t wait any longer.”

“Well, there’s not really anything you can do about it, so...” Ramses claims.

“Yes, there is.” Winona pulls a key from inside her shirt as she’s stepping down into the bridge. She removes a hidden panel compartment under the controls, which reveals the keyhole. She sticks her key in, and turns the light from red to green.

“What the hell is that?” Ramses questions.

“My failsafe,” Winona answers. “Constance, jump to W-5.” They jump.