Microstory 2530: Community Liaison

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What is a Community Liaison? Why, it’s someone who liaises with the community, of course! I kid, but that really is what I do. You have to understand just how unusual the Foundation is. No organization in the world does anything close to what we do. A few make similar claims, and always have, but we’re unique. Part of my job is helping investigate these “competitors” who claim to have their own Landis Tipton. It’s never true, but I have to help spread the facts, and halt the misinformation, so people are aware that true healing only happens here. Another part of my job is staying in contact with the rest of the local community. We’ve built an interesting economy here, and everyone needs to maintain transparency and clarity, again, so there’s no misinformation. Neighboring hotels put up our clients while dealing with potential customers who wish they were patients, but have not been accepted into the program. We want the hotels to regulate these issues, but it’s not like we can tell them what to do, so the conversation continues. There are other businesses who have their complaints that we have to address. People camp in unauthorized places, and it’s hard to get them to leave. They make messes at dining establishments too. When you offer something that nearly everyone in the world wants to get their hands on—and getting those hands on it later is so not the same thing as getting them on it now—you’re gonna run into all kinds. People are disrespectful and thoughtless, and the community treats us as responsible for their behavior. That’s okay, that’s what my job is, and I’m happy to do it. If I’m not reading or crafting an email, I’m answering or making a phone call. If I’m not doing that, I’m responding to questions at a town hall, or speaking with the press, or even making statements to the authorities. This is a complicated situation, and I could sure use some help, but it’s an oft-overlooked role, and I don’t always get what I need. Still, I hold my head up high, and do my best. That’s all I have to say at this time. Thank you.

Microstory 2523: Health Coach

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Currently, everyone whose application is accepted by the Landis Tipton Breath of Life Foundation is entitled to a single healing session. No plans have been made to heal the same person more than once. Research is pretty minimal in this area. It’s not that they’re not running the studies, but they’ve been hush-hush about it. I want to be absolutely clear that we have no reason to believe that Landis’ healings are anything but permanent. If you’re suffering from anything when he gets his breath on you—even if it’s multiple things—they should be healed permanently. We have never heard of anything coming back. That said, what is unclear is how comprehensive the healing is to a person’s future health. I mean, you can get a terminal infection that he cures, only to later be diagnosed with cancer. I’ve never heard of any specific case, but that doesn’t tell me anything. The Foundation does not keep track of its past clients beyond making sure they do not attempt to apply a second time. We don’t check in on them, or send out periodic surveys. Any research done into how past patients are faring are being done by unrelated third parties, and are unendorsed by Landis Tipton, or the Foundation. Really, it has nothing to do with us. We don’t have the resources to track all of that data, and this decision was made long ago. That’s why I have a job, because while Landis can heal just about anything, it’s up to you to maintain your health from now on. We understand that healthy living is not easy. Fresh produce is more expensive. Not everyone can afford an exercise machine, a gym membership, or the time to care for themselves. What I do is teach patients to do what they can. They’re starting from scratch here, which is positively unprecedented in history. Medical science knows so much more about how to stay healthy than it used to, and one area of research that has always struggled with is reaching that great starting point. Landis has given people that, and I urge every one of my patients to not take that for granted. My services are not required. My classes take place after your healing sessions, and are entirely optional. Once you get through that line, and you’re checked out, you can leave. But if you want to make sure that your healing doesn’t go to waste, come to me, and I’ll do everything I can to educate you on how to live a healthy life, so you don’t even have to worry about the fact that there are as of yet no third chances. I have been a doctor for thirty years, and have always kept up with advancements in my field. My colleagues in the same position have similar résumés. We know what we’re talking about, and we can help you. All you gotta do...is turn left before you leave.

Microstory 2521: Queuer

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Guides and Queuers are two sides of the same coin. My co-workers are there to answer questions because they are a lot more knowledgeable about how all of this works. My primary responsibility is to literally keep the line moving. We maintain constant contact with each other, and coordinate to make sure the process is physically smooth while patients transition from one place to another. To do this job, you need to have great spatial reasoning, and the ability to count a group of people extremely quickly. Has a job interviewer ever asked you that before? Did you ever study that in school? It’s not as easy as it sounds. Counting heads is just something you have to practice, but it’s vital to our job of making sure everyone is in the right place at the right time. We simultaneously don’t want too many people, or too few. It wastes everybody’s time, including both patients and staff. Landis can only heal one person at a time, so it’s up to the rest of us to make sure each next person is ready to go once he’s done with the last one. It’s stressful and chaotic, but I find it quite invigorating. The line never ends until the end of the day, but man, once we get there, it’s so satisfying. You don’t even know. One by one, the last of the patients step through that door, and you feel like you’ve completed a puzzle. And this happens every single day. Well, I mean, I don’t always have the post-lunch shift, so I don’t always see the end, but then I saw the beginning, and either way, it’s rewarding to keep people moving through that queue. Since you have to be good at counting people, and at recognizing them—so you don’t start giving people the same instructions they already heard, or asking them duplicate questions—you really see the progress you’re making. One after another; Bob, then Sue, then Sally, then Manuel. They walk up, go in, and disappear, never to be seen again. If you notice the same person too many times, you’re probably not coordinating them correctly. If you don’t ever notice the same person more than once, you’re probably not fit for the job. It’s all about balance. That’s what I tell people. I’m a balance worker. Moving lines, adjusting stanchions, filling waiting rooms as soon as they’re emptied of the group before. It’s a delicate dance that would probably make for a good show if you could see it from a God’s eye view. And I get to be one of the choreographers.

Microstory 2518: Daily Coordinator

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I am in charge of patient experience. The Appointment Coordinator is technically my superior, but she doesn’t have time to manage our department’s staff, so that falls to me. While the automated system is great for setting up appointment windows, what it can’t do is make sure that people actually show up for their appointment, or more importantly, don’t show up outside of their window. When your application is approved, you’re assigned a two-hour window on a particular day. If you can’t make it, you need to pull your application, and try again. It may sound like it helps us for people to show less urgency, but it overcomplicates the process. Just come when it’s your time. If you fail to show up, your name will be flagged, and your reapplication will be a lot more complicated. Don’t. Be. Late. That’s why we have the campground, and why nearby landowners literally built new hotels to help mitigate visitorship. I have to keep track of 2,000 people every day. The greeters will check you in, and tell you where to go, which sometimes means going right back out that door if you come before your window. I have it all set up real nice. Part of the first floor is dedicated to waiting rooms, where you wait with your group of 40 to 45 other people. Yeah, that’s right, we know how to break it down. Forty-five people per room with a total of eight rooms equals a maximum of 360 people in each two-hour window. While you’re sitting there, we may call you up individually to confirm some information, such as your financial situation. We got to keep things moving, so when your room is called, you’ll all proceed to the auditorium, where you’ll watch the orientation video. Don’t ask the host any questions. That’s what my guides and queuers are for. When the video is over, depending on the timeline, you’ll either go back to your waiting room, or go ahead and get in line. People have asked why the line is so long, and why they can’t just wait in the rooms. Well, it’s because Landis averages three patients per minute, but that doesn’t mean we record exactly three every time. Some people have mobility issues, and we experience other delays. If there’s a problem with your candidate profile, you may be bumped down to another group. That all takes time, and we don’t want to waste any of it. We don’t want Landis to be sitting there with no one to heal for an extended period of time. It’s gonna be hard, waiting through all of this, but it is absolutely worth it, because when you’re done, you’ll probably feel better than you ever have in your whole life. If everything goes smoothly, we might get the full 2,160 patients, but we usually don’t, and for that, we apologize. You will not miss out on your healing, though, so don’t fret. Any remainders at the end of the day will end up in Group One for the next day, and we might ask you to come in earlier than normal operating hours to make up for it. I know, I sound really blunt, and maybe a little aggressive, but this job is not easy, and if I take the time to be too polite and nice, we get behind schedule, and I can’t allow that.

Microstory 2514: Staff Supervisor

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I was one of the first people who Landis and the Director hired after all the contract work retrofitting the hotel was finished. He figured, if you’re going to start hiring people, you better find someone with experience doing that, so they can handle it for you. Prior to this job, I had eight years under my belt working in Staff Services at various organizations. I wouldn’t have called myself the best of the best, and that’s what Landis was looking for, I think. He was working with a tight budget, so he couldn’t waste all his seed money on someone who would demand mid-six figures. Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was doing. He gave me a list of positions he thought that we would need to work the Foundation, I added to it, we collaborated, and I worked to fill out the staff. Unlike a lot of other startups, we kind of needed a full staff right away. We couldn’t just start with a few people, and grow our business gradually. As soon as the public even caught a wisp of a hint that there might be someone in Kansas who could possibly even plausibly come anywhere close to alleviating their conditions even just a little bit, we knew that they would arrive here in droves for help. We needed people to coordinate all the visitors, to manage all the finances, to care for the patients, to support Landis directly, to maintain the facilities, and to reach out to the community. We’ve added a few brand new positions since then, like the Research Liaison, and everyone in the Legacy Department, but for the most part, we had a solid idea of what today would look like. Yeah, I’m just looking at our old notes, and we were pretty spot on. We did the math, and determined how many people Landis could heal in one day, which gave us the number of workers we needed to keep track of them, and we’ve not had to go too far beyond that. This is the best job I’ve ever had, because I actually feel like I’m making a difference in the world. I count myself lucky to be on board, and I think pretty much everyone here would say the same thing. It’s my job to know these things. If someone were having a problem, I would know about it.

Microstory 2507: Pain Feeler

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I can feel your pain, and kindle your ecstasy. Isn’t that such an interesting way to put it? You know, these gifts we had; they didn’t come with instruction manuals. We had to figure out how they worked, and develop ways to explain them. Other people’s gifts might be a little vague and profound, but mine was simple. If you were in physical and/or emotional pain, I could feel that. Fortunately, I could choose not to feel it. Not everyone on the team could exercise so much control, and switch it off when they didn’t want it. I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if I couldn’t so I’m grateful for that, and I’m sure Landis is too. Basically, what I did was make people feel better. It was only a temporary solution, and a very complicated and delicate process to navigate. Sure, I could have run around the world alone, essentially as a walking-talking recreational drug, but that’s not going to help anyone in the long-term. And honestly, if they wanted to feel better in the way that I could help them, they could just do it themselves. What I did was only one step of the program. When it was the right time, I eased their suffering, so they could think clearly, and figure out how they were going to improve their lives. It wouldn’t work if I did it too early, because then they would have kind of forgotten what was so upsetting to them in the first place. They would basically treat my gift as the only useful solution, and not worry about what would happen when it wore off. I couldn’t do it too late either, or they would get frustrated that they did all this work, and I could have just solved their problems right away. I had to find a balance, which was the hardest part of the job. These days, I’m pretty happy. I loved what I used to do, and I think about it sometimes, but it’s kind of nice to just have a regular job, and live a regular life. Things were so complex, and I was always having to think about how I was going to kindle someone’s ecstasy. Now I move boxes from a truck to a shelf, or a shelf to a truck. There’s an answer for everything, and you know when you’ve done it wrong. And the burden of responsibility was a weight on my shoulders that I didn’t know I was carrying until it was gone. Basically, all I’m trying to say is that I’m glad that it happened, and I’m happy with what I have now. I don’t think I could say the same if my life were just one or the other. Landis is going to cure everyone one day, and while it won’t necessarily alleviate pain, I know that it will help, and it’s more than I could have ever done on my own.

Microstory 2429: Capital

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This is the Capital City of Castlebourne. It doesn’t have any other name besides that, which is unusual, since they seem to have an appreciation for word puns in their other names. I suppose they just wanted to be real serious here, which is probably a good thing. Where I’m from in the Goldilocks Corridor, our planet didn’t have a capital. It was just a village where we made soap. That’s really it. Several years back, we were visited by the resistance to the Exin Empire. They wanted to know if any of us were willing to join the movement, and fight alongside them. We didn’t understand why we would even consider that, because for the most part, the empire left us alone. They asked us for soap, we gave them the soap, and they left. They never abused us, or attacked us, or anything. The resistance started educating us, though. They taught us about the other worlds, which were being forced to do other things to serve the Emperor. They showed us images of these other places, involving big machines that could produce their own wares in a fraction of the time. We were stunned. Some of us didn’t believe it. Some of us still don’t, and presumably still live on our home planet. We were making soap by hand. It was hard work, and the only reason we didn’t complain before was because we literally didn’t know that there was any better way. We were intentionally kept in the dark. Well, anyway, no, none of us joined the resistance. We were soap makers, we didn’t know how to fight! But then a few years later, another new ship showed up, and promised to take us somewhere where we wouldn’t have to make soap anymore. We asked them what work we would be doing, and they kind of laughed. No work, they said; we wouldn’t have to work at all. This was another concept that we didn’t have any frame of reference for. You work, it’s what you do. Not even the war-fighting people said anything about a life where we wouldn’t have to work. After some further education, most of us agreed to go with these other people. We flew away, and landed on Castlebourne. They didn’t lie to us, we don’t have to work. It’s taken some adjusting, but we’ve gotten used to just being alive and happy. I still wanna work, though. It still feels like the right thing to do. So I came to Capital to see how I could contribute to the governing body of our new society. I don’t have much experience, but they were all so welcoming to me. I’ve not been assigned anything yet, but they’re working on finding a place. I’m sure it’s difficult since I don’t have any skills. As for the dome itself, it’s gorgeous. Our village was dull and lifeless. I didn’t realize how much of a struggle it was for us just to survive. In contrast, this place has trees and other plant life. Tall buildings with hundreds of people work to make the world a better place for us refugees. For whatever reason, we were allowed to know how to read, but not everyone here had that luxury, yet the government is helping, and they’re doing it in style. I can’t wait to get my new job, and get to come to this beautiful dome every single day for the rest of my life.

Microstory 2389: Vacuus, December 12, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I can be pretty intense too, which is why I think we’re perfect together. Of course, we have to define together a little differently than most people, but we’re not the only ones in this situation. A number of other couples around the solar system are basically going through the same thing. There’s this whole subculture of spacefarers who have met their significant others on the network without ever meeting each other. To be fair, we’re still clearly unique, because no pair is as separated as we are—Titan and Europa only get about 9 AU apart—but I think they still have some advice that we could follow. Funnily enough, you’ve already implemented some of these with your sister (though hopefully not all of them). For one, they suggest sending sexy pictures. Check that one off the list for us. Corinthia and I got in a fight about it, but we worked it out. If you would like some more, I would be willing to do that, but I don’t want our entire relationship to only be about sex. I don’t think that would be fulfilling in any meaningful way for either of us. Videos are better, but a little tough for us. My quota is different than Corinthia’s, and the image ends up very compressed, so it’s probably more annoying than anything. I will try it, though. The first photo I sent you was actually a still from a video I did where I introduced myself, and my role on the base. As far as the nonsexual tips, the stories I read about suggested something that they called asynchronous shared experiences. That’s like how you had a shared birthday party, and pretended to be in the same room together by wearing the same clothes, and looking at the same stars. Reading the same books, and watching the same show, are also good examples of this. I don’t want to do The Winfield Files, since that’s something special just between the two of you, but maybe there’s something else? Since we’re so worried about the Valkyries returning, it should probably be something on the shorter side, especially since I know you have a ton of other responsibilities, it’s not all about me. So maybe just a movie? I like to read, like you, but they take so long, and I get particularly invested in epic novels. One thing that has helped some couples is building a fictional environment to occupy together. They imagine what their lives would be like if they could live them in realtime. Fair warning, this doesn’t work for everyone. The lie can be...maddening. I’ll tell you what, since I have more free time than you do, I’ll attach a list of movies that I’ve been meaning to see. I’ll watch them all. They’re all different genres, so you watch whichever one you want, and send me your thoughts. That will be our first shared experience.

Patiently yours,

Velia

Extremus: Year 91

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It has not been easy, but Tinaya and Arqut have gotten through the loss of their son, and the sudden introduction of an alternate version of him. What he did cannot be undone, so the only choice is to move forward. They held a little funeral for their lost child, and then that night, they shed their last tear for him. A new tear might form itself later, but for now, they’re okay. Though Silveon may now be older than them, for all they know, it’s still their job to protect him. Even if he’s smart enough to navigate the complexities of adulthood, he’s still just a little guy, so if nothing else, he needs them to open cabinet doors, and stuff. Plus, he has to act like a baby around most people.

Tinaya has the day off today, so she’s the one taking him to his playdate. Niobe would normally do it, but she has the day off too as far as her designated guardian duties go. The door opens. “Hello. Calla, I presume?”

A woman in her fifties is standing on the other side of the door in a pink floral robe that’s insufficiently covering up a nightie that is far too revealing. She’s holding something in her hand that Tinaya doesn’t recognize. It’s a small tube that’s glowing orange on one end. She smirks at Tinaya and lifts the tube up to place it between her lips. “It’s called a cigarette. People used to smoke ‘em on Earth. Like this.” She inhales, inducing the glow to brighten just a bit. She then contorts her mouth as she removes the cigarette, and blows the smoke out away from Tinaya and Silveon’s faces.

“I don’t smell it. If it’s smoke...”

“It’s not real.” Calla takes another puff, but covers the tip of the cigarette with her hand, which blocks the holographic light from spreading throughout the area.

“What’s the point?”

“It’s real on the other end,” Calla responds. “Still fucks up my lungs.”

That’s stupid, Tinaya thinks to herself.

“Yeah, it is stupid. But at least there’s no such thing as secondhand smoke on this ship, so you should be grateful. And by the way,” she goes on as she’s stepping aside for them to come in. “I’m not in my fifties.”

Tinaya takes a deep, epiphanic breath. “You’re a psychic.”

“Born and bred,” Calla agrees with a tight voice, which leads to a short coughing fit. “Can’t turn it off. Holo-smoking helps a little. The drinking...helps a lot.” She reaches for a glass of some kind of gross brownish liquid, and downs the rest of it.

“How are you getting away with these things? They’re illegal.”

Calla chuckles as she’s pouring another. “People got secrets. I know they’re secrets.” She offers the drink to Tinaya, then shrugs and downs that one too when Tinaya declines. She pours a third. “I can get away with pretty much anything.” She walks over, and points an accusing finger at Silveon. “As long as this little shit doesn’t fight me.”

“Excuse me?” Tinaya questions as she’s pulling her son away protectively.

“I can’t read his mind,” Calla explains as she’s shuffling away from the two of them. “He must be psychic too, and the best one I’ve ever heard of if he’s already mastered his barriers at his age.”

“What about your son?” Tinaya asks. “What’s he?”

Calla freezes up, and stays there for several seconds before dropping her glass down on the table. She then waits another several seconds. “A bigger shit. Come on. He’s taking a nap, but I can wake him up.”

Tinaya follows her down the hallway after Silveon shuts his eyes, and nods. This is apparently what he wants. But he must be crazy, because not only is this woman the biggest mess she’s ever seen, but the situation with her son is even crazier. “Is this a joke? This is Waldemar? Why, he must be at least eight years old!” The boy is sleeping on his side while a toy soldier operates on its own on his pillow right in front of his face, loudly shooting imaginary enemies.

“He’s ten,” Calla corrects.

“I assumed he was a baby, like Silvy.”

“You think this was my idea? Your niece, or whatever, is the one who brought him.” Niobe knows the truth about Silveon. If she did this, it’s because he asked her to.

Silveon suddenly giggles, and gently slaps Tinaya in her temple. It doesn’t hurt, but she does feel something surge throughout her head. It quickly dissipates.

Calla narrows her eyes, and peers at her. Then she shifts her gaze to Silveon, and back again. “He just put a psychic barrier in your mind.” She once more points at him accusingly, barely holding onto the glass with her remaining fingers. “What are you?”

“He’s my son,” Tinaya declares defiantly. “He’s my baby,” she adds in a softer tone. She adjusts her hold on him against her hip. “I don’t think this is going to work out. I’m sure Waldemar is a very lovely boy—”

“He’s not.”

“Then all the more reason...”

Silveon places his hands against her collarbone, and pushes his face away from her. Even though they’ve not come up with a code for how he can communicate with her while they’re in mixed company, she is absolutely sure that he’s trying to tell her that they need to stay.

“I think he wants to stay.” Calla is interpreting the move the same way apparently.

Tinaya looks at her child with concern on her face. This is obviously part of his mission, and if she holds him back from that, she’ll have lost the younger version of him for nothing. All three of them have sacrificed so much to make this work; four, if they’re counting Niobe. They can’t give up now. She may not know Silveon very well, but no son of hers would have sent his own consciousness back in time just for funsies. It has to be incredibly important that he make the changes to the timeline that he’s surely painstakingly planned out. She switches him to her other hip. “Okay. Well, we’ll be back in twenty minutes. I forgot his favorite stuffie.”

“Whatever.” Calla closes the door. “We’ll be here.”

Tinaya leaves the unit with Silveon, but then teleports back to their stateroom from the hallway. She carefully sets him down on the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t you warn me?” She paces the room impatiently.

“I wanted you to see it for yourself,” Silveon replies. It’s still weird, hearing this little toddler articulate so well. “If Auntie Ni and I had tried to explain it, you would have just shaken your head, and forbade us from going. I need you to understand what we’re dealing with, so you’ll see why there’s no other choice.”

“I don’t know that. I didn’t see that. Nothing about that situation tells me why the hell—!” She stops herself. She shouldn’t be cursing in front of her son.

“It’s okay, mom. I’ve heard worse. I’m an adult.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” She takes one beat. “Are you psychic too? Have you been reading our minds this whole time?”

“No, I can’t read your mind,” he assures her. “Anyone can learn to put up a psychic barrier, and I learned from the best. I had to.”

“Who is Valdemar Kristiansen? Or rather, who does he become?”

“Hopefully nothing,” Silveon says.

“You’re here to assassinate him? Is this you trying to subvert the Hitler's Time Travel Exemption Act?”

Silveon laughs. “No. I’m not here to hurt anybody, mother.”

She keeps pacing for a little while in silence. “Why you? He’s eight years older, and no one can take you seriously yet. Why did they choose you to do this?”

Silveon smiles kindly. “No one chose me. I didn’t even volunteer. I’m the one who realized what needed to be done. I came up with the idea, I made the plan, and I’m following it through. I had help, but this isn’t a large operation. I might have chosen someone else if I had thought that I could trust them. But if there’s one thing this ship has taught me, it’s that...you can only rely on yourself.”

“I hate that lesson,” Tinaya laments.

“Me too,” he says comfortingly. “Which is why I’m trying to change it.”

“What’s wrong with that woman?” she asks.

“Just what you would think. She hears all the despicable things that people would prefer to keep to themselves. She tries to suffocate and drown them out, but they still leak through, and...”

Tinaya can guess where he’s going with this. “And she can hear her own son’s thoughts. That’s the real problem. He’s the real problem.”

“He doesn’t have to be. I can teach him.”

She has stopped pacing, but she’s looking away now, deep in thought. “Teach me first. Tell me what I need to know about him, and the future, and I will fix him for you. I’m an adult. I’m the Captain! This is no job for a baby.”

“It is, though,” he contends. “It’s not just about knowing what will happen if I don’t help him. It’s about who he’ll listen to. And I’m sorry, but the Captain? You are the last person he’ll listen to. Not everyone respects the chair. Some hate it. Some hate you. He’s the embodiment of all that hate. He absorbs it.” He pauses for a great deal of time. “Literally.”

“So, he is a psychic too?”

“Not in the way that you’re thinking. Look, I’ve already said too much. You really shouldn’t know all this. It’s not your problem. Just pretend to change my diapers, and sign me up for school when I’m older. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Did you have kids?”

“What?”

“Of your own. Did you grow up to have kids? Can you tell me that much?”

“No, I didn’t. I was too busy. I don’t think I could have done this if I had.”

“Then you couldn’t have known that what you’ve asked me to do is impossible. I can’t just let you handle it, no matter how old you are. I will always be your mother, and I will always need you to need me.”

He processes her words, then acknowledges them with a respectful nod.

Tinaya sighs, and looks over at the nursery door. “What’s your favorite stuffie? Or, what do you want it to be? We’ve come up with a cover story, so let’s make it real.”

Silveon smiles. “The fennec.”

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Extremus: Year 90

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It’s been about a year since Niobe moved to the Extremus to establish herself as a passenger. She’s been laying low, of course, instead of making some big announcement to the whole ship. Right now, she’s living off of her newborn contribution points. While she’s obviously not actually a newborn, as a new citizen, she’s enjoying the benefits of the vessel’s amenities without having to work for them. The naturalization program was created at the beginning of this project, just in case they somehow came across time travelers, or human aliens—or regular aliens—sometime during the journey. No one expected to ever do it, and officially speaking, it still hasn’t happened yet. No one needs to know that Niobe was born on Verdemus, and that she immigrated here. All the people she’s met so far have to know is that she moved here from a different section of the ship, and that she’s not currently in the workforce.

Silveon is thuh-riving. He’s reaching his developmental milestones at a healthy and typical pace. He can walk, run, and even climb. His obsession with exerting his independence has become a bit of a problem, but they’re dealing with his mischievousness. He can say a few random words, but not the ones that they expected. He says reframe a lot, as well as crew, light, and function—though, he fails to pronounce letter N in that last word, which is funny and cute, and embarrassing in mixed company. Tinaya has agreed to talk less about work in his presence, so he starts using fewer technical words. They would rather he focus on mama and dada. He likes to color, but he does not like to stay in the lines. Some people in the family think that this means he’ll grow up to be very rebellious, but his parents know that he’s a toddler, and this is how the toddler do. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s been rather curious about the little potty that they set up in the bathroom. He is just about ready to use it.

They have him set up on it now, trying to encourage him to try. “Go on! Go potty! You can do it! Just relax.”

He stares at the two of them like they’re speaking a foreign language, which they kind of are from his perspective. He starts to fiddle with the bidet settings. They’re on a child lock fortunately, so nothing is happening. Suddenly, he stops, and they don’t know what’s going on. He takes a breath as he’s looking around, at them, at the room, and even himself. He discovered his own body a long time ago, so what was this?

“Do you think he’s developed a rash, or something?” Tinaya asks, worried.

“I’m fine, mom,” Silveon says. He takes another breath before tinkling in the potty without issue. Once he’s done, he expertly disables the child lock to use the bidet and dryer. Then he stands up, and climbs the step stool to wash his hands.

Now they’re the ones staring at him. Arqut seems to realize something. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my child’s body?”

“Relax, father,” Silveon says as he’s slipping his pants back on, sans diaper. “I’m your son. I’m just an older version of him.”

“How much older?” Tinaya questions.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“When do we get our baby back?” she presses.

He lifts his little arms up, and they realize that he’s trying to place his hands on her shoulders. She gets down on her knees to allow him to do this. “I’m sorry, mother, but your baby is gone. I’ve overwritten his mind. This was a decision that I did not take lightly. I didn’t want to have to do it, but it’s the only form of undetectable time travel available. No one can know who I really am, and they certainly can’t know what I know, and why I’m here. I have chosen to reveal myself to you purely for practical reasons. I am not an actor, and would not have been able to fool your for long. It’s better to be honest now, so you can help me fool everyone else.”

“Why so young?” Arqut demands to know. “Why did you take our son from us at such a young age?”

Silveon sighs, and walks past them, into the main room. He struggles to get himself onto the couch, clearly not used to maneuvering such a tiny little substrate. “As I said, any other form of time travel would be detectable. I would have come here years ago, but this was as early as I could do it using this method. Studies have shown that breast milk improves child development, so I didn’t want to interfere with that, but I didn’t want to experience nursing at my true age either. This was the only time, really, when you think about it.”

Both parents start to cry, but desperately try to hold the tears back.

He watches them in sadness. “We’ll tell Niobe the truth, but not Zefbiri, and not anyone else. Auntie Ni will understand, as she’s no stranger to being reyoungified. We need her to take care of me for the next few days while you mourn your loss.”

“What are you talking about?” Tinaya’s eyes are watering even more, and there’s nothing she can do about it. “How the hell are we going to mourn this?”

“It’s an ambiguous loss. I know it won’t be easy, but we came up with a plan before I left the future,” Silveon begins to explain. “I’ll write it up for you. You will get through this, and one day, you’ll just see me as your son, instead of the stranger who took him from you.”

“Who came up with this plan?” Arqut asks. He’s doing better with the tears, but not by much. “Was it us? Did we send you back here?”

Silveon has a really good poker face as he’s refusing to respond.

“We couldn’t have,” Tinaya reasons. “If we were still alive when this apparent time travel needed to occur, one or both of us would have done it instead, and gone back to whatever point in the past would have given us the advantage that he lacks by showing up today.”

“Not if we didn’t want to incidentally prevent our Silveon from ever being born in the first place,” Arqut reasons better. “November 2, 2357; that’s as far back as any of us could have gone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Silveon reiterates. “It’s done. It can’t be undone. I know what I’m here to do, and you don’t need to know anything beyond what I’ve already told you. In fact, it’s better if you don’t. Plausible deniability, and all that. Please. Go on your vacation, and let Niobe pretend to babysit me. When you come back, I promise you’ll be able to handle this situation better. I consulted the experts. I could tell anyone I wanted in the future, because that timeline has since collapsed, destroying the secret along with it. This is the timeline that needs to exist. We’ll all move on from here. It will be better.”

“How do we know? Tinaya asks him. “How do we know that you’re telling the truth? You could be anyone. We can’t test your identity. Even if we could, we would have to tell this supposed truth to someone who could actually conduct that test.”

“Yes.” Silveon nods. “That’s a wrinkle in the general plan that we were never able to iron out. Trust is something that you’re just going to have to give without any proof. Even if I recited a secret that the three of us had between us, maybe I’m a psycho who tortured it out of one of us in the other timeline. You don’t know. You can’t. I wish I could give you a better answer, but I don’t know what else to say to help. How can I make this better? How can I make you feel better?”

“We could tell Omega and Valencia...unless they turn into bad guys in the future.”

“Omega and Valencia’s time on this ship is coming to a close,” Silveon says. “They’ll be preoccupied with the Ex Wars, and they have their own son.”

“They do?” This was news to them.

“Yeah, he’s a handful. He lives on Dardius. Or he will live there, rather.”

This conversation has been disheartening, and also exhausting. Arqut literally can’t stand it anymore. He sidesteps over to the reading nook, and sits down. Tinaya does the same with one of the dining chairs on the other side of the bathroom. Neither one of them knows what to say anymore. There are time travel laws, which prohibit consciousness travel too, but this is their son we’re talking about. There is no way they’re turning him in, even though there’s a strong possibility that they’re looking at an entirely different person who stole his body. He’s right that they’re going to have to learn to trust him, which is exactly what an impostor would say to protect his cover. It really would be nice if they could trust someone with the expertise to test him. As part of their regular checkups most people go in for yearly brain scans. This becomes optional as they age, but it’s mandatory for babies. Human minds change over time, which is why it’s advised to keep doing it periodically, whether you like it or not. But even with Silveon’s advanced age, may there be a way to definitively prove his connection to his infant scan? The problem is they can’t even inquire if that’s possible without revealing too much about the secret. They’re stuck...stuck in the uncertainty. Or maybe not.

“We’re going to have you tested,” Tinaya insists. “I don’t know if we’ll come to the right conclusion, but we’re going to take you to the Chief Medical Officer to try.”

“We can’t trust them. I don’t even remember who it is in this time period, because they did not factor into the plan. Only the four of us can know anything.”

“As Captain, I enjoy certain privileges that are not afforded to other crew members,” Tinaya begins. “I can erase the doctor’s memories once we receive the results, and I can order him to not pursue the investigation into his missing time. In case he does keep pushing it, I’ll have him record a consent video for himself.”

Silveon shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. Memory technology is fickle. Your aunt knew how problematic it can be.”

“This was years ago,” Arqut contends. “Science marches on. Your mother’s right, Silveon...if that even is your real name. We need help. I know you wanted to keep the circle tight, but whatever your mission is, we can’t even begin to let you move forward with your plans unless we have some reason to believe that you’re someone we should care about. If you’re really our son, you were either raised by us, or our most devoted family members, which means you’ll do what we’re asking of you now. We’re still your parents, no matter which one of us is the oldest. You will do as your told.”

“I miss your bluntness.” Silveon appears to be thinking it over. “Your words are wise, and your heart is pure. I agree to your terms, father.”

“And we’re not going on a vacation,” Tinaya adds. “If we can prove who you are, we will be able to take solace in that truth, even though we have missed the opportunity to raise our son from youngling to young man.”

“I do apologize for taking that from you,” Silveon laments. “I assure you, this was the only way. The future of the mission depends on what I do for the next 31 years.”

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Extremus: Year 89

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Tinaya has done something unusual, but it’s not illegal. It’s a bit of a gray area when it comes to her son, because he can’t consent to the link, but as long as they don’t perform a medical procedure, there shouldn’t be a problem. That’s how Tinaya and Arqut made their connection to each other. It’s called a spatio-temporal tether, and just as it says on the tin, it connects two people spatially and temporally. There are different kinds, though. The two of them have the most intense version, and their respective tethers to little Silveon are somewhere in the middle. If he’s ever lost in space and-or time, Tinaya will automatically travel to that location with him, no matter what method is used, even if he grows up, and does it on purpose. Arqut, meanwhile, will know when and where they went, and can make efforts to bring them back, should they need it. Or he can send himself off to join them. If either Arqut or Tinaya is transported somewhere, the other will become cognizant of their partner’s location for retrieval or reunion, while Silveon will remain safely wherever he is. They obviously decided to do this after Arqut’s disappearance, which neither of them wants to happen again. But the rest of their family isn’t sure they agree with how extreme they took it.

Arqut and Tinaya joined together in something called a lifelink, which connects two individuals on a biological level. Not only will they always be able to find each other across spacetime, but what happens to one will happen to the other. If she gets a paper cut, so will he. If he gets the flu, she’ll start to suffer as well. When it comes time for one of them to die, the other will succumb as well, even if they are otherwise perfectly healthy. This is a fairly rare dynamic that only the strongest of bonds—or the most reckless of ones—have led to. You really only wanna do it if both partners are at about the same age, and neither one’s daily life is particularly dangerous. There’s also a rigorous evaluation process, which even the Captain and Superintendent had to go through. They have chosen to keep it a secret from the crew and the passengers for now, but everyone will figure it out eventually when they keel over dead at the same time.

This is a risky situation, because it will leave their child alone, regardless of the circumstances of death, which explains why they haven’t told very many people about it. At the moment, should something unfortunate happen while Silveon is still too young to care for himself, their families will obviously take up the responsibility. The law will accept and honor this. But it’s time for them to come up with a real plan, and select at least one designated guardian. They actually have two in mind, but as these two are not in a relationship with each other, it may take some convincing.

Arqut’s half sister is fully 29 years younger than him. His mom did not have a tether to her husband, so after he died, she was able to live on, and fall in love again. She and her new beau never got married, but they had a daughter together. Zefbiri and Arqut are not the closest of siblings, due to the huge age gap, but they love and trust each other. They’re just at such different stages of their life, so she feels more like a daughter, or maybe a niece, to him than anything. She’s currently unattached, though that could change in the future. One reason they would like to select her as one of Silveon’s designated guardians is that she already knows the truth about Verdemus. While Omega and Valencia are both immortal, they are also really busy and unreliable. A team has to be responsible for the Nexa at all times, so knowledge of it must be passed down the generations, just like every other system on the ship. Zefbiri is currently in the process of learning every square micrometer of this building. She’s here now, doing her thing, but she has time for a break.

“Have you met Niobe Schur?” They’re sitting in the Nexus cavity at the moment for lunch. People aren’t really supposed to eat in here, but as long as they’re not sloppy, it should be fine, or really even then. This machine was designed to transport people across millions of light years. A little salad dressing shouldn’t be able to do any damage.

“Uh, I’ve heard of her,” Zefbiri replies. “We’ve never met, though.” She takes a second bite of her sandwich. She doesn’t know what this conversation is about yet.

Tinaya switches breasts for Silveon, which she doesn’t typically have to do this early in the feeding process. Hopefully there’s nothing wrong with her supply. “Well, we would like you to meet her today. We’ve already time mirrored her, but we were hoping to make a holo-call. I believe it’s her dinner time.”

“Sure, that’s fine. The more the merrier, as the Earthans say,” Zefbiri decides.

Arqut taps on the control tablet, and initiates the call. Niobe is suddenly sitting next to them. “You started without me?”

“Sorry,” Tinaya replies.” Silvy was impatient.”

Niobe smiles. “It’s fine. So, what’s up?” She sits down at her own table

“Are you alone on your end by chance?”

“Vaska,” Niobe calls up towards the control room as she’s starting to stretch. “Vaska!” She has her hands against the back of her head, and she’s pulling her muscles apart as far as they can possibly go. “Get out!”

There is no way to know if Vaska really has left, or if anyone else is lurking. A crowd of a dozen people could be watching them in secret from outside the perimeter of the cavity, and as long as they stayed quiet, the people on the call from the ship would never be able to tell. They have to trust Niobe, which is why they’re here. Tinaya leans her chin forward like a baby bird so Arqut can slip her some soup. She likes to keep hold of her baby with both arms while he’s nursing. “Listen, we brought you two together, because we ain’t gettin’ any younger. Arqy used to be older than me, that’s how crazy the world we live in is. Anything could happen at any moment. Zef already knows this, but I need to explain to you, Niobe, that he and I are linked. We will both die at the same time, and since we had this little guy when we were so old, there’s a chance that he’ll still be quite young when that happens.”

“You two are also young, but old enough to care for a child,” Arqut continues. “The only question is if you would be willing to take on that responsibility, should the need arise within the next couple of decades. We would like to ask you both to agree to be Silveon’s designated guardians. I know it’s a lot. How do you feel about it?”

Niobe was setting up her meal, but she stops short. Zefbiri stopped eating when Tinaya started talking, but she still had the sandwich in her hand. She unwittingly loosens her grip too much, and it falls to the floor. She doesn’t notice it right away, but then she looks down, and freaks out. “Oh my God. No, I’m sorry.” She desperately reaches down, and begins to put the pieces back together. “I promise, I would never drop your baby. Oh my God, no!” She’s even more desperate now, trying to wipe up every bit of mustard.

“Zef. Zef.” Arqut gently takes her by the wrist, and lifts it up. “The sandwich isn’t a metaphor for our baby. It’s all right. Relax.”

“I’m sorry,” Zefbiri still isn’t really getting that the food accident has nothing to do with their decision.

“Really, don’t worry.” Arqut pauses for a moment. “So, is that a yes? Do you want to be Silveon’s guardian?”

Zefbiri looks over at Niobe, who is still in shock. “Are we a package deal?”

“No,” Tinaya answers. “We wanted to ask you together, but if only one of you wants to sign the papers, that’s okay. Please look into your own hearts, and decide for yourselves.”

Niobe lets out a prolonged squeak, like someone with sleep paralysis who’s screaming in their head, but barely audible in the real world. “I would be honored,” she finally manages to articulate.

“Yeah!” Tinaya shouts. She high-fives Arqut. “One down, one to go! Give me some soup.” She accepts another sip off the spoon.

“Okay,” Zefbiri begins. “I don’t want this to sound like I’m being ungrateful, or anything, but if she and I are going to be in this together, then I think it only makes sense that we meet each other for real. I mean, when something happens—if!” She corrects herself. “If something happens, then either I’m going to move to Verdemus, or—”

“You’re going to move to Verdemus,” Niobe decides without discussion.

Zefbiri turns her head back away from her, and tries to work it out in her head. “Right. I would move there,” she agrees, seemingly not knowing the logic in that, but not wanting to be a contrarian.

“Actually, Niobe,” Tinaya says. “As complicated as it is with you not being on the Extremus manifest, we could figure out how to swing that. What we can’t do is let the dead Captain’s son mysteriously disappear forever without an explanation. You would have to come live here instead. Given this clarification, if you feel the need to change your answer, we totally understand. We chose you both...despite your current interstellar disassociation, because we love and trust you both. That was our only concern when we were making the list, who do we think could handle this responsibility? Others fit the bill, and live at the same place, but the problem with them is that they’re...”

“Of the older persuasion,” Arqut finishes her thought for her again.

“Exactly,” Tinaya confirms. “You two are of the perfect age.”

Niobe stands back up, and starts to pace around, occasionally stepping out of the bounds of the holographic cameras. “I’m still in,” she eventually says, “but if that’s a requirement, then I think I should just move here now, and establish myself as preexisting member of society. We wouldn’t want me to show up on day one, and have the Extremusians question who the hell I am, and where I came from. Like you said, we would need to make an identity for me, but that’s better done now than later.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Arqut replies. “We just didn’t want to throw too much at you. We’re already asking so much.”

“No, it’s everything I ever wanted.”

They all look back at Zefbiri, who has yet to give them an official answer. “Okay, so I thought I would feed two birds with one worm, but I still...I...”

“What is it?” Arqut asks.

“I’m still hoping to go to check out Verdemus. I’ve always wanted to go.” Her gaze switches uncomfortably between Tinaya and Arqut, and the floor.

Arqut chuckles. “I think that can be arranged, sister.”

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Extremus: Year 88

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For her first year as Captain, Tinaya lived with a lot of anxiety. It was eating her up from the inside. She was keeping so many secrets, and she just wanted to forget everything. She used to be grateful that at least she wasn’t dealing with a bunch of other tangible problems. Omega and the Verdemusians were protecting them from the war, leaving the Extremus free to continue on its journey. The crew and passengers were getting along, and there weren’t any major crises to solve. Her therapist would say that if she were working through those kinds of captainly issues, she probably wouldn’t have much space in her brain for anxiety, and that might be true. Whatever the case, all of that disappeared the day that her husband, Arqut did. Tinaya didn’t see it herself, but one person happened to be in the corridor with him at the time. He didn’t just blink away, which is the most common form of temporal or spatial travel. No, if he had done that, then the witness probably would have just assumed that he had gone away on purpose.

The way the passerby described it, Arqut was looking rather sweaty. Then he started spinning around like there was a bug on his back, and he was trying to get ahead of it. The witness apparently tried to reach out to help, but missed his opportunity when the spinning seemed to start to happen on its own. He vanished in a haze of dark particles, which gradually faded within seconds. Current temporal engineer Sabine Lebeau had never heard of anything like that before, and it wasn’t in any database that she could find. The uncertainty scared Tinaya more than anything. This was no accident. Someone wanted Arqut, and for the last three months, had yet to return him to her. Unfortunately, her means of investigating were severely limited.

Most people on the ship could not know that he was missing. He disappeared once before, but that was in pursuit of getting Tinaya back. If she admitted that this time was not a planned departure, it would raise too many questions. Only a few people were allowed to know what was going on, and were sworn to secrecy. The witness agreed to his silence in exchange for a minimum on his contribution score. Basically, no matter what he did now, his score would never go below a certain threshold. It was a small price to pay, as long as he didn’t try to use this advantage to become a serial killer, or something. But even if he did, no deal with the captain would protect him from retribution. After that matter was settled, she started to work through the investigation, mostly on her own, though she couldn’t let it interfere with her regular duties either. That would raise questions too. But she wasn’t completely hopeless. She couldn’t make a big fuss about it publicly, or risk other truths coming to light, but there were still ways to conduct this investigation both vigorously and quietly at the same time. She made a list of suspects, and started running down every lead. She started by accusing the Bridgers of having something to do with it, but they denied it, and even let her return to the Bridger section to see for herself. He wasn’t there, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up in the future, or hell, the past.

Today is not a good day, though. All of her leads have dried up. She has no one left to talk to, no test left to try. He could be lost forever. It’s worse than it was when she was the one trapped on the outpost planet. She knew where she was, and she knew where Arqut was. The uncertainty; what could she do to remedy that? She’s supposed to be discussing her problems with her therapist at the moment, but instead, she’s retching into the toilet in her stateroom.

“How are you doing, Tinaya?” Most people would not be able to just start talking to her like that without waiting for Tinaya to answer first, but some people have special communications privileges, such as medical staff.

Tinaya spits into the bowl. “I’m fine.”

“Come back, I need to talk,” Dr. Lebeau requests. That’s right, another Lebeau. Tinaya would normally use the Executive Psychologist for her personal needs, but Sabine introduced her to her sister in order to enact a sort of loophole. While any therapist would respect patient confidentiality, the EP is obligated to report meeting times to the ship’s council, so they can make sure their captain isn’t isn’t showing signs of not being able to handle this job. A private therapist, on the other hand, is under no such obligation. Tinaya can talk to her all she wants, and do so at their joint convenience. Plus, Virve Lebeau already knows many secrets that not even the EP does.

“I’m a little busy.” She spits again.

“I can tell. I can help.”

“Fine, one second.” Tinaya flushes the toilet, and washes her face. Then she teleports back to Dr. Lebeau’s office. “What is it?”

Dr. Lebeau is holding her watch between her thumb and index finger.

“It’s your watch. Okay, are you scolding me for wasting your time? I’m sorry, next time I’ll use your bathroom, and talk to you about my feelings in between forcing last night’s dinner out of my stomach.”

“No, it’s not about that, Captain.” Dr. Lebeau walks forward, and drapes the watch over her opposite backhand, as if presenting it as a prize for a gameshow. “See these little dots under here?”

Tinaya is confused. “Uh, yeah, those are for blood tests. They spring microneedles to take samples on the fly. Why are you asking me about them?”

“These are necessary when the user doesn’t have any sort of medical implant that could test twenty-four-seven,” Dr. Lebeau goes on. “Obviously, though, you can’t program the watch to poke you whenever it wants. You have to tell it to do it. You have to decide when you’re ready for an update.”

“Are you saying that I have a virus, and I should test myself for it?” She’s still so confused. “Okay, I’ll find out. I think it’s just acid reflux, though. Stress-induced, I’m sure; we can talk about that, if you want.”

“Not a virus. I think you’re pregnant.”

Tinaya chuckles. Then she does it again, but louder. She manages to stop at that, though. “What? I can’t be pregnant, I’m in my sixties!”

“Did you ever go through menopause?” Dr. Lebeau questions.

“I think so.” This isn’t a dumb answer. Thanks to advances in medical science over the centuries, menopause still happens for those who were ever biologically capable of birthing young, but it’s far less pronounced than it was for ancient humans. The same is true for pregnancy and the menstrual cycle as a whole. These conditions are not nearly as uncomfortable as they were back in the day. It’s not that uncommon for people who lived particularly physically rough lives to not even notice that menopause has come and gone for them. If they’ve ever been on advanced chemical or implantable birth control too, it’s really easy to lose track of the cycle due to persistent interference in the body’s natural scheduling.

Dr. Lebeau raises her eyebrows, and looks down at Tinaya’s own watch.

“Y...you want me to test right now? Fine.” She swipes the screen to the appropriate menu, and releases the microneedles. Once it’s done, she self-assuredly bobbles her head a little bit while they wait for the results. After the beep, she takes one look at it, and shows it to the doctor. “See? Look. Pregnant. Pregnant? Fuck.”

“Congratulations,” Dr. Lebeau says to her, rather unconvincingly, one might add.

“I can’t be pregnant.”

“You can. You receive some of the best medical care in the galaxy. Many don’t experience the change until their seventies. You don’t read that in the reports.”

“Virve, I can’t be pregnant. The Captain. Can’t. Be pregnant!”

“There’s no law that says a sitting captain can’t be pregnant. It’s just never happened before,” Dr. Lebeau reminds her.

“For good reason. It splits attention. I must be fully committed to the operations of this vessel, and the safety of its crew and passengers. That is literally my only job.”

“If that’s how you feel about it—”

“I can’t have an abortion either. It’s not illegal, of course, but it’s...unbecoming.”

“Sounds like you’re in a tough spot. I can help you through it, but you have to be willing to explore all options. And you have to be patient, with me, and yourself.”

“Those are my only two options. I mean, what the hell else am I gonna do?” She starts to pace the room. “And yeah, I know, I could put it up for adoption, but that would be scandalous too. That kid will grow up knowing that its mother was just too busy for it, not that she was genuinely incapable of caring for a child. Adoption doesn’t hardly ever happen here, because nobody dies before they’re old! And they don’t have kids after they become old, because that’s nuts! I mean, if Arqut were here, maybe we could make it work together. He could take care of the baby, and even when I’m there, I would be able to teleport at a moment’s notice when duty calls, and I could always argue that that’s an option when anyone tries to criticize me for going through with the pregnancy. But is that enough anyway? Because it’s not just about the perception that my priorities are split. It’s about them actually being split. How can I look out for everyone on the ship, when there are only two people I truly care about? Then again, I am the only Captain who has ever been married at all, so that’s always been a lingering criticism, even though I’ve never heard anyone say that to me, I’m sure that plenty of people feel that way. And now he’s missing, and I can’t even tell anyone about it. I have to claim that he’s on a new mission. But then once people find out that I’m captaining for two, they’re gonna wonder why the father of my child hasn’t come back for his family. Then some are gonna realize the possibility that he’s not the father at all, and there will be a cheating scandal that isn’t even true, but do you think people even care about the truth anymore? That’s all we’ve been talking about; perception, and there’s nothing I can do about that. And either way, this whole thing is gonna get people wondering where Arqut has been this whole time, and they’ll start asking questions, and they’ll all find out that he’s missing, and that we’re been course correcting for decades, and that Verdemus wasn’t destroyed, and why aren’t you trying to call me down!”

“I think you need this outburst,” Dr. Lebeau explains. “It sounds cathartic.”

“Well...” She starts, prepared to argue. “I think you’re right, I appreciate it.”

“Captain?” Tinaya’s First Lieutenant asks through her watch.

“What is it, Faiyaz?”

“It’s Arqut. He’s back.”

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