Extremus: Year 143

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Weird things have been happening on the ship. Waldemar’s support system has been shrinking. People have turned up missing, while others have died under mysterious circumstances. His most loyal followers and sycophants are just going away, and life on Extremus has become bleaker than ever. Waldemar himself doesn’t seem fazed. He remains steadfast and ambitious. It’s become clear to all that he is planning to hold onto the captain’s chair through at least the next shift. After that, he might be too old to continue, unless he finds and unlocks immortality tech. It’s weird, really, that he doesn’t seem to be pursuing that. Is there something he knows that Silveon doesn’t? Well, obviously there is, because his people keep dying, and he doesn’t seem to care.

“He doesn’t care, because he thinks they betrayed him,” Sable starts to explain.

“What do you mean? A couple of these guys have been with him since the beginning,” Silveon points out. “I hardly think they would betray him now.”

“That’s because they didn’t,” she clarifies. “I just told him that they had.”

“Why is he listening to you? You’re his girlfriend, not the devil on his shoulder.”

“I may as well be,” Sable contends. “He asked me to use my time tech to spy on the entire ship. It’s completely untraceable and unhackable, because there aren’t any surveillance devices anywhere. All I have to do is remotely view wherever I want.”

“And you’re feeding him bad information from that illegal surveillance?”

“Oh, one hundred percent.” She walks over to her closet and opens the door. She presents her wardrobe flamboyantly as if it’s a prize on a gameshow. Then she closes it, performs some kind of maneuver which Silveon can’t see from his vantage point, then opens it again, but this time from the hinged side. Instead of clothes, there’s now some kind of fancy contraption. There are indicator lights and interface screens on it, but none of them is lit up. “I don’t even turn it on.”

Sable takes out her handheld device, which is a fairly rare thing in this culture, and tosses it to him. “I had the AI write me an algorithm to decide our next victims. I couldn’t go after the big fish on day one. I started with low level—but wildly enthusiastic—fans who Waldemar was already suspicious of. Each time he found a new enemy, it reinforced his paranoia that no one can be trusted, which told the algorithm who to pick next.” She plops down on her couch, pleased with herself. “Impressed?”

“I’m scared.” Silveon sighs. The logic is sound, but it’s still wrong. It’s an abuse of power, and exactly what Waldemar would do if he were in their shoes. He can’t stop her, though. She’s too powerful to go up against, and he doesn’t want to be on her bad side too. He may yet be able to reason with her, though. “You’ve become him. It’s not—” He stops and shakes his head, not knowing how he could possibly get through to her. “We were never worried about Waldemar Kristiansen himself. Waldemar Kristiansen is only a man. What Audrey and I were worried most about were tyranny and fascism. And anyone’s name can be attached to those concepts. I think you just attached yours.”

Sable stares at Silveon with cold, dead eyes. She turns her hand so her palm is facing up. A glass appears upon it, already filled with a brown liquid. “Do you know what this is? It’s bourbon.” She examines it like a scientist, and doesn’t drink. “Waldemar’s mother used to drink this stuff all the time. She was a telepath...worse than her son, because she could hear people’s coherent thoughts. There was one difference between her and Waldy, though: this brown junk. She internalized her dark thoughts, which protected the rest of us from her. But alcohol is illegal, and even though Waldemar obviously doesn’t care about the law, it never occurred to him to self-medicate.”

She chuckles. “This isn’t a replica. It was actually hers. It disappeared from her hand in the year 2354, because I stole it...just now. Don’t worry, I piggy-backed off of a different time travel event, so the sensors will dismiss it as a minority report.” She sets the glass down on the table. “She was so drunk, she won’t even notice. She’ll think she merely blacked out for a few seconds while she drank the whole thing, and threw it in the material reclamator. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Silveon questions, more scared than before.

Sable leans forward sinisterly. “Because if I took the glass the day before or the day after, I might have been caught. You have to pick and choose when you do what you do. It’s the same reason you didn’t murder Waldemar in his sleep when he was a kid, and why Mateo Matic only assassinated Adolf Hitler after the holocaust. It seems cruel. Why wait that long? Why let so many people die? Because believe it or not, in the void left behind when Hiter died as a teenager in an old timeline, a worse threat took power. He was the lesser of two evils. He saved the human race.”

“That is a despicable thing to say about history,” Silveon warns her.

Sable doesn’t flinch. She reaches down and picks the glass back up to take one little sip. Now her face contorts. “Now that is despicable, and disgusting.” She clears her throat. “I lied to you earlier. I turn that machine on all the time, but instead of spying on my brothers and sisters, I use it to wander the past and future. I’ve seen all of reality with that thing, and I’m the only one in the universe who can handle it.” She closes her eyes to correct herself, “besides, like, Lincoln Rutherford.”

“I’m having trouble following you. Are you Hitler, or are you the worse threat?”

Sable takes a deep breath. She takes another one, and another. “Waldemar is Hitler.” She pauses again. “You are the worse threat.” She snaps her fingers.

Waldemar appears in the room. He’s confused. “How did you summon me?”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I brought you here to show you, I found the last dissenter. I figured you would want to handle it quietly.”

Waldemar looks down at Silveon. “I’ve always known about him. He was eight years younger than me—a baby—and we had playdates? It never made any sense.”

“Of course you knew.” Sable stands up and kisses the captain on the cheek. “You’re a genius. But I used that machine to see what would become of this ship if he were allowed to live even one day more. Now is the time to end it. You can’t put it off any longer, and I don’t think you want anyone else to know about it. Fortunately, he’s no longer in the public eye, so covering up his death shouldn’t be too hard.”

Waldemar looks back at the man he once called his friend. “Why? What is this all about? You have been trying to change me my whole life? What was the point?”

Silveon turns his chin up. “What does it matter? It didn’t work.”

“It did work, though,” Sable argues. “I used the machine, remember? I saw your timeline, and I see the future in this one. You thought you were trying to stop him, but you were actually helping him reach his full potential. And your job is done. It’s my turn now.” She looks at her boyfriend. “You should kill him here. One clean head shot. This is a dead zone. No sensors will log it, and then I’ll clean up for you.”

“You will make a good wife,” Waldemar tells her. He takes out his sidearm, trains it on Silveon, and squeezes the trigger.

Time stops. Silveon is staring at the explosion coming out of the gun, frozen in space and time. Silveon can’t even move, except for his eyeballs.

Sable gets down on her knees underneath the bullet, and frowns at Silveon. She leans forward and kisses him passionately on the lips before placing her mouth near his ear. She whispers, “meet me in Montauk.” She then puts her three middle fingers on his forehead and violently tips him backwards.

When Silveon opens his eyes, he finds himself lying on the floor of an unfamiliar room. He grasps at his head and winces with a hiss.

A woman is sitting at her desk. She turns around when she hears him. “Report.”

“Just tell me the date please,” Silveon requests.

“It’s August 15, 2311.”

“Can you turn off the light please?” He can barely open his eyes, it’s so bright.

“Do it,” the stranger commands the AI.

“August 15, 2311,” Silveon echoes. “Did I piggy-back off of a time travel event?”

“Probably,” she replies. “There was one only minutes ago, well within the margins of error for the ship’s sensors to ignore your arrival. If you wanna go back, though, you should do it quickly, though, or it will be detected.”

“I don’t know why I’m here. She told me to meet her in Montauk.”

The woman seems taken aback by this. “Here.” She helps him off the floor, and onto the bed. “Are you thirsty?” She hands him a glass of water. “I’ve not had any yet.”

Silveon accepts the water and drinks while she goes over to the opposite wall. She slides a cabinet door out of the way, revealing a huge collection of old media. He can’t remember whether they’re called cassette tapes or DVDs because they are so ancient. She scans the library with her finger before settling on one. She pulls it out, looks at the cover herself, and then kneels down in front of him, setting the item on the floor. She puts her hands on his knees, almost affectionately. “Either the person who sent you here really loves you...or really hates you.” She smiles sadly, and hands him the box.”

Silveon looks at it. “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” He flips it over to read the description, but stops. “Is it supposed to jiggle like that?”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Open it.”

He lets the big black thing slide out of the box. It doesn’t look right. It looks like part of the outer casing has been pried off. Inside of it is a ring. He picks it up and lets the media fall back to the floor. He takes the stranger by the hand and compares the ring that’s on her finger. “They’re the same.”

“Twins,” the woman says. “It’s fitting you should come here. I had to use mine to save my life during that time travel event, when someone tried to kill me.”

“Someone’s trying to kill me,” Silveon admits, “with a gun.”

She nods. “That can save you, but you don’t have enough time to learn how to use it. It creates temporary pockets of space, allowing you to adjust something’s trajectory.”

Silveon thinks about it. Then he gently places the extra ring in her hand. “Then it’s not for me. If I survive in my time, on that day, I’ll only be putting off the inevitable. My...frenemy wants me to do this, which means I don’t think I should. I should die.”

The woman drops the ring back in the box. “That’s your choice, and I respect it. I don’t know what you’re going through, but have you heard of The Question, by chance?”

“Yes,” Silveon replies.

“You’re meant to answer yes or no, but did you know there was a third answer?”

Silveon returns to his present, and lets himself get shot in the head.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 1, 2514

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Ramses posited that the temporal energy that Boyd had absorbed when he blew up the crystal with lemon juice was basically all that was holding him together. Even after Mateo resurrected him from the afterlife simulation, he could not be saved forever. He knew this. Leona knew this. She also knew that it was only a matter of time before it killed him anyway, whether he was drained of the power or not. Temporal energy is really just time itself. You can have an excess of it, but if not properly stored, it will leak out as time passes, and that would have been the end of Boyd Maestri. She chose to not let his sacrifice go to waste, and to restore their own powers so that they could go on with the mission that he was intending to help them with. The role he was going to serve on the team now fell to Mateo. That was a problem for the future, though. Right now, they were going to honor their frenemy with a proper burial.

Everyone was here already. They were just waiting on Ramses, who was working on something in his lab. Mateo looked over at his daughter awkwardly. She glanced back at him, but quickly turned away again. He tried to look away too, but returned. She did another double-take. “What is it, dad?”

Mateo reached down and took a fold of her outfit between his fingers. “This isn’t your suit.”

“No, it’s real clothing,” she confirmed. “I went to Fashiondome, and sewed something myself. That’s what I’ve been doing all morning.”

“You know how to sew?”

“Yeah, I grew up thousands of years ago in the Third Rail. Of course I know how to sew.”

“Oh. That makes sense. I forget that about you.”

“Yeah.” Romana tried to go back to waiting patiently for Ramses.

“I know you’re an adult, it’s just that it’s a little—”

“Shh!” Leona warned before Mateo could finish his sentence.

Romana sighed, but continued to look straight forward. “Boyd liked my cleavage, and I choose to honor him in this way. This is a perfectly normal black funeral dress.” She said that she wasn’t angry at him for not being able to resurrect Boyd a second time, but there would always be that question between them of whether he genuinely tried, or if the part of him that didn’t want to save Boyd was big enough to stop it.

He looked on down the line at Olimpia. “And you?”

“You’re the one who likes my cleavage.” He didn’t say anything more, but she took the hint, and commanded her nanite clothing to cover her chest up a little more.

Ramses appeared. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I had to come up with a way to safely dispose of temporal energy crystal.” While Mateo was trying to get Boyd back, and Romana was crying, Ramses had to delicately remove the shards from Boyd’s face. It wasn’t exactly trained as a medical examiner, but they couldn’t risk anyone else for the job, or really, trust them with it.

“It’s okay,” Mateo said. “You get on that end.”

“No,” Romana said. “I can carry it myself.”

Mateo looked at her sadly. “Romy, it’s unwieldy. You could hoist it over your shoulder, but you can’t carry it with the respect that he deserves.”

“Watch me.” Romana reached over the casket and tried to grab the handle on the other side. It wasn’t that she wasn’t strong enough. Her arms weren’t long enough.

“Let me get the other end,” Mateo offered. “He and I had our issues, which is exactly why I should do this. You wanted us to be friends, didn’t you? Or did you enjoy being in the middle of the animosity?”

She sighed again, relenting. “Okay, get the other end.”

Mateo and Romana carried Boyd down the trail as the others followed, or walked on ahead. “You spoke with Hrockas?” Leona asked.

Angela nodded. “This dome won’t be used for another fifty years, if ever. We’ll bury him deep, where there’s more activity while the regolith is being transformed into soil from chemicals they added to the water table.”

“Did he end up making an announcement?” Leona went on. “The first permanent death on the planet. That’s a big deal.”

Angela shook her head. “He’s burying the truth along with Boyd himself. No one needs to know that anyone died. Even though people are still allowing themselves to die on the Core Worlds, it could hurt visitorship. His death was completely unrelated to anything offered in the domes, so there’s no point in advertising or disclosing it.”

The two of them were talking rather quietly, and their comms were off, but everyone wearing an upgraded substrate had excellent hearing, so they all heard it. Romana was not upgraded, but even she heard it somehow. She glanced over her shoulder at Leona and Angela and frowned, but didn’t speak to them. She instead looked at Ramses, who was next to her. “People should know that he died, and what he died for. He sacrificed himself...for us.”

“You’re right,” Ramses said. “One of the hardest things we do is keeping our lives secret from the vonearthans. I know you know everything about that, living in the Third Rail for the majority of your life.”

Marie and Olimpia were in front, and had just rounded a corner when they suddenly stopped short. Olimpia nearly tripped on a rock, but caught herself in time.

“What is it?” Mateo questioned.

“There’s a man,” Marie answered. “He may have a weapon.”

“Set it on the ground,” Mateo ordered. He slowly bent his knees as his daughter did, and carefully set the casket down. “Wait here.” Mateo walked on alone, gently pulling the ladies’ shoulders back so this mysterious stranger wouldn’t be able to see them anymore. He did see a man, standing in the distance, resting both of his wrists on what appeared to be a shovel. Mateo used his telescopic vision to zoom in. “It’s Halifax.”

“Really?” Leona asked. She walked forward to get a look for herself.

“I recognize that name from the list,” Olimpia said.

“He’s The Gravedigger,” Mateo replied. “We’ve not seen him in a long time.” He looked back at Romana. “Not since the Third Rail.” He grabbed the casket again. “Let’s go. He’s no threat.”

They continued on their way. Halifax waited patiently where they first saw him. He was chewing on sunflower seeds, and spitting the shells off to the side. “I expected you sooner! Why didn’t you teleport here?”

“It’s a funeral procession,” Mateo explained. “You can’t teleport through a funeral procession.”

“No, s’pose not.”

“What are you doing here?” Mateo asked him.

“I’m here for him.” Halifax nodded at the body.

“Not many work orders from this time period, I would guess,” Mateo mused.

“Nope,” Halifax replied matter-of-factly.

“So he’s never coming back?” Leona asked.

Halifax took a beat. “No,” he answered solemnly. “He’ll be in good company,” he added after Mateo exchanged a look with Romana. The Cemetery magically appeared behind him, including a new open grave right behind him, and a second one a few meters away, which was alarming.

“Can we still do a green burial?” Romana asked, stepping forward. “It’s what he wanted.

“Is there any other kind?” Halifax responded.

Romana knelt down and started to unlock the casket. Mateo reached down, and covered her hand with his. “You don’t have to do this yourself. You don’t have to...see him like this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, father.” She unlocked the other latch. “I do.” She lifted the lid, and stared at Boyd’s dead body for a few moments. Then she slipped her arms underneath his, and began to drag him out, across the ground, and over to the edge of the grave. She let go only to hop in, then took hold of Boyd again to pull him down on top of her. She lay there for another few moments, staring blankly into empty space. They gathered ‘round and watched her in reverence. Finally, she freed herself from him, stood up, and just teleported to the surface.

“Your dress,” Mateo pointed out.

“That’s why I wore something real,” Romana explained, “so it wouldn’t have a self-cleaning function.”

“Would you like to say a few words?” Halifax offered.

She stepped over, and looked into the grave with everyone else. “Boyd Maestri was not a perfect man. Like many of our kind, he took his power for granted. He made life harder for some people, like Dave Seidel and June St. Martin. But he never really hurt anyone. He wasn’t anywhere close to being evil. He was actually really sweet. And I wish that you had all been able to see more than just glimpses of that. But I’m at least glad that you got to see a little. I know you weren’t happy with our age gap. The truth is, it was wider than you even know. But he never pushed me, or pressured me. What he felt for me was love. I can’t say that I felt the same. Growing up the way that I did—skipping all that time—I couldn’t have real relationships. If I met someone, they would be dead in the blink of an eye. So yeah, when the first man who I could be honest with took an interest, I fell for him. As I said, he took his powers for granted, but he didn’t treat me the same. He was respectful, and kind, and he recognized my boundaries. I—” she stammered. “That’s it.” She stepped backwards, away from the grave.

“Anyone else?” Halifax asked.

Mateo was already pretty close to the grave, but he stepped closer, letting the toes of his shoes hover over the edge. “I forgive you.”

Romana hadn’t cried this whole time, but now she snapped her eyes shut, and scrunched her cheeks up, trying to hold the tears back, even though she knew that no one expected that of her. She buried her face in the safety of Olimpia’s bosom. Suddenly. Ellie Underhill climbed out of the second open grave. She tried to clap the dirt off of her hands, and wiped them on her skirt. Without saying anything first, she began to sing, “I just found a lemon tree. It’s a bad day for my enemies. Yes, there’s sugar water in the breeze, and I’m ready, I’m ready. So someone play guitar for me. I’m ready to leave my body.”

It was at this point that Olimpia pulled off her necklace, and joined in. “And oh, this could be rage. We’re flying to the space between the lies we told, and find the good in every soul is all connected energy, or how would I know you were thinking of me in the tree?” Only two of them were singing, but with Olimpia’s echo powers, it sounded more like a small chorus. They went on with the song, but skipped the instrumental break, since they were singing a capella. When they ended with the final two lines, “when all of the lights remain, this is all that our time contains,” Olimpia belted it out. Her voice roared up into the sky, and apparently tore a hole in spacetime. The Time Shriek answered back, echoing in its own way, just as Olimpia could.

Romana smiled as she wiped more tears from her eyes. “Boyd loved that scream. He thought it was so cool that so many people from so far away could hear the same thing.”

“You got to know him better than I realized,” Mateo said, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it easy on you.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I understand. Or rather I don’t understand what it’s like to be a parent. But I will soon.” She smiled, and placed her palm on her belly.”

“No,” Mateo said, struck with dread, trying his best not to faint, or shout in rage.

“No, I’m kidding!” Romana said apologetically.

“Oh, god...dammit! Don’t do that to me!”

“Or me,” Ramses agreed surprisingly. “We would have to uninstall your EmergentSuit.” He looked around at the rest of the ladies. “That goes for all of you. I wouldn’t otherwise have the right to know if you’re pregnant, but...”

“We get it,” Marie said to him. “We’ll let ya know.”

“Thanks for coming, Ellie,” Leona said. “That was a very thoughtful and beautiful gift.”

“That wasn’t your gift,” Ellie said. “I just like to make an entrance.” She reached into her pocket. “This is your gift.” She pulled out a smooth red stone. Or was it made of glass? It looked familiar, but no one could place it right away. “The angry Russian I took it from wasn’t happy, but he and his daughter will be fine. I moved them somewhere safe.”

“The cap of the Insulator of Life,” Ramses exclaimed. “We’ve been wondering how those two got separated, and where this has been.”

“St. Petersburg, I guess.” Ellie looked from one to another, to another, but only with her eyes. “Is anyone gonna take this from my hand, errr...?”

Angela happened to be the closest, so she accepted it.

“Forgive me, but...this was a funeral gift?” Leona questioned. “Do they have those in Fort Underhill? I didn’t even think you had death.”

“No, it’s a wedding gift,” Ellie contended. She looked around at them again, but with her head this time. “Wait, what year is this?” She reached out and grabbed Leona’s wrist so she could look at her watch. “Whoops! Better go! Forget I said anything!” She ran off and hopped back into the portal grave.

“Well,” Olimpia said with a sigh. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” She reached into her own pockets, and pulled out two diamond rings. She held them in front of her. “Mateo and Leona Matic...will you marry me?”

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Microstory 1798: Flawed

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Ever since I was a child, I was really good at detecting what other people were doing wrong, and I had absolutely no trouble informing them of this at every opportunity. I perhaps developed a little more tact as I grew up, but not a whole lot. I was still a master at pissing people off, and pushing them away. It’s just...like, what’s the point of living your life if you’re not going to improve, ya know? Like when women lie about their age. They go the wrong way with it. I can see what you look like; giving me a surprising number is not going to change that. If you say that you’re 20 years old, but you’re 30, and you look 30, then not only am I not impressed, but I’m probably going to assume that you smoke, or something. Now, if you say that you’re 40, and you’re 30, and you look 30, then I’m going to assume you take good care of yourself. The idea is to appear younger, not to make everyone just think you’re younger. Some people were really appreciative of my advice. Just kidding, they always hated it, every single time. On the night I planned on proposing to my girlfriend, we went out to see a musical together. I actually like musicals, and I’m willing to suspend my disbelief that these people would suddenly break into choreographed song. That’s the medium, and I’m fine with it. My problem had to do with the particular show we saw. It was great on the whole, but one lyric sort of ruined the whole thing for me. One of the characters sang, not counting the homeless, how many tickets weren’t comped. Well, unless he’s suggesting that regular people were given free tickets, and homeless people had to pay, this line doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t matter whether you include the homeless people in the math, or not, the number of people whose tickets weren’t comped should not change. Needless to say, she broke up with me, and I had to take the ring back to the store for a refund. The people who worked there all gave me this sad look. But I decided that if she wasn’t happy with my logic, she couldn’t be happy with me at all, so it actually worked out.

Anyway, her father was my boss at the time, and he didn’t like the way I treated her. I think she made some stuff up to make me look even worse than I was. He fired me, and I had to go on the hunt for something new. My friends all suggested that I translate my ability to see and point out flaws into something productive, like maybe being a film critic. I chose to be a house inspector, because the pay was better, and the work was steadier. I never really enjoyed it. I had a boss, and she pretty much left me alone, so I felt like an entrepreneur, but the work was still boring and monotonous. I kept thinking that there would be someone. Someone had to like what I had to say. But it never happened. Every first date was bad. Every party was awkward. I finally gave up, and just figured there was nothing I could do about it. Therapist after therapist tried to turn me into a better person, but they all failed. Well, that’s unfair. I’m the one who failed, and I would be a huge hypocrite if I wasn’t willing to admit that about myself. In the end, it’s probably for the best, anyone hypothetically interested in someone like me probably just didn’t understand what they were getting into, and it would eventually turn sour anyway. I wouldn’t want to subject someone to that. I made lots of money because I didn’t have any responsibilities, and I was destined to die with it, because I didn’t have any heirs. Like many in my position—or even outside of it—I decided to donate my savings to charity. Hopefully someone who actually needs it can get some use out of it.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 13, 2371

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A hundred and twenty light years away from Vendelin’s source planet—in the direction of the oncoming Power Vacuum—was a brown dwarf with tons of proto-planetary debris, but no fully coalesced planets. A quantum terminal was installed on an asteroid, but it was never part of the Quantum Colony game. It was available, like all others, but either people had come here, and decided to leave without declaring it their own, or no one had found it yet. The game was not something that most people could have played back in the 21st century. Players weren’t provided a map, or a list of star systems. Unlocking each one required solving a gauntlet of mathematical equations, and calculating the precise location for themselves. Some of these puzzles were naturally relevant, but others were arbitrarily injected into the game to make it more difficult. Because of how much effort went into finding a planet to call their own, many players didn’t bother. There were plenty of public-access worlds that their respective colonists chose to make a hub for interstellar activity. The chances that this system had simply not yet been discovered were pretty high. Leona and Ramses only knew about it, because they were afforded direct access to the complete and unadulterated database of Project Stargate sites.

Seven hundred light years away from both the source planet, and the brown dwarf was a main sequence star being orbited by four gas giants, one icy dwarf planet, and the densest boundary planetesimal cloud any of the smart people in the group had ever heard of. Being so far from Gatewood, Project Stargate had yet to reach it. They only knew about it, because the Project Topdown ships were already mapping the galaxy, even before escaping into the intergalactic void. They didn’t choose it for any specific reason, other than the fact that it was the farthest system they knew about at this point, and its remoteness was key to completing their mission.

While the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was parked on the quantum terminal asteroid around the brown dwarf, Kestral and Ishida’s ship was stationed in the void. The Jameela Jamil was commissioned to replace The Emma González as Team Keshida’s primary mode of transportation since the latter was donated to Étude Einarsson, who needed it to search for her daughter. Goswin, Weaver, and Eight Point Seven were in possession of it last, but they hadn’t heard a peep from them in years, so anything could have happened to it and its crew since then. It was funny that Medley called the AOC the fastest ship in the galaxy. The reframe engine was not something that could be improved. It was capable of moving a vessel at 707 times the speed of light. By its nature, that was the absolute maximum speed. It was based on a limitation hardcoded into the proper physics of the universe. Regardless, theirs was not the only ship with such technology, and the Jameela just surpassed it.

It was elegant, nigh impenetrable, fast, and chock full of time technology. Atterberry pods, Ubiña pockets, disturbance detectors, emergency personal teleporters, debris teleporter field generators, and more, gave it an edge over any contender. It could teleport at the light year range, and maintain hull integrity through burst mode, which was an engineering problem that no one had been able to solve up until now. It could get clear across the Milky Way in two days without having to stop for repairs, or to refuel. It could get to the next galaxy over, Andromeda, in a month. The only fastest way to travel—besides calling upon Maqsud Al-Amin—was the Nexus network, and that wasn’t always available. It wasn’t an argument against the Jameela anyway, as there was a Nexus built into it as well, in case passengers didn’t have days to wait.

During the team’s interim year, Team Keshida actually visited both star systems, and began work on their solution to the Power Vacuum problem. They programmed machines to construct some of the largest objects present-day had to offer. According to the data that they were able to pull from Vendelin’s computers, the energy sucking beam that was threatening to destroy Earth was about the size of a main sequence star. Indeed, its energy came from such a star. He constructed millions of objects around it, and coordinated their motion patterns in such a way to actually drive solar winds in one direction. Basically he built gargantuan bellows to harness plasma, and focus it as a projectile. Once filtered through the muzzle, this energy served as a sort of souped-up electro-magnetic pulse that could be targeted at an enemy’s planet. There appeared to be no means of stopping it, because anything placed in its path would be affected by its power. Fortunately, it wasn’t likely capable of nullifying temporal energy. If they were wrong about that, there really wasn’t anything they could do.

The teleporter rings were not completed yet, which was why they chose a departing site as far as they did, to give this process time. The Power Vacuum would reach it in 2374, but if all went according to plan, it wouldn’t go any farther than that. They were the largest teleporters ever, far outsizing the diameter of the star of origin. The beam should pass right into the entrance, and be instantly transported to the exit, where it would fly out into the void at the speed of light, where it would not be able to harm anyone anymore.

Since the robots were doing all of the work, and would continue doing it after they left the timestream, the humans weren’t all that useful anymore. All the intelligent ones could do was periodically check up on the systems, and make sure everything was going smoothly, and all the not super intelligent ones could do was twiddle their thumbs; maybe play a game of RPS-101 Plus, or two...or eleven.

Olimpia paused the game just before Mateo’s Sponge could doesn’t use her Math to win the round. “I’m sick of this.” It looked like a way to avoid losing again, but she wasn’t wrong. They were all bored. Their situation was serious, but in no way urgent.

Everyone agreed, so they leaned back in their chairs, and ignored the screens for a moment. As they were doing nothing, Ramses climbed down from the upper level, and began to head for the engineering ladder.

“Hey, Ramathorn, anything interesting happening on the Jameela right now?” They had temporarily converted one of the shower rooms to a small teleporter, which allowed them to seamlessly switch from one ship to the other, almost as if they were only on the one ship. This feature was limited in range, and a massive power hog, which was why they were pulling energy from the full-sized fusion reactor that was designated for the quantum terminal, completely bypassing their miniature version. The Jameela had one of this calibre on board, as well as a backup in storage, so this was no problem for them.

“Nope.” He slid downstairs without elaborating.

“Welp,” Angela said, looking at her watch. “That conversation killed about ten seconds of time.”

“What are we going to do now?” Olimpia questioned. She unpaused their game just to let the Sponge attack, and be done with it.

Kivi darted her eyes amongst her friends. “We could...upgrade to a better game?”

“What might that be?” Mateo asked. “I’m not playing 4D Go.”

“No, I’m talking about...” Kivi looked around to make sure they weren’t being spied upon. “...Quantum Colony.”

“We ordered that thing to be shut down,” Mateo exclaimed. He was the one who delivered the order personally.

“It mostly was,” Kivi admitted. “But not completely. A few of the hub worlds are still available, while all of the individually-claimed systems are locked out. Teagarden is currently working on a plan to reveal the whole truth to the populace.”

“I’m sure that won’t take thirty years,” Angela joked.

“What do people do there?” Mateo pressed, “on these hub worlds?”

“Well, they’re building an interplanetary train track on one of them,” Kivi said. She grabbed her tablet, and presumably started looking it up.

“How is that possible?” Angela asked. “I mean, in the afterlife simulation, no big deal, but out here?”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Kivi promised. “It orbits one planet, and then keeps moving out in concentric elliptical circles, eventually linking up with orbital tracks from other planets. Hypothetically, if you were none too worried about time, you could literally walk across a solar system.”

“Why would they bother doing that?” Olimpia asked.

“Quite exclusively, because they can,” Kivi answered. She flung the page up to the central hologram so they could all see it. They were looking at several planets with concentric circles connecting them to one another. Part of the circles were white, while others were red. “The red is planned track, not yet complete.”

Angela regarded it with deep fascination. “How long would it take for the whole train ride?”

“It doesn’t get specific,” Kivi replied, “but it says it would only take a matter of weeks. You can go real fast on very little power.”

“Perhaps we’ll go there when it’s done,” Mateo determined. “We probably shouldn’t go anywhere unless we ask for permission anyway. We’ll just get caught.”

“Sure, we can,” Kivi contended. “No one here is an elected leader.”

“They are our leaders just the same,” Olimpia returned. “A fool who refuses to follow their superior only proves why they are the fool, and why their superior is the leader.”

“Who said that?” Angela asked.

“Olimpia Sangster, circa 2371.”

They laughed. This conversation just killed a couple minutes of time.

Angela consulted her watch again. “It’s too late in the day to do anything now. If we’re gonna go somewhere, we should make it an all-day event, and we should make sure the smarties are aware of it. It’s disrespectful not to.”

“It’s nice to hear you say that.” Kestral and Leona were climbing down the ladder.

“Thanks for the heads up, Olimpia,” Leona said.

“What did you do?”

Olimpia lifted her Cassidy cuff, and tapped a button on the screen, which disengaged the communicator.

“We heard most of what you said,” Kestral clarified.

“I don’t feel bad,” Mateo told her. “Us dum-dums need sumfin to do.”

“It’s fine,” Kestral assured him with a smile. “I think it’s a great idea. Unfortunately, we have to amend the plan slightly. You wouldn’t be going to a hub world. A mission came up, and we are once again the best people for the job.”

“Either we all underestimated the number of Quantum Colony players who were aware that it was more than just a game, or Teagarden has been keeping more from us than we realized,” Leona said.

“Someone else set off another weapon?” Kivi guessed.

“No, but as part of the agreement we made with them, Teagarden had to recall all players, either to their homeworld, or one of those hubs. Only once they were returned could they be locked out of the necessary quantum terminals. Most players complied, because the military didn’t say why they were being recalled, or that everyone was being recalled at the same time, or that they probably wouldn’t ever be allowed to go back. There were a few holdouts, which required an actual contingency to go offworld, and scoop them up.”

“Did one of them fight back?” Mateo asked.

“No, they just did to Teagarden exactly what Teagarden was trying to do to them. They hacked into their own quantum terminal, and blocked all external access. It wasn’t hit by the Power Vacuum; it’s not at all in range; they’re just refusing to come back. Even if we didn’t force their hands, Teagarden still wouldn’t be happy about it. You’re not allowed to tamper with the terminal, or you’re meant to be booted from the game.”

“The point is,” Kestral went on, “we got an FTL ship, we gotta go check it out. I’m sure this is just the next of many requests they give us because of our advantage. It’s part of their strategy until they figure out how to reverse-engineer their own reframe engine.”

“Don’t both our ships need to stay with the teleporter rings?” Angela pointed out.

“They are not the only ships we have,” Kestral said, still with that smile. “Ours is a capital ship, complete with other, smaller ships docked inside of it. The four of you will be taking The Tahani on a recon mission to New Earth...on your own.”

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Microstory 1440: The War Begins

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Seers on Durus didn’t tell everyone, or even anyone, everything that they knew. They had to be smart about what information they let get out. If, for instance, one told their neighbor that they were going to run into a door today, the neighbor would go outside, and try to avoid doors for twenty-four hours. Then seven hours later, a construction worker walks by with a door, and accidentally hits him with it when he turns around.  The seer actually exacerbated the problem by saying something. The victim would have been much better off hearing that they should be careful, or to wear a helmet. That did not explain, however, why it was that no one seemed to know that the Mage Protectorate was destined to fall. The final battles of the war with the monsters began in 2090, and ended in less than a month, and it all started when an unexpected visitor appeared shortly after the Mage Selection Games. He was definitely not human, but nothing like what they had seen before. He was white, and tall, and fierce-looking. Speedstrikers looked just like you would think an unstoppable killer alien would. Mirror monsters looked like, well, mirrors. All the other types had been cataloged and classified, and nothing new had ever appeared since those very early days after Springfield fell into the Deathfall portal. So what was this thing here? It seemed intelligent, just like the verters, and it didn’t take long before his true nature was fully understood. Based on some things that the verters had said over the years, people always suspected that time monsters were only temporal glitches, and that real, intelligent, and independent monsters were the ones who were actually trying to step through the portal. This pretty much proved it. He was the real deal, and all the things that had come through before were quite accurately mistakes. There was something wrong with the portal, which this new monster explained led him here from his home universe of Ansutah. No one else ever survived the trip intact, so even if it turned out to be possible to travel back through the ring, it had never happened before. So the other monsters never knew the portal wasn’t working, which meant nothing could warn them to stop trying.

This monster, who called himself a Maramon, was a one in a million success story. He didn’t make it through the ring whole because of anything he did, but because the chances that it would happen at least once were not zero. They were low, but not impossible. He told them that time wasn’t passing the same way for his people on the other side. While the monsters had been arriving for decades, he had only waited a couple hours for his turn to step through. Time probably wasn’t moving at a different rate on his homeworld, though. They were probably just being spit out at random intervals. Hell, it could even be that every glitch that had shown up before him had actually come from a Maramon who tried to cross over sometime after him. There was no way to know, but that wasn’t the point here. All this time, the humans on this planet had been fighting an enemy that mostly didn’t know they were enemies. They weren’t actively trying to hurt the humans. They were most likely just moving along the surface on instinct, attracted to the presence of other moving creatures, and destroying them incidentally, rather than deliberately. If it was possible for a Maramon to cross over without being turned into an abomination, then a real war might start. This new enemy was free-thinking, and capable of forming motivations. They were a huge threat. Though he was the only monster who had ever kept his faculties during the trip, there was no proof it wouldn’t happen again, and he was making no attempt to quell their fears that he really was an enemy. He made his motives remarkably clear; that he wanted to kill all the humans too, and that he would be doing it on purpose. At first, they figured they could contain him before he could cause any trouble, but he easily escaped, and he used his intelligence to control the glitches all by himself. Things were only going to get worse from here as the War for Durus began.

Microstory 1434: Fort Salient

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Now that Durus had a decent number of mages, it was so much easier to get things done. Construction was easier than it would probably ever be on Earth, and the monsters had become more of a common nuisance than a real enemy. A monster came in, a town mage was assigned to dispense with it, and they did. No one had died from an attack in decades, and no one had been seriously injured in several years. The Durune humans knew what they were doing, and their population continued to rise at a predictable rate. They stopped planning for new towns ahead of time, because each one would only take a matter of weeks, depending on which mages they had access to for a given development, and how complex they wanted that town to be. People did still want to move to new places though; that was a value that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, so whenever the need arose, someone would be there to make it happen. They would keep planning to build them until something changed about their situation, which it did. Fort Frontline proved to be one of the best ideas that the mages had ever come up with, but it was beginning to be less effective. The monsters were seeking out people, and to get to most of these people, they would usually end up going through Frontline first. That stopped being such a reliable outcome, though. For reasons no one could tell from this end of the broken portal, starting around 2077, monsters were coming in faster, and more abundantly. Experts still weren’t sure exactly what was on the other side or even what these things were—and no one was brave enough to investigate—so there was really no way to know what was causing the influx, but it could prove to be a problem.

The Fort Frontline method was no longer good enough on its own. The monsters were simply going around the fort, and not because they were becoming smart enough to avoid it, but because there were too many of them now, and they didn’t exactly travel in a single file line. Fortunately, there was a simple solution to this. All they would need to do was build a second military outpost. The tenth town, insomuch as it was a town, would be called Fort Salient. It was built closest to the portal ring than anyone ever thought it was possible to survive. While it was a crapshoot where on that ring a monster appeared, they did seem to come through more often on the Southwest side. So that was where Fort Salient sat, within clear view of the ring. It was the first thing these monsters saw, so they always went right for it. The strongest fighters in Fort Frontline, and elsewhere, were assigned there. If you were posted at Salient, it meant that the source mages saw potential in you. They wanted you to fight in the war until its bitter end, and there wasn’t a question whether that would happen, only when. Seers were predicting the end of the war, but seers are always purposefully vague. They’ll only give you enough information to make it to your destiny. If they just laid it all out on a roadmap, you would probably try to change it, and screw everything up. Some people interpreted this omen to mean they needed to go on the offensive, instead of just defending themselves, and Fort Salient became the first staging ground for these battles. This was when it turned back into a true war, complete with damage to infrastructure, and casualties. Some called this year the beginning of the end of the Protectorate, but most agree that it would have fallen much sooner if not for the brave men and women who fought here.

Microstory 807: Shower Scum

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I was never the kind of person to claim that I was living my best life, or that I didn’t make any mistakes, or that I was happy with how all of my relationships turned out. But I think I ultimately did okay with the cards I was dealt. If I ever thought I could have stood to keep a few friends from the old days, my experience earlier today has relieved me of that sentiment. The first to show up at my house was Bobby. He and I were the best of friends in grade school, but when I realized that I was always interested in what he had to say, and he was never interested in my thoughts, I decided I had to break it off. I hadn’t spoken to him in nearly a decade when he just knocked on my door, and invited himself in, as if we had made brunch plans. I was so stunned, I didn’t even have the mental capacity to ask him what he was doing here, let alone kick him out. As soon as I closed the door, the bell rang again. It was my worst enemy in high school, who used to torture me incessantly, for no reason but his own psychological insecurities. Time had not been kind to the space between us, and I still hate him as much as I now hate Bobby. Again, he walked in and passed me, like he belonged there, and the two of them started chatting it up. I demanded to know who they thought they were, and they just gave me this look like I was the crazy one. The doorbell rang again, and it was my first supervisor when I worked at the grocery store. Now, he probably thought we were on pretty good terms, I’ll give him that. I had to pretend to like him, though, to keep from losing my job. He was actually a completely unaware despicable human being, who used to treat the girls at the store so disgustingly. I had always regretted not standing up to his sexual harassment, but maybe some higher force was giving me that opportunity. Had I won some kind of lottery I didn’t know about, or did I accidentally pray to God one time, and just forgot about it? One my one, two by two, and so on, more and more people came, and all of them terrible people. Eventually, I gave up trying to figure what the deal was, and just decided to be patient.

The trend continued as every single person who came in was someone I despised to some degree, and generally wished I would never have to interact with again. They didn’t act like they felt the same about me, which made sense for some, but was unbelievable for others. Then the last girl walked in without ringing. It was Carly Braddock. I had been in love with her all through since the seventh grade, but never said anything. We slept together once just a few months ago, after we bumped into each other at the library. I was so nervous about finally getting close to her after all this time, that I acted like a jerk, and haven’t felt like I could contact her again. She greeted me warmly, and rubbed her belly with a knowing smile, completely ignoring the fact that I had blown her off. I immediately felt bad for noticing that she appeared to have gained a little weight. As much as I hate myself, I’m not supposed to be that shallow. As I was trying to shake off my untoward thoughts by trying to enjoy what was shaping up to be a party, I realized what was happening. I had just died. Yes, I suddenly remembered everything about the teacup, and the fire, and the bridge. But I hadn’t gone to heaven, or hell. This was limbo. To my right were all the people I hated in my life, and to my left was the girl of my dreams, along with a future baby that I desperately wanted. Now all I needed to do was determine whether I was being given the choice of which afterlife I would have for eternity, or if it had already been made for me, and this was simply a cruel form of torture.

Microstory 718: Burn the Book of Ivanka

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A rather recent taikon called for the retirement of the Book of Light. This involved three stages of ceremony meant to establish a deep reverence for its words, allowing us to move forward, while remembering the past for what it is. Upon discovering the Ring of Culture, and beginning to learn its secrets, we now understand the lies Sotiren Zahir and Eido Ivanka told us. We have placed both the latter, and the resurrection of the former in exile on a private jarl world that was long ago abandoned. We still don’t know what we’re going to do with them, though Highlightseers and galaxy leaders are weighing our options. Their exact location remains unknown to most, for their safety, and for everyone else’s. Unlike the retirement of a divine book, the taikon calls simply for the Book of Ivanka to be burned. Now that we know how terrible of a person Ivanka is, and always was, we realize we cannot do what we did with the Book of Light. A retirement still allows those words to be read and taught. This we cannot allow when it comes to the Book of Ivanka, which was written out of hate, and a thirst for power. We need something permanent...irreversible. One suggestion was to round up every hard copy of the book, and destroy it, while ordering all who own the book to delete it from their virtual readers. This would be impractical, of course, and we could never really know whether every copy was gone. Others suggested we disseminate a virus to destroy the virtual copies, but that still doesn’t account for the hard copies, nor would it work for any device removed from the data network. No, the only way to do this would be to use powerful technology we’ve never been able to control before. For the last eight years, scientists have been studying quantum phenomena, like the quantum darkness, and the Forces of Virtue, of which there is still one left. An elite team of researchers believe that they have come up with a satisfying solution. We will spread a virus across the galaxy to destroy Ivanka’s words. But unlike a computer virus, it will be able to reach every single copy—in any form—whether connected to the network or not. Hard copies will even dissolve until the pages are illegible. Hard copies will even dissolve until the pages are illegible. Virtual formats will be corrupted, and completely unsalvageable. The time of the eidos is done. We are moving on to greater, and more rewarding, things, in a universe of equality and community.

Microstory 717: Find the Ring of Culture

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Like the other four Primary Rings, the Ring of Culture has always been a mystery. It was worn by Eido Ivanka when she was first in power during the founding of this galaxy. It is said that she hid it deliberately in order to either protect it from people, or people from it. The original final taikon in the Book of Light did not list its rediscovery as part of the prophecy. Instead, the one hundred and seventeenth was meant to establish Ivanka—or her replacement, had one been appointed—as ultimate successor to Sotiren Zahir, should the Sacred Savior die a second time. Ivanka was the principal actor against the introduction of the Book of Anseluka. Even today, she rejects its teachings, and is adamant about retaining our tradition through the original divine books. She has gone to great lengths pushing her own divine book, despite the new taikon’s prediction that it must soon be destroyed. Presumably fearing that we would find the Ring of Culture, Ivanka was caught trying to retrieve it from its original hiding place (which we would have never uncovered, by the way), and trying to destroy it. As it turned out, The Ring was full of damning evidence that the history of our galaxy is not what we believed. Analysts are still looking over the data, but we’ve learned the truth about a few things already. Sotiren did not ride the Light of Prospect to the “land of light”. He gained access to a repository of knowledge which had already completed extensive study of the Fostean galaxy, long before our ancestors had so much as thought of breaking away from the communists. Some evidence even suggests these surveys were done far deeper in the past, possibly before Lactea was seeded with life in the first place. We currently do not know how comprehensive this conspiracy goes, or whether any of the other eidos had any clue about it; though Andrea certainly knew something. Certain remarks by Peter Fireblood, and other detractors, now make more sense. Perhaps we all knew a little bit of the truth behind our faith, which we now realize to be little more than a bastardization of an old religion on Earth called Christianity. Maybe we are lucky this information did not come to light until now, though. We are already in the middle of reimagining our faith into something healthier, and more productive. We would never have been able to reach this point had we been so profoundly made foolish by Sotiren and Ivanka’s lies. Now we understand why the new taikon demand we burn the Book of Ivanka. While we doubted the point of this before, we now understand, and we cannot wait.

Microstory 707: Replace Eido Tadija

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Ladriane Nuvin first came on the radar of the Highlightseers when she applied to sacrifice herself by maintaining a hold of the Scales of Tamsin the Judge, which were said to burn anyone who attempted to use them improperly. She lost out to Isaura Peak, but was later chosen to read the introductory passage of the Book of Anseluka when it was first opened. She then volunteered to read the entirety of the Book of Light during its retirement ceremony. Her dedication and will made her a perfect candidate to replace Tadija as new eido of the galaxy. In fact, the Highlightseers considered no one else for the position. The original eido, Tadija was the one who first wore the Ring of Expansion. Sacred Savior, Sotiren Zahir knew that she was the only one who could be entrusted with it. Her personality prevented her from using such a powerful weapon carelessly. She would only ever wield it under dire circumstances, when nothing else would solve the problem, and when all believe it to be nothing more than a lost cause. She lived and died having never used it once, with those closest to her claiming that she never so much as hinted at the temptation to use it. She was characterized as being humble, quiet, and observant. She spoke little, instead relying on others to come to their own conclusions through empathy and support. Tadija had a beautiful speaking voice, and a linguistic inventory charming enough to turn a bairaz vegetarian. Ladriane might as well be her clone, for her friends describe her the same way. Anyone who listened to her recite the Books of Anseluka and Light could attest to her soothing angelic voice. She was given the Ring of Expansion to carry with her as the new eido, but rejected it. She requested it to either be hidden once more, or destroyed for good. As the official new owner, she had the right to choose which fate the ring would have, and she ended up choosing the latter. It has since been jettisoned into the same star that took the Club of Death.

Microstory 703: Force of Hope

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The entire galaxy listened intently as a young woman named Ladriane Nuvin read aloud from the Book of Anseluka. She was in contention to be the first to touch the Scales of Tamsin the Judge, losing to Isaura Peak by a small margin. After hearing what the book had to say, Fostea fell into a deep depression. We hastily signed a temporary ceasefire with our Thuriamen enemies. They gladly accepted our terms, leading us to believe that they were experiencing their own internal issues. For weeks, people went about their days without much interest. Everyone seemed to be feeling numb, living in a dreary haze world. We experienced no defectors from Lightseed, but little enthusiasm for the Light of Happiness either. It would appear that, though people continued to believe in the Light, they were disappointed by it, and no longer excited for the taikon to be fulfilled. Something had to change, and fortunately, the new taikon outlined in the Book of Anseluka predicted this would happen. Like the Force of Faith, a new quantum field began to distribute itself across the galaxy. Called the Force of Hope, it acted to reignite people’s optimism and fervor. Slowly, but still miraculously, Fosteans began to wake up, and start seeing this for what it is. We don’t need to treat this bitterly, or with such frustration. Here we have this new divine book, with a new set of instructions. And we haven’t been reading it over and over again for the last several hundred years. This can get us out of our funk, and remove the burden of predictability. We’ve spent so much time coming up with all the ways the taikon might manifest, now we have the chance to experience them with no preconceived notions. It was hard to see the Light of Truth when you thought you already knew everything about it. Now that we see there are still things to be learned and discovered, the Light of Life can be seen in its true glory. Be hopeful, my friends. It is a new day, and the end of the ceasefire is rapidly approaching. It is time we start thinking about how we want the galaxy to be run once the taikon are achieved—and they will be achieved. We must have hope.