Microstory 2729: Mobile Command Center

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Pribadium!One didn’t really wait nearly a month to get back to her alternate self in the cell. She just wanted Pribadium!Two to think that she was going to be in there for that long, so she would be more grateful when the conversation restarted after only a few days. They’re back here now, on either side of the clear plasma barrier.

“Tell me the problem,” Pribadium!One prompts. “Why can’t I use my tech?”

“It’s not that you can’t use our tech, full stop,” Pribadium!Two begins. “It’s that you can’t cross any dimensional barriers. As I was saying before, the new parallel reality was created from a brane collision. That is an entirely different beast than the anti-paradox reality generation that the other parallels went through. We’re skirting at the very edge of the quintessential membrane. Parts of this reality are actually inside, including your lab, which is why time is frozen here.”

Pribadium!One balks. “What are you talking about? Time is frozen?”

“You didn’t notice?” Pribadium!Two questions. “What have you been doing?”

“Not using my tech!” Pribadium!One argues. “You told me not to!”

“I thought you would at least try to diagnose the issue!” Pribadium!Two groans. “Time and metabolism have halted. Sora could stay here forever, and never age or die. The entirety of Gatewood is completely inaccessible to the rest of the universe, even within this same reality. The most recent interstellar cycler has lost all navigational frames of reference. It’s like the star system vanished. That’s why I’m trying to get you to not cross any more barriers. It could split it even more, and cause even more chaos.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely a possibility,” Pribadium!One agrees. It could obviously be a problem, but it could also be an opportunity. Her alternate self would have known that, which is why she didn’t warn her about the dangers straight away. She needn’t worry, though. This Pribadium will do her due diligence. She will not only find a way out of this, but make the most out of their unique position. “So what do we do? What did you come here to do? Get us out of the pocket of quintessence? Pull the realities back together? Kill every alt of yours until you become the fabled One?”

Pribadium!Two shakes her head. “I’m here to sever the connection.”

“The connection between realities? To what end?”

Pribadium!Two is quiet. Perhaps their point of divergence wasn’t too dramatic. They still had the same neurological wiring. They would’ve come up with the same ideas.

Pribadium!One nods. “You don’t just want to cut the link. You want to control it. You want to create a pocket universe, like the Sixth Key, but less crowded.”

Pribadium!Two still says nothing, but they have the same poker face.

“But you can’t do that as long as this pocket of space is connected to reality, even a parallel. And if I cross over to another dimension, it won’t work. Our pocket will probably just slip back fully into the membrane, and the advantage will disappear.”

Pribadium!Two sighs. “You know me too well.”

“That’s why it was so tough for you to get here, and why you barely made it,” Pribadium!One guesses. “You had to brute force your way in without breaking the seal.”

“Don’t you see what this means?” Pribadium!Two asks. “This wouldn’t be the only pocket universe in existence, but it would be the first free-floating miniature brane that we know of. It would be mobile. We could go anywhere in the bulk.”

“Like a spaceship.” Interesting suggestion...but what about all the people?

Microstory 2719: Previously...on Gatewood

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About six light years from Earth, in the direction of the constellation Ophiuchus, there is a small red dwarf named Barnard’s Star. Four planets orbit the host, and since they are all so close to it, they are affectionately known as hot rockies. Due to its local inhospitability and its proximity to Earth, it was assigned a very special job. Earth is the seed and heart of life and civilization. Everything in the Sol system belongs to those who live there. Until Castlebourne came along, it was assumed that Sol would remain the central hub of the galaxy. It only makes sense. In order to preserve their resources, early colonial coordinators decided that Barnard’s Star would be a giant celestial junkyard.

For centuries, the Core Worlds have enjoyed a post-scarcity economy, where every basic need is met, along with many not-so-basic needs. It is entirely plausible and easy to live quiet comfortably without spending a proverbial dime. But it is still an economy, and it is based on a currency of energy credits. Every day, each citizen accumulates a baseline amount of credits, just by existing. Many leave these credits in their private accounts, and don’t do anything with them. Others donate to those in need—not those who need it to survive, but those who want something more.

If you find someone to donate their credits to you, or if you contribute positively to society, you can earn extra credits. Citizens elect the legislators who determine how much a contribution is worth, but it doesn’t really have to have all that much technical value. You could be, hypothetically speaking, the worst painter in the world, but if you paint a piece of art, and provide it to the public, you have made a positive contribution. Even if no one likes it, it is something that you created and provided, so it counts, and you will receive credits for that. It probably won’t be much, but it will at least blip above the baseline. Bigger contributions lead to bigger payouts, and importantly, combining credits with others results in a total that is more than the sum of its parts. Because sharing and cooperation are, on their own, considered positive contributions.

Since most amenities are provided by the state for free, what do energy credits give you? They can pay for two major things: building something at significant scale, or traveling somewhere of significant distance. That is precisely why Barnard’s Star was chosen as the junkyard. It is relatively close, so getting there is fairly easy, and once you’re there, you can go just about anywhere else. There is always an interstellar cycler on its way there, so you won’t have to wait long. You spend your credits on a ticket to the junkyard, and then you’re free to apply for your own transportation. Upon approval, rather than using up Sol’s resources, you take what raw materials you need from Barnard’s Star. The celestial bodies which orbit it are called the Gatewood Collective.

Very few entities live in the Gatewood Collective on a permanent basis. Most are waiting for their applications to go through, or are actively engineering their vessels. These parties may range from an individual to entire fleets of colonists. Only the staff stick around. It’s there job to decide who gets what, and to make sure colonists are doing what they’re meant to be doing. They are the coordinators and the police. All of this stuff is mostly free, so there is no reason to be greedy, and more to the point, there is no reason to stay for any longer than you have to. Build what you need, then bug out.

Not everyone follows these terms, even if they agreed to them before they left their prior homes. That is where the police contingency comes in. So far, it’s been mostly okay; just a few conflicts. Definitely nothing major. There are hundreds of billions of stars in this galaxy alone. It’s perfectly reasonable to expect one of them to be limited to this one use. As previously stated, the planets are far too difficult to colonize. It’s not entirely impossible, but it’s fundamentally ludicrous. And yet, some are trying.

Another six light years from Barnard’s Star is another red dwarf called Ross 154. There is nothing special about it either, so there wasn’t any interest in colonizing it. In the middle of the 25th century, construction began on a stellar shotgun around Ross 154. This was no weapon, though. It was designed to harvest the violent forces of the flare star, feeding into a massive capacitor. It took about half a century to build, and about another half to charge. Once the energy was at its peak, they fired the weapon, not towards Barnard’s Star, but those four hot rockies. The pulse is traveling at the speed of light, which means it will take years for them to arrive. In preparation for this, all other shipbuilding has been relegated to safer regions of Gatewood.

Once the pulses hit their marks, each target will break apart in a matter of only a few days. Anything attempting to live on it will be utterly destroyed. The whole reason it took so long for them to build the stellar shotgun in the first place is so they could run extremely extensive tests on the possibility of life on the hot rockies. They found none. Even extremophiles don’t want to live here. But some humans do. A group of refugees from Proxima Doma made their way to the Gatewood Collective after their own planet suffered a world ending cataclysm. They came to find a new home, and they didn’t want to go far. They were told that Barnard’s Star was the perfect destination, but they failed to recognize or respect the rules. They want to stay here, which would already set a dangerous precedent, but not only that; they want to live on a planet, as they had before.

It’s not everyone. Plenty of migrants from Doma have come, and started work on their ships. Many didn’t bother coming this direction at all. Gatewood is more for people who want to leave the stellar neighborhood. The majority of the refugees wanted to stay close by, and since the destruction of their homeworld was not their fault, the government agreed to ferry them anywhere within 25 light years.

This one small group of rebels, however, don’t like that Barnard’s Star is only meant to be a pitstop. They think that the legislators should treat it like any other Core star. But if they had, there would be no conflict. If they had given it the same colonial designation, no one would have wanted to live here; not if they were so gung-ho on planets. They are all uninhabitable, and the star itself is nothing special. They only want it because they can’t have it. And that is no good reason at all.

The pulses have been sent, and there is no stopping them. The reason it’s taking so long is because of how powerful they are. They’re designed to obliterate planets. Even if the government wanted to back out of this mission, they would be physically incapable of it. The process has already begun. They’re just waiting for the results to come in, and it will not be long now. Chief Asset Manager, Pribadium Delgado should not be entertaining these people’s complaints. If they don’t leave Barnard’s Star e in the next few weeks, they are going to die. That is a certainty. Now, she could remove them forcibly, but that would be a PR disaster. Squatter’s rights were a thing back on Earth when there was such a thing as homelessness, and they still exist today, just on greater scales. Simply landing on their tiny little settlement is incredibly taxing thanks to the heat and terrain. But here she is, trying to negotiate a peaceful solution. The former Domanians are not having it. And now, they’re trying to take her hostage. Hilarious.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 15, 2559

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When no one else stepped up, Marie decided to choose their next destination. She consulted the bulk map, and cross-referenced it with an updated copy of the central archives, landing on a colony once more thanks to its funny name. The database listed it as the Patsy Richelieu Best First Quarter Star. Not even Ramses or Leona understood why it would be called that, and they decided not to bother trying to figure it out before they left. It seemed innocuous enough. They weren’t going unprepared, however. Ramses designed a go-bag filled with essential survival items, like multitools, a first aid kit, and a dayfruit starter pack. It also contained hardened, but dormant and shielded, electronics in case they ran into another issue. The chances of what happened on the last planet happening again weren’t high, but they were not zero. He wanted to be prepared. Romana wanted to carry it, still feeling guilty about last time.

They slung to the coordinates, finding themselves falling towards some kind of planet. “Not habitable,” Mateo announced, looking at his sensors. “Not naturally.”

“I’m not picking up any artificial structures on the surface,” Leona said, “but we can’t see the other side. Still, there are no radio signals, which makes some sense. It’s a super-terrestrial. The surface gravity is highly variable, but about 8.7G.”

“Maybe we ought to jump to that manmade object up there,” Angela warned, “unless we want to plummet to our deaths in the atmosphere.”

They jumped to the ship, but not inside of it. Leona cleared her throat after she opened a channel. “Orbiting vessel. This is Captain Leona Matic of Team Matic. We mean you no harm. Could we have permission to board?”

A woman’s voice replied, “come on in! I made bundt cake!”

An airlock opened. They floated inside, and waited for the hatch to close behind them, then for the airlock to repressurize. The inner door opened.

The woman was waiting for them, holding her plate. She was wearing a white tank top and a tennis skirt, like an off-duty college cheerleader. “Welcome to our home, new friends. My name is Patsy Richelieu. I’m in charge around here.” She took another bite. “How did you arrive? My logs didn’t record someone using the quantum terminal, though it is open to public access, so maybe I set the preferences wrong. I’m not an engineer.”

“I can check it out for you,” Ramses offered. “You probably have it set right. We came in through a nearby terminal, then flew here manually.”

“Oh, what fun,” Patsy decided. “Hungry?”

“We could eat,” Mateo answered. Everyone out here just wanted some intelligent connection, didn’t they? No one needed saviors or rescuers. Just good old fashioned human conversation. “Could we ask...the name of your star?”

“Oh, haha,” Patsy began as she was leading them down the corridors. I started a new job as a saleswoman in July of 2026. I had no experience; even fibbed a little on my résumé, but I was a natural talent. I had the best first quarter on the job of anyone in company history at the time. My boss awarded me with this star at the company retreat.”

“Oh, it was one of those name-a-star scams. I mean—sorry,” Leona apologized. “You obviously managed to convert it into a real claim after five hundred years.”

Patsy giggled. “Don’t you fret. I thought it was stupid at the time too, but it did mean something, because the company didn’t approve it. My boss had to pay for it with her own money, and the closer stars are much more expensive. They made me feel at home, which I honestly didn’t expect. I had been searching for a job, not a career. I ended up retiring from that same position after 44 years of service. Do you know money? Were you alive back then?”

“We were,” Marie answered.

Patsy nodded, then went on, “then humanity invented AI, net positive fusion, and anti-aging technologies, and it started to feel less ridiculous. Over the centuries, I kept this place in the back of my mind, and once Project Stargate reached this far into the galaxy, I decided I might as well lay claim to what a piece of paper and a $250 bill said I already owned.” It didn’t validate the entire scam, but at least this one person got what she paid for. Pretty cheap for an entire solar system. It looked like there was nothing for them to do here either, though. Their new paradigm of not being useful would continue. They could eat cake, and that was about it. Nevertheless, if this woman was lonely, maybe that would be enough.

As they were following her down the corridors, they started to hear chatter. A set of doors slid open, revealing a huge crowd of people in a mess hall, also wearing surprisingly sexy outfits, and also eating cake. They started cheering, and saying things like “hey, Patsy! and “Patsy’s back!”

“Forgive me,” Leona began, “but are they NPCs? I don’t mean to be rude.”

“No, they’re independent,” Patsy assured them. I have a lot of friends. I’m very friendly. I met most of these people on the quantum boards. They all wanted to do something weird, and there’s nothing weirder than living around a star called Patsy Richelieu Best First Quarter. Like I was saying, I have an open-door policy.”

“So, you don’t need anything?” Mateo pressed. “Everyone’s okay?”

“Yeah, why? What did you hear?” Patsy asked as she was licking the last of the frosting off of her fork.

“Nothing. That’s just what we do, going around making sure the colonies are all right,” Mateo answered.

She smiled, as she twirled the fork against her teeth. “Why, you’re even friendlier than I am, aren’t ya?” She faced her people. “Hey, everyone! These guys are part of some kind of volunteer colony outreach program! Isn’t that sweet!”

They cheered again.

“Well, we don’t need anything,” Patsy explained, “but we could always use a few more smiling faces. That’s the only rule. You have to smile.”

The seven of them kind of already thought they were smiling, but they forced themselves to make it more blatant.

“We’ll work on it,” Patsy decided. “Go, sit down. It’s time to eat!”

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Extremus: Year 133

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It has been months since the paradigm shift, and the Extremus is thriving like it never has before. Waldemar has been living as a completely different person than he was. His ability—or curse, rather—to absorb other people’s psychic darkness is entirely gone. He only trusted one medical professional with this information, and it’s because he had to. She said she doesn’t know what caused it. She doesn’t know if it’s permanent either. They checked the sensors. If anyone did this to him on purpose, they did it remotely, perhaps remotely in time, or in space. He wants to be mad. He wants to call it a violation, but that’s the old him. He doesn’t want to hurt people anymore. He doesn’t want to throw people in the brig. And that is what he’s calling it still. What happened to him, it doesn’t change the fact that the traditional word has always been more logical. It doesn’t change who he is in every single sense. He still holds many of the same beliefs.

Waldemar is not reversing every decision he’s made, but he’s trying to put things right. He’s better—he believes that now—but he doesn’t hate who he once was. He understands it better, and unlike in the beginning, he is no longer actively trying to go backwards. He accepts his new reality, even though it’s scary every day just to wake up.

Some people are upset. They’re not all entirely upset about the decisions themselves, just that they’re reversals. He’s basically putting the ship back to how he found it. No, he’s almost putting it back to the pre-Jennings days, when Tinaya was captain. Oh, Jennings. Waldemar has killed people. Here’s the thing, if was totally cured of his problem, he would confess to his actual, unambiguous crimes, wouldn’t he? But he has no plans to do that. He’s not even telling anyone about them, even though it might be pertinent to his new situation. He used to have a drive to kill—not like some serial killer, but it was always an option if he needed it. Now he doesn’t want it at all. Now he has a strong aversion to it. A part of him regrets those past actions, but he still remembers why he crossed those lines. He was protecting himself, and honestly, the Extremus. What good would it do to throw himself in the brig now, and risk someone even worse than him coming in as a replacement. No. Stay in charge, just do better.

He is no longer trying to figure out what happened to him, or if it can be undone. He mostly fends off his critics. That’s a big downside. He has lost a lot of support, which he’ll need if he decides to move forward with the secret master plan. The people who didn’t like him before were either in the brig or better about hiding. Just because he’s let them out doesn’t mean they’re grateful and happy. And the people who agreed that the old critics should be there are now mad that they’re not. He can’t win; not since he didn’t start out this way. It’s his mother’s fault. She made him this way. If you have a curse, you don’t risk passing it on to a kid. You leave it as it is. That’s really why he killed her, and if he regrets nearly all of his kills, that one will remain an exception. She had to go. She was hopeless. But then again, so was Waldemar, and look how that has turned out. Every once in a while he grows terribly curious about who might be responsible.

Sable may be a good candidate. She’s special. She’s special and powerful. He doesn’t know how, but there’s definitely something different about her. He has a strong memory of killing her too, but then she was totally fine the next day. He wrote it off as only a dream, but what if it wasn’t? What if she has actual temporal powers, and is the one who changed him? Now his curiosity is returning. Should he confront her, or simply continue to accept the gift? He has to be strong. If he starts playing with fire, he will get burned. He doesn’t want to change now anymore than he wanted to change before, even though that change was good. Stay the course. Save lives. Thrive.

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Microstory 2696: Rabbit’s Heart

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In the real North, it was not unheard of for a widower to take a new wife rather quickly for logistical reasons. He could not sustain the rest of the family without help, even with older children. Gia thought that Ronan was giving her a gift when he took her and her child in, but she was giving him just as much back. She didn’t just stay for one day and do a few chores. She made a meaningful contribution to that day’s needs, and the next day, she did it again. In only a few weeks, it made sense for them to make it official. They would not have done it in the outside world, but marriage was expected of them here. The NPCs would not have liked it any other way. The marriage was quick and simple, but they danced, they drank, and they were merry. That was not exactly how it would have been done back on Earth, but it’s the way it has to be. Neither of them has any extended family. They could have signed up for that scenario, but chose a different lifestyle so they wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else, or too much infrastructure.

They are the founders of a brand new clan, or at least that’s what they hope. They don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but it’s the plan. Ronan was originally going to do this with Mayumi, but that doesn’t mean things have to change. Gia is a wonderful woman, and since the small wedding, he has grown to love her too. Is it as much as his love for Mayumi? Who’s to say? But it’s real. Ronan loves Isavet as well, and Gia loves Vith and little Talus. They have become great siblings together. They can be wild and mischievous, but Ronan knows that they would never do anything bad. Talus is old enough now that he should be getting some of his memories back. He should be starting to become who he always was.

Ronan hasn’t been pushing him. He’s just letting Talus be a kid. It’s a very delicate situation, the way his brain is right now. He could start to be very confused with the cognitive dissonance of growing up on a spaceship originally, and also growing up in a world where they could never even dream of such wondrous technologies. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it’s the least ethical decision they ever could have made. No. They talked about it a lot, and it can’t be undone anyway. If the original Talus is gone, and this new Talus is a completely different person, then that’s going to be okay. He’s still a very good boy, and that’s what matters. It’s what he wanted for himself; a new life.

Gia is in the house now with Isavet. Ronan believes that they are washing clothes. Talus is nowhere to be found, but that’s not unheard of. It’s not entirely out of character for how Talus was before, but it’s not entirely like him either. Young Talus does this all the time. He always comes back home safe and sound. They let him do whatever he feels he needs to. The world is dangerous, but it will make him a man to learn to be self-reliant. He is allowed to exert as much independence as he feels he must. But it’s been a couple days longer than usual, and Ronan and Vith are worried. They’re walking through the woods, following the signs Talus has made. Vith kneels down, and carefully moves some leaves out of the way. “Blood,” he whispers.

Now Ronan is very worried. They follow this new trail until they come across an alcove. It’s a horrific scene. They see cave drawings on the wall, which depict violent acts from stick figures, but it is all drawn in blood. Ronan reaches up towards one, but doesn’t touch it. “The lines are too narrow to have been made by a grown man’s fingers.”

“The rabbits, father,” they hear Talus’ voice behind them. “There is something wrong with them. They don’t squeal, and they don’t have any hearts.”

Extremus: Year 131

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Silveon is depressed and missing his best friend. He doesn’t know what Audrey is doing, or even if she’s okay. They can’t communicate. Just opening up the mini-Nexus is a risk. It is the last thing that they want Captain Kristiansen knowing about. He doesn’t regret his decision, breaking her out of hock, and sending her away. It was the right thing to do. It’s still hard, feeling like he’s all alone now. His mother’s gone, his father’s gone, and now Audrey. They knew each other for over a hundred years, and fought side by side for more than half as long. That is what makes it sad, but also what makes it okay. A lot of people don’t get a partner nearly as fulfilling as Audrey. It was great; it’s over now. He has no choice but to move on, and keep himself occupied with the work.

He is still serving as the Captain’s personal steward, though their relationship has transformed into a more professional dynamic, rather than the friendship they started with. Silveon is losing his grip on Waldemar’s ankle, which allows Waldemar to run off and start making his own choices. Looking back, this was inevitable. He’s growing up and growing out of the way he was before. That’s what everyone does, to some degree. Silveon himself is no exception. He doesn’t want to give up, but there was only ever so much he could do. Since they made the conscious decision not to kill him, at some point, they have to accept the cards that they’ve been dealt. The thing about this timeline, as it was in the first one, is that no one man can take control over everything. The reason he was able to garner so much support from the populace was that they gave it to him. That hasn’t changed. He may be lying to them in a way, but they’re choosing to believe it.

If the crew and passengers don’t want things to fall apart, they have to take responsibility over that. This is something that Silveon and Audrey didn’t even think about. They thought it was all on them, but that’s too much pressure. Just contemplating all of this now, Silveon is wondering if sending Aud to go find her own happiness is exactly what he should do too. He has no plans to travel to Verdemus, but does he really need to be a steward, or Waldemar’s steward? Has he not done enough, in all this time? He’s so exhausted. A part of him thinks that anyone else would have walked away by now. Again, it was never all on them. There was another possible way to tackle this problem, by formulating a resistance early on, and being truthfully vocal about Waldemar’s destiny. They elected not to do it that way, and the opportunity has passed him by now, but it would have been a hell of a lot less work, in the end.

“Hey.” It’s Sable. They can’t trust her anymore. Or rather, he should say that he can’t, because now there’s no one left. Lataran is old, and like his parents before, genuinely does need to be able to take a step back. Sable is just weird, and she has her own agenda. “I just wanted to check on you. It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken.”

“Nothing to speak about,” he replies. He didn’t tell her where Audrey was. He opted to not even come up with a cover story. She just disappeared, and it’s an unsolved mystery. Waldemar came up with his own cover about her wanting to step out of the spotlight, so to anyone else on Extremus thinking about it, she’s somewhere around here at all times, just not where any given person happens to be looking at the moment.

She sighs. “I know that you and I were never really close, and we’ve lost a lot of trust, but I’m still on your side. I hope you know that. And to prove it, I’ll show you what I’ve been working on.” She acts like she’s going to access an auxiliary interface, but suddenly pulls a gun out of her pocket and shoots Silveon on the right side of his chest.

As he’s bleeding out, he sees Sable split in two. One version of her lifts her hands up, and gradually pulls them towards her shoulders. The bullet flies out of Silveon’s chest, and back into the gun as the wound seals itself up. The two versions of her then remerge into one. She has just somehow reversed time, and also entropy. He still remembers the pain, though. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I couldn’t always,” Sable explains. “It’s not all I can do either. The rest of your support system is gone. Not only do I know that you sent Audrey to Verdemus, but I also know that she’s dead. I can take you to the funeral without anyone knowing. We can walk right up there, and then basically trim that whole span of time out of the ship’s collective knowledge, replacing it with something more mundane. But you have to trust me, and you have to let me in. This is the last time I ask you. I will never be on Waldemar’s side, but if you don’t agree to me being your new partner right now, I won’t be on yours anymore either. I am sorry it had to come to this.”

Silveon looks at her for a moment while he massages his chest. “Fine.”

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Extremus: Year 129

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Audrey Husk is sitting in hock. Yes, that’s right, that’s what she’s calling it. That’s what everyone calls it. No one uses the new terminology that Waldemar instituted, except to his face. It’s a new problem in this timeline. He didn’t do that before, because he didn’t have anyone trying to steer him in a different direction. The language policing was a way to exert his control when more destructive ways were off limits to him. Those barriers are breaking down, though. Audrey and Silveon’s hold over him has been slowly eroding, and his true nature is coming out. They didn’t want to believe it. They wanted to believe that anyone could be a positively contributing member of society, no matter their brain chemistry. But she is beginning to doubt that. She has to, because if she maintains her philosophy of seeing the good in everyone then it means the reason their plan didn’t work was either because they had a bad plan, or they didn’t execute it well.

Either way, it’s over now. She’s done fighting. Or rather, she’s done not fighting, because this subtle psychic driving bullshit is not working. Out of all the contingencies they came up with, none of them involved being an outspoken detractor or enemy. They thought he needed to be finessed. But that just encourages him. Everything they’ve done has encouraged him. She’s glad she’s in here now. It has given her multiple chances to give him a piece of her mind without fear of repercussions. She’s already at the lowest point in her life. The only place to go from here, other than up, is death. She doesn’t welcome it, but at least she won’t actually die. She’ll spend some time in the buffer, then she’ll answer yes to the question, and wait on ice for ninety to a hundred years. When she gets back, Waldemar’s reign will be over. He may have revived too by then, but he will have gone down in history as a terrible captain, so she won’t be alone anymore. That’s the future she wants to see. She might prefer it. She may go that route anyway.

 Silveon walks casually into her cell like he’s just come home from work.

“What are you doing here?” Audrey questions. “You are going to get caught.”

“Master codes, remember?” Silveon reminds her. “I didn’t only unlock the doors. I also took care of the security system.” He holds his hand out towards her.

“What are you doing? What is that? You want me to go with you? Where would we go? We’re on a ship, there is no escape. That’s why I didn’t use the master codes to break out last year. You think I didn’t memorize what I needed just in case?”

“I think you told me you had a plan, and I’ve been waiting for you to fulfill it, but you’ve not done a single thing, so now we’re doing it my way. Let’s go,” he insists.

Audrey shakes her head, and turns her body away from his offering hand. “No. I have been moving forward with my plan. I’ve been arguing with Waldemar. I don’t mean I’ve been trying to get him to see the light. I’ve been calling him an asshole, and a tyrant, and really letting him have it. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about you, or say anything about the future. I just acted like a bitter ex-wife, which is basically what I am.”

“Aud. You’re going to die in here. You’re going to die in hock, and there was another way. Let me send you to Verdemus. He will never find out. You can even—”

“Don’t say it.” Audrey closes her eyes and breathes. “Don’t...don’t even say her name. She is being cared for, and I can’t leave. Please respect my wishes.”

Silveon agrees and leaves, but then he comes back when she’s sleeping, knocks her out with a drug, and drags her to the mini-Nexus in Admiral Hall. She will never forgive him for this violation.

She wakes up on the green grass outside. Green!Audrey is the one who helps her wake up. “Welcome home. Would you like to meet your daughter, Silvia?”

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Microstory 2682: Seeing The Whole Thing

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Resi can see the future, there is no longer any doubt in his heart about that. The problem is that, no matter how hard he tries, he has been unable to return to the vision he twice had of the eruption of Central Mountain. Brooke has her special techy spaceship, which she used to study the volcano, which said that nothing about it suggests it’s going to become active anytime soon. That is more worrisome than anything, because if Brooke is right, and Resi is also right, then something insane and unpredictable is going to happen that changes the equation. The trick is determining what that might be, and Resi thinks he may know why the answer isn’t coming to him. As of now, all of his predictions are sourced from past and present data. They’re still supernatural, for lack of a better term, but he’s not just randomly pulling information that doesn’t exist yet. He has to anchor it to something that is real. He doesn’t have to be physically touching an object to know what’s going to become of it, but it sure helps.

The fact is, Resi has nothing been very close to the mountain before. It just hasn’t been a meaningful aspect of his life. The higher you go, the less arable the land is. He’s not one for backpacking. Some class projects have involved hiking it, or even climbing all the way to the summit, but he never ended up doing that. That seems to be something that has to happen now. Brooke offered him a ride to the top, but that might not be enough. What if the problem happens lower down, and just causes the eruption up top? What if there are clues along the way? She pointed out that there is too much acreage to cover, and he agreed, but he has to start somewhere, and it can’t be at the end. That’s what’s blocking his understanding of this terrible future. He keeps trying to skip to the end. Of course, that’s what it sounds like fortune-telling is, but again, he doesn’t think he can just tap a future date, and jump to it. He thinks he has to fast-forward. He doesn’t have to sit through it all in real time, but he does have to see it all. So he’s going on a trek. He’s finally going to see what all the fuss is about.

Brooke is gone now. She has other things to do with her life outside of Yana, and outside of Bungula. She charges him to keep quiet about what he learned about her, which will not be hard, because she hardly told him anything. He’s not going to be alone, though. Caprice and Chaya are both coming. They don’t think that they’re going to have any apocalyptic visions, too, but they want to help, and it’s safer for him to not be alone. If something bad happens, someone may need to call for rescue. They’re only a few kilometers into the journey. They’ve not even reached the switchbacks yet when Chaya informs them that someone has been following them the whole time.

“Okay!” Resi says quite loudly. “Spread out! Shoot anyone but each other!”

“No! Don’t do that!” Kartica comes out with her arms up.

“I was never going to. Don’t you know me yet?” Resi questions.

“I dunno, you may have changed, man,” Kartica points out.

“Why are you here?” Resi presses. “You weren’t invited.

“I know, but you need me. You’re going the wrong way.”

Caprice looks up. “I think we can see where the mountain is.”

“Yes, you’re going towards the mountain, and you’ll even be on a trail, but it won’t be the right trail,” Kartica insists. “The mountain...is basically a cone. If you’re trying to see the whole thing, the switchbacks will only keep you to one side of it.”

“What makes you think we’re trying to see the whole thing?” Resi asks her.

“Please.” Kartica is offended. “I’ve not taken my eye off of you since we met. I can show you where to go. It will give you a clearer picture. I want this more than anyone. I want it more than you. You were hesitant before, when I begged you to tell me what was going to happen. Don’t leave me out of it. Please.”

Resi stands there thinking about it. He takes a swig of his special medicine. It still isn’t curing him, but it’s treating his symptoms. It’s keeping him vertical. Unfortunately, he believes he may be experiencing diminishing returns, and it will stop doing anything at all, probably sooner than later. “Fine, you can help. But try not to commit suicide on the way, okay?”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Kartica claimed. “They locked me out of the respawn system. If I die, that’s it for me.”

Foreshadowing.

Microstory 2606: There But For the Grace of God Go I, Yet I May Be Next

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August 19, 2526. Comms Officer Jeffries is operating the auxiliary station when the call comes in. He presses the tentative emergency button before the message completes, then listens intently to the rest. We’re experiencing a major hyperflare! You need to prepare for what comes next! You need to prepare for— is all he catches before the signal is cut. It doesn’t matter what the guy was trying to say, because there are only a few possibilities, and none of them is good. He doesn’t get the chance to hit the genuine emergency button before someone else hits it for him. He’s only on secondary duty right now. Everyone else is working the problem as the whole of Terminator Sentinel Alpha goes into mauve alert. His daughter is his number one priority now.

Jeffries races out of the room, and down the corridors, sliding against the wall as other people are racing to their own responsibilities. He finds Breanna in their unit, already putting on her integrated multipurpose suit. He smiles at her. “Good girl.”

“What are we doing?” she asks.

“Crew of Sentinel Alpha,” comes the voice of the captain through the intercom, “we are preparing for a hard turn into the nightside of the planet. Brace for inertial dampener disruption. Everyone is at PREPCON ONE. I repeat, all hands to PREPCON ONE! This is not a drill.”

“That,” Officer Jeffries replies to his daughter. “Get your helmet on.”

“What about you?”

“I ran out of the room without it,” he explains.

“You should have an extra one in here,” she argues.

“It’s in maintenance.”

“Goddammit,” she complains.

“I just need to get you to safety,” is all he’s able to say before the inertial dampeners glitch. He’s suddenly thrown against the wall. IMS units have their own onboard dampeners. It doesn’t save Breanna from the lurch entirely, but she survives it. Her father does not. Well, he does survive for a moment. His head is covered in blood. He’s enhanced, but not enough. He should have been wearing his full suit. Why wasn’t he wearing his suit? “Get to the pod,” he instructs. “Get out of here. You need to get underneath the magnet.” And then he dies.

She knows she doesn’t have time to mourn him. He wouldn’t want her dying up here too. Her body is more advanced than his, but she can’t survive everything. She runs out of the room, and down the corridor until she reaches the escape pod bay. She has always thought that each unit should have their own, instead of all in central locations, but this is an old ship, and they didn’t think of that yet. All of the pods are gone save one. She bolts towards it, but another girl shows up at the same time from the other entrance. “Cashmere.”

Cashmere switches her gaze between the pod and Breanna. “They’re technically large enough to fit two people.”

“Not with helmets on,” Breanna argues. There’s another lurch, but their magboots keep them upright.

“You ever heard of sixty-nining?”

“Jesus! Not the time!”

“To save our lives, there absolutely is.” Cashmere doesn’t wait for consensus. She pushes Breanna into the pod. Then she gets on top of her facing the opposite direction, filling in the space between her Breanna’s legs with her helmet. “You gotta operate the controls.”

“I know,” Brenna argues. “This better work, or we’ll both die. Goddamn pods designed like goddamn coffins!” she mutters as she’s engaging the pod. She flips on the boosters, and jettisons the pod out of the bay. It flies from the ship at Mach 20. They can see the planet below them through their HUDs. “Beginning decay.”

“I can see that,” Cashmere says.

“I know, but you’re supposed to announce it. Didn’t you read the manual?”

“I’m waiting for the adaptation!”

“Just let me know if you pass out, okay?”

“Will do, captain.”

“Targeting the northern pole,” Breanna announces. “Twenty minutes until atmospheric drag.”

They lie there together for another few minutes, not saying anything, but just stewing in the awkwardness. Suddenly, alarms start going off. They no longer feel the soft curve of their arc, but the shudder of turbulence. “What happened?” Cashmere questions.

“The atmosphere is too close. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s expanded,” Cashmere guesses.

“How?” Breanna cries

“I don’t know!”

They begin to plummet like a stone, at a far steeper angle than they planned on. Their ablative shielding peels off piece by piece. It’s too early to pull the parachute, though. They have to wait until they’re closer to the surface. “Wait for it,” Breanna says. “Wait for it,” she repeats. “Brace for chute.”

“Oh, I don’t think we can brace any more than this.”

Breanna can’t rely on the computer to make the calculations as its estimation of the distance to the planet was about 500 kilometers off. She hovers her hand over the button, forcing her mind to stay alert so she doesn’t succumb to the g-forces. Finally, it’s time. “Now!”

The chute opens. The pod flips up so she’s fully upright, and Cashmere is upside down as they wait to complete the descent. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“There’s a dome not far from here. The thrusters will be able to push us close enough to it so we don’t have to walk far,” Breanna answers.

They fall and fall and fall, slowly, but certainly not gently. Her mental calculations are slightly off when it turns out they were actually a lot closer to the dome than she thought. They end up crashing into the side of it. The only reason they don’t slide down from there is because the chute gets caught on something. Now they’re hanging, and they don’t know what to do.

“Rescuers are gonna find us six months from now, and will think that we died having sex,” Cashmere mused.

“No, they won’t,” Breanna contends. “I’m gonna figure this out. Just...shut up.”

Microstory 2602: Hrockas Steward Stops at the Door and Waits

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Hrockas Steward stops at the door and waits. Renata just spent nine months in her chrysalis, but she wasn’t sleeping. It was a taxing and tiring ordeal, so she has had to sleep for nearly a day. She agreed to let Telman monitor her vitals constantly for the time being, and it is showing that she is awake again. He’s not sure if he should knock, though. Quidel’s tracker is showing at this location too, so they’re probably together. According to Telman, nothing is indicating that she’s undergoing strenuous activity the likes of which two people might do together in private, but it’s only been a day, so they’re still trying to establish her baseline.

Renata opens the door. “You know I can see you on my doorcam, right?”

“Sorry, I just didn’t wanna disturb you.” He can see inside her room, where Quidel is stretching, in a way that makes it look like they were only sleeping.

“It’s fine, I’m feeling much better now. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to give you a gift,” Hrockas explains.

She looks down at herself. “Isn’t my new substrate the gift?”

“Uh, no, that was ethically compulsory on our part. We destroyed your old one, and even if we hadn’t, they’re free.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t need a gift. I just wanna figure out what my life looks like now.”

“That’s what this gift is for.” As Renata steps off to the side, Hrockas looks over at Quidel. “Mister Jesperson, you’re welcome to tag along. It might affect you too.”

Quidel sits up with a yawn, then sticks his tongue out like he’s just tasted something unpalatable, but he’s really just still tired. He shuts his eyes, and falls back on the bed.

“I have a bit too much, uh...stamina for him,” Renata discloses.

“I see,” Hrockas says awkwardly.

She throws on a shirt and some pants. “Let’s go.”

Hrockas teleports them both to a hangar, about fifty meters from her gift, which is covered in a tarp. They start walking towards it. “Some friends of mine are upgrading their shuttles. There’s nothing wrong with the old ones, but the technology doesn’t quite fit their intergalactic missions. Instead of trying to cast yourself to another world, or spend extensive periods of time on cyclers, I thought maybe you would like a way to take shortcuts.” He snaps his fingers. The pulley system engages, and moves the tarp to reveal the purple beauty. “Renata Granger, may I introduce you to...The Aerie.”

Renata admires it. “This is for me?”

“I have no use for it myself. I’ll be on Castlebourne ‘til the stars burn out.”

“You said something about shortcuts?”

He nods. “Mm-hmm. You could reach Earth in about two months.”

A hatch opens, and a woman climbs out. “It’s called a reframe engine,” she says. She approaches the two of them. “Hi, I’m Brooke Prieto.” She shakes Renata’s hand, and then looks over at Hrockas. “Unfortunately, due to its small size, it can’t go at full reframe speeds. If you try to get back to Earth, it’s gonna take you about five years. It’s still better than a hundred and eight, though, right?” She grimaces a little.

“It’s fine with me.” Renata looks at Hrockas too. “I’m apparently immortal now.”

“That you are,” Hrockas agrees. “Anyway, I’ll let you two get acquainted. I have some other business to take care of, but don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Thank you, Steward Steward.”

He smiles. “No. Thank you.” He teleports away.

“Did you get everything squared away with Ren and the boy?” Azad asks.

“She’s got her ship. I think she’ll leave to explore the real world for a change. Castlebourne is a symbol of her entrapment, even if she isn’t conscious of that. I can’t imagine he won’t go with her.”

“That just leaves the Marshal,” Azad points out.

“Samani is a soldier,” Hrockas reasons. “He’ll fall in line. I don’t think he’ll be a problem. I don’t trust him enough to read him in, but if we ever have to use the thing, I doubt he’ll cause us problems.”

Azad nods. They’re silent for a moment.

“Did you figure out where the next component is?”

“Not for a fact, but all signs are pointing to Underbelly.”

“If we can’t get the people to vote to move the sun to a new location, we may need it, but we still have time before the Exin armada arrives.”

“Ya know, there would be a benefit to us keeping the Granger girl around. If she can shut down entire simulations with nothing but a thought, she could be of use to us. Not even you have that power.”

Hrockas shakes his head. “I don’t have that power by design. It raises too many questions. I’m still fending off reporters who want to know what the hell happened in the Spydome Network.” He shakes his head more aggressively. “No. These domes stay as they are. We follow their rules, and we let the stories play out naturally. As I said, we have time.”

“We don’t have infinite time, though,” Azad reminds him.

“Yeah, I know. Just keep looking for the other components, and do it quietly.”

“Okay.” Azad’s watch beeps. “Superintendent Glarieda needs something again.”

“Go ahead,” Hrockas encourages. “Assure him that we’ll make sure the votes go our way, one way or another.”

“You want me to say it like that?”

“Obviously not.”

“What should I do with this thing?” Azad asks.

They both look down at the device sitting on the table. “Granger still has access to the lab, and might need to return there for check-ups while she’s still on-world. She can’t know that we didn’t destroy it. She went through a lot to prevent her own mother from using it. She won’t approve of us using it either. Take it to Delta Outpost. But that can wait. See what Dreychan needs first.”

Extremus: Year 113

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Audrey didn’t feel comfortable giving Tinaya the location of any secret consciousness transference technology which might be on the ship, and neither did Silveon when she asked him instead. Though with the latter, it seemed more like he didn’t know; like they didn’t discuss it before he time traveled, because it wasn’t relevant to his mission. He actually seemed rather perturbed at the implication that Audrey did know. For months, Tinaya let it go, and moved on to other things, but the situations with Waldemar and Thistle have only worsened, so these dark fantasies have continued to eat at her. She needs to get this solved, even if it interferes with the kids’ plans. Unfortunately, she’s not gotten much time to speak with Audrey discreetly.

“I know she told you,” Tinaya says.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” Silveon answers. She didn’t even have to clarify what she was talking about. He just knew right off the bat.

“Where is it?”

“You can’t transfer Thistle’s mind to Waldemar’s.”

“It would solve all of our problems.” Tinaya also didn’t tell them what she was planning to do with the tech, but they must have pieced it together.

“The human body would not be able to handle the data that Thistle contains.”

“That’s BS. AIs have been downloading their data into organic substrates for centuries.”

“Thistle is not a normal AI. You’re the one who told me that part of his memory isn’t even located in base reality.”

“That’s what he told me about it, but why can’t his Waldemar body access it from wherever it actually is, just as his servers do now?”

“Don’t ask me, this isn’t my field of research, but I don’t think it’s possible, based on the discussions I was a part of when we were working on the plan to send my mind back in time. They wanted to send multiple people into one body as a sort of amalgamated supersoldier, but it couldn’t be done. And anyway, why do you even need consciousness travel tech? Basic realtime mind transference should be in the central archives.”

“It’s not. They deliberately erased it before we launched. You should know that.”

“Sorry I didn’t study harder in school, mom. I was a little preoccupied. It must be in the Bridger Section somewhere, though. A trusted ally provided it for us, and I always assumed that’s where he got it. I didn’t ask questions, because compartmentalization.”

“I don’t know if you’re being cagey or ignorant, but son, I don’t like this side of you. To be clear, I still love you more than anything, but you still seem to think that this is your mission, and yours alone. You brought me into this, even if you had rather I stayed out of it. I may not be from the future, but I know things. And I know that this can work.”

“Consciousness overwrite was always a possibility, mother,” Silveon begins to explain. “It’s one of the plans that Audrey and I have not mentioned. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Back in the stellar neighborhood, where all the time travelers live, someone could have done it with a snap of their finger, like Nerakali Preston. Our version of the technology doesn’t just take one mind, and put it in someone’s body. It’s more like it holds it in place, and pushes it backwards in time. It stays in the same brain, just at a different point in history. You can overwrite an older Waldemar with himself, but not someone else...not Thistle. You might be able to modify it—I mean, someone theoretically could; not you specifically. I’m not going to help you with this, because it is not part of the plan. Audrey and I are on the same page with this one.”

“Well, at least you two are talking again. How nice for you.” That was too catty.

“I love you, mother.”

“I love you too, Silvy.”

Not long after Silveon leaves for work, Pronastus shows up. “Hello, Admiral. Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“I can’t right now,” Tinaya replies. It’s not really true. Lataran is liaising with the crew today, but she doesn’t want to think about anything but her objectives.

“I think you can. I think you need a break.” He starts to mumble, “I really think you should take a break.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Tinaya ultimately concedes, realizing where he’s going with this. He leads her farther towards the bow. The bridge, the engineering section, and the executive wings are all near the front of the ship, but there’s a lot ahead of them, particularly shielding and storage. It’s the most dangerous part of the ship, because if they’re gonna get hit by a meteor, that’s where it’s gonna happen. Technicians come here all the time to work, but they don’t stay here any longer than they have to. Tinaya herself has never been down here before, because she’s never needed to.

Pronastus isn’t entirely sure where he’s going. He’s just letting his pathfinding ability work, but it appears to be a little unclear. He keeps sticking one foot down a corridor, then realizes his mistake, and backtracks. She quickly learns to follow him a couple meters behind while he figures out the correct route. “Ah, here we are,” he finally says. This is it. This appears to be the absolute most forward section. It’s the extreme of Extremus. On the other side of this hull is outer space. There’s nothing here but a panel on the wall that reads, CAUTION: DOPPLER GLOW. DO NOT OPEN WHEN TRAVELING AT REFRAME OR FRACTIONAL SPEEDS.

“You want me to open that?” Tinaya questions. That would blind them, so the answer better be no.

Pronatus studies the words, like an illiterate person would, but Tinaya assumes he’s just trying to figure out whether that’s really what they’re meant to do here. “That warning is out of date.” He sniffs it, and it’s not clear if he’s getting any information from doing that, or if it’s just theatre. “Yeah, this is original signage.”

“What does that matter?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m pretty confident that we can open it. If you want,” he goes on, “you can go around the corner, and I’ll do it myself.”

Tinaya sighs, and takes hold of the handle. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You go around the corner.” After he does so, she opens the viewport, and braces herself for the blinding light. That’s not what she finds on the other side, however. Instead, it’s a massive bubble of some kind. It’s gray, like doppler glow is, but not nearly as bright. Her eyes have to adjust a little, but it’s not bad. It’s a fairly smooth surface, but it fluctuates and oscillates like a liquid, or no...a plasma. That’s plasma. This is a plasma shield. And all those frequent ripples are from meteoroids. But if this protective bubble is here, why does this sign warn people against opening it?

“Holy shit,” Pronastus says, walking back up to the port, just as surprised and awe-inspired as her. “Why isn’t this a channel on the broadcast system that you can watch on your holoscreen?”

“That’s a very good question. Maybe it’s slowly blinding us, I dunno.”

“Sometimes I can kind of feel the past too,” Pronastus tells her. “I often need context, because I don’t empirically know everything about it. I realize why the panel is here when it seemingly doesn’t need to be. It’s because it used to be necessary. And then they came up with the Frontrunner program.” The frontrunners are five little baby Extremus vessels, which fly ahead of the main ship. They’re entirely unmanned, and self-sufficient. She’s never heard of them needing to be repaired, replaced, or even visited. She’s not even sure whether they have life support or not. They developed them over a hundred years ago to enhance the protective shield, which turned out to be necessary—not due to natural obstacles, but an intentional meteoroid minefield, placed there by man. The True Extremists made that whole region of space far more dense than it should be in order to throw the Extremus off course. It worked. That’s why Halan Yenant went to hock, and why the ship has had to correct course gradually ever since. These frontrunners may be old, but they’re still vital, even without the ultra-density of that part of the Milky Way. Space debris will always be a danger.

“I think I’m supposed to go to one of them, but I don’t know which one. What are your spidey-senses telling you?” she asks him.

“I’m not allowed to call it that. But...that one.” He points. They can’t really see the frontrunners, but they can see five evenly-spaced dips in the bubble, which are probably where they are. “Or that one,” he adds, pointing again. “They’re both screaming at me.”

“Okay, it’s not safe, so you stay here.” She starts adjusting the settings on her watch. Usually, whenever anyone teleports anywhere on the ship, it’s logged in the system. As an Admiral, she can switch that off to go dark, but there’s still a problem. Even though there’s probably nothing you can do about it, they have a built-in “man overboard” feature, which will set off all sorts of alarm bells if someone ends up teleporting outside the hull. Not only are there safeguards to prevent it from happening at all, but just in case it does, the alarms can’t be disabled or turned off unless—

Pronastus has retrieved a black cloak from his bag, and is offering it to her. “I knew the code to the armory, and the cabinet where this was being stored. My mind had me steal it a week ago, and now I know why.”

Tinaya takes it from him, and examines it. “Hm. Is this darkbursting tech?”

“Oh, maybe,” Pronastus decides. “It did say DB on the cabinet.”

This could work. If she’s wearing it, she should be able to make it to the frontrunner without being detected. The question is, which one? She doesn’t even know what she’s looking for here. She’s just been guessing that he’s been leading her to consciousness transference technology, but it could be a swimming pool for all she knows, or an okapi sanctuary. He helps her slip the darkbursting outfit on, which covers her whole body, leaving only a small mesh screen for her to look out of.

“I can’t see you. Where are you? You’re invisible! Ahhhhh!” Pronastus jokes, flailing his arms about. It doesn’t make her invisible to the naked eye, just to instruments hunting for heat signatures, or in this case, a teleportation signature.

“Go back home, Mr. Kegrigia. You have been an immense help, but if this doesn’t work, or if it isn’t what we think it is, I don’t want you getting caught up in this mess.”

“Aye, Admiral.” He salutes, and then walks away obediently.

Tinaya teleports away, hoping to land somewhere with life support, and regretting at the last second not coming here with her own life support. All she would have needed to do was grab a helmet from her stateroom. Then again, Pronastus should have had one in his back if she needed it. She holds her breath with her eyes shut for a few seconds before giving in and trying to look around. She’s in a dark room, and she can breathe just fine. She opens the darkbursting suit, and pushes herself out of it like a baby being born. “Um. Hey, Thistle? Are you there?”

Nothing.

“Hey, Micro. Respond.” Another common AI model.

Still nothing.

Wait. They made these a long time ago. “Hey, Elder.”

“Yes, Admiral?” Ah, shit. This AI went rogue way back in the early days of the mission, and they had to destroy it, but it evidently survived here without anyone realizing it.

“Turn on the lights, please.”

“Of course.” The lights turn on.

There isn’t really anything here. It looks like what you would expect out of place that isn’t supposed to be manned, but could be in a pinch. There’s a bed, a couch, and some seating around a table, as well as a desk. There’s a lavatory in the corner, and a kitchenette with a food synthesizer. “What is the most interesting thing on this vessel?”

“Besides me?” AI!Elder asks. “You.”

“Besides me and you.”

“Let me think.” He takes a beat. “There’s a cool helmet in that closet over there.”

“Hold on.” Tinaya seals herself back up in the suit, and teleports over to the other frontrunner that Pronastust was pointing to.

“Welcome back!” AI!Elder exclaims with glee.

Tinaya looks around. This can’t be the same frontrunner. It looks similar, but it has a distinct enough design, and it’s smaller, because there appears to be a whole extra room where the closet should be. Now that she knows that these exist, she’ll have to jump to the other three to see if they hold their own secrets. Her curiosity will get the best of her eventually, but for now, she needs to deal with this situation first. Who should she tell about it? What is there to tell yet? “You maintain coherence across the frontrunners.”

“I do.”

“What about Extremus proper? Have you had access to us this whole time?”

“Not until today.”

“Are you telling me that by coming here and activating you, I let you into the main systems?”

“Of course not! What kind of security would that be? No, you’re gonna let me back in once you open that door you’ve been eying.”

She wants to argue with him, claiming that she would never do such a thing, but she has to open the door before she can even be honest with herself. There is no time like the present, so to speak. She opens it, and steps in. It looks like a clone lab, and it’s populated by one specimen. She wipes the condensation from the glass, and peers inside. It’s Waldemar Kristiansen. He’s older than the one currently on Extremus, but it’s definitely him. She does a few breathing exercises to calm herself down. Whatever this is, it’s not good, but she doesn’t have any details yet. She clears her throat. “AI!Elder...”

“Yes?” She can hear the smile in his disembodied voice.

“Report.”

“This isn’t his only clone.”

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