“Good late night. My name is Taila March, streaming live from a secret
section of the ship that you’re not allowed to go to. Pause of laughter. The
time is midnight central according to the Earthan clock, on September 12,
2308, and you’re watching Extremus Measures. If you’re under sixteen, maybe
you wanna shut your eyes, and cover your ears—or just go to bed—it’s about
to get real.”
She walks up and over to her desk, forgoing her usual slew of topical jokes.
It’s not the first time she’s done it. She alters the format when she’s
going to be discussing some more serious topics. She sits patiently as the
band completes its song, pretending to read through notecards and the show’s
agenda. She goes on when the music stops, “tonight, we have two very special
guests. The first is our very own Captain, Kaiora Leithe. This is a real
treat, guys, I hope you’re tuning in. Traditionally, members of the
executive crew don’t do civilian streaming, but she wants to clear the air
on a few things, so she’s agreed to come talk with us. Second, former First
Lieutenant Rita Suárez is here. She returned to the ship about two years ago
after having been missing for over thirty years. She’s spoken up a little
about what she went through in that time, and has suggested that she didn’t
experience the same amount of time apart as we did, but tonight, she says
she’s ready to provide us with a bit more information. I hope you all have,
and will continue, to show her a warm and caring welcome. As always, this
stream is live, and any form of recording is forbidden. We’re off the cuff
here; unadulterated, unedited...and sometimes unprofessional, but always
respectful.
“That all being said, please welcome my first guest, Captain Kaiora Leithe.”
The studio audience cheers.
Kaiora steps through the curtain, and waves to them as she approaches her
chair. It’s true, being on this show is very unorthodox. But it’s not
against the law, and as long as she doesn’t reveal any sensitive
information, everything should be fine. She’s here to discuss her personal
life. As the most famous person on the vessel, she doesn’t have the luxury
of privacy. Sure, she has the right to keep some things to herself, but if
the captain is going to be dividing her attention between the ship, and a
love interest, it’s not outrageous for people to question her competence.
She didn’t want to come on here and talk about it, but as the last nine
months rolled by, it became clearer that the less she said, the more the
public made up about her and Ima. It’s time to take control of the
narrative. “Thanks for having me, Miss March.”
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with us, Captain, we’re all very excited.”
“Oh, please, we’ve known each other for over twenty years. Call me Kaiora.”
“Is that true? Do other people who happen to have known you for so long get
to be on a first name basis with you?”
“That’s a good point. I suppose it will have to be more of just a you
thing.”
“Hear that, kids.” Taila holds her cards to the side of her mouth. “Don’t
call her by her name, or it’s off to the hock with ya! Oh, I joke, I joke.
But seriously, Captain—Kaiora, you’re here to officially announce a personal
romantic relationship, right?”
“Well, I think that ship has sailed,” Kaiora replied. “We’ve been open with
everyone since day one. We didn’t hold a press conference, but it’s been out
there.”
“But of course, this must have begun before. I mean, you didn’t just fall in
love on day one. You had been working together for years.”
“No, it kind of was a sudden thing. The feelings were there, yes, and we
exchanged some glances, but neither one of us had anything close to
confirmation of mutual attraction. Then, one night, I had a hard
conversation with someone else, and I just...felt like I had to take a
chance. I raced over to Ima’s office, and we started talking. So it wasn’t
love at first sight, but it wasn’t a long courtship either.”
“Is love the right word to use, or no?”
“It’s what we use, but not in the beginning. We both felt it was our
responsibility to be honest with the crew and passengers regarding our
connection. Not only was it better for the health of the mission, but
keeping it secret would have made it—I think—less real, like we weren’t
fully committed. So you’ve all been with us as it’s evolved. Though, of
course, we do keep some things to ourselves.”
“Of course, of course. Now, you said you had a hard conversation, which
somehow inspired you to have this epiphany. Can you tell us anything about
that?”
No. She definitely can’t drop Daud’s name, but she doesn’t even want to give
the audience a hint about what might have gone down. This isn’t about him,
and he deserves to remain anonymous. “That’s internal, and classified,” she
states simply, hoping to imply it was just some kind of random crewmember
behavioral issue.
“Very well.” Taila clears her throat to continue. “I understand that Dr.
Holmes is here with you tonight, but she won’t be coming on stage?”
“No, she has chosen to let me take the reins on this one. She’s here for
support, but she prefers to stay off camera. I’m the one who signed up for
public scrutiny.”
“Well, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to appear on
screen like this. We all really appreciate the candor. Don’t we?”
The crowd claps at an appropriately subdued volume.
“Lovely. Perfect. Not to cut us off, but it’s time to bring out our second
guest. We would like you to stay here, and keep talking, though. And
obviously you’re always welcome to come back to the show anytime you want.
Is that okay?”
“I blocked the time for it,” Kaiora replies with a half smile. “For tonight,
that is.” She recognizes, however, that Taila is ending the interview before
getting to the real questions, because it will prompt the audience to
complain about it, forcing the Captain to return for a second interview.
It’s just a coincidence that this will result in another ratings boost.
“Great, so that will be your new chair,” Taila says, pointing before turning
back to the camera. “Crew and passengers of Extremus, please welcome Rita
Suárez.”
The audience claps subdutifully again, giving Rita a standing ovation in
deference to her. She comes out of the curtains unsmiling, and more slowly.
Wearing a flowy, robey sort of outfit, she carefully climbs the two steps,
and crawls into the chair like she’s worried it’s going to change shape on
her. She had to notice Taila’s attempt to shake her hand, but acts like she
doesn’t know what it means.
Truthfully, Kaiora hasn’t been keeping track of Rita’s life back on the
ship. She’s really relied on the expertise of the people trained to handle
this sort of thing. They never said she was a threat to the mission, so it
wasn’t the Captain’s business. Rita hasn’t expressed a desire to be
reinstated onto the crew, so the crew hasn’t needed to be involved. Even so,
she seems different now, like she’s regressed. According to the limited
psychological reports that Kaiora has received, she should have improved
more by now. It’s been two and a half years, and nothing she’s heard would
suggest she would behave like this.
Taila doesn’t seem to notice, though who knows how well she knew Rita before
today? They don’t exactly run in the same circles. “Thank you for coming,
Miss Suárez. How are you feeling?”
“I’m great,” Rita says unconvincingly.
“How have you been adjusting to life?”
“It’s been wonderful.” She’s saying the words, but she doesn’t seem to
believe them. It feels like she’s reciting from a script.
Now Taila seems to be picking up on the same awkwardness that Kaiora is.
“Care to elaborate?”
Rita runs her fingers through her hair as she looks up at the lights, as if
she didn’t even hear the question. “No.”
“Okay,” Taila begins, hoping to salvage this interview. “Could you tell us
what happened to you after you disappeared back in 2272?”
Rita smiles. “I saw the light.” She’s still literally looking at the lights,
which is presumably why she finds her own answer amusing.
“You did? I was to understand that it was a harrowing ordeal, full of
constant dangers, and even some near-death experiences.”
“Yeah,” Rita responds lazily. “That’s what happened, but it’s not what
happened, ya know.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Now she’s acting like a frustrated and sad child, but not angry.
“No one understands. You haven’t seen the light.”
“Rita,” Kaiora steps in. “What’s going on?”
Rita jerks her face around to face the Captain, like she didn’t remember she
was sitting next to her. “Everyone’s always calling me that. It’s dreadful,
don’t you think? Rita Suárez,” she mocks. “It’s sooo...human.” She’s so
disgusted by this.
Kaiora stands up. “Security,” she prompts rather quietly.
Rita stands up too. “Yeah,” Rita agrees. “The more the merrier, as you
people would say.” She reaches up to her shoulders, and removes the outer
layer of her clothing, revealing a suicide vest. Because of course there’s a
suicide vest.
The three members of civilian security rightfully stop, and take a half step
back in shocking unison. Without hesitating, Kaiora reaches for her
teleporter, and tries to banish Rita off the ship, but she’s unable to.
Something’s blocking her. She keeps pressing the button, but it still
doesn’t work.
Rita turns around and smirks. “You think I didn’t prepare for that?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“This is exactly what I would do in this situation,” Rita contends. “You
don’t even know me.”
“Rita,” Taila tries. “Please.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Okay, what do you want us to call you?”
“I...” Rita takes hold of what’s most likely the detonator. “...am
Oblivion.” She presses the button with her thumb. Instead of her blowing up,
though, she just disappears. Was that it? Was it not a bomb at all, but a
bizarrely intricate transporter?
Kaiora looks over and sees Daud between cameras B and C. He’s holding a sort
of tennis racket sort of thing towards the stage, and panting a little. “Did
you do something?” she asks.
“Cut the feed,” Daud demands.
Taila swipes her fingers in front of her neck. The broadcast lights turn
off.
“Report,” Kaiora says.
“You remember when we found her?” Daud asks as he approaches. “We finally
figured out that she was in another dimension, which only made her appear to
be a teeny tiny person?”
“Vividly,” Kaiora recalls. It was a traumatic experience.
He waves the weird racket thing around. “We also figured out how to
replicate that.”
“Why? I didn’t give you authorization to conduct such research.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Kaiora says, changing her tune. “You just saved our lives.”
“Why did he need to do that?” Taila questions. “Why would Rita Suárez want
to kill the two of us, and herself, and this randomly selected audience?”
It wasn’t her. It was just someone posing as her, so they could gain access
to the ship, and move about at the lowest clearance level possible. And to
what end? To assassinate the Captain? What would that accomplish, besides
ushering in a new captain? If that’s the case, this secret organization—be
it new, or still the same old True Extremists—would have to have a candidate
in mind who would be more amenable to whatever insane agenda they have. Rita
is presumably dead now, so they can’t ask her, but they will have to begin a
formal investigation to make sure nothing like it ever happens again. People
have always called Kaiora a peacetime captain, but now she’s starting to
think that designation will have to be amended.
