Microstory 2508: Lie Taster

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I can taste your lies, and numb your reality. Now. What does that mean? Well, the first one is obvious, but you might be surprised to learn that lies taste sweet. They actually taste really good. You might think it should be the opposite, but what you have to understand is that my ability was something that all humans possess, just to a lesser degree. We can all tell when someone’s lying, depending on how good they are at being deceptive, and how good we are at picking it up. Think about it, if someone tells a lie and it tastes bad, it’s going to be quite obvious to you, and you’re just going to reject it. Lies are meant to make you happy with something that isn’t correct, so they tasted good to me, so they would feel good. Of course, I wasn’t doing my job if I just accepted the taste, and didn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t hard either, to ignore that part, and just use it as a tool to get to the root of our subject’s issues. Only when they were honest with me could I be sure they were being honest with themselves, and only at that point could I help them not have to lie anymore. If you genuinely enjoy your job, for instance, you won’t have to lie when your boss asks if you’re happy doing it. My responsibility was to get the taste of these lies out of my head, which didn’t involve anything beyond just talking with them in a therapeutic setting. I’m the only one who almost never used my active Vulnerability gift. There just wasn’t much reason to. The best use cases were when someone was having a panic attack, and I happened to be in the room. By numbing them to their struggles, they could gain some much-needed perspective, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when I brought them back to reality. It wasn’t always prudent to do this, though. I mean, they really had to be going through it at the time, and acting violent, or threatening to harm themselves or others. It was a last resort that thankfully did not come up most of the time. There is one time that I wish I had used it, and it was our last client. He could have done with a hell of a lot less emotion on that night, and we would not have ever been in danger from him. Or not. He might have used that against us as well, fueling his anger, and making him even more vindictive. There’s no way to know, but I think it all worked out, because the world has Landis now. I am enjoying being able to walk into a restaurant, and taste food, knowing that what I taste is real, and not coming from a lie coming out of someone else’s mouth.

Microstory 2507: Pain Feeler

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

Microstory 2506: Desire Hearer

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I can hear your desires, and sing your fears. I am not like the others. Their passive gifts are all negative, while their active gifts are positive. I can’t tell you why I’m the opposite, but truthfully, it has always made me feel a little left out of the group. To be clear, they never made me feel like that; it was just the nature of my condition. It’s kind of hard to explain what I could do. Landis might have better wording, though I think he actively ignores this side of him. It’s not that I could hear your thoughts. It’s not even that I could see the images in your mind. It’s more like I could hear the music of your soul, if that makes any sense. When I would listen to people’s aura—for lack of a better term—I could hear where it was pointing, be it another person, or an object, or even the future. The tone of their aura music was key to understanding and interpreting their desires. I would say that mine was the toughest job, because they had to be open with me to clarify exactly what they wanted out of their life. It was just so...abstract and intangible a lot of the time. Sure, if they were staring at the person they were secretly in love with, their desire song for them would be obvious. And to be fair, anyone who is just naturally good at reading others could probably see it all over their face without any special gift. The key was getting them to come out of their shells, and be honest about what they wanted. It felt like cheating, just straight up asking them to vocalize their feelings. No one else in the group had to do that. They were just able to sense what they were meant to sense. That’s kind of why I had to step up as the leader; not because I was particularly suited for it, but because I had to drive the progress for us to get anywhere with people. The client’s own goals were paramount in helping them. It didn’t matter how they felt, or whether they were lying. If they didn’t have an objective, what were we gonna do for them? How were their lives gonna turn out? I didn’t always have to use my active Vulnerability gift, but there were many times when it was necessary. They sometimes even asked for it. To get what they wanted, and get past what was holding them back, it was necessary for them to face their fears. It was easier for them to do that if they were confronted with them directly using the fear songs, rather than having to conjure them up in their own mindbrains. It usually went all right. The client and I were both always in control, and I could clear the sounds if they became too much to bear. Obviously, it went wrong one terrible time, and that’s why we’re here, but I can’t help but think that all of that happened for a reason, because now we have Landis. I do miss having the gifts, but I’m glad that someone else has them, even if he never uses them. At least they’re not gone forever. And the sweet song of life on Earth continues.

Microstory 2505: Health Smeller

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I can smell your health, and heal your ailments. I was Landis Tipton before Landis Tipton was Landis Tipton. While we gifted him with all of the Vulnerabilities, mine is the one that he uses primarily, if not exclusively. I want to make it clear that I did not waste my gift when I had it. I too healed people. It was at a smaller scale, but you have to understand that none of us believed that we could announce ourselves to the world. Before Landis was brave enough to stand in the spotlight, it felt too dangerous to be open to the public. We decided that we had to be very selective with our clients. Of course, that didn’t always work out, but we did our best. I think we helped a lot of people. Everyone we chose was entitled to a healing, but it was sort of usually considered secondary to the other—more abstract—therapies. People get sick; it’s a way of life, and I didn’t think that there was anything I could do about it. It didn’t even occur to us that my gift of healing could one day be synthesized into a mass-produced cure-all. What people really needed was to feel better about themselves, and realize their dreams, even if that meant shifting those dreams to things that were a little more realistic and attainable. I’m not saying that I was a pointless member of the team, but we did see our responsibility as being more holistic. On the contrary, my job was very important, and should not be discounted. You see, healing begins from within, but physical pain and suffering is real, and it can make it impossible to feel like your life can get better, even if you’ve not been stricken with some serious disease. Everyone has something. They have joint pain, or frequent headaches, or circulation issues. I could fix all of that. Maybe not permanently, but those first few days after the clients met us were incredibly vital. It was at least one less thing that they were worried about while they were trying to move on, and improve their situations. It gave them a new baseline by which they could judge the things that happened to them in the future, both good and not-so-great. Healthy body, healthy mind, as they say. I have heard people ask Landis what people’s health smells like, but I have never heard his answer. That’s probably because he’s so busy saving the world. That’s not me being resentful, but it does lead well into the answer to their question. When something is particularly wrong with someone, their health typically smells sickly sweet, like spoiled fruit. The disease is rotting away in their body, creating a build-up of waste, and generating a toxic smell that anyone would perceive as being wrong, if their noses were designed to detect the right signals. Poor general health, on the other hand, is bitter, with metallic overtones, and I could sometimes cure that too, but generally not. So if you ever meet Landis in person, and he’s a little shy or standoffish, I can’t speak for him, but that might be why. People just kind of smell bad all the time, even when they’ve been cured. It’s unsettling, but it’s part of the job, and I for one think that Landis faces it valiantly.

The Seventh Stage: Rock and a Hard Place (Part III)

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Ezqava ‘Effigy’ Eodurus has had a storied past. Much of it, she prefers to forget. She was young and stupid at the time, and very vulnerable. She placed her trust in someone who turned out to be so much better than her, she never wants to feel that judged again. She truly doesn’t understand her own mind. She’s mischievous and unpredictable, and even sometimes violent. That’s why they locked her up on Earth, and now on this random remote penal colony. Colony isn’t the right word for it, though, since she lives here alone. It’s not too bad. She has a nice home with a pool. The weather is always tame, but she can see storms range in the distance, which is interesting. They’ve provided her with countless hours of entertainment, but no means of communication. She can see what’s going on all over the universe, but can have no effect on it. Unless someone comes to talk to her. Which they do, all the time, though less so in recent days. When she was trapped in her cage on Earth, no one visited her. Most people didn’t even know that she existed. Here, she’s so popular. Here, they value her knowledge. Sadly, they don’t value her as a person. It’s her fault, and she knows it, but it’s still been difficult.

It won’t always be like this. Effigy doesn’t have the power to see the future, but with all the data that she’s collected, she’s pretty confident in her predictions. Hers is not the only transcendent power in these lands. There are two others, and based on the trajectory of their dealings, it won’t be long before they meet. The only question then is whether she can convince them to join forces with her. In the past, she would attempt to gain allies through trickery and subterfuge. Her ability to shapeshift into any human form has always been too tempting to ignore, and too easy to abuse. Her usual methods won’t fly with Clavia and Echo. Not only will they see right through it, but they actually have the power to turn on her. The reason she was in a cage for centuries was because none of her combatants knew how to kill her. The Cloudbearer twins do not suffer the same shortcomings. They have more power than her, and it’s hard to tell how they’ll use it. They’re good...for now—if there even is such a thing as a good person. That doesn’t mean they won’t fight her. If she wants them to trust her, she has to be honest, good, and honestly good. That’s why she has spent the last several years helping leaders of this pocket universe. She’s been asking for favors in return, but only because that’s what they expect. If she did it for nothing, they would be suspicious of her.

Effigy has been trying to get better, but without an unbiased third party to assess her progress, she can’t know if it’s worked. Her self-improvement was driven by her desire to regain the power and freedom that she once had. Is this a paradox? Is it impossible to be worthy of the power that one seeks if they seek it? Is ambition inherently evil? More importantly, how will the god twins see it? Earlier, she planted the seed of her answer when an old friend came for a visit. Either she’s about to get a third visitor in one day, or her friend is back.

She watches as the personal pod streaks across the sky, and lands somewhere on the other side of the wall that keeps Effigy from seeing the ocean. She’s tried asking for a tower to have a better view of this world, but she’s never given anyone enough intel to warrant such a gift. She’s going to play it differently this time, not like she did before with Bariq. She’s going to be cool and composed, but genuine and professional. The door opens. Two women walk through. One is the friend, but the other is a stranger. “You have returned,” Effigy begins, “sooner than I expected.”

“The term sequence that you provided was right,” Tekla replies. “It took me to an evidently unused Nexus, which allowed me to travel to Origin, where I met an apparent god, who connected me with this one here.” She gestured towards the other woman.

“Hi, Francis Deering,” she says, offering her hand.

Effigy reaches out for it, then pulls back in horror. She forgot to shapeshift into the form of a human. She looks like her true self still...a white monster. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see me like this. I didn’t realize.” She takes a breath, and transforms herself into a woman she once knew by the name of Slipstream.

“It’s okay,” Francis assures her. “You don’t scare me.” Her skin begins to vibrate and ripple. Within seconds, she looks like a masculine version of herself, perhaps a twin brother, or something. She—or he—seems as surprised as Effigy and Tekla do. “Wow, that was much faster than it is where I’m from. Your world is interesting.”

Effigy smiles. “May I ask, what are your pronouns?”

“She/her when I’m in my female form, and he/him when I’m like this.  If you’re talking about me in a more general sense, and you’ve encountered me in both forms about evenly, you can use they/them.”

“Can you turn into anyone, or just this one guy?” Tekla asks him.

“I’m not turning into a different person,” Francis explains. “I’m both people. Nothing about who I am as a person changes when I’m in one form or the other. They call me a dimorph; both male and female. I can only have one reproductive system at a time, but my mind and personality maintain continuity.”

They nod.

“I can shift back, if you’re more comfortable...” Francis offers.

“No, it’s whatever you want,” Effigy assures him. “Is that why you chose him?” she asks Tekla. “Because he’s a shifter.”

“I explained the situation to the god, Senona Riggur, who suggested a therapist would be of some use to you. This is who they chose.”

“So, you’re from another universe?” Effigy asks Francis.

“Am I?” Francis volleys. “No clue. I just go where they tell me.”

“Well, I really appreciate you coming here, and I would appreciate more of your time. You see, I’ve traditionally not been so great of a person. As you saw, I’m not a person at all. I think that I’ve learned the error of my ways, but self-assessment can only get you so far.”

“You say you’re not a person. What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you saw. I’m not human.”

“Just because you’re not human doesn’t mean you’re not a person.”

“Do you know a lot of non-humans where you’re from? I mean, more intelligent beings than just dogs and cats.”

Francis smirks. “I know a few.” She takes a beat. “Let’s get into this. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Yeah. Tekla, do you need to get back to Judy before she gets suspicious?” Effigy asks, worried. Maybe she is better, worrying about others.

Tekla laughs. “You think I took the Nexus to a hostile unknown location without getting my boss’ permission first? She went with me. She was granted her own wish alongside mine. Don’t ask what it was, though.”

“I see. Tell her thank you. She’s always been more supportive and understanding with me than other people.”

“I will pass along the message. Until then...” Tekla starts to say, “I’ve never skinny-dipped before, but I hear that’s how it’s done in this pool.”

Now Effigy is the one to laugh. “You can if you want. I also have suits in the cabana. We’ll be in the solarium, if you don’t mind a little sun, Mr. Deering. The windows are rated high for UV shielding.”

“That sounds lovely,” Francis replies.

The two of them head to the other side of the house to discuss Effigy’s issues, and her self-doubts. In the spirit of my agreement with Dr. Hammer to stay out of the therapy sessions that she has with her own patients, I cannot relay what Francis and Effigy discussed in private. While Dr. Hammer did not technically ask me to maintain the privacy of all of my characters, I believe that she would prefer me to respect therapist-patient confidentiality across the board except for conversations which are integral to the plot. Suffice it to say, Francis’ wisdom was very helpful in Effigy’s quest to not only become a better person, but to understand what that truly means, and how to measure her own progress, as well as recognize her successes for what they are.

Effigy looks up to the sky again. “You’re in my head.”

Is she talking to me?

“Yes, Superintendent, I am talking to you. You are writing this story from an omniscient third-person perspective. You know everything that I’m thinking. The fact that you chose not to watch my therapy session is meaningless. You still know exactly what happened. You could always just pull it straight out of my thoughts.”

“Who are you talking to?” Francis asks. They’re currently strolling around—

“No, no, no,” Effigy interrupts me. “You’re not going to ignore my question by droning on and on about the minutiae of our current behavior, just to reach some arbitrary word count goal on this installment. There’s vivid imagery, and then there’s pointless and trivial details. We’re walking back to the other side of the house. There. Done. That’s all you need to say.”

I wasn’t ignoring your question. You didn’t ask one.

Effigy stops to think for a moment. As she does so, a beetle-like insectoid crawls along the leaf of a plant hanging from a pole on the side of the building. A spider-like creature is on the underside of this leaf, and the question is whether one will notice the other, both each other, or neither. No one is looking at these organisms, but it’s still happening. Things like this are happening all the time, all around you. If Effigy weren’t blinded by her frustration with me, she might have the capacity to take a moment to admire the beauty. She’s standing next to it right now, stewing. She’s choosing not to look over at the insectoids, knowing all too well that if I wanted her to look at them, she would goddamn look at them. For as powerful as she thinks she may be, she is nothing compared to the might of the author. I could erase her from the story with a few taps on my keyboard. She would never connect with Clavia and Echo. She would never realize her full potential. She would never really know if she became a better person, or if the leopard simply can’t change its spots. I already spent years not mentioning Effigy and her exploits at all, and I can do it again. I could do it forever if I like. Her past as the final boss in the Springfield Nine franchise may never have happened. I could erase that too if I wanted. And maybe I will.

I just did. Effigy who?

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Microstory 2337: Vacuus, February 16, 2179

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Dear Pascal,

Thank you for reaching out. I would say that it’s the first step towards mending our relationship. I’m sure that your son told you that I would be out of range for a period of time, so that’s why it’s taken me this long to respond. As for you and me, I can’t promise you what will become of us in the future, but I can promise that I’ll try. You’ll always be able to send me a message, and I’ll always open it. Condor and I kind of have a weekly thing going, but we don’t have to write as often, and I won’t hold it against you in terms of resolving our issues. That being said, there is no quick fix here. Forgiveness is a really strong word, and I’m afraid I’m going to need more time before I can even consider it. That may be all it takes. We could not talk to each other the whole time, but I may one day get over it just because it’s been long enough. We’ll have to see. I understand that you were in a difficult position, and having known my mother for 36 years, I don’t doubt that she forced her ideals on you. She has a way of making you live the kind of life that she wants you too. I’m not sure if it was about being vicarious, or if she just wanted control. I’ve always thought she only wanted what was best for me, but looking back now, it doesn’t really make much sense. I mean, if this was a social experiment to see how two twins grew up if they were raised separately, why did she try to make all my choices for me? It sort of taints the results, wouldn’t you say? I dunno, it just seems like a weird choice to me, or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. It strained our relationship, and I pushed back at every turn. She didn’t exactly hope that I would become a solar flare watcher. I’ve spoken to counselors here, and on the ship, but other than that, to my knowledge, I don’t undergo any tests or evaluations. No one seems to be recording my behavior in any way, unless they’re doing it from a pretty big distance. What can you tell me about Condor? Do you report in to someone about who he is, and what kinds of things he does? Is someone writing a scientific paper about it? I would prefer it if you let me know, but it’s more important that he knows, so if you only tell one of us, I would rather be the one left in the dark.

It was nice to meet you,

Effectively, a stranger,

Corinthia

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 28, 2480

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A couple of hours later, Dr. Hammer was finished with her other work for the time being, and was available to speak with the team. She stepped into her own office, and didn’t seem shocked to see them. Siria must have warned her through a text message, or something. She smiled at her assistant, and nodded, but didn’t say anything, yet Siria knew that she could leave, and tend to other things. “Could I see the card?” Dr. Mallory asked once Siria was gone.

Mateo handed it over.

Dr. Hammer inspected it carefully with her eyes, then inserted it back into the reader for more information. “Miss Webb does not have my access code. Neither should you. Please look away.” Her hands hovered over the keyboard, ready to type it in.

“We should leave real quick,” Ramses suggested. “Our brains can process keystrokes, and determine which keys are being pressed, based on the sound each one makes, unique to its position on the board, and its distance from our ears.”

Dr. Hammer narrowed her eyes at him, regarding him with fascination. “I should like to study you.”

“Maybe one day,” Ramses tentatively agreed.

Dr. Hammer typed in her code without worrying too much about it, and read the screen in silence for a moment. “Where did you get this?”

“A friend,” Mateo replied.

“A friend...who?”

“Who...I trust,” Mateo said, still playing it close to the vest.

“Should I trust them?”

“Indeed.”

“Well,” Dr. Hammer began. “When I stick it into that device, and stick you into that machine, I can tether you together, but in order for it to work, it must first be logged into the system. Otherwise, someone could simply steal one from the manufacturing room, and use it without authorization. Whoever gave it to you, that’s what they did. This is stolen property, I didn’t issue it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mateo said sincerely.

“Mister Matic, there is a reason I have not offered you a place at this facility. Well, there are a number of reasons, the main one being your significant connection to the Superintendent. For anyone else, I can prevent him from seeing what’s discussed in these meetings, but you’re more difficult to tease from his prying eyes. I don’t know what to do about that. We can’t let him go spouting off about confidential information. It wouldn’t be fair to the other members. He already knows too much.”

“I understand,” Mateo replied, just as sincerely as before.

I’ll skip the sessions. I’ll just say that he’s gone off to one, but I won’t follow him there. I respect doctor-patient privilege.

“Hold on, I’m getting a message,” Dr. Hammer said as she was clicking the mouse. She read the Superintendent’s claim. “The fact that you’re watching us at this very moment does not instill confidence in me that you would honor the boundaries. Even one peek could have devastating consequences for my patients that I cannot allow.”

The team wasn’t fazed by her apparent conversation with the Superintendent. They sat there patiently and quietly.

“Another one.” She took a second to read it, then paraphrased it for the whole class. “He promises to stay away, and says that there’s plenty of story to be told that has nothing to do with this place.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what to do about this emotional bond. I can find a workaround on the calibration, but you’ll all be able to use it, which is not the purpose of the card.”

“We don’t need the card,” Leona explained. “We go wherever we want, whenever we want. We promise to stay out of it, just as the Superintendent did. Mateo will be the only one to use that card.”

“And if anyone breaks this rule, you may revoke it,” Mateo added.

“We don’t really do that,” Dr. Hammer explained.

Mateo shrugged. “Do it anyway, if it ever comes up.”

Dr. Hammer thought over her options. “Is this the whole team?”

“My sister, Angela’s still on the ship,” Marie said.

“The two of them were once one and the same,” Leona clarified, “in case that matters when calibrating the machine for Mateo, or whatever.”

“It doesn’t. But she does need to be here. You’re like limbs of the same person, so you all need to be a part of it.”

Angela teleported down to the office, which alarmed Dr. Hammer, who believed there to be a barrier around the building that prevented anyone from showing up anywhere besides the vestibule. She wrote a note to herself to reinforce the security system, even though she obviously wasn’t worried about the six of them. She went on with the procedure. Mateo alone lay down in the card tethering machine, but they could all feel the procedure in their minds, and their bodies. A connection was created, between them and the card, and also to the facility. Their bond with each other felt like it was reinforced as well, though that might have been in their imaginations. The whole process only took a couple minutes. Mateo sat up, and left the room to go through orientation with Siria. As the Superintendent, I’m not allowed to divulge what he learned on his tour. I know only that it happened.

Meanwhile, back on the ship, the rest of the team was hanging out in Delegation Hall. Leona was reading a book, the other girls were chatting about nothing, and Ramses was looking through data on his tablet. After doing this for a bit, he looked away with a sort of concentrative frown, and shut his eyes. Finally, he said, “one more jump.”

“What was that?” Leona asked, though she didn’t take her eyes off the page.

“If we make one more uncertain jump, I believe that I will at last have the navigational abilities to find Romana.”

She turned her ereader away, and looked down at the floor between the two of them. “How certain are you of that?” Now she looked him in the eye.

“Fifty-fifty,” he answered.

She nodded, and considered it. “This sounds like one of those situations where we should vote on it.”

“We’ll do it when he gets back,” Olimpia said, referring to Mateo.

“We know how he would vote,” Leona replied. “We may as well do it now. You can call me his proxy, so I get two votes.”

Marie scoffed. “Raise your hand if you don’t think we should go.”

No one raised their hand.

“Motion passes,” Marie decided.

Leona took a breath, and yawned unwillingly. “Ange, run a pre-flight check, just how we taught ya. Rambo, you handle the quintessence drive, of course.”

While they were in the middle of their checks, Mateo returned, and listened to the update. “Wait, is it going to take us to her, or just help us find her eventually?”

“The latter,” Ramses answered.

“If it turns out to be enough,” Leona added.

“Where are we going? Anywhere?”

“A random jump would give us better data than a target one. I think that’s my problem. I think I’m trying to exert too much control, when I should really be letting the slingshot guide my trajectory.”

“That’s not how slingshots work,” Mateo argued.

“We thought you would want this,” Leona told her husband.

“We could end up anywhere,” Mateo went on. “That means inside of a star, or at the beginning of the big bang, or hell, a different universe.”

“I wrote safeguards into the program to prevent us appearing inside of a solid object,” Ramses began to explain. “Or a liquid or plasma, for that matter. Those are basic protocols, even the teleporter has them. The big bang was so dense that it would be tantamount to being in a sun, so the protocols would cover that too. As for another universe, the slingdrive can’t do that. We can pierce the membrane from the outside, but not from inside. We can only slide along it.”

“My position holds,” Mateo stood firm. “It’s too dangerous of a proposition.”

“What did you talk about down there after we left?” Leona asked.

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“Can you tell me if you’re an impostor?”

He waited to respond. “Not applicable.”

“We thought for sure you’d vote to go,” Olimpia said, stepping into the room.

“I would,” Mateo agreed. “I am. It just didn’t sound like any of you discussed the dangers that this poses. You only made it here because I took a fear pill. We don’t have that luxury this time. Wherever we go, it may take us on a wild adventure that lasts for years. As we’ve tethered our personal timelines together, that would mean Romana stays alone until we’re finished fighting Cthulhu, or whatever it ends up being.”

“She’s alone if we do nothing,” Leona reasoned. “We need this data.”

Mateo twirled his rendezvous card between his fingers, just as the other Leona had earlier. He was probably thinking about what he talked about in group at the Center for Temporal Health, but I was not there, so I don’t know anything that anyone said. He chuckled, perhaps getting the feeling that someone was leaning on the fourth wall from the outside. “I should stay. Whatever happens, wherever you end up going, you can always end up back here at least. Let me be your anchor. Something goes wrong, jump right back.”

“Dr. Hammer doesn’t want us doing that sort of thing,” Leona reminded him. “That’s not what this card is for. It’s not what that place is for.”

“I’ve just...we’ve been here before...so many times. We’ve been on a mission, and then we end up on a tangent. We have to break that cycle. We have to stick with something until it’s done. Our team has grown, yet remains incomplete. I’m afraid.”

“Give us the room, please,” Ramses said mysteriously.

Leona and Olimpia were a little surprised, but they left without arguing.

“What is it?” Mateo questioned.

“I analyzed that card,” Ramses said. “I couldn’t get much from it, but I bounced tiny ablation lasers off of the surface, which were absorbed by our sensors. They detected two DNA signatures from the sample. One was yours, and the other was Romana’s. She’s the one who gave it to you.”

Mateo didn’t want to say anything, even though he had obviously been caught. “She was wearing gloves.”

Ramses smiled. “She probably wasn’t wearing them the whole time. Lemme guess, she was from the future?”

“Maybe.”

He smiled wider. “I’ll keep your secret, as long as you vote yes, and come with us. We will find her again, so she can go back to see you in the past, and close her loop. I don’t think you should be this worried. Studying that slingdrive, and improving it, has been my sole focus for days. Please trust me, Mateo. You’ve done it before.”

Mateo sighed. “All right. Fire it up.”

They returned to the group, and confirmed that everyone understood what they were getting themselves into. They may find themselves back on Earth centuries ago, or on the other side of the universe. No result was more likely than another, however, regardless of where they ended up, they should be able to initiate a second jump, and go back to where they belonged. This should give them the data they needed to understand how the drive worked, so that they were not flying blind for that second time.

Ramses stood there like he was waiting for someone else, but he was the only one qualified to operate this thing. Even Leona hadn’t spent much time on it.

“What?” Leona asked.

“Say the thing. Say that word I like.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “Yalla.”

They jumped, and for a moment, they were disoriented, as was the ship, though the computers recalibrated themselves, unlike the first time they tried to use this thing. “I can tell you where we are, but not when,” Ramses announced. “I have enough positional data to know that we’re in the Miridir Galaxy.”

“It’s June 28, 2480. Present day, for lack of a better term in our line of business,” Leona elucidated them while consulting her special time watch.

“We’re not in the Beorht system, though,” Ramses continued. “Dardius is about two thousand light years from here, give or take a couple hundred.”

“All I care about is the new navigational data,” Mateo said to him. “Can we pinpoint a destination now?”

“I’ll need time,” Ramses said in an apologetic tone. “I can’t even tell you if the new data looks promising. I’m sorry.”

“Well, if we’re this far from civilization, finding the peace you need to conduct your work shouldn’t be a problem,” Angela figured.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Olimpia contended. She was looking through a viewport that wasn’t big enough for them all to see.

Leona threw the image onto the screen. There was another ship out there. Her armband pinged, so she looked at it. “External sensors are detecting a Nexus nearby. It’s probably on the ship.”

“What does that mean?” Marie asked.

“We can’t possibly know yet.” Mateo reached back for his helmet, and put it over his head. “Prepare for another tangent.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 27, 2479

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The thing about these magical tethers was that there would be no more sneaking off alone; to protect the others, to escape from them, or for any other reason. Mateo was famous for this, breaking free from the group, and that was no longer an option, for they would always be able to find him. It was funny how one of the first things that happened to him was that he came into possession of a metal business card that could whisk him away whenever he needed it to, but he couldn’t do that without telling anyone. Either way, it was really important that he give this support group therapy thing a chance. So he decided to tell them about it. He didn’t tell them everything, though.

“Do you even know where it takes you?” Leona asked.

“Dr. Hammer seems to be more comfortable in the 21st century, so I’m guessing sometime around then,” Mateo answered.

“Who gave this to you?” Ramses had his arm outstretched, waiting to receive the rendezvous card for examination.

“I’m not at liberty to say...and I’m not giving it to you. It doesn’t need to be studied, I know what it is.”

“No, you don’t,” Leona argued. “It could deliver you to a special prison where we couldn’t track you, and wouldn’t be able to teleport into if we ever did manage to find it.”

“It’s not that. I trust the person who gave it to me,” Mateo explained. “And if it is, we’ll deal with it. We always come out on top.”

“Yeah, because we’re cautious, thoughtful, and prepared,” Angela said. “You’re being neither of those things right now.”

“I’m wearing my suit, aren’t I?” Mateo defended.

She rolled her eyes.

“If you trust it, I trust it too,” Olimpia decided. She gave him a kiss on the lips. Besides, you need a range test, don’t you, Ram?”

“Well, I guess, but I wasn’t gonna—”

“Asked and answered!” Olimpia declared. “No further questions.”

“I need this,” Mateo said to the whole team, but mostly to Leona. “I’m losing my mind. I’m willing to take the risk that it’s a trap, especially since I really don’t think that it is. The way it was given to me...it would have been easier just to abduct me right then and there. I wouldn’t have had time to say goodbye.”

Ramses sighed. “Hold it up, balancing it between your fingers on the edges.”

Mateo did so.

“Turn it around,” Ramses added. “All right, I have at least some data. Proceed.”

Mateo gave Leona a kiss, and then gave another to Olimpia. As he turned around to give himself some space, she slapped him on the ass. He was going to say one more thing, but the slap made him drop the card, which activated it, and spirited him away.

He found himself standing on a gently sloping rock floor, inside of a glass tunnel. He was facing the ocean, which made him feel centered and calm. He stared at it through the window, noticing how there was no door leading to the outside. After a few moments, he turned around, and headed for the door to the building.

A vaguely humanoid, but still very mechanical, robot was sitting at what resembled a reception desk. “Hello, and welcome to the Center for Temporal Health on Ilha da Queimada Grande. My name is Defghij. Please present your rendezvous card, so that I may check you in.”

Mateo padded his suit, even though he knew it couldn’t be there. “Oh, crap. Where does it go when you use it?”

“Usually the ground.”

“Lookin’ for this?” It was Leona, holding up his card. What was she doing here?

He carefully took it, maintaining eye contact with her as he handed it to the robot. “How are you here? Why? Who?”

“I’m not your Leona,” she replied. “I’m from an old timeline.”

“Our twins,” Mateo realized. That was why she needed the therapy.

“My twins,” she corrected. “You had nothing to do with it.”

He dropped his gaze, and deepened his frown. “We can’t be in the same session.” He looked back up to her to see how she felt about that.

“I agree, which is why we’re not. You still need to go through orientation.”

“She’s right,” Defghif confirmed, presenting his card back for him. “Down the hall, to the left, through the door that leads to Dr. Hammer’s office.”

He couldn’t stop staring at the alternate version of his wife. “You don’t think we should talk, about what happened?”

“About how your wife lost the children that I had,” Alt!Leona asked. “No.” She handed Defghij her own card for check-in. It was black, rather than silver. She noticed that he noticed. “It’s like a mood ring, except it actually works. Once yours is tethered to you, it will change colors accordingly.” Another goddamn tether. Great.

Mateo finally took his card back. “I’m sorry. I’m guessing black isn’t good.”

She watched it in her own hand as she flipped it around between her fingers like a magician preparing to make it disappear. “It doesn’t mean sad, it means...empty.”

He couldn’t help himself. He took her hands in his, and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. “Even though you’re not my Leona, you can always count on me. Whether we’re in the same group session, or not, I can be here for you. You don’t have to feel empty.”

Her card was still mostly black, but specks of blue began to shine through like stars on the firmament. He noticed that she noticed, and he saw her tuck it away up her sleeve. “I have to go. Good luck.” She walked past him, down the hall, and to the right.

Mateo looked back over at Defghij. “Your name is part of the alphabet.”

“My creator wasn’t particularly creative.”

“Have a nice day,” he said as he was walking towards Dr. Hammer’s office.

“Hey, that’s my line!”

Mateo knocked on the door. After a few seconds, it opened on its own.

Dr. Hammer wasn’t at her desk, but someone shorter was filing something in the cabinet, facing away from him. “Have a seat, Mister Matic.” She finished what she was doing while he sat down. When she turned around, he saw that he knew her.

“Siria Webb. It’s been a long time for me.”

“As well as for me,” Siria said. She sat down on the other side of the desk.

“Could you tell me what year it is?”

“It’s the year 216 of the common era,” she replied.

“That’s early.”

“That’s the point.”

“What’s this place? Where are we?”

“Snake Island,” Siria began. “As you can imagine, there are a ton of snakes here. There are no doors to the outside, so if you were a teleporter, we would caution you to not even try.”

“I am a teleporter,” Mateo corrected.

“Oh. You are? I think we need to update your records.”

He nodded. It didn’t matter to him either way. “What are the next steps?”

“First, we must link you to your card. This will prevent anyone else from using it, and allow you to access all of its features.” She walked over to the side wall, and opened what Mateo thought was just a cabinet. She pulled a sort of morgue drawer from it, having to move the second visitor’s chair out of the way. “I promise, it won’t hurt.”

“What other features does it have?”

Meditation apps, coping skills, and other lessons. It can hold photos of your loved ones, even if you don’t have any to upload, as it can pull the images from your memory. There’s also a, uhh...”

“A what?” Why was she nervous to answer?

“It’s an orgasm button.” She was still rather uncomfortable to be explaining this, but was holding it together. “Sometimes a sexual release is all you need to get through the day, and this is quicker and easier. I should warn you, though, that it keeps track of when you use it, and Dr. Hammer can see the logs, so she may bring it up if that’s, like, all you do all day. It also tracks your vitals, which she’ll use to tailor your treatment.”

“I was to understand that this was more of a support group, and Dr. Hammer would be less involved than all this.”

“I don’t know how you ended up with that card, and it’s none of my business, but they may have been misinformed, or withheld information on purpose. I couldn’t tell ya. This is all about consent, which you may revoke at any time. You can turn around and leave right now, and even keep the card, though some features may not work.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to talk to people who aren’t my friends. They’re supportive, but...”

“They’re too close?” Siria guessed.

“Yeah.” Mateo removed the armor and response modules of his IMS.

“You don’t need to strip down completely,” she informed him. Once he was on his back, she went back over to the computer to begin the procedure. She slammed on the keys with purpose, stopping to click through menus as needed. Shortly after announcing that she was starting, the dull hum of the machine stopped. “Something’s wrong.” She removed the card from its dock, spun around in her chair, and stuck it in some other device. “Card seems fine to me, unless I’m reading this wrong, so it must be you.”

“What’s the error?” he asked.

“It can’t get a clear reading.” She turned to look down at him. “Do you have multiple consciousnesses in your brain, or has it been recently blended?”

“Oh. No, but I am spatio-temporally tethered to six other people. And I have a neuro-emotional bond with five of them.”

“That must be it. One or the other would probably be fine, but if you’re permanently linked to them, then the machine can’t calibrate to your emotions, and yours alone.”

“So I’m SOL?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m neither authorized nor trained to proceed. It would be up to Dr. Hammer to decide what she’s willing to do, because my guess is, if we move forward, all six of the bonded people will be able to use this card. You may be okay with that, but she may not. I really couldn’t say for sure.”

“Can I bring my team here, so she can speak with all of us at once?” he offered.

She chuckled a little. “The card is designed to transport only one person at a time. It’s not an inherent limitation, but an arbitrary one which Dr. Hammer imposed to prevent someone from abusing its power.”

Mateo chuckled back. “We don’t need the card. They just need to know where I am.” He took a breath, and prepared himself. Then he removed the microinjector from a compartment hidden in the back of the armor module.

“What the hell is that?” Siria questioned.

“A break-glass-in-case-of-emergency serum.” Before she could stop him, he jammed it into his own neck. He was overwhelmed with an intense feeling of fear. It wasn’t that it gave him images of things that he would be afraid of. It was more like he became acutely afraid of the terrible danger that the whole world around him posed. This machine he was in, the office furniture, the window, the walls. Everything felt like such a profound threat to his safety, and he knew for a fact that it would never end. He would feel this sense of loneliness and dread for the rest of his life. Nothing could stop it, no one could help him. He was lost, alone, and would soon die of the panic in his twisted and tattered heart. He began to hyperventilate. Siria tried to help, but there was nothing she could do, except make it worse. She was the scariest threat of all. This was his life now. It was always going to end like this.

She stood back up to run for help when Leona appeared out of nowhere in front of her. “What did you do to him?” she demanded to know.

“Nothing! He did it to himself!” Siria insisted.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Leona warned. She jammed a second microinjector into her husband’s neck.

Mateo immediately felt a sudden sense of relief. This room was the best, safest place in all of histories. The furniture was soft and comfortable. The walls were welcoming and warm. The window was showing them the coolest island that ever rose out of the sea. The machine was exactly what he needed today. Never again would he feel the cold emptiness of a life alone. Everything in the whole world was perfect, and he felt so much love in his bright, shining heart. His happiness could know no end, and he would never die.

“Don’t blame her, it’s not her fault,” Mateo assured Leona. “I’m fine, I just needed you here, and this was the fastest way to do it.”

“Matt, the fear serum was only to be used in emergencies.”

“This was an emergency,” he decided. “We were worried about the range of our tether. Now we know that we can find each other across a hundred and twenty light years, and well over two thousand regular years.”

Leona gave it some thought. “I guess that’s true. So, you’re okay? You’re really okay? You can be honest.”

“Really, I’m fine,” Mateo reiterated. “Call off the dogs of war.”

“Okay.” Leona took a look around. “Where’s Dr. Hammer?”

“She’s in a session,” Siria replied. “They’ll be done in about ninety minutes.”

“We can wait,” Mateo determined. “Ramses needs time to look through the data from this last jump, I’m sure.”

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Microstory 2287: Didn’t See Anyone’s Face

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I’m sorry to depress you all yesterday. Kelly called my therapist for an emergency session, so I was able to talk through some of my issues. It’s been frustrating for me. I often don’t realize when I’m being grumpy, and even when I do, I don’t always know why. It was what those people did to me, taking my organs. It’s not just about that, though. They didn’t know that I would be rescued. They didn’t even bother to covertly drop me off at the nearest hospital, or send an anonymous tip. They just left me there on the table, assuming that I would die by the time anyone caught wind of my location. I don’t think they care that I was rescued, because they were all pretty much apprehended by then, and I didn’t see anyone’s face anyway. Which is weird, when you think about it. Why did they hide their identities from me if they didn’t think I would make it? Maybe I’m overthinking it. I mean, they did take my kidneys and liver because they thought I was immortal. Well, maybe they didn’t. Maybe they only took them because they knew that other people believed as much, and that was enough motivation for them. My therapist says that there are truths about this case that I will never know, and I’ll be doing more harm than good by running my own little investigation on the side. For the sake of my mental—and physical—health, I’m better off looking for ways to put it all behind me. We don’t know how I’m gonna do that, but it’s my first priority right now. I just have to remember that they can’t hurt me anymore, nor anyone else. And I’m not going to give up on my writing, even though I offered that suggestion last night. If I do that, then they win, and we can’t have that, can we? I have to toughen up, and hold firm.

Microstory 2279: Fine to Be Discharged

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Guess who surprised me with a visit today? That’s right, it was my old parole officer, Leonard Miazga. He’s been so busy, so we’ve only been able to text occasionally, but he’s felt like a bad friend, not checking in on me until now. It’s okay, I didn’t even think about it. It was nice to see him again, though. Other than that, I have nothing to update you on. Besides the medication issues the other day, my life doesn’t really change that much anymore. I lie in the hospital bed, and stare at the TV most of the time. I do my physical therapy in my own room, and out in the hallway, and sometimes do my exercises on my own without the therapist. Then I watch more TV. The nurses come in to give me meds, and check my vitals. It’s all very routine and unexciting. The hospital, my security team, and the police are not letting anyone come in for interviews, and trust me, they have been trying. Apparently, Leonard had a hard time getting through the human barricade, even though he was on a list of approved visitors. Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m not one of those people who say that they “hate hospitals” as if that’s some kind of unique or rare personal characteristic to have. You’re not special. I know that’s mean to say, but no one likes death and disease. I just wanna go home because I’ve been here long enough, and I’m ready to sleep in my own bed. I think I can swing it pretty soon here. A normal person under these circumstances might struggle, but we have a little hospital of our own in our house, and a small medical staff, so it shouldn’t be too hard for me to convince the administrators that I am fine to be discharged.

Extremus: Year 88

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a little busy.” She spits again.

“I can tell. I can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t be pregnant.”

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

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

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

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

“If that’s how you feel about it—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, Faiyaz?”

“It’s Arqut. He’s back.”

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