Extremus: Year 136

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Sable finally feels like she’s in the club. She thought she had pretty much all of the pieces of the puzzle, but she had no idea how much she was missing. Now it all makes sense; why Silveon and Audrey act and acted the way they do and did, the kind of relationship Admiral Leithe had with Waldemar. She knows that she still doesn’t know everything. There would be too much to learn about the first timeline, and she doesn’t need it anyway. She knows what Waldemar is like now, and she can act on it.

She has decided to marry him. She knows that Audrey already tried that, but that was apparently more to protect innocent women from falling into his orbit. That was noble, but that’s not a problem anymore. Waldemar has gotten what he needed by being a family man. Good or bad, he maintains his popularity on his own merits. It sounds like Audrey was simply too passive. She evidently tried to coddle Waldemar, and long-con him into thinking that everything she wanted him to do was his idea. It seems to have helped, but it was clearly not enough. Sable has an advantage. She has real power, and she is willing to use it. It will have to wait, though. She is spending time with her mom.

The doorbell rings, which is weird, because it doesn’t normally do that at this time. In fact, it never has at all. She must have made some minor change to reality without realizing it. She is so focused on reliving these moments that she doesn’t always pay attention to the butterfly effect. She doesn’t bother with the camera. She just instructs the AI to open the door, only to find a complete stranger on the other side of it.

“Miss Keen.” The middle-aged woman walks in. “How are you doing?”

“I’m just watching my mother...wither away,” Sable replies. “Who are you?”

The stranger nods. “A fellow traveler. The difference is, I can’t control it. I’m here to ask you to move forward. I know it’s hard, which is why I’ve given you your space, but girl...it’s been months. This isn’t healthy. Now, I don’t want you to hurt me because I say that. I just want you to ask yourself whether she would want you to keep reliving this day over and over again, or live your life. I’m sincerely asking. I never met her.”

Sable frowns and looks down at her mom. This is the part of the day where she’s still alive, but has become unresponsive, so the conversation is over. She doesn’t know if Lataran can hear her, but she usually keeps talking anyway, even though no matter what, Lataran won’t remember it when time resets. She looks back at the woman. “How did you hijack my rewind? No one should remember the groundhog repeats.”

“I didn’t hijack anything. I’m a choosing one, like you. It’s just something that happens to me. I remember all timelines. As I was saying, you’re in control here. ”

Sable doesn’t say anything. She just sighs and looks back at her mom.

“They made a movie about this. Not the one you’re thinking of; it more closely resembles what you’re actually doing, but unlike that character, you can turn it off whenever you want, and...every time you refuse, you die.”

“That’s how this power works. I can only rewind upon death.”

“I know,” the woman says. “That wasn’t hard to parse. I have witnessed many of your suicides. You like to do them public so you can see the looks on people’s faces. That is not healthy either.” She holds out her hand as if Sable is meant to take it. “Come on. Let’s enjoy a nice walk in the Attic Forest, and wait for tomorrow to come.”

Sable stares at the intruder’s hand. “What happens if I kill you instead?”

“I wouldn’t know. I try to stay alive, as I always have,” she replies.

Sable stands, and steps forward menacingly. “I do like to learn new things.” She pulls out her knife. “Hold still. I’ll make it quick.”

Extremus: Year 135

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Waldemar was different for about a year. At first, Silveon thought that maybe someone had supplanted his mind with their own, or was mind-controlling him. Or that it was just straight up a clone. But his doctor could find absolutely no evidence that he had been tampered with. The doctor used all sorts of lingo that Silveon didn’t understand, but the parts of the brain responsible for things like impulse control and empathy were lighting up, whereas they didn’t do that before. And then suddenly, it was gone again. It wasn’t entirely gone. He did not go back to the way he was before, but Silveon was present for another scan, and the parts of his brain he used during that year have returned to the way they were. It’s sad and frustrating. The hope was fleeting.

Silveon has been trying to figure out a way to get that back, but he still doesn’t understand what happened. He’s going to have to bite the bullet and reach out to Sable. He hasn’t cut her out of his life, but he has kept his distance. As much as she will tolerate. Maybe it’s time for him to try to gather some new allies. They won’t be like the originals, but no one possibly could be. That doesn’t mean they can’t help. She’s powerful, and while she denied being responsible for Waldemar’s change before, maybe she has some new insights. He’s at her cabin now, trying to work up the courage.

Before he can reach up to ring the bell, he suddenly finds himself teleporting to the other side of the door.

Sable is sitting on the couch, dressed in revealing clothing, looking at him with a smirk. She sets her tablet down. “My oh my, Steward. Aren’t we the hesitant one?”

“I didn’t come for whatever you think I’m here for,” Silveon explains.

Sable looks down at her attire like she forgot what she was wearing. “Oh, this? This isn’t for you. This is just comfortable. I change for no man, and I mean that both figuratively and literally. What do you want, Silveon? Help with your boy, the Captain?”

“You said you wanted to help, so here I am, reaching out.”

Sable dismissively picks her tablet back up and starts swiping through it. “That was a long time ago. I’m not sure if I’m interested anymore. You’ll have to convince me.”

“Well, what can I do in service to that?” Silveon asks.

Sable stops a moment and looks back up at him. “You can tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me everything,” Sable says, not really clarifying.

“Everything about what?”

“Everything,” she repeats. “Tell me how you knew Waldemar was going to be captain, and what kind, and what he was going to do. Tell me what you did to stop him, and why you didn’t do a very good job of it. Tell me what my mother knows, what Audrey knew, what your parents knew. Everything means everything..”

He has avoided this conversation so long, but she’s a lot older now, and as he was just contemplating how he needs people on his side, now that he has lost everyone else. So he sits down and takes a breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything. If you use it against me...well...then I guess that’s what happens. I’m an old man now, and I’m tired, and as you pointed out, it didn’t really work. I mean, I think it did a little. Things are better than they were in the previous timeline.”

“The previous timeline?” She was intrigued.

“Yes,” Silveon says. “The reason I knew what Waldemar was going to become was because I already saw it. And I’ve been trying to stop it my whole life.”

Sable curls her legs in and leans towards him. “Finally. Let’s get into it.”

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 130

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As angry as Audrey is at Silveon for forcing her through the Nexus, she lets go of it pretty quickly when she meets her daughter. Silvia Husk is 28 years old now, and she feels so grateful for this incredible opportunity. Her alternate self has done a great job of raising a productive and well-rounded individual. One thing that Extremus!Audrey—as they have decided to call her to distinguish her from Green!Audrey—was worried about, was how Silvia would handle this situation. Audrey herself would be a little freaked out in her shoes. It would be weird for her to suddenly have two mothers, but Silvia hasn’t been struggling at all. It sounds like she had quite the happy childhood, and has grown up into a beautiful, confident young woman. Extremus!Audrey is sad that she missed it all. But at least they have this time now.

Today, Silvia wants to show Extremus!Audrey something. Green!Audrey isn’t coming. It’s unclear if that’s because she’s already seen it, or if it’s something that will only be between the two of them. “This is only between us,” Silvia says, answering the question right away. She unlocks a safe under her bed and pulls out a teleporter band. “This is off the grid. It’s scary to use, because it relies on line-of-sight, and where we’re going, we can’t see it from here. We’re gonna have to jump to the sky a few times before landing where we wanna be, but I promise, it will be worth it.”

Audrey smiles at her precious daughter. “I trust you.” She’s never been in the sky before. She’s hardly spent any time outside her whole life. She sleeps under the stars nearly every night, even if that means teleporting to the other side of Verdemus for the right weather conditions. The immersion holograms really don’t do it justice. Nothing beats true nature. And that must be where they’re going now, because if it’s off the grid, it’s not going to be a clone factory, or a space elevator station. Plus, she said to wear her swimsuit underneath her clothes. She lets Audrey bound their wrists with a tether so if they die, they die together, and then they jump away.

They immediately start to fall. Audrey doesn’t know where to look, but that’s not her job. She smiles over at her girl, who is enjoying herself a little too much. Before they get anywhere close to Splat City, though, she looks over and jumps them back up to a higher altitude, but at a different longitude. They do that a couple more times before reaching their real target, and man is it a close call. They’re standing at the very edge of an island cliff. If Audrey were to take one step back, she would pull them over. And they could really get hurt before Silvia managed to jump them to safety again. She steps forward a few meters, then undoes the tether herself. “This is beautiful.”

“It’s an island. Pretty small, comparatively speaking. It’s basically just a tall-ass rock in the middle of the ocean. The satellites have mapped it, of course, but it’s entirely untouched. As far as I know, I’m the only person who has ever been here. I actually love to freefall. It’s one of my favorite things to do. That’s how I ended up finding this place, just from flying all over the world.

“That’s really cool, Silvy,” Audrey says sincerely. “I’m so thankful for our time together. I wish I had been able to raise you.”

Silvia begins to tear up. “There’s something else I never told my mother. And I wouldn’t tell you, but I think you have the right to know.”

“You can tell me anything,” Audrey promises. “And you can tell her too.”

Silvia fights through the tears. “I’m more like my father than I would like to admit. I’m not a tyrant, or anything, but I inherited something from him.”

“You’re psychic.”

“Only in one very weird sort of way,” Silvia goes on. “I can’t...read people’s thoughts like grandma, or feel their emotions like dad. It’s more like I see the timeline of their thoughts. I can see where their consciousness began, and...” She trails off.

“You can see where it is.”

“Yes. I know when people are going to die.”

Audrey nods somberly. “I was gonna potentially live forever. There’s this thing we have on the Extremus—”

“The Question, I know it. Mother has trusted me with a lot of secret information. She said she never considered not telling me the truth. It must have been hard for you, having to stay with my father for so long. Mother thought he might get worse over time.”

“He did, but I still hold out hope. I think maybe this was the best thing for him, and the ship. I think maybe my presence was just getting in the way, or really, that it was no longer helping. My chapter there is over, and from the way you’re sobbing, I’m guessing that this isn’t the start of a new chapter, but more of an epilogue.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you won’t get to see the Extremus planet.”

Audrey looks back out at the grandeur. “I did. This is what the mission was for. It doesn’t matter how far from the Core Worlds we traveled. That was never what we were truly looking for. I have no regrets, not even your father. He gave me you, if only for a year.”

“If it helps, I’m not sure if this truly spells the end. There’s something weird about the consciousness stream. It does end, but then... Then there’s something else. Like, a locked door that I can’t see past. Maybe there’s an afterlife. A true one, beyond the buffer.”

“Maybe,” Audrey agrees.

“Well.” Silvia wipes the tears from her face. “The good news is, you’re not in any danger. You literally can’t die today. If you want, I can tell you exactly when—”

“No, I’m fine with a little bit of mystery. I don’t need to know everything, but it’s nice to know we at least have the day.”

“Yeah. So. How about it?”

“How about what?” Audrey asks.

Silvia shakes her eyes towards the edge of the cliff. “Let’s go. I’ve done it many times myself. I assure you, it’s perfectly safe, as long as you clear about a meter from the edge.”

“Oh, is that it?” What a ridiculous suggestion.

“I told you, you can’t die.”

“And what about you? Can you see the end of your own stream?”

“No, but I don’t want to live my life cowering in the corner.”

Audrey considers the proposition. She definitely believes Silvia when she says that she won’t die, but that won’t make it any easier. It won’t make it any less scary. But she doesn’t want to be fearful either. She frowns, trying to make it seem like she’s gonna say no, but then she turns it upside down and pulls her shirt off. “Well, come on! If we’re gonna do it, let’s not waste time!”

Mother and daughter hold each other by the waist, and stand on the very edge again, but this time overlooking the water, smiling at each other. Without counting down or speaking, they turn towards the unknown, and jump off.

Audrey dies about a year later, just in time to make it to the big afterlife simulation in the sky before it apparently collapses.

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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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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 24, 2537

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The team came out of the technicolor sling web, and found themselves near another ship. It wasn’t looming over them this time but underneath their feet. Had they failed? This far out in the galaxy, no one should have reached by now. Sure, Extremus was traveling this far, but the chances of happening upon them were literally astronomical. Leona sighed. “Magnetize to the hull. They will sense us, and send a probe to investigate.”

“You don’t seem surprised,” Mateo pointed out.

“I’m not,” Leona replied. “Rambo?”

Ramses was desperately tapping on his wrist interface, looking for what could have happened, no doubt. “It worked. We’re 152,000 light years and change from Barnard’s Star. We should be alone. I don’t understand. Is this Extremus?”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Leona confirmed, looking at her own data.

As she predicted, they felt the vibrations of something moving several meters away. A giant metal ball flew up from an opening, and rolled towards them, hovering against a local magnetic field. It stopped before the team, and began to scan them.

“Place your hand upon it if you want to hear the conversation,” Leona said.

They all did it.

“Report,” came a voice.

“Leona Matic. This is my team. We are of peace...always.”

“Pirate got jokes,” the voice said.

“We’re not pirates. Look in the central archives. We were there when your ancestors were preparing for this mission. We helped come up with it.”

“We lost the central archives.” The voice paused. “We’ve lost a lot since launch. But we still have our oral stories. I know who you are, Madam Matic.” A graphic appeared on the probe’s screen. “This is the basic schematic of the ship. I will shut down the teleportation regulator for exactly five seconds. You better come in before then.” A red circle in the corner of the screen suddenly turned green.

“Now,” Leona ordered.

They teleported inside, landing on the bridge, inside of the horseshoe pit. It was just like when Pribadium’s ship showed up. “Déjà vu,” Olimpia noted after they had all receded their nanites into more comfortable clothing.

One woman was the only other person here. She took hold of a control console, and pulled it towards her. It swung on a hinge, giving her room to step down into the center of the horseshoe. “Welcome to the TGS Extremus Prime, Team Matic. My name is Watchstander Actilitca. The captain is in stasis, and I would like to keep her that way, unless you have some reason we should wake her up?”

“There’s no issue here,” Leona began to explain. “We came on accident.”

“I don’t know why,” Ramses said apologetically. “Did you change vectors, or are we off the mark? I deliberately chose a destination away from where I knew you were supposed to end up.”

“We’ve changed course before,” the Watchstander, “but by reputation, I know you would have aimed for something sufficiently far away. We’ve ended up just about where our ancestors planned to.”

Ramses shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I know what happened,” Leona said to him. “I don’t know the why, but I know the what. The slingdrive doesn’t necessarily go where you want it to. It can’t go absolutely anywhere in the universe. It can only go where there is already an established presence. I don’t know whether it’s looking for some level of technology, or organic life, or what, but we can’t ever be alone.”

Ramses stared at her blankly as he went back through his memory, trying to retrieve even one instance which might point to her being mistaken. There were times when they certainly might have been alone, but there wasn’t proof one way or another. Her hypothesis didn’t sound too far-fetched. That wasn’t so far necessarily a bad thing as they weren’t in the business of being remote and isolated from others, but that was Linwood’s goal. They thought they could help him, but it was going to be much harder than they thought. They needed a ship. Specifically, they needed one with reframe technology. They needed to get somewhere far from here; far from everything. They promised him extreme solitude. “Oh my God,” he said in disappointment.

“I’m sorry to have gotten in your way,” Actilitca said.

“No,” Leona countered. “We couldn’t have come this far out at all if not for you. I suspected that this was a limitation of the technology—”

“No,” Ramses interrupted. “It’s a limitation of my implementation of the technology. I doubt your...um, the others have the same issue.” He evidently didn’t want this stranger knowing anything about Leona and Mateo’s children. That was logical.

Angela wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “It hasn’t caused us problems. You’re always so down on yourself about this, but we have always ended up exactly where we belong.” She looked up to the ceiling. “Maybe these old powers that be have still been with us the whole time, and understand that we’re no good to the universe if no one else is around who needs us.”

“Someone needs us now,” Leona said to Actilitca. “He requires total isolation and privacy. We promised it to him. But wherever we try to go, there’s always going to be someone else there.”

Actilitca stepped back up out of the pit, and started working on one of the standing workstations. “We sent hundreds of unmanned scouts in all directions, in search of our new home. We no longer have reframe technology, which means at most, they are 52 light years away. Now, if that’s not far enough for you, keep in mind that we are only drifting here for the moment. Once one of our scouts finds a suitable candidate, we will be heading that way, which in all likelihood, will take us even farther from whichever scout I give you the coordinates to.”

“You would do that?” Ramses asked. “You would give us coordinates to one of your scouts?”

“As I said, it’s unmanned,” Actilitca replied. “We never intended to scoop them all back up later. Not only will I find one for you that you can transport to—using whatever faster-than-light technology you have access to—but you can have it. It has life support, it just needs to be turned on. In fact...” She went back to her screen to look through the data. “A few of them were sent up towards the top of the galactic plane, which is quite sparse. And yes!” She flung the image on her screen to a hologram in the center of the horseshoe. The team stepped back to get a better look at it. They were orbital images of what appeared to be a barren, lifeless planet. “This one has reached a particularly isolated region of the galaxy. It has chosen to halt there, rather than moving on to find other candidates. It must have calculated that the chances of finding anything useful beyond it were too low to waste the energy and time on. You can absolutely have that, unless...you’re looking for paradise too.”

“No,” Leona contended. “He just needs raw material. That looks perfect. Not the planet. The gravity well is too deep, but I assume there are other celestial bodies there?”

“It hasn’t surveyed them,” Actilitca explained, “but it has spotted them.”

“We would be grateful for it,” Leona said.

“Wait, should we wake him up and ask?” Romana suggested regarding Linwood, who was still asleep in his own stasis pod on the floor.

“We already did ask him,” Marie reasoned. “He wants to be alone on the edge of the galaxy. We’re giving him that, we’re just going to be a bit delayed. He shouldn’t know anything about the Extremus.”

“We’ll have to strip out all mention of it from all the systems on the scout, if we provide it for him,” Mateo decided.

“Yeah,” Leona said. She looked back up at Actilitca. “Does this all sound acceptable?”

“Sounds like a fine idea to me.” Actilitca tapped on her screen.

Their interfaces beeped, having received the message. “It won’t take long for me to incorporate the coordinates into the slingdrive.” Ramses stepped over to the corner to focus on the work.

“While we’re here,” Leona began, “is there anything we can do to help?”

Actilitca seemed to think about it for a moment. “No, I believe that we have everything well in hand.”

“Are you certain?” Leona pressed. Hint, hint.

“No, we’ve been doing this a long time. The scouts are out, the crew and passengers are asleep. The skeleton crew schedule is working.”

“You said that you lost your copy of the central archives.”

Actilitca bobbled her head. “Yes, there was...a disagreement in our past.”

“I can give you a copy of it,” Leona offered. “Our tech is compatible with yours. You should be able to plug and play.”

Actilitca looked over at a door as if something on the other side might sway her decision. “The disagreement is...ongoing.”

“Which side are you on?”

“I’m on the fence,” Actilitca admitted. “Look, we came here for a fresh start. Some believe that holding onto our past holds us back. There are some things we kept, like...how to grow plants. But the reframe engine is sort of a no-go. It only took us 216 years to get here, and now that we have a stasis pod for every Extremusian, any trip back would feel instantaneous. We have had issues with people quitting on us, and we don’t want that to happen again. We’re stuck out here, and that’s the way we like it. Most of us, anyway. Technology threatens that stability. It threatens to undermine the entire mission, negating everything our ancestors worked for.”

“That’s a very Amish position to have,” Leona reasoned. “You don’t shun all technology. You shun tech that can take your people away from the community.” She contemplated it. “Is there any knowledge you lost that you regret? Perhaps it just got filed into the wrong category, or someone destroyed the wrong data drives?”

“That happened a lot,” Actilitca confirmed. “We lost all of Earthan history and entertainment. We lost most of our virtual stacks too, but a lot of that had to do with how much space they took up.”

“It’s done,” Ramses announced. “We can go.”

Leona didn’t move. She was studying Actilitca’s face. “You and Matt should go. Ladies, one or two of you have to go with them, but no less than two of you need to stay behind to keep my slingdrive company.”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Actilitca claimed.

“I don’t know much about what happened to you in the last 216 years,” Leona said to her, “but we were last here in 2397, and things didn’t look great, so I know you’ve been through some things.”

Actilitca brushed it off. “That was in another timeline. You were never here, not for us. You don’t know anything about what has happened.”

“Fair enough,” Leona acknowledged.

“We’re ready.” Mateo and Ramses were holding Linwood’s pod again.

Romana was sitting on it wearing a sexy red dress, holding a microphone, or rather a holographic microphone. “Fly me to the moon! Let me play among the stars!”

“Bye,” Mateo said.

“Let me see what spring is like on...” Romana’s voice trailed off and echoed from the aether as they slung away.

“Hey, that’s my thing,” Olimpia complained.

“Yes, it is, dear,” Leona agreed. She turned back to the Watchstander. “We have all day, but depending on how your skeleton crew shift works, maybe no longer than that. Let’s develop a list of what you need. I can write an algorithm that will copy admissible material, and ignore forbidden knowledge.”

“Okay,” Actilitca said. “I accept those terms. But we must quarantine the data so it can be purged all at once if we vote against it.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Leona replied.

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Extremus: Year 101

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Around the time that Tinaya was shutting the forced pregnancy program down, something else major was being shut down. As it turns out, the popular immersive role-playing game, Quantum Colony wasn’t only a game. It was real. Players were piloting real substrates tens of thousands of light years away in the Charter Cloud of the Milky Way. It was the infamous Team Matic who figured it out, and threw their weight around to end the whole thing, presumably citing the many ethical violations that it was making. The Military outpost, Teagarden forcibly removed all players, casting them back to their real substrates in the Core Worlds, or in the case of the Extremusians, back here. This had two consequences, which came down to timing. First, people were frustrated, because that game was one of the few distractions that they used to escape the confines of the ship. Without it, they felt more pent up and isolated than ever. But also, because they were being encouraged to procreate anyway, people were relieving their stress through sex. So it’s been a really complicated last few months.

Waldemar was a particularly avid player of Quantum Colony, and he is at the age where he wants to have a lot of sex, even though he doesn’t have the capacity to experience love or affection. Audrey was not his girlfriend at the time, but she could tell that his eyes were starting to wander as he was looking for a mate. She ingratiated herself to him, pulling his attention away from the other girls in his vicinity. He didn’t see a problem with her being a minor, nor being younger than him. Again, because of the way his brain was wired, those kinds of social constructs seemed just as arbitrary as anything. So he fell for her very well-calculated wiles, and focused all of his attention on her. They have been keeping their distance from Silveon—and his whole family, for that matter. Audrey knew that Silveon would not react positively to the news that she was pregnant. On the occasions that they did see each other, she wore carefully selected clothing, was always eating to explain why she was getting noticeably larger when the ponchos weren’t enough, and eventually resorted to holographic trickery to fake her normal, thinner figure.

That has all been lost today. Silveon didn’t catch her showing the true size of her belly, but a mutual associate did. She thought nothing of it, not realizing that anything was being kept a secret. She mentioned it to Silveon casually, having no idea the beast that she was awakening. At this point, Tinaya has known the truth for a couple of weeks, and has been unable to get Audrey to elaborate on the circumstances leading up to her situation. Silveon is determined to get it out of her now.

“Silvy. Silvy! Stop! You look like you’re about to hit her,” Tinaya scolds as she’s physically holding him back.

“I’m not going to hit her!” Silveon insists. “I just want an explanation.” He looks back over at Audrey. “How did this happen? I didn’t even know you liked him. Do you know what he is?”

Audrey is tearing up. “Dougnanimous Brintantalus.”

The initial look of horror on Silveon’s face when he hears that; Tinaya has never seen it before. He’s always been so confident and collected. His expression sinks now, as he begins to hyperventilate just a little. He’s starting to have a panic attack. That, Tinaya recognizes. He’s never been through it before, but she has seen it in his father. “Come on,” Tinaya says. She pulls the two kids closer to her, and teleports them to the giant sequoia. They’re not at the base of the tree, but a couple of decks up. “Thistle. Cone of silence.”

Thistle doesn’t have a way to magically prevent others from hearing what they’re saying, but he can place them in a parallel dimension where light passes, but sound does not. People will be able to see them here if they happen to walk by, but they won’t be able to eavesdrop. They came to this location because the tree has a calming effect on people, which is why she planted it in the first place, along with the rest of the forest. “Cone established.”

“Do what I do,” Tinaya says calmly. She begins to breathe deliberately as she’s staring at her son, and holding his shoulders. No one speaks until he’s matched her breathing for sixty seconds. “Good.”

Silveon nods, and steps back to give himself some space. “I’m okay.”

“I have this thing where you tell me five things you can see—”

“I’m familiar with the technique,” Silveon interrupts. “I don’t need it.”

Tinaya nods. She shifts her gaze between him and Audrey as she asks, “what did that mean? That phrase sounds familiar.”

“It’s famous,” Audrey explains. “It’s called a trust password. People used to think that you could use them to prove that you were a time traveler, but...because of mind-reading tech, it’s unreliable. You could never really trust them. Still...”

“In the future, we joked about using one,” Silveon says, taking over the explanation. “At one point, we were both gonna come back in time. It seemed logical to not have to do this alone. We ultimately decided against it, because we agreed that partners would always distract each other. No matter the dynamic between them, they would end up having too many conversations that weren’t about Waldemar, or at least weren’t about what we need to do to stop him. It’s a one-person job, because that one person can focus all of their energy on this one mission.”

“I think I remember studying trust passwords,” Tinaya acknowledges. Then she quickly realizes that that’s not the point. “I understand the logic in the one-person mission, but she came here to protect you, not help you.”

“How long have you known about her?” Silveon questions.

“A few years.”

“I’ll deal with you later, young lady,” he says to his mother. He faces Audrey. “Whose idea was this? Crow’s? He never thought that I should be the one to go back, even though it was my idea.”

“It wasn’t anyone’s plan but mine. She was right. I came back to protect you, not to complete your mission. You were such a tiny little thing. None of us knew Waldemar when he was young in the original timeline. We didn’t know how he would react. Maybe he would see you as an object to be experimented on. He might have wanted to test what it’s like to set a human on fire, or see what people look like on the inside. We didn’t know anything!”

Silveon shakes his head. “You were meant to see me off that night...say goodbye. Now I know why you weren’t there, because you were sneaking back here, I assume through the prototype consciousness projector? You spent all this time watching me in secret, and you did a damn good job keeping yourself hidden, because we only met a few years ago.”

“That sums it up,” Audrey confirms.

“That wasn’t just a summary. It was a condemnation. I thought hearing it laid out before you would make you see how insulting it was, and how much you betrayed me.”

“Okay,” Audrey begins. “I want you to summarize your own mission with Waldemar, and see how closely it matches up with what you just said about me.”

“That’s my point! He’s the enemy! We’re supposed to be allies!”

“How could we have been allies if I was dead!”

“What?”

“Silveon. We killed everybody. When we projected our minds to the past, we collapsed the timeline behind us. That’s why I had to use the prototype at the exact same time as you. If you came back here alone, I would be gone! The girl named Audrey who you would have met in this timeline would have been someone else! It wasn’t just about you! I wanted to survive this!”

“I’ve never looked at it that way,” Silveon admits. “I always saw what I did as a sacrifice, but I had it backwards. It was everyone we left behind who sacrificed their own continuity...to save us...to save me.”

“They made it gladly,” Audrey tells him, “because they did it to save everyone else on the ship.”

“That’s what you did, when you let him do that to you?” Silveon gestures towards Audrey’s belly.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen to this child, but he was determined to get someone pregnant. Better me than some innocent girl who doesn’t understand what he is. I can protect myself, and her.” She massages her own belly.

“You just said that we don’t know anything about him,” Silveon reminds her.

“We didn’t before,” she clarifies. “I know him now. I’ve learned coping mechanisms. I’m sure you have too.”

For a moment, there is a silence as the three of them absorb each other’s perspectives. A stranger does walk up, and seems to identify the intensity of the interaction, so he leaves. Silveon leans against the trunk, and slides down until he’s sitting. “It wasn’t supposed to go like his. Mom, why did you try to fix the population problem with a shipwide orgy? It’s fine. Both of us could have told you that it’s fine.”

“The population decline happened in your timeline too?” Tinaya questions. “I was taking it as proof that you butterfly affected something when you came back here. I figured you would have mentioned something at some point.”

Silveon brushes it away. “Yeah, the population goes down, but it bounces back.”

“Tell her why it bounced back,” Audrey suggests.

“I don’t—I don’t know why. Is there some particular reason?” He isn’t acting cagey. It sounds like he genuinely doesn’t know.”

Audrey has had enough of sitting down, so after allowing Tinaya to help her take a seat on the bench, she starts to educate them. “Waldemar takes his cues from history. Understanding social nuances was never his strong suit. One trend he noticed in the past on Earth is that populations tend to rise during periods of political strife. Like dictatorships. He noted that communities that are poor and less educated typically lead to higher populations. Unfortunately for him, achieving the kind of results on this ship are a little more difficult. We take our cues from the post-scarcity society that our ancestors were able to adopt when they were rescued from the Ansutahan universe, and housed in the centrifugal cylinders in the Gatewood Collective. There’s no such thing as poverty, and there’s no such thing as education disparity, because resources are easy to come by, and knowledge is so easy to access and spread. We are limited here, since we can’t just make a stop on a planet, and gather what we need, but we’ve found a workaround with the time travel excursions.

“Waldemar solved the population collapse crisis by making sweeping social changes that you chalked up to random expressions of maniacal power. He did them for a reason. First, he altered the excursion cycle, requiring timeship managers to give definitive proof of depleting resources before one can be scheduled. This may not sound like a big deal, but he would only authorize so many time excursions per year, and only for resources that were already proven low. In order to take advantage of one of these infrequent opportunities, they waited until more resources were low, which meant some resources were critically low, or completely out, before they were replenished. Furthermore, he reworked the contribution score system, so that high scores didn’t just lead to luxury, but to bare necessities. You had to have a job to feed your family, whereas before, such things were considered human rights. In addition, he changed child labor laws. It actually benefited the family to have children enter the workforce at a younger age. And in fact, the system made it so that it was beneficial to have more children, rather than fewer. You would think that it would be the other way around. A lack of resources should lead to lower population, but it encouraged it, because it was all about controlling those resources. Few people knew where they stood. They simply did what made the most sense for their family. His plan worked, but it obviously came at a cost.”

Silveon looks over at his mother again. “So she saved us. She did what I’ve been trying to do this whole time. If his only reason for instituting all those laws no longer exists, he won’t be able to justify those actions.”

“You know better than that,” Audrey contends. “I’m convinced that we changed the future, maybe even for the better. But we didn’t necessarily fix it. Things may still be bad, just in a different way. Without that reason, he may need to come up with a new one, and he may do that if his underlying reason remains, which is that he wants power. What you’re trying to do is teach him to use his power for good, but Silvy...he always was. He just had a warped view of what that meant, and his ego always got in the way. I don’t know how to change that, but as I said, that’s not my job here.”

“Your job’s changed,” Silveon says with a sigh.

“How’s that?”

“You’re no longer here to protect me as a baby, but that baby right there. She’s your only concern. You need to go to Verdemus.”

“No, Silveon, you’re not getting it. That defeats the whole purpose. He’ll find someone else. He needs a family.”

“He doesn’t need a family,” Tinaya says. “He needs sympathy from the voters. Now that we’re in this situation, there’s another way to get it, but it’s sad and depressing, and you’re not gonna be able to raise that baby. She would have to go to Verdemus without you.”

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Extremus: Year 97

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Admiral Tinaya Leithe. That’s what it says on her name plate. She has one more job to do before she can rest in peace, and if what her son from the future told her is true, it’s going to be her longest job yet. That’s exciting—she wants to be alive, of course—but it’s also pretty stressful and scary. She’s already so old, and so tired. She’s really gonna be leaning on Lataran to take the brunt of the work here. Which should be okay. She’s still youngish, and is showing no signs of slowing down. It might not matter anyway. Captain Oceanus Jennings hasn’t sought either of their counsels. Still, day in and day out, they come to their giant joint office, and make themselves available.

Tinaya sighs. “What am I doing here?”

“Hold your fingers up like this.”

“Okay.” She mimics Lataran’s gesture. “Then what are you gonna do?”

“Try to flick the football between your thumbs.”

Before Lataran could do what she proposed, Tinaya drops her hands, and reaches over to her docked tablet. She puts in her search parameters. “Uhh...is this meant to be association football, or North American football? Or foosball. Are you sure it’s not foosball?”

“It’s none of those things. It’s paper football.”

“That explains why it’s a triangle, and it’s not a triangle in any of these reference photos.”

“Do you wanna play or not?”

“Not,” Tinaya answers. “You’re the one who asked, not me.”

“Well, I’m tired of RPS 101 Plus. I was just trying to change things up.”

“You could always get into Quantum Colony, like everyone else.”

“No, that game gives me the willies.” Lataran shivers. “There’s something too real about it.

“Yeah.” Tinaya stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk on the trails.”

“You do that,” Lataran replies. “You’re welcome, by the way!” she calls up after Tinaya is some distance away. She never lets her friend forget that she’s the one who built their little corner of paradise as a gift.

“Thank you!”

Just as Tinaya is reaching the entrance to the path, the doorbell rings. “Thistle, who’s that?”

A floating hologram displaying the doorbell cam appears right in front of her. “Audrey Husk. She does have Admiral Hall clearance, so she didn’t break in.”

“She’s a little young to have clearance for anywhere on this ship besides home and school.”

“I can’t explain it. Her authorization didn’t come through me. It’s just there,” Thistle replies. That’s weird. He’s meant to know everything that happens on this ship.

While Lataran has seniority here, they treat it as a democracy. She’s standing by the door, waiting for Tinaya’s go ahead. When she gets it, she opens it up, and greets their visitor.

The little girl, Audrey takes one step over the threshold. “Admirals Keen and Leithe, my name is Audrey Husk, and I’m here to speak to you regarding Silveon Grieves and Waldemar Kristiansen.”

“Oh, are you their new little friend?” Leithe asks, gesturing to her to come on in.

Audrey accepts the invitation. “Little is the right word, because I’m shorter than I will be.”

“Uhh...”

“That is, I’m shorter than I’m used to being...”

Tinaya widens her eyes, and looks over at Lataran in fear.

“She needs to know what’s going on anyway,” Audrey claims dismissively. “So go ahead and give her the deets.” She crosses her arms like she’s going to wait for it. But it’s not her call. It’s not even Tinaya’s.

“I’m afraid that I would need to consult both Arqut and Silveon, as well as maybe Zefbiri.

“I don’t have time for this,” Audrey says. “Admiral Keen, Silveon is a time traveler who sent his consciousness into his younger self’s body so he could fulfill a mission to protect the future from a violent dictator.”

Lataran absorbs the information for all of four seconds. “Got it.” To be fair, she’s a time traveler too, and it was this whole thing.

“I’m guessing something went wrong, and you’re here to give the timeline a third chance,” Tinaya says. She’s not happy about this kid spilling the beans, but she knows that they can trust Lataran, so everything will be okay.

“Oh, no, I’m not from a different timeline,” Audrey begins to explain. “Silvy and I were contemporaries. He chose to send himself back alone, believing it to be a solo mission. The others and I disagreed. I secretly sent my own mind back at the exact same moment. I’ve been watching over him without him even noticing.”

“How is that even possible?” Tinaya questions. “If he knows you in the future, wouldn’t he notice you acting weird in the past? Surely you’re making choices now that he wouldn’t predict, unless you’re a really good actor.”

Audrey chuckles. “He is a singular man of singular focus. That is precisely why we decided to do this behind his back. He misses things sometimes. He needs others more than he will admit.” She smiles, presumably remembering something from their future. “But yes, I am a good actor. I recently successfully inserted myself as the third leg of their friendship tripod, but things immediately got complicated.”

That sounds gross. “Don’t tell me there’s something going on between you three in a...romantic sense.”

“Oh, God, no. It’s nothing like that. I was chosen for the supervisory mission specifically because there weren’t any feelings in the first timeline, and because I’m the right age. I came at this mission as a total professional, as did your son. Waldemar, however, knows nothing about what’s to become of him. To him, this is just life. I’m afraid that your son’s interference with Waldemar’s childhood development has had unforeseen consequences. As I believe you know, Waldemar is incapable of love. His brain isn’t wired for it. He is also a man of singular focus, and his drug of choice is ambition. But Silveon has been teaching him to assimilate better into society, allowing him to approximate—read: fake—emotional connection. I’m trying to tell you that Waldemar has found a love interest, and I don’t know what it means.”

“Why come to me?” Tinaya questions.

“I don’t wanna out myself to Silveon if I don’t have to, but I require advice. That is your job on this ship anyway, but I am well aware that Captain Jennings is not the type to ask for it, leaving you with a lot of...” She looks over at their desks, which are mostly there as decoration. “...free time.”

“Who is this love interest of Waldemar’s? Do they reciprocate?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He chose a female, I believe, to later set himself up as a nuclear family man with biological children. I know, that’s disturbing, but I knew Waldemar very well in the future. Everything good or normal about him was fake. I don’t think Silveon really sees it, but he’s falling into the same patterns, just with a faster timeline. He had a family before. It was inevitable that he would learn to fake human characteristics, like love and empathy. That’s what sociopaths do. I’m afraid that your son’s efforts may not be doing us any good.”

“He fears that as well,” Tinaya acknowledges. “I don’t know if there’s anything that we can do about it, though. Let’s imagine taking this girl out of the equation in whatever way, so she can never become his wife. He’ll just choose someone else, won’t he, even if it’s not for a few more years?”

“That’s why I rang your doorbell,” Audrey says. “I can’t see a solution.” She looks away, almost in shame. “And I don’t wanna go to Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

Audrey takes a moment to respond. She turns her head back to face them with dignity. “Waldemar will be an adult in two years. Both Silveon and I have been given the greenlight to take care of the problem permanently any time following his eighteenth birthday. It’s a last resort, but it’s not out of the question.”

“Yes, it is,” Lataran insists.

“I told you, I don’t like it,” Audrey reminds her, “but we can’t go back to the way things were. One life to save thousands.”

“No, I mean, it won’t work. I assume you know of The Question?”

Audrey is surprised that she mentioned this. “I do. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Death is not the end on this ship. What you’ll be doing is making him mad, and if anyone can find a way to return to base reality with a new substrate, it’s a man dangerous enough to warrant two time traveling assassins in the first place. Killing him will not have the desired effect. We’re not that lucky.”

Audrey considers Lataran’s position. “You may be right about that. I just don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure if I should do anything at all. Maybe I’m wrong, and Silveon is skillfully leading Waldemar down the right path, just as we planned, but I can’t see it, because I’ve had to keep my distance to protect my own cover.”

Tinaya sighs. “This girl, is she being abused, or will she be?”

“That I don’t know,” Audrey admits. “I was relatively close to Future!Waldemar, but not family close. If there was abuse with his wife, it wasn’t made public, or even an open secret. It didn’t seem like his wife could ever tell that he didn’t love her, but this new girl might suspect, and that may place her in danger eventually. I can’t predict her actions, nor his reactions to her actions.”

“I have an idea,” Lataran says, “but it’s not pleasant.”

“What is it?” Audrey asks. “What is it?” she repeats herself when Lataran hesitates to elaborate.

“I’m still new to this whole situation, but you’re only about four years younger than him. At the moment, that’s disturbing. In the future, it won’t be that big of a deal. If you really wanted to stop some innocent person from getting caught up in his lies, you could...take the job for yourself. Again, you can’t do anything like that yet, but...”

Audrey stares into space. “No, that’s a good idea. In six years, I’ll be 18, and he’ll be 22. If I play my cards right—as long as he isn’t in too serious of a relationship with someone else—I can step in. I can be a shield for any other potential mate of his, because I know what I’m up against, and I know that I can handle it.”

“No,” Tinaya says, throwing up her hands. “No. I know you’re not really twelve, just like my son isn’t really eight, but I can’t listen to you talk about this. You’re planning to gaslight a human being into pretending to love you so no one knows that he has a social disorder. You’re saying it while looking like a twelve-year-old, with your twelve-year-old eyes and your twelve-year-old voice. Jesus. Did you not study ethics before you left the future?”

“No, I didn’t!” Audrey argues. “It was banned from the curriculum...by Waldemar. This is the sacrifice that we make. I promise, I won’t do anything until I’m legally an adult, and then it won’t be so weird for you. We don’t even have to speak to each other again until that day comes, or maybe ever. But I have to do something. The ship and its total population aren’t the only concerns. The girl he’s dating has a name, and if he’s not hurting her now, he might. I have to take that bullet, because I’m the only one who can. The alternative is ethically worse. We already agreed on that, didn’t we?”

Tinaya shakes her head. “Don’t make any plans yet. As you said, you have six years before it’s even remotely okay for you to start dating. I mean, goddammit. You look four years younger, but you are several decades older. That makes it even weirder, and gives you a level of power over any partner you may choose that I am not comfortable with.”

Audrey nods. “That’s true. I don’t think that my consciousness is quite as old as you may suspect, but I see your point.”

“All right, this has been a very heated discussion,” Lataran points out. “You better get back to whatever life you have. I’ll scrub you from the logs so no one finds out that you were here.”

“Already done,” Audrey says as she spins around and heads back towards the door. “Thanks for your help!” She exits.

The two admirals look at each other, neither one entirely sure what to say after all this. “Welp. We’re not bored anymore, are we?”

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