The Induction Ceremony. When Extremus first launched, the captain had a
lieutenant as their second-in-command. That sounded practical, and it didn’t
seem like they needed anything more. Later on, the lieutenant became first
lieutenant, and a second lieutenant position was added. Neither lieutenant
rank is a stepping stone to captain. It’s a separate track, and while it’s
not technically impossible for someone in this position to eventually become
captain, it’s never happened, and that’s not the intended protocol. Anyone
of age can be appointed as captain. Hell, Tinaya could have selected some
random 18-year-old who failed every class in school, and had severe behavioral
issues. She would have had no support, and the idea would have been vetoed
by the council, but the point is, there is no particular rule for where the
next captain comes from. Oceanus has changed all that.
There will now be three vice captains. It’s not entirely apparent what these
people will be doing, just that they will compete for the top spot over the
course of the next six years. Silveon guesses that they will take turns
shadowing Captain Jennings at first, then gradually begin to take on more
duties as they become more comfortable with the work. This never happened in
his timeline, but he remembers Waldemar partially running his campaign on
the idea, along with other broken promises. It was only a misdirect, of
course, so he could get in a position of power, and keep it permanently. Now
he doesn’t need all those lies. He’s already in, and just needs to beat out
two other contenders. Their identities are currently unknown. Waldemar’s
selection has been kept under wraps as well. Tinaya knows because he told
her directly, but he wasn’t meant to, and technically, he shouldn’t
have known yet either. The competition has already started, however. Three
dozen young hopefuls submitted their applications last year, and took tests
to see who out of them would win the precious few coveted roles. They
weren’t aware that they were vying for only two spots, though, rather than
three.
Tinaya has the unfortunate honor of announcing the winners. She doesn’t know
why they chose her for this. It really should be Oceanus, since this is his
thing, but they probably want to use this as an opportunity to suggest that
everything is hunky dory in the executive crew wing.
“Waldemar..Kristiansen!” she cries with a feigned tone of excitement. The
crowd cheers. The other contestants clap too, but not too loudly, because
their chances just went way down.
Waldemar claps as well, and pumps his fist in the air as he’s jogging
across the row, and down the aisle, which actually brings a little more
energy to his competitors. He knew that he was gonna get picked, yet he
chose a seat in the middle so it would be a bigger deal for him to climb
over a bunch of people that he just bested. It’s all a performance. Once
he’s on stage, he walks over to Lataran, who hands him his ceremonial
dagger. Neither of them can figure out the symbolism there. Daggers aren’t
part of standard dress for a captain, nor some meaningful symbol of their
ancestors. It seems kind of random, but people are loving it. Waldemar stabs
the air with it triumphantly, as if he’s a general preparing for battle,
causing an uproar in cheers. Maybe it’s a symbol of masculinity. The other
two candidates will probably be men too, so...that makes some sense,
if you wanna be cynical about it.
Tinaya starts to open the second envelope. She didn’t just pick whichever
one was closer. They were quite clear on what the order was. This is
Envelope Number Two, and the last one will probably be a bombshell. They’re
using envelopes in the first place to be reminiscent of ancient Earthan
award ceremony traditions. But. Whatever. “Détha..Partanen!” Okay, maybe it
won’t just be a boy’s club. Well, good for them, making it look like
there’s any semblance of fairness, and the game isn’t rigged. At least
they’re starting to understand optics.
Détha walks to the stage, briskly but with a lot less enthusiasm. Instead,
she’s cool and composed, already giving off an air of authority. Tinaya
isn’t familiar with her, so she’ll have to look up her file later. That was
probably a mistake. There were only 38 applicants; she should have been
studying them for the last couple of months. They could be in great danger.
If Waldemar feels that his future is being threatened, he could resort to
unsavory tactics; even violent ones. Détha, and whoever is in this third
envelope, has now fallen under Tinaya’s protection. Hopefully she won’t die
herself in the meantime. Détha takes her dagger, and immediately magnetizes
it to her utility belt. She doesn’t need to perform.
Okay, it’s the third envelope. Let’s finish this up. Tinaya slices through
the sticker with her fingernail, then slips it back through to open it. She
stands there for a moment, staring at the name before her. This is bad. This
is really bad. Thank God she’s holding it with two hands. She carefully
reaches over to her watch, and secretly taps on the clockstopper button.
Very few people on this ship have access to this feature. No one else even
knows about it. And it’s not private. It’s an all-or-nothing deal, where
time stops for everyone, except for the tight inner circle. For a few
seconds, she’s frozen in place, like nearly everyone else in this room,
except that she and the other clockstoppers are still conscious. This is to
give them a baseline position. When she restarts time, they will return to
this exact orientation, so no one is aware that time was ever stopped. This
can be overridden, if necessary, but they’ll worry about that later.
Time restarts, but only for the few. The majority of the people on the ship,
and indeed, the entire universe, is still frozen in time. “What’s the
problem?” Oceanus asks, standing up from his baseline.
“You know what the problem is,” Tinaya says, pointing the envelope at him
accusatorily.
“I don’t,” Lataran says, shaking off the baseline freeze. There are no
lasting effects, but it’s an uncomfortable feeling, being a statue.
“You’re complaining to me?” Oceanus questions. He points towards the section
of the audience for people who didn’t apply to be vice captains. “Why are
they awake?”
Arqut and Silveon are starting to walk towards them. There’s no teleporting
when the clocks are stopped.
“I hacked the system,” Tinaya admits. “They are the only people on this
ship, besides Latty, that I trust. I made them clockstoppers, because I need
support against people like you...for shit like this.” She shakes the
envelope again, but more angrily. It slips out of her hand, and falls to the
floor.
Lataran picks it up, and reads, “Silveon Grieves.”
“What?” Silveon asks as he’s approaching with his father.
Lataran scoffs. “We knew it was rigged, but...”
“I did this for the ship,” Oceanus begins to explain. “You told me that
Waldemar becomes a tyrant. Silveon is my ace in the hole.”
“I’m a steward,” Silveon explains.
Oceanus shrugs. “Détha is a soldier. It doesn’t disqualify her.”
“I didn’t apply,” Silveon argues.
“Waldemar applied for you. I’m guessing he wants you to fail intentionally,
so he can win. But you don’t have to. You can fight. You can become the next
captain.”
Silveon is seething. “My mother was captain, and her aunt before her. It’s
already a dynasty, it has to end.”
“I barely accepted the position,” Tinaya adds. “I was already worried about
the whispers, but they begged me to take it. I’m still not sure that it was
the right decision. Now you want to risk even more? Waldemar is a family
friend. We can’t add Silveon to the mix. It screams nepotism and cronyism at
the same time.”
“You had nothing to do with the selection process,” Oceanus reminds her,
“and you will have nothing to do with ascension.”
“Oh my God, we’re not actually calling it that, are we?” Tinaya shakes her
head in disgust.
“I know this is weird,” Oceanus acknowledges. “But Waldemar told me the ship
was destroyed, and you confirmed it later. I didn’t agree to the vice
captain program until he proved that he was from the future, and that proof
came in the form of you and the Consul. I was bound by my word after that.
I’m just trying to find a loophole.”
“There is no loophole!” Silveon yells. “Waldemar will become king
whether any of us likes it or not! All we can do is make him less of
an asshole, and spare some lives along the way. If he doesn’t get what he
wants, people will get hurt. His ascension,” he says with airquotes,
“is inevitable.”
“Why is it inevitable?” Oceanus claps back. “What, is he wearing the
hundemarke, or something?”
Silveon grows silent.
“Holy shit, he’s wearing the hundemarke,” Oceanus realizes. “It was
destroyed centuries ago.”
Silveon sighs. “You can’t destroy an object’s past, only its future. It
still has a few more fixed moments in time that it needs to create.”
“Speaking of which,” Arqut jumps in, “I’ve seen the studies. We can’t keep
time stopped much longer. It’s not healthy. The safeguards will kick in, and
the way I understand it, you do not want to be too far from your
baseline when that happens.”
“Read the name,” Oceanus insists to Tinaya. “It’s already done.” He faces
Silveon. “You make your own choices, but I urge you to do everything you can
to win. Please. Your ship needs you.”
“I’ll respectfully decline,” Silveon contends.
“You can’t,” Oceanus returns. “As I said, it’s done. If you back out, it
will just be down to a race between Waldemar and Miss Partanen. We won’t
replace you with another candidate. It’s you, or no one.”
“Let me see that,” another voice demands. It’s Head Councillor Regulus
Crusan, who literally just had his own induction ceremony an hour ago. He
wasn’t even here when the clocks were stopped. Tinaya is a little surprised
that he was already turned into a clockstopper. Evidently, bureaucracy can
work fast sometimes. He must have been so confused when he was mingling in a
crowd, or talking to a friend. He takes the envelope from Lataran, and
examines it, closing it back up to see it from all angles. “I don’t like how
this looks, but we have to agree on it before we restart the clocks.
Otherwise, we put reality in unnecessary danger.” He shakes it like Tinaya
before, but not so angrily, just demonstratively. “Admiral Leithe reads the
name, and whoever it is shall accept their role with grace and poise.
Understood?”
Oceanus smiles. “Understood.”
“Admiral. Steward,” he prompts.
Silveon takes another breath. “I think you’ll mean vice captain.” He doesn’t
like it, but it will keep him close to Waldemar, which could only help in
his mission to lessen the negative impact of the Kristiansen Regime.
“Right,” Crusan says. “Do as you’ve been ordered, Admiral.” He hands the
envelope back to Tinaya.
Everyone returns to where they were when time was stopped, and gets as close
as they can to how they were before. Tinaya waits until they’re all in
position to do the same. After she begins the time-restarting timer for
eleven seconds, she approximates her own baseline, reopening the envelope at
the last moment. She doesn’t even get the chance to smile before she’s
frozen up again, millimeters away from her guess. Time then restarts, and
she’s free to continue. Now she can smile. Head Councillor Crusan, you
sneaky snake. She lowers her hands, and looks out at the audience.
“Pronastus..Kegrigia!”
