Extremus: Year 53

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Half a century ago, the original passengers and crew of the Transgalactic Ship Extremus began an intergalactic voyage across the galaxy, which was set to take 216 years. That wasn’t some random number that they came up with. That was how long it was going to take to reach the outer edge of the Milky Way. Well, only going for 215 years would have been fine, or all the way to 217, but they had to draw the line somewhere, and 216 was a nice number. Year 217 is, therefore, known as the first year in a new era. By then, the destination should be reached, and the descendants of the original people should be starting their new lives. If this is where Tinaya and Lataran are now, they have just traveled through time.

“Yes, you did jump through time,” Avelino confirms, “but not actually to the year 217. That’s what we call this place sometimes, because that is our primary focus. This is what we’re going to use to find the final destination.”

“Isn’t that what the Extremus itself is for?” Lataran questions.

“No. When the last generations of the generation ship reach the end of their mission, they will want to get off the ship, and start to build their new homes on the new world. They can’t do that if they don’t know where the new world is. There are hundreds of millions of habitable worlds out there, but we don’t know precisely where they are, or which one we’ll want to call home. So the Bridger section was sent a year ahead of time to scout. We’ll find it first. It may take us the whole year, but that should be enough time to get it done before everyone else arrives.” Avelino points back down the dark hallway. “You’ve just stepped through a portal between the two ships, which are a light year apart, and always will be.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Tinaya points out. “Admiral Yenant changed course. We’re not going the same direction we were when this started. The assumption was always that you were parallel to us, at least for the people who knew that the Bridger section was an entirely separate ship in the first place. How can you be following us from in front of us?”

“Time travel,” Avelino says simply. “We’re not just a light year ahead. We’re a year ahead. That’s how the portal works. It doesn’t only jump through space; it jumps forward in time.”

“So that hallway goes back to September 5 2321, and this to September 5, 2321?”

“Correct,” Avelino agrees.

“Good. I can’t lose a year of school,” Lataran says in relief.

“You’ll have to lose time,” Avelino counters. “We need the two of you here, so you can take part in some...extracurricular training.”

“Spycraft?” Tinaya guesses.

Avelino smiles. “That’s why we chose you, Miss Leithe, Fifth of Ten, because sometimes you just...know things.”

“It’s called intelligence.”

He chuckles softly.

“You called me Fifth of Ten, as if I’m going to be a captain one day,” Tinaya began. “But that’s impossible. I didn’t get on the captain’s track. Or I didn’t stay on it, anyway. I was humiliated.”

“That’s why we didn’t take you out of school any earlier than we did. You’ve gone through enough of it that people will respect it once you do become captain. But we had to stop you from going to college, because you’re currently the perfect age to start your real training. The Extremus has never had a captain with the skills that you will possess when you begin your shift in 2337.”

“That’s not the end of Tamm’s shift,” Lataran contends.

Avelino frowns now. “It will be.”

“Okay, you exist a year in the future. That I can wrap my head around. But now you know things that won’t happen for another fifteen years? How do you have all of this intel? Do you have seers? Time machines? What?”

“That will all be part of your training while you’re on this side of the bridge.”

“Even if she agrees to this,” Lataran says, “I can’t. I have to get back to real, publicly visible, college.”

“You’ll have to defer.”

“I haven’t even finished out one year,” Lataran argues.

“I know,” Avelino acknowledges, “but the curriculum is not going to change by the time you return. Trust me, it will all be worked out. The people of the ship are gonna be a little confused, but officially, you had to take a break from school for personal and private reasons, and will be able to restart your studies right where you left off. If you had homework due tomorrow, you’ll turn it in two years from tomorrow.”

“Two years?” Tinaya exclaims. “Me, I understand, “but she has people who care about her. She can’t be away from them for that long.”

“Ours is a two-year program,” Avelino explains, “just like regular college. “I assure you that you have plenty of time. Like I said, your respective crew shifts won’t start until Year 68.”

“You’re acting like we don’t have any choice in the matter,” Tinaya decides.

“You do,” Avelino assures them. “We’re not monsters. We’ve just...never been rejected before. We choose our candidates very carefully.”

“Exactly how many students have walked the halls of your secret school on the secret ship in the future?”

“Not many,” Avelino answers. “It’s quite elite.”

Tinaya studies his face for a few moments. Lataran is about to speak when she notices this, knowing what Tinaya looks like when she’s trying to figure something out that someone doesn’t want her to know. “Bronach Oaksent was one of them. He’s a dark mark on your record.”

Avelino scoffs and shakes his head. “How the hell did you determine that? None of your predecessors knew that he was one of ours.”

“You’re telling us that the greatest threat this ship has ever seen once worked for you?” Lataran asks, horrified.

His head sank. “Oaksent was part of the program before the ships left. Before either ship left. We didn’t realize that he was a threat to us until the last second. He was...dangerous. We wish we hadn’t taught him anything. We wish we hadn’t shown him anything. So we left him behind. Somehow, he managed to change his name, and board the Extremus proper. We didn’t know until it was too late.”

“I always thought that was a fake name,” Tinaya says.

“Yeah, he adopted it from an insidious propagandist from ancient Earth history.”

“What a nutsack.”

Avelino nods, intending to shift the conversation back to the matter at hand. “I know this is a shock, but the time you spend here will be well worth it. You’ve never heard of this, not because the people we train are all anonymous, but because many of them are not. We know how to reintegrate our students. I’m sure you’ll miss your families, and they’ll miss you, but this is important. This is really important.”

“I wanna talk to him.”

“Him who?” Avelino asks.

“Yenant. I want to speak with Admiral Halan Yenant. He answered yes to The Question, didn’t he?”

Avelino sighs.

“What are you talking about?” Lataran doesn’t know the secret. “Yenant is dead.”

“We are not allowed to divulge who answered yes, and who answered no,” Avelino tries to explain. “Even if we could, we wouldn’t be able to allow crosstalk.”

She laughs. “You’ve told me that supposedly important people have gone to your secret college, but you’ve also told me that no captain has been made aware of it. It’s my understanding that there are more things that captains don’t know about the bridger section than the things they do know. If you want to have a captain in your pocket, and you think I’m the best for the job, then make an exception, and let me speak to Admiral Yenant. I know he’s alive, or you would be reacting differently to my demands.”

“How could he possibly be alive?” Lataran presses.

“You’ll see,” Tinaya tells her.

“No,” Avelino objects quickly. He pauses again and sighs. “I will log you into the system, but not her. We can explain it to her afterwards, but we cannot make a habit out of this. I will allow one exception, but not two, Miss Leithe. No captain is worth that.”

Tinaya gently closes her eyelids, and nods.

“Very well. Follow me.”

Lataran reaches out as Tinaya is walking away, but makes no attempt to hold her back. “Naya,” she whispers earnestly.

“Follow the lights, Miss Keen,” Avelino tells her without looking back. “They’ll lead you to your new cabin.”

Green lights begin to point down the other direction, but Lataran isn’t ready to go just yet. She secretly types out a quick message on her watch, and programs a beacon. She pops the memory card from it, and throws it all the way down the hallway that leads back to the Extremus proper. Then she heads for her cabin.

Tinaya makes her way there half an hour later. “Hey.”

“Did you speak to Yenant? Tell me about The Question.”

“The Question is just one part of a giant conspiracy that’s hanging over our ship like a dark cloud. There’s a lot I still don’t know, but it’s more than I thought before. This whole thing is being tailored. Free will is an illusion. The Bridger Section—Year 217—whatever they want to call it; it’s not just about finding the destination planet ahead of time. They control so much from here. No, I didn’t speak with Halan, but I never wanted to. I just wanted access so I can code a backdoor. Now I can get in anytime I want, as long as we stay here.” She points to the floor demonstratively.

“Is that wise? Is it safe?”

“Probably not.” But she has to do something. There’s too much power here. It goes against the spirit of the mission, and the purpose of the people’s journey. Tinaya thought she knew the big secret. She had no idea. She has to put a stop to it, and if that means getting in on the inside, then okay. “You can go home, but I have to do this.”

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Microstory 1955 Sensitivity and Responsibility

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Reese: What are you doing back here?

Myka: I’m checking it out. Looks like we would be able to fit thirty vehicles. Lines will need to be painted to make it clearer.

Reese: You don’t need to worry about that. You’ll only be responsible for the office.

Myka: You said I was in charge of maintenance, and someone has to maintain this. Parking garages wear down over time, being driven on so much.

Reese: Right, but the government can hire a contractor for that. There isn’t any sensitive information in here, and of course it goes straight to the outside, which means we don’t have to worry as much about clearance.

Myka: What about the information inside of people’s cars?

Reese: No one should have any data just lying around in their cars.

Myka: What about the VIN, and the license plate numbers?

Reese: True, but we won’t have permanent hires who can do what you’re talking about.

Myka: My dad painted highway lines. I can do it myself if I have to.

Reese: You’re taking on too much yourself, and doing it too quickly. Slow down, and prepare to delegate to others. The first round of employees are coming in tomorrow.

Myka: That’s exactly why I’m looking at all this now, so I can, not only delegate the tasks, but prioritize them.

Reese: I get that. Just don’t work too hard. You’re not here to do grunt work. I was clear on that when I was discussing this whole thing with the OSI Director and SI Eliot. We are the bosses. [...] What are you looking at now?

Myka: There are two ways into the building from the garage. The big one takes you directly to operations. The other is this rusty metal door.

Reese: Have you opened it?

Myka: No, but according to the plans, it’s a maintenance access tunnel that subverts the main floors, and gets you down to the basement relatively quickly.

Reese: Makes sense. I imagine the boiler room is down there.

Myka: As are the detainment cells for the Ochivari.

Reese: What are you driving at?

Myka: This could be the best way to escort them to where they need to be, but I need to figure out how to get this open so I can check it out. We can’t have the aliens being able to reach out and pull at exposed power cables, or whatever. Can you help me?

Reese: Yeah, we’ll try. *grunting*

Myka: *grunting*

Reese: It’s sealed shut. We’re gonna need tools...and a professional.

Myka: Well, I can do it.

Reese: Let me guess, your mother was a welder.

Myka: *laughing* No, but I can watch a tutorial on VidChapp.

Reese: Myka, we were literally just talking about this. I’ll make a call, and get this door open. Why don’t you go back to the mezzanine? Leonard is anxious about the agents coming in next week. You should talk to him before we’re all too busy to help.

Myka: Okay, I can do that. I need to put a measuring tape in my shopping cart anyway.

Microstory 1954: Concerning Strength

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Reese: That’s some good shootin’ there, friend.

Leonard: You don’t have to sugar-coat it. I can see my own shots. I’m doing terribly. I’m sure if you stood up here, there would only be one hole on the target after you emptied the mag.

Reese: I don’t know about that, but I imagine parole officers don’t get much target training, and don’t have to keep up with the same standards.

Leonard: No, not conventionally. That’s why I’m here. If I’m going to lead the trainees and agents, I need to be better. I doubt I’ll be as good as them, but if I turn out to not be a great leader, I can’t also be terrible at everything else at the same time.

Reese: I’m certain you’ll do great. SI Eliot isn’t a decent shot either, which is why he’s a leader, and he got to where he is today because he’s a good judge of character.

Leonard: I wouldn’t know.

Reese: He chose you, didn’t he? And Myka?

Leonard: That’s true...on the second part.

Reese: I know you’re nervous. I am too. I’ve never been in this position before. Sure, I’ve spoken to crowds, and I’ve coordinated with local law enforcement, but I’ve never been fully in charge. I still don’t know what we’re gonna be doing. Nobody does. Is this an invasion? Are we fostering allies? Will we never see another new alien again?

Leonard: I suppose all we can do is start at the beginning, and take it one day at a time.

Reese: *chuckling a little* Well, the range looks great. You clean this all up yourself? 

Leonard: Yeah, I guess the remodelers weren’t told that we would need it, but I’m thinking we will.

Reese: We definitely will. Is there anything you need for it, or for anything else? Have you noticed a lightbulb out, or whatever?

Leonard: Not that I’ve seen, but I’ve not been on the lookout for that kind of stuff. I can do that now, though; walk through the space, and take note of issues.

Reese: Nah, you don’t have to. Myka is responsible for that. One of the detainees has already been assigned to her team. We’ll send him on that scavenger hunt. Speaking of Myka, what do you think of her?

Leonard: Myka? Oh, she’s great. She’s mentioned her plans for this building; it sounds like she’s ready to turn it into a real workplace.

Reese: That’s not what I mean.

Leonard: I don’t know what you mean.

Reese: Evidently you asked about interoffice relationships?

Leonard: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Reese: It’s okay. I’ve seen the way you two are with each other. Anyway, that’s irrelevant. Even if you were only asking to better understand the laws of our world in general, I’ll give you the answer. The government encourages finding partners within the same organization. It’s easier to deal with confidential information. Even if you’re not allowed to tell your partner something, they’re better at knowing not to ask.

Leonard: *nodding* If we’re talking in generalizations, then I should ask...how do you feel about Myka? I guess that’s not that general.

Microstory 1953: Work-Life Balance

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Myka: Hey, I can’t believe I found you. This place is a lot bigger and mazier than I thought it was. I think there’s an entire sublevel we haven’t seen yet.

Leonard: Hey. Yeah, I believe that’s where they plan on keeping the Ochivari. It’s cold and empty; no bueno for me. I’m here because I’m looking for a place to sleep tonight.

Myka: What’s wrong with my apartment?

Leonard: Nothing. I just have to get out of your hair.

Myka: There’s plenty of space. This is exactly why I’m renting one with a spare room. You are the latest in a long line of freepersons who have stayed there. It’s very important to me that it be available for this reason.

Leonard: Okay, so you’re proving my point. I’ll be able to find my own place soon. My world-appropriate new identity is taking a bit long to process, but once it’s done, I’ll be fine. This is just to tide me over. Turn your extra room back into a safe haven.

Myka: Leonard, you’re the one who needs the room right now. I’ve not really been involved in the bond very much lately, because of all this. My number two has taken over, and they’re about to vote to replace me with her. You can’t stay here.

Leonard: Why not? Let me guess, it’s some kind of zoning issue.

Myka: No zoning issue. This is the government. They may one day expect us to sleep here so we can be on-call 24/7. Do not encourage them to treat us that way. If they find out you bunked here willingly, they’ll start to think that it’s okay. Besides, it’s better for your mental health to not work where you live. I’ve seen it time and time again in my previous job. Half of the time, I was turning over employees because they ended up struggling with the remote work worse than they thought they would. Some people can compartmentalize, but I think it’s better to keep things separate. You at least need a home office that doesn’t double as the bedroom or TV room.

Leonard: Yeah, I get that. I never used my desk at the station. I spent so much time out in the field that someone else took it over. I didn’t mind not having a designated space. I’m used to being on-call. A parole officer’s job isn’t always limited to certain hours.

Myka: It’s not just about you. You would be setting a precedent for the whole office.

Leonard: Oh. Well, I wouldn’t want that. I just...

Myka: What now? I’ve just effortlessly decimated all of your roadblocks.

Leonard: There’s one you haven’t thought of, and I’m afraid to say.

Myka: Say it anyway.

Leonard: I can’t.

Myka: You can tell me anything. I accidentally saw you naked one time.

Leonard: You did.

Myka: What was that? Nothing. Go ahead.

Leonard: *sighs* I really can’t say. But, umm...on a completely unrelated note, since I’m an alien to your world, and its customs, what do the laws and policies say about workplace relationships? Did the contract I signed make them impossible, errr...?

Myka: Oh.

Leonard: It has nothing to do with you. I was just wondering. *starts mumbling*

Myka: Right. Well, I think I’ll let Reese get back to you on that one.

Microstory 1952: The Office

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Myka: Are we really doing this?

Reese: Too late to back out now.

Leonard: Couldn’t we quit, just like any other job?

*they look at him incredulously*

Leonard: Let me guess, it doesn’t work like that on your world.

Reese: You signed a contract. You are required to give your employer one month’s notice if you intend to quit. I’ve never heard of a job that doesn’t work like that.

Leonard: How much notice does my employer have to give before firing me, ha-ha.

Reese: Two months.

Leonard: Oh. Where I’m from, it’s common courtesy to give your boss two weeks, but they don’t have to give you anything. They can have security escort you out immediately.

Myka: That’s sad. Anyway, Reese, this place is nice. I love how you lord over everyone from your perch up here. Did you have any say in how these offices would look?

Reese: Only a little. And this is your perch too. Leonard, your office is the one on my right. Myka, that’s yours on my left.

Myka: I still don’t know what I’m here to do. I’m not an agent, am I?

Leonard: I don’t know the answer to that question either.

Reese: None of us is an agent. Those will be provided by the government at a later date. I believe some of them are presently in training. Leo, they’ll probably ask you to join them at some point, as you will be in charge of the agents and operatives.

Leonard: I thought you were in charge.

Reese: I’m in charge of everyone. Once the paperwork goes through, you’ll be the Supervisory Special Agent.

Leonard: That is quite the step up from where I was. Whew. Okay, it’s good to have a little time to wrap my brain around that.

Myka: And me?

Reese: Facilities. You’ll supervise IT, building management, cleaning, kitchen... Basically everything that keeps the building itself running, you’ll be responsible for that.

Myka: So I should have been consulted with the layout?

Reese: *laughing* They used to use this place for something else. You can choose the layout of the bullpen, and other things, but you probably can’t tear down, or build any new, walls. I want everyone to understand that, while we’re doing this in preparation for a possible alien invasion—or some less obvious form of it—it could happen any day. We want to be ready to work as fast as possible. We may be making a lot of temporary decisions until something more sustainable can be put in place. We already have two fridges and freezers in the break room, though, and this...is a metal government credit card with no spending limit. Myka, buy what you think an office will need.

Myka: *takes the card* I’m on it.

Reese: And Leonard? Tell me what you think about this.

Leonard: *takes it* A new badge. Hm. It’s a lot heavier than the one I had before.

Reese: This is even heavier. *hands him a gun*

Microstory 1951: Leader de Jure

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Reese: SI Eliot! Wait up. I’m glad I caught you.

SI Eliot: Is this urgent, Parsons? I’m about to step into a meeting with the Director.

Reese: It’s about the jobs you offered Mr. Miazga and Miss Tennison?

SI Eliot: You can just call them Leonard and Myka, Agent Parsons. We all know that you’re friends with them. I assume that you’re worried about what our angle is. I assure you that there is no nefarious purpose to our offers. Very few people know what we know, and we would like to keep it that way, at least for now. We believe that the two of them possess valuable skills and knowledge that we may need in the future.

Reese: Well, what about the others; the other three freewomen, and the escapees?

SI Eliot: They have received their own job offers.

Reese: Really?

SI Eliot: Yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get in there.

OSI Director: It’s all right, Hisham. This meeting is about him, after all. He may as well be there. It’s not like I need your permission to proceed.

SI Hisham Eliot: Very well. After you, Agent Parsons.

Reese: *stepping into the conference room, and sitting down* This meeting is about me? In what context, may I ask?

OSI Director: How long have you been on loan to us from Fugitive Services?

Reese: A few months.

OSI Director: And before that? How long were you in FS?

Reese: About eleven years, sir.

OSI Director: That’s a decent run. *pauses* How would you like a job here?

Reese: I thought I did a job here, don’t I? My tenure was marked as indefinite.

OSI Director: That’s what I’m saying. Let’s define it. Let’s decide that you’re no longer on loan, but a fulltime permanent employee of the Office of Special Investigations.

Reese: This is...unexpected. I always assumed that I would go back. I never thought about doing anything else. I barely unpacked my belongings in my office here.

OSI Director: That’s probably for the best. If you agreed, we would give you a new one.

Reese: Sir?

Hisham: She wants you to lead the staff of a new department of national security, incorporating personnel and resources from a number of other branches and divisions. You would not be in charge of the office itself, but you would be managing the employees, which would include your friends, and the other...consultants. The National Commander has been discussing doing something like this with us, and the Assembly, for a while now. Officially, the name of this department would be the Department of Exogenic Affairs. Since there’s already a DEA, it would be known as DExA for short.

OSI Director: Does that sound like something that you would be interested in?

Reese: Again, this is quite the surprise. I suppose I should have guessed that something in government would change as a result of these developments, but I never thought I would be considered for a leadership role. I only have de facto experience.

OSI Director: We believe that’s enough. Why don’t you think it over, and get back to us in two days, okay? NatCo wants to get the ball rolling by the end of this month.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 17, 2408

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Constance pulled herself together so they could get to work. Being a time traveler in this day and age had gotten even riskier after the Shortlist’s meeting regarding The Edge. They had decided to not reveal time powers to the greater population of the stellar neighborhood. Instead, the authorized technologies would be developed gradually, after the supposed discovery of a new class of physics. They weren’t just going to somehow give everyone the ability to teleport. Such technology would be studied and tested by scientists over the course of years until they deemed it safe to use. And even then, they would institute safeguards to prevent abuse or accidents. The Star Trek franchise showed multiple examples of what could go wrong when teleportation failed. They would rely heavily on these, and similar, cautionary tales. It would be decades before any ship captain could utter the word energize, and be beamed up onto the transport pad. Until then, Team Matic had to be more careful. Because more of the Sol system had been conquered, and there were eyes everywhere.

“We got this now,” Leona said confidently. “Dante, raise the cloak.”

Nothing happened from the perspective of everyone in the shuttle, but they had evidently become invisible.

“Our signals are being shunted through another dimension,” Ramses explained to the group. “We’re invisible to the naked eye, and via all traditional forms of detection.”

“Will they one day be able to detect us?” Mateo asked.

“Not if the Shortlist maintains its authority,” Leona answered. “We’re not giving them this, for this very reason. People like our team need to be able to move freely about without worrying about being spotted by anyone with a strong enough infrared telescope. Though that means, we could hypothetically detect each other.”

“Which is why we’re sending a signal on purpose,” Ramses added. “Pointed directly at Earth. If anyone picks this up, they might be able to help our new friend.”

Max stretched his lips into a slight grateful smile.

“Let’s see who answers.”

They set the Dante on course towards Earth at a moderate pace, waiting for someone to pick up their message. Someone was always on the shuttle proper to receive any response, though it wasn’t necessary.

A few hours later, Holly Blue replied. “Come in Dante, this is Blue Butterfly.”

Leona and Mateo happened to be available at the time. “Go get Ram and Max. They’re in Delta pocket.” While Mateo hopped back to the hatch to access the fourth pocket dimension, Leona got on the radio. “Blue Butterfly, this is Dante actual. It’s good to hear from you again.”

“Leona, is that you? Are you experiencing an emergency? Are you in any immediate danger?”

“We’re fine. We were looking for an engineer. Lucky we found one of the best.”

“I don’t know about that. You need me to build you something, though?”

“Not me. We made a friend from another universe. He’s asked for help saving his galaxy from certain doom.”

“That sounds...important. What does he need?”

“He’s on his way. I’ll let him explain. Can you go holo?”

Holly Blue’s image appeared before her. It was so crisp that it looked like she was actually standing there with her.

Max slipped out of the pocket dimension in the back, and came up to the front. “Hi. I’m Maximino Lécuyer.”

“Oh, hey Max. Yeah, we know each other,” Holly said.

“No, I would remember you.”

“Oh.” Holly Blue winced. “Spoilers. Well, I’ll introduce myself again for the very first time. My name is Holly Blue. Not Holly, not Miss Blue. Holly Blue.”

“Understood. It’s nice to meet you for the very first time again.”

“What was it you needed?” Holly asked.

“It’s called a flipcoat.” He went on to explain how the coat manipulated microrealities. Every fraction of a second, any given individual had an infinite number of possible choices. They could turn left, they could turn right. They could turn left immediately, or they could wait two more seconds. But they were not the only ones trying to make these decisions. Countless others were doing so at exactly the same time. Until their collective decisions were finally made, each possible world existed in a sort of hyperdimension of potential spacetime. What a flipcoat did was gather all of the choices that were going to impact the next decision of its wearer, and force the other agents of change to conform to a single reality. This was the reality of choice of that wearer. If he wanted to turn left, and doing so placed him in the street, then he needed to make sure that the bus driver that was on her way to collide with him made the decision to slow down enough to make a complete stop so that the bus actually didn’t collide with him.

“So, your coat does this all the time,” Holly began to ask, “but you’re not the only one with such a coat?”

“Not traditionally,” Max explained, “but if you made me a new one, then I would be. The rest are dead. Not the people, that is; their coats. I can’t say too much, but our whole galaxy is under constant threat of collapse. I mean that literally. A dark force is trying to destroy us, and the only way out is if someone navigates us to safety. Eventually, we’ll buckle under the pressure.”

Holly Blue nodded. “Tell me more about the coats themselves. What are they like? What do you know about how they work?”

Evidently, no one knew where or how flipcoats originated. No one even knew how anyone went about acquiring one. Apparently, if you were chosen by some mysterious force, it would suddenly be on you, and you would be unable to take it off.

“Where have I heard that before?” Mateo asked. “Chosen by a mysterious unseen conscious entity of some kind.”

“What prevents you from being able to take it off?” Leona pressed. “Can’t you just pull it over your head?”

“It’s, uh...embedded in your skin.”

“What?” Leona and Holly Blue questioned simultaneously.

“Yeah, as soon as it appears, you have a matter of seconds to remove it before spikes come out of it and dig into your skin. It’ll stay there until it dies, or you do. I’ve heard rumors of people being able to remove it before the spikes, but I’ve never actually seen any proof that it’s happened. I didn’t even try when I got my first one.”

“First one? Holly Blue asked. “After it dies, you may get another?”

“Not naturally,” Max answered. “You can steal another, though. It’s complicated, I’m not evil.”

“I’m not questioning you on that,” Holly Blue asked. I am questioning this needlessly bloody locking mechanism that these coats have.”

Leona was questioning it too. It didn’t make much logical sense. There were any number of other solutions to the problem of enforcing flipcoat ownership. The coat could be coded to a user’s DNA, and only operate for them. If they were worried about the theft itself, rather than what the thief would do with it, they could have allowed it to be locked like a chastity belt. Who were the original designers? They must have had a reason to do it like this, even if others would consider it abhorrent. It couldn’t just be random. The wearer selections couldn’t be random either. Something had to be driving them, even if they were just programmed to appear given a certain set of favorable circumstances.

“You look...upset,” Max noted. “I grew up with these, it doesn’t seem weird to me, but I suppose I can imagine how distasteful they could look to some. There are those in my galaxy who never remove their clothes, because it can’t happen to you unless you’re completely topless. Still, there are those who walk around topless—even in the freezing cold—hoping that it happens to them one day.”

“How many people have these, or had them, as it were?” Holly Blue asked him.

“No one knows. It would seem that whoever is in control doesn’t want us to know. The statistics always get...flipped. I think they stopped trying to take a census.”

Holly Blue nodded respectfully. He wasn’t the one in charge of all this. “Well, I can make you something that operates in a similar manner, but it won’t be perfect, and I can tell you right now, I ain’t installin’ no spikes.”

“I don’t think they’re necessary to the operation of the device.”

“I only have one requirement,” Holly Blue went on. “We have to do it in your universe. Firstly, it sounds like the proper physics you live under are different than ours. But also, I don’t really want that kind of technology in my universe at all.”

“I believe that I can get us back there,” Max began, “but I don’t know how you would get yourself home.”

“You let me worry about that,” Holly Blue replied. “Just get to Earth. I’m in Panama at the moment.”

“Really?” Leona asked. That was where the two of them met.

“Yeah, it’s this whole story. Anyway, I’ll send you the exact coordinates.”

“We’ll be there within the hour,” Leona said to her. “Thanks.”

They continued on their way. The cloak was up, but they had never tested it, so there was always a chance that there was some weakness with it. Everything went fine, though. They made it to Holly Blue’s little underground lair in Panama to have a little visit, and then drop off Max. They both assured the team that there was no reason for them to stay. So after dinner, they said their goodbyes, and climbed back into the Dante. They teleported back into orbit, and then farther out to drift towards the edge of the system with no destination in mind. Now they had nothing to do. But they didn’t have to worry about that for long, as per usual. Their worst fears were finally realized when another ship appeared out of nowhere, and set itself on an intercept course. When the Dante moved, it moved. It was definitely no coincidence. Leona tried to call it, but received no response. It was too quick for them to teleport away, so it wasn’t just any random vessel. Their attempts at escape ended when the other party pulled them into a cargo hold. All they could do now was wait.

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Extremus: Year 52

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“You need me for what, exactly?” Tinaya asked.

“It’s not yet time,” Avelino answered. “You have to stay on your current path. You have to live in the humiliation. Breathe it, bathe in it.”

“That doesn’t sound like my idea of fun,” she told him.

“It won’t be,” he admitted, “but I promise you, it will be worth it. And it will all make sense. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

“I will trust you,” she replied. “Whether I’m right to will not be decided today.”

Tinaya has been living in the profound humiliation of not getting into even a single college program for the last several months. Her plan to let Lataran live with her while she studies at college is precisely what they’ve ended up doing, except the other way around. It is Lataran who is the student, and Tinaya the freeloader. The Bridgers have a plan for her, this much is clear, but Avelino does not make contact often, and she has no way of reaching out to them. Nor is she meant to try. This is her life. She has to live it. Things will reportedly change in the future. She doesn’t know when, but Avelino all but said that it will result in Tinaya ultimately becoming captain of the Extremus, which was always the plan. It’s hard to see how that could possibly be true at this point, but apparently all she has to do is wait...at least for now.

As for the lifestyle, it’s hard to argue with it on principle. This time without any responsibilities has given her the freedom to think about what she wants, and what she values. Education, contribution, leadership. These have been instilled in her since before she can remember. But they’re not inherent. Not everyone has to care about such things, and not everyone who does has to care about them to such a high degree. It’s altered her perspective on the other passengers, particularly the other freeloaders. Perhaps that’s all that the Bridgers are trying to do. Has every prior captain’s weakness been a lack of patience and understanding with enough of the people here? She has been taught that they were all great, but they were not without their scandals and problems. Halan broke a major law, Olindse was only interim, and then she disappeared one day. There are rumors that her Aunt, Kaiora had issues that caused the crew to lose trust in her by the time her tenure ended, but all of those files are classified, so it’s unclear what happened there. Then you have someone like Soto Tamm who couldn’t garner the respect that the other three had—without even trying—to save his life.

Tinaya is trying to look at her new circumstances positively. The first two months were the worst. She was holed up in Lataran’s cabin nearly that whole time, leaving only once in the middle of it. That was the worst day of her life so far. It was the cacophony of responses that she received from the passersby that made it unbearable. Some pitied her, others were embarrassed to be breathing the same air. Some were annoyed at how depressing she was, wandering the halls, unkempt as she was, and a few were quite vocally angry with her. She only lasted an hour before she couldn’t take it anymore. It was five more weeks before she tried again, and by then, another big news item was spreading through the ship. Some engineering apprentice that she hadn’t heard of made some huge mistake with the reframe engine, and delayed the journey by just over one week. The Extremus was never dead in the water, but they started the trip going 99.9999% the speed of light, and they don’t like changing that plan. That’s why they arrested Admiral Yenant, and why he died in hock.

Things are okay now when it comes to Tinaya’s relationship with the other young adults her age. They’ve gotten used to her situation, and no longer make her feel like shit every time she walks into the room. Still, it’s never going to be like it was. She went from hero to zero in a matter of seconds on that stage at graduation, and the only way she’ll live it down is if Avelino holds up his end of the bargain, and redeems her in some fantastic fashion. Today’s not great, though. Probably the biggest impact Vice Admiral Olindse Belo had on this ship was her introduction of holiday observances that prior generations of Extremusians and their ancestors never celebrated. She researched Earthan traditions, and taught the crew and passengers how they worked, and what they were for. There were tons of them. The first few years were pretty chaotic with how many events they held, trying to pack them all in without anyone fully understanding what they truly meant. Over time, factions and families have chosen their favorites. Now, just about every holiday is still observed by someone, but none by everyone. Unfortunately, the Leithes have decided to adopt something called Labor Day.

Back when this began, honoring the working class people of the ship for one day seemed like a no-brainer. Now it’s the most uncomfortable one they could have picked, because of Tinaya’s whole situation. She has never had very close relationships with her family, and her failure has, of course, only made things worse. Her parents can barely look her in the eye, which is generally okay, because she doesn’t have to see them very often. This started when she was a child, and was done by design. This expectation that she would one day lead the crew was evidently something that they fought against before she was born. They’ve since gone so far in the opposite direction that accepting that maybe it actually won’t happen has just pissed them off. Now they don’t know how to be her mom and dad. They thought they were doing right by her by being cold and distant. Does that even matter anymore? By law, she’s an adult now anyway, so they haven’t bothered trying. Except for today. They are Labor Day people. That’s what they’ve chosen to focus their traditions on, just like the Arbor Day people spend their special day in the arboretums, and the Cinco de Mayo Day people do whatever it is they do. It’s dinner time, and she has to be there.

“We can skip it,” Lataran offers as they’re walking slowly. She hails from a family of Picnic Day observers, which originates from some place called Australia. Tinaya can’t recall whether that’s a country or a continent. They had their day of relaxation and games a month ago. Tinaya attended it with them, and found herself easily forgetting about all of her problems. It’s not going to be so easy today, but they can’t skip it.

“What’s going to be my excuse?” Tinaya posed. “That I’m busy with my studies?”

“You are studying.”

“Yeah, and you’re my teacher. They know it’s not real.”

“It’s real.”

“I know. I mean, they think they know it’s not...real.” Tinaya sighs. “I have to go. But you don’t. You’ve not been charged with the crime of being a waste of carbon scrubbers.” That’s a common phrase on the ship.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve decided to tell them my theory.”

“No, you can’t, Lata. They don’t know what I told you about the Bridgers. I don’t believe I was supposed to tell you. Avelino didn’t specifically say not to, but it’s kind of implied that we’re doin’ somethin’ secret here.”

“I won’t tell them everything; just about you and me.” Lataran was really struggling with her grades in the last year of tertiary school. They did some math together and realized that there was basically no way that she should have been allowed to stay on the captain’s track for college. The hypothesis is that she was given Tinaya’s slot, possibly even as part of the Bridger’s grand plan. But that’s just between the two of them. Again, no one else can know about that.

“You can’t separate the two secrets. You’re in college because I’m not allowed to be there? There’s no reason why that would be a thing unless there was some conspiracy behind it. Plus, we don’t even know that it’s true. The University has its academic requirements, but you would not be the first student they made an exception for. History on both Earth and Ansutah is littered with stories like yours. Maybe they just know how smart you are, and that you just needed a second chance. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. Don’t try to tell my parents anything. I’m gonna suffer through it. I would love for you to be by my side, but our friendship does not depend upon it.”

“Okay. But I’m gonna defend you.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to. We’ll talk about innocuous things, like the weather, and the next professional sports competition.”

“Extremus has neither of those things.”

“Maybe I should change that.”

“Hm. You wanna make a sports team just so you don’t have to talk to your family about the important stuff?”

“I was thinking about finding a way to use science to create bad weather, but your idea sounds easier. Anyway, we’re here, so...we ought to go in.”

“Only if you want to. There’s time to back out.”

“I’m sure they can see us on the camera. And hear us.” Tinaya waves. “Hi, mom.” She then waves again, but this time closer to it, so the sensor can see. There’s a little chip in her hand that gives her access to this cabin without knocking and being let in. She’s done it a million times, not just with this door, but many others. The door has always split down the center, and pulled away to either side. That’s how interior Extremus doors operate. This time, it goes up into a pocket in the ceiling. On the other side of it is not her family’s cabin, but a long dimly lit hallway.

“Are we in the wrong place?” Lataran questions.

“Impossible. That’s where the Mastersons live. They have their Rush Hosannah decorations up, or whatever it’s called.” Not many people observe holidays like it. Some of the ones they tried to borrow from Earth seemed a little more like cultural appropriation than others. Even so, there are those families who don’t seem to mind.

“I think I know what’s on the other side of this threshold,” Lataran points out.

“Yeah, it’s probably the Bridger section. You should go back to the cabin.”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “The system knows that I’m here. This door wouldn’t open if they weren’t inviting me too. It’s not your call.”

“I’m not trying to make a call,” Tinaya insists. “I’m trying to protect you.”

Lataran steps into the magical hallway, and turns around to face her friend. “I don’t need your protection. I’m going to be on the executive crew of the Extremus one day.” She turns around again, and begins to walk towards the only other door they see.

Tinaya follows, but quickly passes to make sure she’s in front. There’s probably not a bear on the other side of it, but she still feels more comfortable being the first one through. On a lark, she waves her hand at the sensor, and the door opens for them.

Avelino is standing there in the darkness. “Welcome...to Year 217.”

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