Microstory 1834: Much Older Sister

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My sisters and I were never close, mostly because they didn’t know that I was their sister. Our parents were split on whether they wanted me to help take care of them or not, so I kind of did both. Let me start at the very beginning. Our parents didn’t much like each other. They were the product of an arranged marriage, precipitated by four mothers and fathers who were themselves not products of arranged marriages. Nor did the bloodline have a history of it. It was just something they wish they had done. All of them were unhappy, and decided the only way to prevent the next generation from going through the same thing was to make this decision for their children. Of course it didn’t work, because that wasn’t exactly a scientifically proposed hypothesis. Still, my mom and dad stayed together—to the end, as it happened—because that’s what was expected of them. They were pretty good actors, and only got better with time. I’m old enough to remember how apathetic they were towards each other, but my much younger sisters are not. More to the point, they were never really paying attention, or they may have noticed that they never saw their own parents show affection towards one another in front of them, not even when they thought they were alone. That was weird, and honestly, my sisters should have picked up on it. But this isn’t just about them. When I was still an only child, I left home at age sixteen, and started to live my own life. They never really wanted to have me, because I was the result of an obligation, rather than love, so they were fine with this. We didn’t hate each other, but we stopped talking, because we had never developed a support system, so there wasn’t any point. I met a man who I loved dearly, and began to plan my own family, which never materialized.

After seven years of being estranged, my parents sent me a letter, informing me that they were pregnant again. I wish I could find that letter—or note, to put it more aptly. I remember it being so formal and to the point. It was something like, I’m pregnant with another daughter, and nothing else. My husband had just died not one week before, and I was feeling so alone. I wanted that support system I never had, so I tried to return. Again, there was no hostility, but my parents didn’t care about me, and they didn’t want me to live with them. As fate would have it, a house went up for sale in their neighborhood around that time, so I bought it with the money my parents-in-law were giving me to help out after their son passed. I realized then how much closer I was with them than my real parents, and I was grateful for this. I kept my married name, and tried to be in my sister’s life as much as possible. She remained completely unawares of our true relationship. She, and our youngest sister later on, would always refer to me as their aunt, but ya know, the kind of aunt that isn’t related. It was heartbreaking, but I chose to respect our parents’ wishes. Or rather, I respected their parents’ wishes, because I had long ago accepted that I was no longer a daughter. Their health declined at about the same time, even though they were seven years apart, so I contributed as much as I could for someone who wasn’t supposed to be too invested in their lives. When they passed, I suggested the three of us take a trip together to connect, and put the past behind us. They were interested in hiking up a mountain, so that’s what we’re doing. I was planning to finally tell them who I was when a selfie accident kills us all.

Microstory 1833: Younger Sister

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My sister and I were never really close growing up. She was seven years older than me, so we didn’t have very much in common. Our parents tried to get her to help take care of me, because they were so old and tired, but she had an excuse for everything. Before quite recently, she thought the world of herself, and didn’t give too much thought to anyone else. She needed to get away from the two of them, and be free of the burden, and it wasn’t relevant that I couldn’t leave. I had to grow up fast after that. I started driving them around even though I was nowhere near old enough to have my license. I’m just talking about the bread store and the pharmacy, but I got caught by the cops a couple of times, and suddenly I’m the bad sister. The judge went easy on me, because she understood that I wasn’t just going out for joyrides. Still, if I let it happen again, she would contact family services, and then we would be in a real mess. I continued to care for them even after that, though I no longer drive. I started to hustle, because we needed money for all the rides we were sourcing. Don’t worry, I didn’t get caught from one of my schemes, and I put those old habits in the rearview mirror when I was old enough to get a job and start driving again; legally, this time. I didn’t do great in school, but it didn’t really matter. I just needed to graduate so I could be taken at least a little bit seriously. Not going to college is a very normal thing that a lot of people do, and you often don’t even have to tell them why it never happened. It could be money, it could be grades, it could be having to stay home with family. Anyone who judges you for it can go suck a—anyway, all of those reasons were mine. I had to focus on holding down a decent job with flexible hours, and upward mobility. I didn’t need to become the owner of my own franchise, but some kind of manager would suffice. That was my goal.

I busted my ass. I was still taking care of the parents, who weren’t getting any better—mind you—but taking as many shifts at the department store as I could. My co-workers liked me, the customers loved me, and the bosses were impressed with me. I had that promotion in the bag. It should have been mine. When they told me they gave it to someone else just because he had a dick, I lost it. Okay, so that wasn’t exactly their reason, but it sure felt that way. I started rampaging through the store, throwing clothes around and...well that’s all I did. It was an inconvenience to clean up, and I was super fired for it, but they didn’t even call the cops. I realized then that this was all my big sister’s fault. She left me here to deal with all this crap, and now she was living the high life out in Vegas, or whatever. I was literally in the car, having just turned in my badge when I got the call that my father’s medical bill was overdue. So I lost it again. I called my sister to complain, but a volcano erupted inside me, and I started to scream. She was cool about it, to her credit, and after a few more conversations, she agreed to come back and finally pitch in. While she was helping, we got to know each other better, and learned that we had more in common than we realized. For instance, we both wanted to try mountain hiking. We didn’t want to do big long backpacking treks, but we wanted to admire the view. Now that the parents are dead and buried, we’ve decided to go on a trip to Whiteside Mountain with a family friend. It’s great, and we’re having a lot of fun, so we want to commemorate our newfound relationship with a selfie. The edge of that cliff just comes out of nowhere. Someone really should have put up a sign on the fence.

Microstory 1832: Older Sister

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My sister and I were never really close growing up. She was seven years younger than me, so we didn’t have very much in common. Our parents didn’t encourage me to take care of her, which is something she probably regrets more than I do. She could have used my support and guidance. I don’t want to say that she went down the wrong path, because she didn’t, but she could have learned some better coping skills, and been a little bit more responsible for her actions. Me, I got out of there, and I never looked back. I only applied to schools that were on the other side of the country. I wasn’t trying to get away from my family, per se, but I didn’t want to be able to lean on them. I needed to start making my own choices, and figuring out how to get myself back up when I fell down. My grades were never terrible, but they weren’t excellent either. It’s not like I had my pick of the litter. I applied to a state school, and then I moved to that state so I could pay a lower tuition. I know what you’re thinking, you can’t do that, but I could, because I had a friend out there whose address I was able to put on my application. A little shady, but I don’t feel bad about it. It’s not like the college was starving for funds. The truth is, I never once went to the guy’s house. He was still a hundred miles away in Reno, and we were never very close. Friends was surely a strong word to use, and he ended up starting a tiny business where he would do this for other people. He never charged me to deal with the few pieces of mail that would get sent to him, but it sounds like he turned it into a nice side hustle, and it’s all thanks to me. Anyway, college ended, and I just sort of stayed out there, because I felt like Nevada was my home now.

Meanwhile, my sister stayed in North Carolina, fostering a resentment towards me for saddling her with the responsibility of caring for our aging parents. They were already old when they had me, but they were damn near geriatric by the time she was born. Talk about irresponsibility, it was their mistake for waiting that long. They got married when they were in their early to mid-twenties. They would have had plenty of time to have children, I don’t know what they were doing with their time before then. We used to make up stories about them once being international spies who worked for competing agencies until they fell in love, and had to escape to America to start new secret lives together. She is of Polish descent, and he is Armenian, or something. Nah, I never asked, but I’m sure it’s as simple as me being an accident, and then she was also an accident. They probably never wanted kids, which is why they didn’t much care whether we were close. They weren’t bad at raising us, but they definitely relied on a fleet of teachers and preachers. A few years after I begin my post-education work life, my sister calls me up. She tries to stay calm at first, but then she can’t help but yell. I don’t get mad back, because based on the few keywords I manage to catch, I know her issue. I abandoned her, and the parents are both doing terribly, and not only can they not afford to send her to college, but she wouldn’t be able to leave them alone anyway. She needs me to come home and help, and I can’t argue, because she’s right about everything. So I returned, and together, we got them settled into the best assisted living facility we could get. Neither one of them lasted long after that, but my sister and I grew much closer while we were waiting. I might even say that we’re best friends now. We even decided to treat ourselves, and a neighbor, to a trip to the Appalachian Mountains. It does not go well.

Microstory 1831: Tour de Force

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At the moment, there are 216 countries in the world, but it wasn’t always like that, and not all of them are recognized by every international governmental body. That doesn’t matter to me, though. I’m not traveling to these places as a diplomat. If they have declared themselves to be an independent state, I have to visit them, even if I was technically already there when it was part of a different nation. Well, I don’t have to do any of this, but I’ve made it this far, so I need to see it through. Let me explain. When I was a girl, my parents received a hefty inheritance from a distant relative that my mother didn’t even know existed. According to her executor, my mom’s great aunt something-something didn’t have any other family left by the time she died. Mom didn’t get this inheritance just because she was next of kin, though. Her aunt knew of her, and even followed her career as a trombonist. Sadly, we never got to meet her, but we did get that money. The two of them took some time off work one summer to travel. We went to several countries in Europe, plus Egypt, plus India. Just like that, I found myself having seen three continents, and one subcontinent. I felt compelled to continue, so before I began my studies at university, I spent a gap year backpacking through Asia, seeing five more countries. Every year, I became more obsessed with adding to my itinerary. North America, South America, even Antarctica. I developed rules about my stays. I had to remain for at least one week for it to count, and I had to go to multiple cities. I couldn’t just hang out near the airport, or straddle the border between two neighbors. I could have done it much faster without these rules—which some people do, thinking faster is better—but money runs low fast, so I still had to work. It took me decades to do it right.

Word spread what I was doing. As I said, I wasn’t the only one, but I was famous for it before I was halfway through, because I was actually spending time absorbing culture. Airlines would send me free tickets to promote their planes. Countries would pay my way to draw in tourism. Everybody wanted a piece of the action, and it was totally fine by me. I was the girl who saw it all, and people wanted me to tell them about it. I tried to write a book about my travels once, but I’m not a very good writer, so I hired others to do it for me. I sent them updates to include in the book, and we realized that it was going to be too long for one volume. This wasn’t a travel guide; it was deeply personal, but the audience ate it up, because there are so many people out there who will never get to see this stuff. Finally, in my old age, I reached my goal. I went to some of the most dangerous parts of the world, but I survived, and no one could take that away from me. Except they almost did. A few years ago, a community in Spain called Catalonia declared its independence. Just last month, the rest of the world finally agreed to recognize this independence, and the Catalan Republic entered the United Nations as a separate body. This is great, but things are still shifting, and during this time, travel to Catalan is incredibly restricted. All tourism has been blocked. But that put me in a pickle. It was a new country, and we all knew it, but I couldn’t go there. Now, had I spent time in the area when it was considered only a community, I might have argued success, but I never did, and I needed to get there. The world united in my favor, and pleaded with the governments involved to let me in, just for one week. Surprisingly, my request was actually granted, and it is in a hospital in Barcelona where I draw my last breath.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 25, 2383

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Mateo and Marie made their way to the nearest library, which wasn’t all that near to where they were. They walked, took a sort of subway transport, stepped on a teleporter pad, took another subway, and walked a little more. The library was gigantic; large enough to fit millions of books, but there was not one in sight. This was the future, they didn’t use paper books anymore. They didn’t even bother building shelves for them. The architecture was complex and highly vertical, with pillars going up hundreds of stories at least. The highest part of the ceiling went beyond the horizon, so it may have gone higher. It would seem that whoever designed this just wanted it to look pretty, when a single terminal built into the wall of a nondescript hallway would have sufficed. No one else was here, as one would imagine. According to Dilara, there weren’t very many people on this vessel planet thing compared to its size, and probably most people walked around with a library in their pockets, or perhaps in a tiny chip implanted in their brains. That was if they weren’t just full-on androids. So far, they hadn’t encountered anyone who appeared to be even somewhat nonbiological, but surely they were from being this advanced.

“What are you doing here?” It was a man. It was a very tall man. Maybe this sector wasn’t quite so deserted.

Marie stepped forward to prevent Mateo from speaking first, even though he had no intention of taking lead on this. “We seek asylum.”

“You’re far from it,” the man pointed out.

“We’re here to look for it.”

“If you’ve done something wrong, I have every right to arrest you before you get there. You can’t be granted asylum if you haven’t crossed that border.”

“Are you?” Marie pushed.

“Am I what?”

“Are you going to arrest us?”

The man checked his lower arm, where a tattoo that could move was telling him the time. “You have ten minutes.” He rolled his neck, and shook out the sedentaries. “Then you better learn how to run to where you’re goin’.”

“You’re literally gonna chase us?” Mateo questioned.

He cracked his knuckles. “You don’t understand how boring it is working security in an abandoned sector.”

“Okay,” Mateo said, sending a psychic message through a facial expression to Marie that she ought to get to searching. He, meanwhile, kept an eye on his own clock.

“Found it,” Marie said rather quickly. She swiped the navigation data over to her own cuff, and then swiped it over to Mateo’s. “In case we get separated.”

“I’m right behind ya.”

They took off down the corridor together. Then Mateo carefully began to let himself fall behind, so the bear chasing them would reach him first. “Keep going!” he cried up to her when she started showing signs of downshifting. “I’ll catch up!” he lied. As Marie’s footsteps redshifted away from him, their pursuer’s footsteps blueshifted towards him, and Mateo stopped completely. He took a breath, waited until the man was close enough to keep pace, and then turned to the left. His diversion was working. Marie was moving off safely, while Mateo was going in the wrong direction.

It wasn’t long before the guy did catch up to him, but he didn’t even tackle. He just tapped Mateo on the back as if this were a game of touch football. Still, Mateo felt compelled to stop.

“Where is your compatriot?”

Mateo played dumb, and looked around. “I thought she was with you?”

He chuckled. “Doesn’t matter, this was fun.”

“That’s all it was?” Mateo asked. “So you can just let me go.”

“Oh, no. I’m still arresting you.”

“What does that mean? What happens to me?”

The security officer slapped a pair of cuffs on him. They just looked like thin silver bracelets. He pointed a little remote at him, and pressed a button. Mateo felt his arms being flung over to the wall, and trapped against it with magnets. “Exile.”

“Exile to where?”

“Like I said, this is an abandoned sector of the SWD, but it’s not the most remote, by far. I’ll escort you so far away that you won’t see a single soul even if you walked in the right direction for your entire life. No teleporters, no relativistic trains, no windows to get your bearings.”

“Get on with it then.” Mateo was all right with this if it meant Marie was free to make her attempt to end the war. It would all be worth it if it was the last thing he did.

The security man released Mateo from the wall, but immediately snapped the cuffs together. He was even more immobile than he would be with the regular handcuffs cops used in his day in the main sequence. “You won’t need this anymore.” He removed Mateo’s Cassidy cuff, and stuffed it in his pocket. He had no idea what he was dealing with here. “Let’s go.” He pressed a button on the remote once more, and jumped them to some other sector. It didn’t feel any more abandoned than where they were, but he seemed pleased.

“This doesn’t look so bad,” Mateo mused.

“You’ll get sick of it. From here on out, you’ll always be alone.”

Mateo sported his best impression of Joker. “No, I won’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll never be alone as long as you’re with me.”

“Uhh, I’m leaving.”

“If you’re leaving, then I’m comin’ with.”

The man winced. He pressed a button one last time, to unlock the cuffs. They flew right into their dock against the remote. “Good luck with thaaaaaat...”

“Activate ankle tag,” Mateo ordered.

The Cassidy cuff in the guard’s pocket teleported out, and wrapped themselves around his ankle. “What the hell?” he reached down, and tried to remove it, but of course he could, because that would have defeated the purpose of the security feature.

It wasn’t the perfect answer, but it was the only one Mateo had. This was the primary cuff, which meant that the owner was the one in control of it, but only while he was wearing it. The order he just gave was the last one he could. Right now, no one was the owner, and all features were deactivated, except for the one that placed the wearer on the last pattern programmed into it. This man was now on the Matic pattern, whether he wanted to be or not. It was going to take a clever engineer to get it removed, but that could take time, and they only had one day at a time now.

“What does it do?”

“You’ll see,” Mateo said, thinking it would be much more fun to watch him squirm at the sight of the clock.

He checked his device. “My teleporter still works. I can just leave you here, and figure it out.”

Mateo shrugged. “Okay, but...”

“But what?”

“Good luck deactivating the bomb before that happens.”

“You’re bluffing.”

He was indeed bluffing. The anklet was real, but the bomb was not. “It’s not the only extension I have for my substrate. That thing is linked to me, even though it’s now on you. If you get more than a few meters away from me for too long, kablooey.”

“Turn it off.”

“You really think I’m gonna do that here? Come on, man. You’re smarter than that. I certainly am.”

“What do you want?”

“Just get me to the Asylum Sector, and leave us alone. You had your fun.”

He hesitated, and looked at the time again. “It’s been nearly two months.”

“We’ve been here for weeks?”

“Yeah, see?” He presented the clock to Mateo, which was running quite quickly.

“You idiot!” Mateo scolded. “That’s coming up on two years, not months. The bubble runs faster than you know.” He pointed a finger at his chest. “You better get us out of here before the next year passes, or I’m going to run a few meters away, and the bomb will blow your leg off. I assume they don’t have doctors around here?”

“I’m gonna kill you if I find out you’re lying.”

“Teleport. Now. Now!”

“Dammit,” he hissed. He pressed a button, and got them out of there.

“Have you found them?” Leona asked a year later.

“Yes,” Ramses said. “It wasn’t easy. This isn’t technically a Cassidy cuff. It’s like a new model on a different network. I can’t just pull up a list of the other cuffs. But I was able to trace its signature.”

“Just one?” Leona asked for clarification.

“I only found one online. The others are dormant, and I can’t see them.”

“Oh, okay.” Leona put on the brand new cuff. “I’ll contact you when it’s time to carry out the mission.

“Be careful.”

“I will.” Leona activated the associative teleporter, and jumped. She was surprised to find herself next to Angela Walton. Mateo was nowhere to be found.

“Leona,” Angela said. “No need to worry, this is my associate. She’s here to help.”

“What are you doing here? I left you on the ship,” Leona said to her in a whisper, which the nearest other people in the room could probably hear.

“Time, right?”

“Marie, our patience grows thin,” someone of importance declared. “First you tell us that you can unite the detachments, then you disappear for a year, and now you’re back with someone else. If you want to negotiate, then let’s see what you have to bargain with. Your asylum credentials will only last three more years, so if we don’t get something working, we’ll have no choice but to inform security that you are here, and let them begin the pursuit process of you and the rest of your team.”

“That is why she is here,” Marie explained. “She can bring you Xerian Oyana.”

“Is this true?” the leader asked.

“What would you do to him if I did?” Leona asked her.

“We would follow him. He is the true owner.”

“I can get him here,” Leona promised, “but I demand assurances that neither he, nor my people, will be harmed.”

“We can do that.”

“I’ll need some time to make preparations,” Leona insisted.

“How much time?”

She looked over at Marie, who she believed to be a future version of Angela. “One more year.”

The leader sighed. “Very well. We shall move on to other business.”

“What are you wearing?” Marie whispered as they were leaving the diplomacy room together.

“Do you like it? Ramses made it for me.” Leona extended her arm like she was showing off an engagement ring.

“It’s...”

“Different,” Leona agreed. “Do you remember where the AOC is?”

“Yes,” Marie replied. “I can’t sync with you, though.”

“Just beam me the coordinates. We don’t know that this can be synced. But it can teleport without having to associate with a beacon device.”

They teleported to the ship almost at the same time. It was here that Marie explained who she was, and how she came to be here. Leona was surprised at the news, but not shocked. It obviously wasn’t the first time she met an alternate version of someone. Why, she once sent her own alternate to another universe to live out her life safely and happily, away from all this drama.

“So you don’t know where Mateo is?” Leona asked.

“Not anymore. I didn’t wanna say anything to them, even though they might be able to help, because we don’t know for sure they can be trusted.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Leona began. “Insurance.” She pointed to her new model cuff. “This will get me back to the Suadona, particularly a beacon on the bridge. But we may still need to destroy his ship, even though you’re clearly in the middle of negotiations. I need the other cuffs, so we can associate to a lifeboat that Olimpia and the other you are on. That is our way to safety if anything goes wrong.” She knelt down, and started to access the hidden safe. “I need to get their cuffs back around their wrists.”

“Stop,” Marie said.

“What?”

“Mateo didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. He may be dead by now, and if so, he sacrificed himself in the name of peace. I want peace too, and if I want it, Angela wants it. Bring Xerian here, leave the others on the Suadona, and don’t make plans to turn any ship into a teleportation missile. If we can’t learn to trust a little, these negotiations aren’t going anywhere. This is war, Leona, and in war, the diplomat speaks first.”

“Marie...”

“Close the safe, and walk away.”

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Extremus: Year 33

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Admiral Olindse Belo is a decent leader, served as a good captain, and is a great person. She listened to her advisors, and the people, and dispensed reasonable and righteous orders. She treats everyone with respect, even when they don’t really deserve it. Unlike Kaiora and Halan, she is not a manipulator. She knows how to lie, but she doesn’t know how to deceive, or steer people in the direction that she wants. She speaks plainly, and unambiguously, and genuinely cares about other people’s needs. Despite what Vice Admiral Perran Thatch tried to teach her about the art of war, Ovan and Dvronen were able to see right through her scheme. So when they were released for a week, along with Halan Yenant, they acted like model citizens, not causing trouble, or starting any revolutions. That’s not what Olindse wanted. She wanted Halan to look like a hero, so the ship would eventually agree to release him from hock. Then again, it is indeed what she wanted to happen. Temporarily releasing the other two could have spelled doom for the mission, but they were so scared of rocking the boat that they didn’t do anything even remotely wrong. In the end, that is a much greater achievement than any sort of conspiratorial deep state could hope to replicate. Peace won out after all.

Since the brief prison release experiment, things on Extremus have been going swimmingly. The people who have strong feelings against incarceration saw a little bit of justice, according to their moral standards. The people who believe strongly in favor of paying for one’s crimes saw all three long-term prisoners returned to their cells relatively swiftly. Everyone saw that their leadership was fair, open-minded, and very much not tyrannical. It was a win-win-win-ad-nauseum, and Olindse was pleased with herself for having come up with yet another great idea that turned out even better than she hoped. At the same time, she has gone back to not being needed.

Tap, tap, tap. “Hello?”

“Umm...hello?” Olindse asks the aether.

“Is this Vice Admiral Belo?” the mysterious voice asks. Tap, tap, tap again.

“Full Admiral, who is this?”

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t sure when I would reach you. I’m in the mirror.”

Olindse keeps the time mirror she uses to communicate with Thatch in her drawer when she doesn’t need advice from him. Who is this person? She pulls it out, and sets it on the desk.

“Thank you, I feel like I can breathe again, even though I’m obviously not actually in the mirror,” the man muses.

“Who are you?” Olindse presses.

“This is Captain Kaison Summerling, Seventh of Eleven.”

Oh, someone from the future. “Eleven? How did that happen?”

“Let’s just say...there was a death in the family,” Kaison replies.

“Kaison, you say? How do you—”

“K-A-I-S-O-N. It’s a family name. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“This is highly irregular,” Olindse points out.

“So is doing the same thing as this with Vice Admiral Thatch.”

How does he know about that? “That’s different, he has a way of erasing his own memories without anyone else’s help.”

“So do you,” Kaison points out. “It’s hidden in the mirror. Place the tips of your six middle fingers against each other, and lay the pads down on the base. Like this, watch me as I do it in the air. Anywhere’s fine. Now simultaneously tap one pinky, and the opposite thumb down. Do the same for the opposite ones. Slide your fingers apart, and a little compartment should pop open.”

He’s right. A tiny little door opens on the stem. Inside is the little green bottle of eyedrops that Thatch supposedly uses to erase his memory of an entire day.

“One drop per eye should take care of a day, maybe a little longer. If I ever need you again in the future, I plan on reaching out within seconds of our last meeting, from your perspective, so you only have to do it once.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Olindse tells him.

“Please, I need your help, and you’re the only one I can trust. You’ve already traveled through time; you understand the risks.”

“Is everything that happened to me common knowledge?” she asks.

“No, it’s just my knowledge,” he answers.

She turns the bottle around in her fingers. “Fine. Just...choose your words carefully, and keep it as short as possible.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s your problem?”

“Well, you noticed how similar my name is to your Captain’s. I am Kaiora Leithe’s grand-nephew.”

“So, when you said there was a death in the family...”

“I meant it literally.”

“Is Kaiora the one who dies?” Olindse will not be able to retain this information about the future, but this version of her has her memories intact, and is dealing with the issue right now in this moment. She has to hear the truth, regardless of whether she’ll be allowed to recall it later or not.

“No. It was my mother.”

“Your mother?” Olindse questions, aghast at the possibility. “Three captains, one family?”

Kaison sighs. “Four. My father finished her shift for her when she died.”

“Jesus Christ, Kaison, this isn’t how the system was intended to work.”

“We all got here on our own merits, even my father. They met each other in school, both on the captain’s track, and he almost beat her out of the position before. You have to understand that a lot happens after Kaiora completes her own shift. Things were weird, and the people demanded someone reliable, and almost familiar. Mom fit that description, and she was excellent before she passed. No one thought about the fact that she was a legacy.”

“Still. The crew considering her in the first place, knowing she was related to a previous captain...it’s not right. And then you come along...they shouldn’t have even let you apply to the program.”

“Well, I did, and I made it, and I earned it, but some people...”

“Doubt you? I would think so.”

“I just need your advice on how to lead them without being manipulative. You’re famous for your integrity, against all other previous and current executive crewmembers.”

“My advice?”

“Yes.”

“No matter what it is?”

“Absolutely.”

“How long have you been in the seat?”

He takes too long to respond.

“Kaison.”

“A day.”

Olindse rolls her eyes. “Well. It’s not a good sign that you sought my help quite this early in your shift, but it works to our advantage. My advice is to step down. Tell them you changed your mind. The people who make these decisions chose you,but you weren’t the only one they were contemplating. There’s a runner-up. In fact, there are at least two. They just don’t release these other names to the public. There’s still time for you to fix this, but the longer you wait, the shittier you’ll look. Do the right thing, and get out of there. End the dynasty. People don’t like things like that, because the kings of old used to take their positions based purely on the bloodline, which is a ridiculous and archaic way of finding leadership.”

Kaison looks away, and shakes his head, but then he begins to nod. “You’re right, you’re right! This is unfair. And even if it isn’t, it will always look like it is, and I inherently will not be able to be a good leader. I guess I knew this, and I just needed to hear from someone which history has shown that I can trust.”

“Can you promise me you’ll do it, or are you deceiving me?”

“No, I promise.”

“Okay. Good. We should end it here.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. She turns off the time mirror, and begins to open the eye drop bottle. He surely won’t need to speak with her again if he’s no longer going to be Captain.

“Hello? Admiral Belo?”

Olindse stops, and looks down at the mirror. He looks older—he looks a lot older. “Kaison, what the hell are you doing? You were supposed to step down.”

“I did. After we hung up, I literally transported right up to the Consul’s office to declare my decision. Nobody tried to talk me out of it. I basically got an annulment. The real Captain even just went by Seventh of Eleven, instead of twelve. Things were great, it was the right decision. Unfortunately, it did not come without its consequences, at least as far as we’re concerned. I kept the mirror, because...who else can be trusted with it? But I don’t have any other privileges. I’m not even allowed to join the crew in any capacity. It would reflect poorly on everyone. I accepted this, and things were great for twenty-four years, but I kind of need to be in a position of power now, because of the new, new captain.”

“I don’t think I should hear about this.”

“You have to,” Kaison insists. “You’re still the only one I can trust. He is bad news, Olindse, I’m tellin’ you, they made a big mistake. He is—I mean, if you thought Ovan Teleres was a problem, you...he—like, Ovan is a sweet puppy dog compared to this guy. He’s gonna get us all killed. He is clinically insane, and I don’t think anyone can stop him.”

“Who else knows about this?” Olindse asks.

“Just you and I would guess the scattered few others who have picked up on the signs. I haven’t discussed it with anyone, though.”

“So he isn’t outwardly evil?”

“No, but I can tell. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s like Ovan, but he’s not Ovan. Please, this is bad.”

“Kaison, I can’t do anything about it, and neither can you. If he hasn’t done anything wrong, then it’s over, he’s Captain.”

Kaison is shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Come to me with proof,” Olindse advises. “Something I can hang my hat on. That’s the only way you can get anything done. But if you commit a crime to accomplish it, you’re not doin’ the ship any favors, so you have to think long and hard about every single move you make from here on out. If he’s as dangerous as you believe, you can’t get caught looking for evidence.”

“Okay,” Kaison says with a nod. “I’ll begin my own investigation, but I’ll do it slowly, and carefully, and methodically.”

“Good. Contact me when you have something.” She takes a gander at her watch. “In a few seconds. I’ll hold off on the eyedrops until I know you’re safe, and whatever problem may arise has been resolved.”

“Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome again.”

Seconds later, a figure appears in the time mirror, but it isn’t Kaison. It’s a woman. “Admiral Belo?” she whispers. She seems nervous and frightened. A light above her flickers, and she jumps in a panic, darting her eyes to make sure she’s still alone.

“Can I help you?”

“You were the one that dad always used to talk about?”

“Dad?”

“Kaison Summerling.”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Your advice was good, but...he wasn’t. He couldn’t pull it off. He’s been in hock for years. The good news is that his crazy theories were right, so he’s been validated.”

“What happened?”

“We’re running scared. I was able to get a message from him, but all it said was to find this mirror, and talk to you. The hock is in a section of Extremus that we can’t get to. There’s a border separating us. On one end is the real bridge, and on the other is the original bridge...the one they called The Perran Thatch. Each side controls some systems, but neither controls all of it. We’re in the middle of an internal conflict. It’s a war.” She shakes her head, still scared, even though it sounds like the enemy can’t get to her. “It’s a war we can’t win.”

“If the border separates the bow from the stern, that means the Extraction Room is on your side of it. Is that true?”

“It is,” the unnamed woman confirms.

Olindse takes a second to think about if she really wants to do this. This isn’t her fight. Her fight is decades prior; it’s now. But there is no fight now. Things are fine, and it’s the future of this mission that’s at stake. Kaiora will have to understand. They’ll be fine without her. They won’t even notice that she’s gone. She disappeared for months, and people just moved on. It seems as though that was a dry run for the mission that begins today. “Extract me. I’ll come and help.”

“Really?”

“Open the portal before I change my mind.”

“Thank you.”

Olindse takes out a slip of regular old paper. The portal opens up on the other side of the room. Before she can scribble out a goodbye note, the normal door opens up.

Captain Kaiora Leithe is on the other side. She darts her gaze over to the portal. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not needed here, but I’m needed there, in the future.”

“Olindse, don’t,” Kaiora commands.

“Take care of my ship, so it’s still there when I get to the other side.”

“Admiral Olindse Belo, I order you to stand down. Do not step through that portal. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kaiora places herself between Olindse and the portal, but the thing about portals is that they connect two points in spacetime together. There is no reason you can’t use one in tandem with other time technology.

Olindse activates her teleporter, and jumps right through. In a second, the portal is closed, and the only living admiral this ship still had left is gone.

Kaiora looks over at the desk, and eyes the memory-wiping solution.

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Microstory 1830: Extreme to the End

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I am an adventurer. I like going to the most extreme places on Earth, and participating in the most extreme sports. I kayak on rapids, and run marathons, and even learned how to dance fight. That last one wasn’t especially dangerous, but it wasn’t sitting at home on your couch either, let me tell you that. I’ve climbed the highest mountains, and dove the deepest oceans. If I’m not risking my life, I’m not happy. I can’t say how many times I’ve been seconds or centimeters away from death, but I like to tell people that that is my comfort zone. One day, I thought it could eventually get me, but if the story is crazy enough, my legacy will live on without me. Until then, living on the edge makes me feel alive, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. That’s why I’m so disappointed in myself right now. I did all these things, and expected to die from something amazing, but that’s not what’s happening. It’s so boring, and pathetic, and embarrassing. I would say I’ll never get over it, but that’s an understatement, because this is it. Someone is going to find me like this, and that will be my entire story. They won’t talk about the time I ran with the bulls, or when I swung over the streets like a certain red and blue costumed hero, from one building to another. That one landed me in jail, and it was my proudest moment. My fan base grew, like, a thousand percent that day. I can’t bear to lose them. I know—again—I’ll be dead anyway, but that shouldn’t mean they all start making fun of me. They should continue to watch my stuff, and talk about me. They should flip off their mothers once she closes the door behind her after scolding them for watching those dumb videos. They should aspire to be me no matter what.

I slipped in the shower, how pitiful is that? I was just trying to step out when I lost my balance, and knocked my head against the porcelain. I don’t mind dying, but not like this, dammit! I struggle to grab my phone from the vanity. It falls right into the toilet. I didn’t bother buying something rugged or waterproof, because I’m not about that virtual life. I live in the moment, in the real world. It’s dead, and I don’t have any other way of reaching out for help, which means the end is near, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. But maybe I can make it a little better. Maybe I can die as I lived, like a freakin’ badass that people look up to. I turn the water back on, and shove the blood down the drain, but it just keeps leaking from my head. But it has to stop at some point, right? No one can know that it started here, or the ruse won’t work. It’s still coming? Seriously!? This isn’t fair! I’ll wrap a towel around it to keep it from dripping on the floors. Must. Get. To. The. Window. This is gonna work. It’s a foolproof plan. They’re gonna find me on the pavement, and they won’t know why I did it, but they’ll call me a hero. Because I am a hero. I crawl across the tiles, onto the hardwood floors of the hallway, and then onto the carpet of the guest bedroom. Some blood does drip from the towel, so I wipe it up with my hand, and keep going. Yeah, I’m not leavin’ a trail. This is definitely gonna work. It’s getting harder to move, but it’s not much farther now. Damn, the window is locked, and I’m getting woozy. I don’t think I can figure out how to open the latch in this state. It’s too complicated. Why do they make windows so complicated? That’s all right. Better even. Going through the glass will just make me look awesomer. I get to my feet, and slam my head against it. It cracks, but doesn’t shatter. I strike it again. It breaks, but not all the way. One more time...and I’m free. Oh, wait, no. I live on the first floor.

Microstory 1829: First, Youngest, Alone, and Female

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Until recently, I was the youngest person to have gone to space. I’m still the youngest to have landed on the moon. In 1966, I was working as a test pilot for the Canadian Air Force, having racked up thousands of hours of flight time, and apparently impressing the Usonian government with my skills. At the time, only three nations were engaged in space flight, and Canada was not one of them, but the Usonian Space Department was looking to show the world that they were inclusive. They reached out to us to help realize humanity’s dream of reaching the moon within a year. By then, the primary crew of astronauts were already picked, and all of them Usonian. I was part of the B-team, so I would only be called up if something went wrong. Something did go wrong, and they needed me to pilot the craft. No one ever thought that I would go on the mission, so I didn’t receive quite as much training as I probably should have, but I was confident in my competence, and ready to do my country proud. I still wasn’t meant to set foot on the moon. Three people made the trip to lunar orbit in 1967, but only two were intended to go down. Someone had to stay up and keep the module running while the landing party did their thing. Unfortunately, something else went wrong. The USD wanted the crew to be inexperienced in space. A few people had already been to Earthan orbit a few times, but they wanted this new mission to start with fresh faces. No one had really done any studies until then regarding the psychological effects of being in outer space for long periods of time, trapped in a tin can, with so little stimulation. This was the longest mission yet, and the most difficult. Our commander couldn’t handle the pressure. He had a breakdown which threatened the safety and continuation of the mission.

The lander pilot wanted to go down on his own. There was a contingency for this, and the USD was prepared to agree to this decision. The problem was that our commander was exhibiting erratic behavior, and I was not qualified to help him through it. The two of them knew each other. They understood each other. And the lander pilot was the only one who could make sure the commander didn’t jeopardize the lives of all three of us without realizing what he was doing. If he landed, and the commander did something to sabotage the module while he was gone, all three of us would die. Because of all of this, the USD decided to abort, and bring everyone back home, but the other pilot wasn’t happy with this decision. We went all the way out there, spent millions of dollars, and inspired millions of people to reach for greatness. Someone had to be the first to land on the surface of the moon, goddammit, and if it couldn’t be him, there was only one option left. Me. The USD wouldn’t hear of it. Back then, it wasn’t illegal to be a woman, or anything, but many people who were huddled around their TVs and radios—and some in the control room—didn’t want the history books to record that a female Canadian achieved this milestone, especially not alone. He didn’t listen. While he protected the commander from himself, I climbed into the lander by myself, detached from the module, and flew down to my destiny. I planted both feet on that gray regolith at the same time, and spoke some of the most famous words in history, “I stand here, lighter than ever, smiling at the Earth in the distance, not as a Canadian...not as a woman...not as a pilot. Today I represent the world, and the spirit of humankind. I am not the first explorer, and I cannot wait to watch the next ones lead us further into the future.”