Microstory 1956: Introduction Circle

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Reese: Thank you all for being here on time. We’re wading through uncharted territory here, and I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but I’ll admit to being rather nervous. I’ve never started a new department in the government before, and most people here have never worked for the government at all. The first thing I want to do is go around the room for introductions. Behind me are the other leaders, Leonard and Myka.

Leonard: Hey, I’m Leonard Miazga. I used to be a parole officer, but now I’m an alien.

Myka: Myka Tennison, we’re just creating welcome baskets for all of you right now, which we should have thought to do before. Don’t mind us.

Reese: Perfect. Now we’ll just go around the circle. Let’s all be honest; you don’t have to be embarrassed. I don’t care who starts first; either the person to my right, or my left.

Freewoman 4: I guess I’ll go first. My name is Henley Grahame. I’m an ex-con, and I’m not embarrassed about it. They call us freewomen, but I’ve never cared about that term. I am not easily offended. And just call me Hen.

Shadow Team Leader: Hello, Hen. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Celandine Robles. I was an agent with the Office of Special Investigations. Most recently, I was the leader of a shadow team, which is what put me on the path to ending up here. I’ll be continuing to run a team from the field, while still reporting to Agent Miazga at the home office.

Leonard: Not an agent.

Freewoman 3: Yanna Strøm. Also a criminal. Don’t ask me what I did to end up in prison. I’ll never tell.

Shadow Team Member 2: Uh. Okay, I’m not one for public speaking. I’ll just say I’m Inge Flynn, and I’m an agent too.

Freewoman 2: Ophelia Woodloch. Freewoman. Mother of two. Stepmother of two. Wife of non. Ready to kick some alien ass. At least inasmuch as I’m allowed to, based on whatever authority I’m granted. But not you, Leonard. You seem pretty chill.

Escapee 4: Navin Misra, I’m a man of few words. I was told that I would be allowed to take naps throughout the day, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my work. Don’t ever wake me up, and we’ll be cool. Oh, and I have been to prison, but I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I’m ready to make up for my past sins, and begin to make a positive contribution to the betterment of society. I guess I’m not a man of so few words.

Shadow Team Member 1: Anaïs Altimari, shadow team member; specializing in infiltration and deep undercover. I imagine I’ll keep doing that kind of thing here.

Escapee 1: I’m a smuggler. I can get you whatever you want. I’ll be working with Miss Myka here for procurement, but I promise not to steal.

Reese: Your name?

Escapee 1: Oh, sorry. Timotei Barber.

Former Jail Guard: I am Sasho Dreyer, disgraced former jail guard for the KC Central Law Station. I’m a criminal, because I technically let several detainees escape on my watch, but I was never formally charged. I too would like to kick some alien ass.

Hacker: Valentine Avalon Duval, hacker extraordinaire. Let’s see, how would I describe myself? Let’s just say that I’m outta this world. *winks at Leonard*

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 18, 2409

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No one came for them. Constance detected an unusual energy draw that came from the Dante, to their mysterious captors, which occurred at exactly midnight central, but other than that, nothing happened. They didn’t even lose much power as a result of whatever that was. Perhaps it was just a strange way of scanning them, because a few minutes later, the cargo hold opened up again, and spit them out unharmed. The ship accelerated to higher speeds, and then disappeared with a reframe engine.

“What the hell was that?” Olimpia questioned.

“No idea,” Leona answered, “but it’s April 18 2409.” She took a pause. “Constance, run a level three diagnostic on all systems.”

“There’s no such thing as a level three diagnostic,” Constance replied. “You made that up.”

“Actually, I can’t take credit.”

“Right away, sir,” Constance said with a slight smile. She went off to complete the task as requested. No sooner was she finished with it, having turned up nothing of interest or concern, did another ship appear out of nowhere. This one was much smaller—and less foreboding—and it responded to their calls.

“Hello, this is the Dardieti Outpost Boyce Shuttle One. Do I have a Mateo Matic on the line?”

“This is Mateo. Go ahead.”

“I’ve been rerouted to find you. It’s taken me a long time, but we received the message you sent out last year. Your presence has been requested on Dardius proper.”

“For what purpose?” Leona asked.

“It has something to do with the future, and your family, or the future of your family,” Boyce One replied. “That’s all I know. I’ve given the message, and confirmed that you’ve received it. Now I really must return to my work. This has been a really...” He mumbled and trailed off a little before remembering to switch off the mic.

“Thank you, Boyce One. If it is required of you, you can let them know that we are on our way, and that we’ll be there as soon as possible. We’re on our pattern.”

He didn’t say anything further, but he surely heard the last message. His little ship flew off in the same direction as the other one, though not at reframe speeds. Dardieti Outpost. How many of those were there, and where? All the way out here, they were nearly three million light years from home. This meant that that was how far Team Matic was going to have to travel to reach it themselves. The Dante wasn’t any more capable of crossing that distance in any reasonable span of time than the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was. With only the reframe engine, it would take them four thousand years. They either needed to reach out to their friends with true faster-than-light capabilities, or a Nexus. Though, the Dante could not fit inside of a Nexus transport cavity, so if they used that method, it would have to be jury-rigged, and they only ever got that to work in the Parallel.

“Does anyone live near the Nexus in Antarctica?” Angela asked.

“No, they abandoned the continent entirely,” Leona explained. “There was a time when people were able to live there because climate breakdown made it more hospitable to humans, but then they started to solve those problems, and made it colder again. They could still survive there if they wanted to, of course, but the population eventually dwindled into nothing. Either way, they weren’t in that region, no.”

“He asked about me,” Mateo pointed out. “Not the rest of you. He didn’t say anything about the rest of the team. I can go alone.”

“We’re not headed to enemy territory, Matty,” Ramses said with a laugh. “We can go. Might as well. I hear it sports some nice vacation spots. I was too busy to partake when I was living there before. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and we won’t be there to solve some kind of crisis.”

“It clearly took years for us to get the message,” Leona reasoned, “and could take us years of real time to arrive. I detected no sense of urgency in the messenger’s voice.”

“Maybe that had more to do with the messenger himself,” Marie reasoned right back. “Just because he wasn’t in a hurry doesn’t mean there is no hurry.”

“True. Dante?” Leona started tapping on the main console. “Teleport to these coordinates please.”

“Teleporting now.”

The darkness of space they could see through the viewscreens was replaced by the brightness of the snow. They opened the hatch, and let in the cold. It was a surreal feeling, knowing that it was profoundly frigid out here, but being basically unfazed by it. Ramses’ 3.0 model substrates were working well for them, and they were already clearly better than the previous model. “Hey, Dante, what’s the exact temperature?”

“It’s negative forty degrees,” Dante responded.

“Is that Fahrenheit or Celsius?” Olimpia asked.

Leona and Constance laughed. “Yes.”

“Why is that so funny?” Mateo questioned.

“They’re the same,” Leona explained.

The two of them stared at her.

“They’re the same at that degree,” Constance clarified. “They converge.”

“Got it. Thanks. Now it’s funny.” Not really.

“It’s underground, right?” Marie moves on from the subject. “How do we find it?”

“Hey, Opsocor!” Leona shouted into the wind aimlessly.

They heard the sound of metal against metal behind the Dante. They turned the corner to find a hidden trap door opening for them several meters away. They walked over to it and hopped inside.

“Opsocor, please teleport us to the main floor.”

Nothing happened.

“Wait, we can’t just teleport ourselves?” Angela asked.

“Can you?” Leona asked. “We’re not authorized to do so. The system is quite sophisticated.”

“Maybe it will work for you since you’re the one who got this giant hatch open,” Mateo suggested. “Leona, Queen of the Nexus.”

“That’s not the real problem. If Opsocor can’t do it, maybe she can’t do anything.” Still, she jumped herself away. Ten minutes later, she was knocking on the next hidden trapdoor, which they had to open from this side. They  jumped down to the second level, and then did it again to get to the control room below that.

“Is everything okay?” Ramses asked.

“No,” Leona answered with a sigh. “She’s not responding to me. I don’t know why not. But nothing is turning on either, except for this emergency lighting.”

“I wanted to wait until everyone was here,” Opsocor’s voice came in through the speakers. “I am a prerecorded facsimile of the one you know as Venus Opsocor. I have access control over the system, which allows me to let in anyone for safety concerns, or in your case, to explain what’s happened. This Nexus building has been taken offline. It has been too significantly altered, and therefore automatically removed from the network. It is incapable of transporting anyone anywhere. Do not attempt to—no. Yes, sorry. Shifting response path. You are indeed authorized to make attempts at repair. I am unable to run diagnostic tests, or provide you with any technical specifications, or troubleshooting assistance. Again, this is a prerecorded facsimile with limited response paths. I was not made aware of what has been broken within the system. I am here as a result of whatever those changes were, which you will have to correct yourself if you want to bring the station back to operational standards. Do not attempt to converse with me. I will not respond to any calls. This message will not be repeated. Thank you, and have a nice rest of your life.”

“So essentially,” Marie began, “it’s broken, but the AI doesn’t know how it’s broken, because that message was recorded just in case something like this happened.”

“It’s not an AI, it’s a real person,” Ramses corrected.

“Yeah,” Leona agreed. She got on her hands and knees, and started to get to work on the main computer.

Meanwhile, Mateo was shining his watch light through the observation window, and trying to use his arms to block ambient light from his eyes. “I think I know what’s wrong with it,” he declares.

Leona got up. “You do?”

“Don’t look so surprised. Can you get the lights on in the Nexus chamber? The drum is missing.”

“The drum?” Leona asked, confused.

“I don’t know what it’s called. It’s the giant thing that hangs over the cavity.”

“Uhh...I don’t know how to get the lights on manually.” She opened the door from the control room, and walked down the steps as everyone else followed. She used her light illusion ability to conjure a nano-sun on the ceiling, which illuminated the whole chamber. Mateo was right, it was totally missing. “That’s not a drum, Mateo. That is the Nexus. Everything else is either just the interface to it, or lets you control the rest of the building, like the lights. It’s really the only thing you need, and somebody took it. They took the whole thing out. What’s left doesn’t even look damaged.”

“What should we do?” Constance asked. “I don’t have the data on this thing; I wasn’t allowed, but I’m still smart, so I could help.”

“There’s no way to fix it. It’s like a car without an engine, or a boat without water. There’s nothing to repair. We would have to get it back, or replace it. I wouldn’t know how to build one. She told us that we won’t be able to read the manual, and I’ve seen the guts inside before, but not enough to recreate it from nothing. At this point, our only hope is to call the Jameela Jamil.”

“Okay, we’ll do that,” Mateo decided.

“There’s another option, if we don’t want to bother Team Keshida with this,” Ramses said.

“What would that be?”

“We could try to find the second Nexus on Earth.”

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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.