The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 27, 2418

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It was time to go. None of them wanted to leave Dardius—least of all Mateo—but it was the right thing to do. He didn’t choose every aspect of his life, but he chose some of them, and no matter what the ratio was, Romana didn’t choose any of it for herself. She deserved to live in a comfortable and safe environment. It was going to be hard enough for her, only living for one day out of every year, and it wasn’t fair for Mateo to stick around if it was going to make that worse. This planet was the safest place to be only if Team Matic wasn’t on it. They attracted too much attention. They were magnets for trouble. Sure, they could find respite here and there every once in a while, but it was going to find them eventually, and they didn’t want anyone else to be caught in the crossfire. Karla, Silenus, and especially Constance would do right by Romana, and make sure she grew up to be a well-rounded individual. She would learn to make her own choices, and in several thousand years, if she wanted to start making a name for herself in this crazy multiverse, she could do that, and place her own self in danger. Until then, everyone else was responsible for making their respective sacrifices to protect her.

They had a grand breakfast together, complete with the best cuisine that Dardius had to offer. Vearden and the planet’s owners were all there, as well as some other government officials that Angela and Marie had grown close to over the last few days. When it was over, they said their goodbyes, and packed up the Dante. If you had told Mateo back when he was 27 years old that it was possible to store a spaceship inside of a backpack, he wouldn’t even have the concept for it in his imagination. Now it seemed so basic and unimpressive, even though it was still anything but. While Silenus was watching over the baby, Karla asked to see them off at the Nexus, so Mateo teleported her to Tribulation Island with the group. She swung her bag off of her shoulders, and dropped it onto the sand. “Silenus got this for you, but he asked me to say it was from me instead. I don’t like lying, so I’m not gonna do that. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly secure. It doesn’t store any images, or other data. No one can trace us from it.”

“What is it?” Mateo asked.

She opened the bag, and removed a box. She opened it, and pulled out a gooseneck mirror. “Now you can stay in touch.”

“Is that a time mirror?” Leona asked.

“One of a pair,” Karla confirmed. “It can’t be hacked, and it can’t be intercepted. It’s on its own special quantum frequency, or something.”

Leona looked over at Ramses.

“We have our own temporal engineers,” Karla explained. “You’re not the only inventors in the universe.”

“That’s fair,” Leona responded.

“Thank you,” Mateo said.

“I’m sure your wife can teach you how to use it,” Karla went on. “Unless you’re in the middle of talking to someone else, or Romana and I are out somewhere, I’ll make sure that it’s always pointed towards her. If we don’t answer, it doesn’t mean we’re not safe. It’s just not something that I can carry around. We’re probably just on a walk.”

“Thank you,” Mateo repeated. He carefully placed the communication time mirror back into its box, and then into his own bag.

They all stepped into the Nexus building. “Hey, Opsocor,” Leona asked.

No response.

“Opsocor, can you hear me?” Leona pressed.

Still no response.

“The techs can send you anywhere you wanna go,” Karla tried to explain.

“Not anywhere,” Leona contended. “We’re trying to go back to the Sixth Key.”

“Why would you go there? It doesn’t sound safe at this point in history.”

“Safe isn’t what we’re looking for,” Mateo told her. “There’s a mission somewhere out there that needs to be completed, and which we’re capable of accomplishing, so we’re going to do that. We can’t just go find a beach somewhere on a paradise world, and lounge about.” It sounded dumb to go off in search of trouble, but sitting around and doing nothing would defeat the whole purpose of keeping Mateo from his daughter. He had to stay busy, even if that meant deliberately inviting adventure and danger into their lives. They all agreed to this. “The Sixth Key is new, and on the verge of war.”

“If they haven’t started fighting already,” Marie added.

“Right. Maybe we’ll make things worse,” Mateo continued, “but maybe we can help. We’re partially responsible for the mess they’re in, so we have to see if there’s anything we can do to prevent, or at least end, the killing.”

“Assuming it’s not inevitable,” Angela decided.

“Yeah, let’s hope as much.”

“Hey, Opsocor?” Karla asked the aether, just in case it worked.

“You may be the problem,” Leona hypothesized. “Everyone may be.” She looked up through the window to the control room.

“We’ll go,” one of the technicians said through the speaker. “We’ll leave you be for ten minutes, but not a second longer. We cannot be away from our posts for longer than that.”

“I should only need two minutes,” Leona told the two of them as they were coming down the stairs. “If she doesn’t respond to me by then, she probably never will.”

Karla gave Mateo a hug, and a mostly friendly kiss on the lips. “Call me maybe.”

“Absolutely,” he replied.

They cleared the room.

Leona took a deep breath. “Opsocor.”

“Yes, Leona.”

“I don’t understand your rules.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You’re always there, even if you don’t say anything, which means you know where we wanna go?”

“Yes, and I’ll send you there, if you would like, but...”

“But what?”

“But it will put you on a path. I can see that path. Well, I can’t, but I know someone who can. You can get out of it. All you have to do is go to Worlon instead.”

“Worlon?” Ramses questioned, very concerned. “The homeworld of the Ochivari? Are you sure?”

“The Ochivari left so they wouldn’t destroy it again, so ironically enough, it’s the safest place to be right now.”

“That’s not what we’re looking for,” Olimpia tells Opsocor before muttering under her breath, “we keep having to say that.”

“Out of the group,” Opsocor began, “I answer only to Leona.”

“Take us to the Sixth Key,” Leona requested. “Take us to the safest planet in the Sixth Key. Does that sound like a decent compromise?”

“Very well. Step into the cavity.”

They all did so. All of the sixteen numbers and activation glyph were etched on the walls of the cavity, which was only one step down. These were not only for decoration. It was possible to input the sequence from here, without doing anything with the computer in the control room, or the terminal on the wall. Whichever method one used for a departure, the glyphs on the kick buttons lit up in order to indicate where the travelers would be going. Leona’s eyes widened as she watched, but she wasn’t able to stop it in time. “Oh, you sneaky snake.”

The light overwhelmed them, and transported them not only to another planet, but another universe. And when they arrived, they realized that they were also not in the Milky Way Galaxy, where they expected to be. Everyone in the group who had been here before recognized it immediately, even though it had been 165 years since the last time. “Flindekeldan,” Olimpia whispered loudly.

“Oh. Seems nice enough,” Ramses noted.

“It doesn’t have a Nexus,” Mateo told him. “We’re stuck here.”

“How did you escape the first time?” Ramses asked.

“Desperately,” Mateo answered his friend cryptically.

“I’m sorry,” Leona said, shaking her head. “Venus tricked me.”

“She’s protective of you,” Mateo said comfortingly, with a kiss on her forehead.

“I can understand that,” came a voice behind them. “It was Leona. It was some version of Leona anyway. They didn’t know which one yet.

“Report,” the true Leona said.

“I’m Arcadia. We live here now. Some of us more than others.”

“You do?” Mateo asked, stepping forward. “You, Vearden, and little Cheyenne?”

“Vearden’s back home. I’m on a walk. Cheyenne is...”

“Cheyenne is what?” Leona urged.

“She doesn’t exist right now.”

“What do you mean, sh—?” Mateo began. “Oh, no.” It happened to them too.

Leona shook her head. “My alternate self. You’re in her body, so Cheyenne inherited the pattern.”

“Shouldn’t she be here today, though?” Olimpia reasoned. We’re here.”

“She’s not on your exact pattern,” Arcadia explained. “She’s on a similar one. She won’t be back until June 8, zero-zero-one-nine.”

“Zero-zero-nineteen? What calendar is that?” Marie asked.

“New Clavical Calendar,” Mateo answered surprisingly. “I didn’t know they had implemented it already. That was fast.”

“Yeah, we’ve been hopping worlds, hoping to somehow alter Cheyenne’s pattern, but it hasn’t worked,” Arcadia lamented. “We should have known. Our first attempt with Proxima Doma was a good guess, since their years are eleven days long, but coming here was stupid. Now, even if we wanna try something else, we can’t.”

“I’m sorry, Arcadia,” Leona said solemnly.

“This isn’t your fault,” Arcadia told her honestly. “It’s a shame you’ll probably never get to meet her. I don’t know which calendar you’ll be on now that you’re here. But since you are, are ya hungry? Vearden learned how to make Horace Reaver’s quiche.

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Extremus: Year 62

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The Department Fixer. That’s what they call Tinaya now. The Resource Allocation Team was only the beginning. Well, the Forestry Department was the beginning of this new chapter in her life, but she didn’t realize it at the time. Since the RATs asked her to help them with their image problem, she has helped three other departments with their own issues. For the RATs, she first encouraged them to lean into their once-negative nickname. She conscripted a graphics designer to change their logo to a rat. She distributed materials about how great rats are in real life. Of course, the allocators aren’t actual rats, but that wasn’t the point. She wanted to make them look like a fun group of people who are in on the joke. She wanted to keep it light, and associate the department with something positive.

Next, she lobbied the government to relegalize teleportation for all with sufficient contribution scores. Not only were the civilians happy to receive new teleportation tech after all this time from the RATs, but it also served to increase Tinaya’s personal popularity. She wasn’t specifically trying to do that, but everyone knew that she was the one who finally made it happen, and they credited her for it appropriately. The fact that she accomplished it without wielding any real power was a testament to her value on the ship, and people were taking notice.

Immediately after this was done, the Civilian Engineering Corps asked for her help. These are different from the engineers that run Extremus. They manage inessential projects, such as remodeling quarters when changes are requested for a family’s living situation. They receive a lot of requests, but have to reject the majority of them for logistical reasons. They do lots of other things, though, which have nothing to do with the crew engineers. Most of the students who go to college to study engineering want to be on the crew, and when the slots fill up, a surprising number of them decide to pursue other interests. Even so, the CEC receives an excess of applications for employment, and has to make even more rejections. They don’t like doing this, and needed to expand their scope to new and original projects, which necessarily required raising their staffing limit. But that also meant figuring out how to get through all this red tape, which Tinaya was now quite familiar with. So she navigated it for them, and fixed that problem too.

Following that, Tinaya organized a Quantum Colony Tournament for the Recreation Department. It was not built as a player v. player game, so she had to devise an in-game competition from scratch. This meant that she planned everything in the real world, and in the virtual space. Her stint here was the shortest according to the calendar, but also the most time and labor intensive, so after it was over, she took a break from doing anything for a couple of weeks, and returned to the spa where Lilian’s brother welcomed her back warmly. When she was ready, she logged back into her account to find a couple dozen applications for her assistance. She did not create an official template for this process. Someone else did it for her, and dispersed it to the entire ship on her behalf. If she knew who it was, she might have scolded them for doing something like that without her permission, but honestly, it was making her life easier. The applications were clear, easy to read, and most importantly, easy to filter out.

There was only one application that she was willing to accept, which was for Captain Soto himself. She didn’t choose him because she liked him, because she doesn’t, but she wanted a challenge. That is becoming increasingly important to her; being challenged. Like the RATs, Captain Tamm too had an image problem, and even though it wasn’t strictly necessary for him to be well liked to do his job, it helped to have his crew respect him. He also needed help communicating with the civilian government. Tinaya was not a miracle worker, so he was never going to be as belovèd as Halan Yenant or Kaiora Leithe, but she did her best, and saw markèd improvement in the man. He still needs more work, but her obligation to him is now over. She’s not a saint either.

This morning, she’s woken up to only one application in her mailbox, which is weird, because she had five in there last night which she had yet to find time to review. They were somehow deleted, or perhaps rescinded? All of her maybes were gone now too. Perhaps whoever generated the application form for her in the first place still had access to them in the system. Hmm. Last year, she tried everything she could to locate the source, but was never able to, and she can’t think of anything that’s changed since her initial attempts. All she can do now is pretend that she was completely mistaken, and there was only ever one in here. Let’s see what it’s about. It’s from Arqut Grieves. This is the guy who always has to attend Tinaya’s meetings. Well, not all meetings, but the ones that could plausibly impact how the government is run.

A representative from the Office of the First Chair is required to be at such meetings, but it doesn’t always have to be the same person. Yet it has been for the last year and a half. Arqut is always the one, whether that means he volunteers every time, or someone else assigns him to Tinaya’s projects. She’s never asked him. And he’s never asked anything. He’s remarkably quiet. Before he took over the job ad hoc, a few others filled the same role, and they were very concerned about how this would impact the government, or rather specifically the First Chair themselves. He didn’t seem to care. He let her do whatever. He was so mysterious. What could he possibly want from her now?

The application itself is filled out in a funny way—read: incorrectly. It’s not sophisticated enough to know whether a given input field has been entered appropriately. The only requirement is that something be in every box. Next to NAME, he put the word Dear. Then next to DATE, he wrote Tinaya, and for the TIME, only a comma. The rest of the fields add up to what look like a standard freeform letter, each field handling the next two or three words until the DESCRIPTION box finishes out the rest of the body in what has finally become easy to decipher:

Dear Tinaya,

Request that you provide your assistance with the following project. This is top secret. Extremus exists in a constant state of danger of being destroyed, and a new plan has been put in place to ensure the continuity of our people in a dire emergency. It is paramount that you share nothing of what you read here today with anyone, nor anything we discuss later in regards to this matter. A fourth ship is being designed upon the direction, and at the discretion, of the civilian government, somewhere in secret on Extremus proper. This emergency ship will be run by a shadow crew. This crew will ultimately be privy to every development that the current captain, Soto Tamm is made aware of. They will recreate the decisions that the real crew makes, and also run parallel simulations that imagine new solutions to these real problems. Should the worst happen, and Extremus is destroyed, this shadow crew will break away, and restart the mission using what will probably be determined to be new parameters. Again, tell no one of what you’ve just learned. You have been selected as a candidate for the first captain of this crew on a temporary basis. Your job will be to lead the simulated ship for a short time, and use your experience to select the new captain, who will continue on for the duration of the next real captain’s shift. Please meet me in the Mirror Room at 16:15 to discuss details.

The EXPECTED START DATE was Thank you, and the EXPECTED END DATE was Arqut Grieves. This is highly irregular, and super suspicious. It sounds like a coup. It sounds like the government making plans to overthrow the crew, and take over the ship for themselves. She has to tell someone. She can’t just take this man’s word for it that this is just some kind of simulation. They’ve barely spoken, she can’t trust him. She can’t trust anyone, though. So who’s the closest option? The Bridgers? She rarely makes contact with her spy handler. She can’t go to the Captain, even though she does have a personal relationship with him now. She obviously can’t reach out to the First Chair either. Basically anyone in the government is a risk. But this Mirror Room meeting is not an option. The Council. The Council sucks, but she’s gotta do it. If it’s come to the point where they are her only option, though, then nothing else matters. Because if they’re dirty, then the whole ship is fucked.

It was then that she noticed that there was just a little bit more text, which she originally ignored as some kind of short disclaimer, or something, but that’s not what it says. It reads, THIS DOCUMENT UTILIZES EYE-TRACKING SOFTWARE THAT WILL—PRINT. Tinaya hates paper today as much as she always did, but the law requires that she make hard copies of every accepted application, so she has a ream of the stuff for such purposes, which she predicts she will never get through completely. She’s grateful for it now, because after the application is done printing out, she finishes the fine text in the footer, which goes on to say, TRIGGER A SELF-DESTRUCT ONCE THE INTENDED RECIPIENT READS IT IN ITS ENTIRETY, OR AN UNINTENDED RECIPIENT BEGINS TO READ IT.

True to its word, the application disappears from the screen, and all traces of it are removed from the system. Like the origin of the application template itself, she’s unable to retrieve it, or find any proof that it ever existed, besides this hard copy. She makes ten more copies of the letter, and teleports all over the ship to hide them in secret places. Then she returns to her cabin to get dressed for her impromptu meeting. Whoever is engineering this coup isn’t going to get away with it...or they will indeed upon her failure, which is a distinct possibility. Either way, she has to try.

The council used to be a loosely defined collective of crewmembers and government officials who were only there to make sure that everyone was doing their jobs correctly. It was more of a committee than a council, and the level of power they wielded was limited to how much, or how little, respect that a given person that they were trying to control at a given time had for them. This has changed over the decades as members have been turned over to those with greater and further-reaching ambitions. Now they call it The Council with a capital C, and if they make a decision, it’s pretty much final. It can be challenged by others, but most of the people with any real chance of overturning their decision are already on the council anyway. Checks and balances are more of a joke at this point, but don’t tell them that, because they’re the only ones who don’t find it funny. They’re also all full-time members now, except for the Captain, First Lieutenant, First Chair, and Second Chair. All they do is hear complaints and make executive decisions, like a king in open court. At least this works in Tinaya’s favor, because she knows where they’ll be, so she won’t have to ask for them to convene.

Dreading doing it, she takes the long way ‘round with good ol’ fashioned walking, instead of teleporting straight there. Today is a good day; the line is not very long. There are about eight parties ahead of her who seek audience with the Council, and they all make way for Tinaya. She’s never tried this herself, but she commands a level of respect enjoyed by few others. Again, she’s not exactly itching to get there, but she hates waiting, even if it’s for something she doesn’t want to do. So she accepts their gracious gesture, and jumps to the front of the line. When it’s her turn, she walks into the room, and heads for the center platform. The proctor who watches the line steps up behind them, and whispers something to Council Leader Whatever-His-Name-Is. She never bothered to learn it, because she doesn’t care. Let’s just call him Cleader.

Cleader nods, and sighs as he’s turning his head back to face Tinaya. “Miss Leithe, what can we do for you today? What is so urgent that you had to skip the line?”

“What the proctor might not have told you,” Tinaya begins, “is that they offered. I didn’t ask for it, and I didn’t want it, but refusing it would have been ruder.”

“Very well,” Cleader replies. “Proceed.”

Tinaya steps towards the dais. She places two hard copies of the suspect request form before Cleader, so they can pass them down each way. “I received a request for my assistance this morning in a most unusual manner. It deleted itself from the system as soon as I finished reading it, but I managed to print these out just in time. As you can see, I have been asked to serve—”

“That’s enough,” Cleader says to her dismissively. “I think you passed.”

“What? What did I pass?”

Cleader lifted his watch up to his mouth. “Teleport here at once.”

A second later, Arqut Grieves appears. “What is the about?” he questions.

“When did the message self-destruct?” Cleader asks Arqut.

Arqut checks his own watch. “Twenty-four minutes ago.”

“Who did you speak to about this before coming to us?” he now asks Tinaya.

“No one,” Tinaya answers truthfully. “I came straight here.”

“Why did it take you half an hour?” Cleader presses.

“Because I walked. I like to walk.”

Cleader purses his lips, and whispers something to the members on either side of him, which pass whatever message down the line. “Explain to her,” he orders Arqut.

“There is no secret shadow crew,” Arqut begins to tell Tinaya. “It was a loyalty test. We still need to verify your whereabouts after you opened the message, but I’m proud of you. You made the right decision, coming to the Council.”

“You should know, I hid more hard copies around the ship, so my location records will reflect that. But I promise, I spoke to no one.”

“That was smart,” he says nicely. He may actually be a decent guy, unlike the Council members.

“If I may,” Tinaya begins, “what was the point of this test?”

Arqut smirks. “Not yet, Tinaya. Not yet. Just keep doin’ what you’re doin’. Your real applications have been restored to your inbox.” He winks, then disappears.

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Microstory 2000: All Fifty

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Hello. My name is Desta Jarpez. Thank you for being here for my presentation. Mrs. McKinney told me that I could get extra credit if I did a presentation on my papa. My papa’s name was Aubrey Jardine, and I loved him. Before he died, he went to every state in the United States. He didn’t do it on purpose. That would have been much easier, because he could’ve just driven through all of them really quickly in, like, a few weeks maybe. I think people do that. He mostly just happened to need to go to every state for different things. So for the next fifty slides, I’m going to tell you why he did that for each one. Please enjoy the flags that I used as the backgrounds, and I hope you like my presentation. I worked really hard on it.

Thank you.

Love,
Desta

Microstory 1999: False Targets

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Leonard: Myka, I couldn’t decipher your abbreviated message. What is going on?

Myka: Oh my God, it’s a shitshow. Um, hello? Who is this?

Keziah: Hi, I’m Keziah Miazga. Is this her, Len-Bear? She’s pretty.

Leonard: *uncomfortable* Myka Tennison, this is my ex-wife, Keziah Feldman.

Keziah: It’s nice to meet you. I’ve not yet decided if I’m going to change my name back.

Myka: Okay, well...we have some sensitive information to discuss. Leonard, I’m not sure if she should even be in the building.

Leonard: She’s from another universe, Myka. I think she knows about aliens.

Myka: Still. *waves Henley over* Maybe she could just hang out in the break room while we deal with the mess that’s been made of the day? Hen will show you the way. It’s so lovely to finally meet you, though. Leonard has told me so many great things.

Leonard: That was a little rude, on both of your parts. I do hope that we can be civil about this. I know it’s a complicated—

Myka: I don’t care about that. Reese is missing.

Leonard: What?

Myka: I said that Reese is missing!

Leonard: I heard you. I just don’t understand. How did he go missing? He sent us a group text telling us that he was on his way back from the Capital.

Myka: I know you heard me. I’m just...frustrated. Not only has this happened, but they think that there’s been yet another alien arrival, and the people who have been investigating the whole mole thing all over the government are here, and they say we should be informed of something in that regard. Plus, Navin is having an episode. He’s fine, he’s getting checked out by the medic, but he was trying to repair the broken central heating furnace, which we’re gonna need, because winter is coming. It’s just one thing after the other, and oh my God, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Slow down. Let’s take this one at a time, starting with the easiest. I’m here now, so I can take a look at the furnace. I wasn’t always a parole officer. It’s not a priority, though, so let’s move on. As for the internal investigators, they can wait where they are. I don’t know what all that has to do with us. Now. where are the aliens?

Myka: Wyoming again. Pretty much the exact same place that we found the others. My guess is that it’s a second wave. Or really, it’s the real wave, and the few Ochivari we found were just the little advanced team. According to our satellite, the one that just happened is a lot bigger than anything we’ve ever seen before. The scientists still haven’t measured enough instances to come up with a scale, but based on what few experiences they do have, they’re estimating dozens of arrivals. *takes a much-needed breath*

Leonard: Okay, did you send a team?

Myka: I was the only one here, so yes. I had to make an executive decision. Anaïs is leading recontainment. *consults watch* They’re probably taking off from our airbase.

Leonard: Recontainment? What is that? I’ve never heard of that.

Myka: That’s what they’re calling recon plus containment. I thought you were the one who came up with it.

Leonard: No, it’s confusing. It sounds like we’re containing something that was already contained before.

Myka: Okay, whatever, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Okay, let’s talk about that. What do we know?

Myka: I’ve been on the phone with the Transportation Regulatory Authority, but of course, they’re still investigating. All they’ll tell me is that the plane was last seen making an emergency landing in St. Louis, and then it deblipped.

Leonard: Deblipped?

Myka: Does your version of Earth even have English? Deblip. It’s a phenomenon where an object appears on radar before suddenly disappearing. It blips away for no apparent reason. It’s usually a false target, like a fast-moving bird. I don’t know how it works.

Leonard: Okay, so if that doesn’t happen normally...

Myka: What?

Leonard: Can we access the satellite data? There was a reading over Wyoming, but...maybe there was one over St. Louis too?

Myka: You think the aliens got him?

Leonard: I think it could be worse than that. *shaking his head* We’re always talking about people coming to this universe, but it’s just as likely that people are taken out of it. It may be a daily occurrence, for all we know. Hell, maybe the satellite doesn’t even know what to look for. Departures could show up as the opposite as arrivals. We should ask them to reverse the polarity, or some shit like that.

Myka: Okay. The new science team started working last week. I’ll see what they know. You need to take homebase command.

Micro: *walking up* That can wait. The away team will still be in the air for the next couple of hours. We have another problem. I just got an email.

Leonard: An email from whom?

Micro: Remember when you and Ophelia needed to get out of Memphis? You asked for help from Anaïs’ criminal contact, Moenia. He said that he would do it for a favor.

Leonard: Crap, he’s collecting on that debt now? Today of all days.

Micro: I don’t think he knows how crazy this day is for us. He didn’t say what he wanted out of us, but it does sound time sensitive.

Leonard: *looks between Myka and Micro* Valentine, I need you to take point on this. He’s right, we owe him. Find out what he wants, and if it turns out it can wait, then make him do just that. Tell him we’re busy, obviously don’t tell him why. Read Timotei into it, and take him as backup if it comes to that. Actually, talk to me again once you find out what the favor is. Then I’ll decide if you and Timotei should go anywhere.

Micro: Timotei? He’s in procurement.

Leonard: He’s in procurement, because he was a smuggler. The two of them speak the same language. I think he can handle himself too. If you need a real fighter, though, you’re free to conscript any of the newer agents who didn’t go on the mission. Tell them whatever they need to know. Again, though, keep me posted. *turns back to Myka*

Myka: We have no idea what the hell we’re doing. We’re just winging it.

Leonard: Myka, I have been to two planets, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that everybody is a fraud, and everybody is making it up as they go along. We will get through this. We’ll find Reese, we’ll do whatever needs to be done with the aliens, and we’ll fix the heating. But until then, come here. *takes her in his arms* And somebody call the goddamn president, or whatever he is! I have questions about that jet of his!

Microstory 1998: Vastly Irresponsible Plan

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Leonard: Where is she? She’s not in a jail cell still, is she?

Street Proctor: No, no, no, no, no. She’s in the VIP quarters. She’s perfectly fine.

Leonard: The law station has a VIP room?

Street Proctor: Of course. They don’t on your world? [...] Oh, don’t look so surprised. You told me that you were in the wrong world when we first met, and now you’re some big shot secret agent. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you were actually telling the truth the whole time. I really wanna apologize for how I treated you back then. I was going through some stuff that had nothing to do with you, but it was no excuse for being unprofessional and unhelpful. And I’m not just saying that because you super outrank me now. I’ve been to some seminars, one workshop, and counseling every week.

Leonard: Well, I appreciate you saying that. It’s...very big of you.

Street Proctor: Yeah. Well anyway, your wife is right through here.

Leonard: *steps into the room* Keziah.

Keziah: Leonard. What the hell is happening? Where are we?

Leonard: What is the last thing you remember?

Keziah: I was going to Yuuna’s baby shower. I was driving around, thinking that I was very lost, until I realized that I was actually very, very lost. None of this is familiar. They call this place a law station, instead of a police station. The guy who helped me said he was a proctor, which is nothing I’ve ever heard of either. What is this room all about?

Leonard: Yuuna’s baby shower? That was months ago. That was...that was the day that I disappeared. You and I left our Earth on the same day, but I’ve been here since June.

Keziah: Time travel? We traveled through time? Wait, does this have something to do with your little friend? Where is he? He has to send us back home.

Leonard: It’s not really time travel. It’s that—let’s see, how did he put it—the timestreams for two separate universes have nothing to do with each other. And anyway, I’ve not seen him. I don’t think he had anything to do with it. It’s just something that happens sometimes. In fact, I believe that our link to him is the only reason either of us realizes that there’s something different about this world. There could be others here who  are from different versions of Earth, but don’t even know it.

Keziah: Either way, I wanna go home. Do you have a plan? It’s been months, right?

Leonard: Hold on... *starts to wave a little device all over the room*

Keziah: *turns the sink on* Is that a bug detector?

Leonard: Yes. We’re in the clear, but let’s whisper anyway. I have indeed been working on a plan, but I’ve had trouble enacting it. Number one, if we use the only tools we have at our disposal, we could be dooming our world to profound destruction, so if we try it, I’ll have to kill the alien who transported us right away, but that’s assuming he even took us to the right brane in the first place. And now that you’re here, I’m not sure we can both fit in the portal. Plus...I’ve sort of...built a new little life here.

Keziah: The ink on the divorce papers you texted me to say you signed, sealed, and sent out for delivery isn’t even dry yet. But you met someone, didn’t you?

Leonard: Yes, I did. You would like her.

Keziah: I don’t doubt it. But I still wanna go home. Tell me about this alien.

Microstory 1997: Wild Beasts

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SI Eliot: *sits down across from Reese*

Reese: I thought we agreed to stay on opposite sides of the jet, and never speak to each other again for the rest of our lives.

SI Eliot: Yeah, but I’ve been thinking about what happened at the meeting, though, and I think we should touch base about it.

Reese: Calling that a meeting would be like calling a stampede of wildebeests a casual jog with a few friends. That was one of the most horrifically uncomfortable experiences of my life, and I just wanna forget it ever happened.

SI Eliot: Lower your voice. There could be listening devices on this thing.

Reese: That would just be like Commander Virtue. You’re right, but I don’t care. Let the plane go down. At least that would leave me in peace. I’m still drunk, and now hungover.

SI Eliot: Ha-ha, he’s joking. Commander Virtue is an honorable man, and we are lucky that he lent us one of his aircraft for the trip home.

Reese: *sighs, then takes a device out of his bag* I swept for bugs while you were in the lavatory. You think this is my first time on an unsecured mode of transportation? Please.

SI Eliot: You see, I knew there was a reason you were promoted over me.

Reese: Are you still on that?

SI Eliot: No, I’m... I meant that sincerely. I was bitter before, but I’m over it. Besides, I’m not exactly envious of all the meetings you’re gonna have to have with that man now that you’re a director.

Reese: Oh my God! I wasn’t even thinking about that. I was just relieved to be out of there, I forgot that it’s still not over. It will never be over, will it?

SI Eliot: Not until the next administration.

Reese: When will that be?

SI Eliot: Three years, if he doesn’t secure reëlection, of course.

Reese: Of course. Gah! Hold on. Deputy Director.

SI Eliot: You mean Celandine Robles?

Reese: No. The deputy often accompanies directors on meetings and conference calls. If I made you my deputy instead, you could help me deal with him.

SI Eliot: Oh, no. Have you heard Director Washington complain about him? She hates him too, but she’s never described that kind of craziness before. He’s different around men. He thinks he can be himself, and that we’ll understand. The way I see it, Deputy Robles is your best option on that front, along with all the other fronts.

Reese: That was a test. I needed to know if you were still gunning for my job, and just decided to be nice and underhanded about it.

SI Eliot: If anything, it’s gotten me to seriously consider switching to the private sector.

Reese: Really? You would do that? You’re such a...patriot.

SI Eliot: Well, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I’ve gotten an offer or too.

Reese: Well, congratulations. Hey, wait, that’s the St. Louis Arch. It’s gigantic.

SI Eliot: What? We shouldn’t be able to see that. Reese, I think we’re landing.

Captain: *through the intercom* Folks, you may have noticed we’re a little off route. No need to worry. We just have to make an emergency landing. I’ll update again soon.

Microstory 1996: For the Lulls

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Leonard: How is it that we both have free time right now? Reese is still on his way back from the Capital, but everything’s goin’ so smoothly out there.

Myka: It happens, these people know what they’re doing. So let’s take advantage of it.

Leonard: What are you doing?

Myka: Taking advantage.

Leonard: This is the napping room. 

Myka: Yeah, and Navin is the only one who ever uses it. He’s off today, so we’re alone.

Leonard: It’s still not appropriate.

Myka: Leo, I have fifteen minutes before I have to get back to finalize the quarterly reports. I’m not driving all the way back home.

Leonard: Then we should just not do it. And don’t start thinking it’s because I’m not attracted to you anymore, or some nonsense like that. I just don’t want to have sex at work. Like you said, this is Navin’s room. That’s his bed. It’s not right.

Myka: You’re a better person than I.

Leonard: Let’s just talk. We don’t get to talk anymore. I mean, of course we talk about work all the time, but it’s gotten so busy with all these new recruits that that’s all we can talk about. It seems like I have to run a tour of this place every week.

Myka: Yeah, okay. We’ll just sit and talk. Is it okay to sit on Navin’s bed?

Leonard: I think that will be all right.

*awkward silence*

Myka: This isn’t working.

Leonard: Are you breaking up with me?

Myka: Of course not, but we have to figure out some sort of work-life balance. I’m no good at scheduling time to have a conversation. I’ve tried that. I had a cousin who moved to live abroad in Europe. We tried to have weekly talks in ChatChapp, but eventually just stopped setting the next week up. I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Leonard: That’s sad. But see, it doesn’t matter that we have to be more formal and scheduled. We can talk about that. Tell me about your relationship with this cousin. Have you ever visited him, and-or has he ever come back stateside?

Myka: Neither. At least I don’t think so. Honestly, if he ever came back home, he might not even tell me. *checks watch* Maybe I should just go back to the quarterlies.

Leonard: No, we’re doing good. Let’s change the subject, though, since you’re struggling with it. Let me tell you about my cousins. I have sixteen of them. Don’t know if I ever told you that. *phone rings* Oh, shoot. It’s...it’s the law station.

Myka: Better answer it. They don’t know what time your break is.

Leonard: I love you. *answers phone* Hello?—Yes, this is Supervisory Agent Miazga.—Wait, what? What name did she give you?—Are you sure?—No, I know her.—Yeah, I’ll, uhh...what was that?—Of course not. Is she in there right now?—Let her out of there this instant, give her whatever she asks for, and tell her I’m on my way.—Okay. Thank you. *hangs up*

Myka: What was that about? Did they lock up someone you know?

Leonard: Yeah. It’s my wife, Keziah. She somehow crossed over to this universe.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 26 2417

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The representatives from the Sixth Key were sent back home through the Nexus, and locked back out of a return trip unless invited. It was still possible to communicate from there, though only if Venus deemed it allowed from her end. The majority of Nexus functions were handed out at her discretion, using whatever parameters she had come up with while the network was being put in place. Generally speaking, interactions between universes was strictly forbidden, but Hogarth’s brane was directly attached to Salmonverse, making this more of a biverse, which was a notable  exception to this rule. Though she could change the rules at any moment, and not worry about suffering any consequences. She was a god in any meaningful use of the term. It wasn’t clear where she even was, if she wasn’t just somehow everywhere all at once. Either way, Team Matic wasn’t going to worry about Heath or the others anymore. They were only in charge of protecting Romana Nieman, and her family, and they had to trust that the Dardieti would do their part too. They had not let them down yet.

Now that all the drama was over, they were all back at the penthouse, with nothing that they absolutely had to do. Leona and Ramses went back to working on their projects. Angela and Marie were learning more about government and society. Olimpia was getting ready for another trip. Mateo and Karla were playing with their girl. The two of them had not been able to leave the room this whole time. It was very important to Durune culture for the parents to stay with their child pretty much non-stop to ensure a healthy and successful familial imprint. The doctor, which in this case was Constance, was expected to be involved as little as possible in order to avoid confusion during this crucial period. Today was day four, which meant that they could probably take short breaks, but this was a months-long process. Short was the keyword here.

“You should go,” Karla encouraged. “Spend time with your wife.”

“It’s okay, I can stay. I want to stay.”

“If you don’t go, I won’t feel okay to go later.”

“What do you mean? Do you want to take a break?”

“I don’t want to take a break. I...”

“Karla, you’re not a bad mother if you spend a few hours away from your baby. I promise, she is not going to forget you. You’ve known her for years. Let me catch up a little. She and I need to share some secrets anyway.”

Karla chuckled voicelessly. She didn’t budge though.

“Go on. Get some sun, or some soda, or whatever you need.”

Karla nodded, internally trying to convince herself that it really was okay. “All right, I think I’ll go to my family’s Wednesday lunch. You have my number.”

“Yes.”

Karla stood up, and headed for the door. Before she reached it, she turned back around. “It’s not a cultural thing, and it’s certainly not a family thing. In fact, I think most of the mothers in our bloodline have not loved the man who helped them pass along the responsibility.” She waited a moment to continue. “It’s just me. It’s important to me. That I...that we...learn to care about each other.”

Mateo smiled at her. “It’s called love, Karla. It doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic. One day, we’ll fall in love. I would know by now if we couldn’t ever. At least one of us would have to be an asshole.”

Karla slowly lifted her chin to absorb his words. Then she nodded once with her eyes closed, and left the room gracefully.

Mateo turned his head to look down at Romana in her bassinet. He expected her to be asleep, but she was awake now, and watching him intently while sucking three of her fingers. “I already love you.”

Karla returned. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Did you forget something? Wait, are you okay?”

She kept staring into empty space for a moment. “I think I just met a seer.”

Mateo hopped out of the bed. “Really? Those are...elusive.”

“Yeah. She was old. She was really old.”

“What did she say? Can you tell me?”

Karla was lost in her thoughts. “What? Oh. Um. Maybe?”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. We always do. You’ll learn that about Team Matic. You’re one of us now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I am. I think you’re gonna leave. I think you’ll have no choice. I don’t think you’re gonna raise her.”

He pursed his lips in frustration. “Seers see a possible future. That’s the whole point. Knowing of a future you cannot change would be useless, and anyone with such inactionable knowledge has an obligation to keep it to themselves.”

She shook her head again. “I think that’s what she was trying to tell me. You have to go...to protect her.”

“Was she in the hallway? Did she break into this penthouse?”

“I spoke with her for five minutes. Was I gone that long?”

He sighed. “No, you weren’t. I don’t like that either.”

“This building has the best security in two galaxies. It’s not foolproof. There’s some very powerful people out there. I believe that she’s working for someone who is trying to help, and I got the sense that they are working against someone who’s not.”

“I’ve made powerful enemies,” Mateo reasoned. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong. Dardius may only be the safest place for her if I’m not here.”

“We’re never gonna fall in love if you leave, and you may never see her again.”

Now he shook his head. “In my experience, I don’t never see anyone again.” He frowned, and pulled his head back. That didn’t make any sense.

She laughed. “I understand what you mean.”

Mateo looked back over at his precious child. “If I wait to leave until a threat actually rears its ugly head...”

“Then leaving may not do any good,” Karla finished his sentence for him.

“Those Sixth Key people. I don’t think they threaten her directly, but they may have just been the first domino to fall.”

“The seer spoke in riddles, as they are legend to do, so we can’t be sure of anything. We’re on the verge of deciding that you should leave your family behind, but that could be a grand mistake.”

“I won’t leave you alone, and I don’t just mean the cops and soldiers downstairs.”

“Now you really do need to go talk to your wife.”

Mateo did go speak with Leona, along with the rest of the team, including Constance. She was key to the new plan. She was an intelligence apart, and would not feel the sting of being separated from the group like anyone else would. She was a genius, strong, and incredibly difficult to kill. And she was on Romana’s temporal pattern already. She would continue to serve as her doctor, but also probably her nanny, and maybe later her teacher, and eventually her cool aunt. But she couldn’t do it alone, because knowing someone off the pattern was just as important as having someone who was on it. That was where Silenus Koolen came into the picture. He was still heavily invested in the Nieman family, and had expressed his dedication for the last four years. If he agreed to it, he could move into the penthouse, and make sure that things remained safe while the ladies were away. Hopefully he would agree to it.

“Yes. Oh my God, yes. Please!” Silenus cried. “I’m so in. You don’t have to ask me twice. You didn’t have to ask me the first time! I’m ready. I can move in today.”

“Are you sure about this?” Karla asked. “I know it seems like us being gone for an entire year sounds like an easy job, but you can’t really leave the penthouse. Wherever we are when we leave the timestream, you’ll need to protect it. Constance and I will be fine, but Romana can’t take care of herself in any sense. You’ll be long dead before she even learns to walk. This will consume your entire life. You’ll be the guy who lives here.”

“You hear me, girl? I’m all about it. Let’s do it, but one thing, I have a better idea.”

“Oh, no, here we go.” Karla was worried.

“This baby, before she was born, your ancestors had to keep finding mates so they could make an extra baby who would grow up, and take care of this baby, right?”

“Yeah, that’s how it worked,” Karla confirms. “Not in those specific words.”

“Well. What’s changed?”

“Huh?”

“Baby still needs taken care of, right? Just because she’s born, that hasn’t changed. It’s just, instead of being transferred to, like, a new womb, she needs to be fed and stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So I’m there to help with that, right?”

“Well, not that, but that’s what we’ve been asking. Have you not been listening?”

“Oh, I’ve been listening, and I’ve been thinking. You just said it, when I die, she’ll be a few months old. Who’s gonna help ya then?”

“I suppose we’ll have to find someone else,” Karla reasoned.

Silenus nodded coolly. “Why don’t we make someone else?”

“Excuse me?”

“Restart the bloodline. Make Romana some siblings. That way, when I die, they take over my job. And then they have kids, who take it over for them. And so on, and so forth, and ad infinity.”

“I’m not sure what benefit that would have. I mean anyone we trust could do it.”

“Who better to trust than someone who was literally born already invested in their family member’s life?”

“So let me get this straight,” Karla began. “You want to have sex with me to make a baby, raise it by yourself, since I only live one day a year, and then just hope they turn out right for the job when it’s their time?”

“Well, you’re not officially on the pattern, right. You could take a break from it for eighteen or so years. That’s only a few weeks for Romana, and it’s not like you won’t actually be with her. She’ll still see you every day of her life.”

Karla just sighed.

“Karls, if all I wanted was sex, I could have anybody. I’m famous. I’m not as famous as you or your baby daddy, but I’m famous enough. You know how many I turned down just this week. I’m just sayin’. I’m here for it. I’m here for you. I’m here for Romana. I’m thinkin’ about her future. Aren’t you?”

Karla cleared her throat, and turned to Mateo. He had been quietly listening to the conversation with the rest of the group. It felt very much like none of their damn business. “What do you think?”

“I think...you should do..what...you think you should do.”

“Thanks. Helpful.” She rolled her eyes. “Love it.”

“Uh. I have an idea,” Ramses jumped in unexpectedly. “It’s more of an inevitability, though. I think it was destined to always happen.”

“Rambo, maybe we just stay out of this,” Leona suggested.

“Maybe I should just show you.” He stood up, and took a step away from them. “Yeah, I’ll show you.” He teleported away, then returned a few minutes later with a cloning-slash-stasis pod.”

“Which one of us is in there?” Mateo asked.

“Do you remember when we were leaving Scorpius station, and everyone had all of their backup bodies on the Dante, and then I went back, because I was all, I forgot something?” Ramses asked.

“Yeah, I figured you left a tool.”

“Right, after I got my tool,” Ramses began with airquotes, “I first snuck back into my lab, and hid it in there.”

Leona cracked the case. “That’s the mysterious eighth active pod. We couldn’t see who was in it, but you stole it?”

“Yes, of course I did, because it would be stupid to just leave it there. We thought the whole place was gonna get blown up. Don’t worry, I think I was meant to take it, because right before you came to us with the new plan, the pod’s partition mysteriously opened on its own. Now we can see who’s in it.” He turned it around for the big reveal. It was none other than Silenus Koolen.

“Holy shit!” Olimpia shouted.

“That’s...for me?” the real Silenus asked.

“No one else has the right to it,” Ramses said to him. “If it’s built like ours were, you shouldn’t have to worry much about dying in a hundred years.”

Silenus started crying. “This is the best birthday present anyone’s ever given me.”

“It’s your birthday?” Karla questioned.

“Yeah, girl, I thought you were throwing me a surprise party, because it luckily matched up with your pattern. This is better than that, though.”

“Happy birthday,” Mateo said. “You wanna be born again? None of our transfers was that poetic.”

“Hell yeah, let’s do this! It’s not against the law when the Matics are involved.

“Wait, consciousness transference is against the law here?” Mateo asked.

“Yes,” Angela and Marie answered simultaneously. “So is cloning,” Angela added on her own. Due to this new information, they first made sure that Silenus was right that Team Matic could trigger an exception to the relevant laws. He was, and so...he was reborn. The procedure went smoothly, but it was already too late in the day, so they decided to wait to leave Dardius until next year. Besides, Mateo needed time to say goodbye to his new family. He was confident that he would indeed see Romana again one day, but it could still be a long time.

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