The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 1, 2422

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It always seemed like a lie that the reason Venus Opsocor wanted the team to go to Worlon was because it was the safest place to be during this time period. Perhaps what was happening now was what it was really all about, and the team being here was all part of some grander plan. They spent all day last year getting to now the Krekel, and understanding how they were different from the Ochivari. Something happened in their past, which transformed them from a race of regretful polluters bent on stopping anyone from making the same mistakes they did, at all costs, to one of compassionate and patient guides with ethical boundaries who only wanted to help people. Unfortunately, the Ochivari were bulk travelers. Once they left their home universe, they separated themselves from all of reality, meaning that while the timeline could be altered, they would remain in existence. Nothing could stop them from going on their crusade against other intelligent races by sterilizing entire populations. The Ochivari were not fighting their war in a traditional sense, with guns and bombs, except when it came to the Krekel. That was a real war. And right now, Team Matic was in the center of it.

The next day, when they returned to the timestream, they were invited to breakfast again. The first time they did it, they were up on the mothership in orbit. Now that a year had passed, the new capital of Worlon was well underway, including the Capitol Building, which was where the second breakfast banquet was taking place. Ellie Underhill wasn’t here this time. This was to become a yearly thing apparently. The team’s unexpected arrival was only a part of this new holiday. It was the part that dictated when specifically it would be held. Worlon had a different daily rotation, and a different solar revolution than Earth, but the team’s pattern was tied to midnight central of the Earthan Standard Calendar. This meant that Cadatora would be celebrated on a different day each year on Worlon, kind of like Easter. That was where the humans’ contribution ended. The Krekel had their own reasons to celebrate their peace and harmony, and these reasons were threatened by the sudden arrival of a fleet of Ochivari ships a couple of months ago.

The Ochivari were violent by nature, but it was not an arbitrary development. A long time ago, they realized that they were all biologically capable of traveling the bulk. They didn’t need a machine. They didn’t need an amazing technicolor dreamcoat. It was just something that they could do. It came at a great cost. The whole process involved a battle of chemicals, pheromones, and possibly psychic fortitude. That last thing lived within an area of research that scientists were not completely sure about. It also resulted in sacrifice. As these opposing forces reached critical mass, they would literally explode, and the consequence of this fight would be the sudden and fleeting opening of a portal to the outer bulk in which all universes were suspended. If two Ochivari were bulkbattling, one of them would die from this. The other would survive, and usually be sucked into the portal, and transported to another world. This was where the possible psychic energy came into play, because if they did it right, the survivor went to the right world, instead of some random planet, or the middle of empty space. They had to be fast, though, because if they didn’t jump in right away, the portal would collapse before them, and the whole thing would be a waste of time. The thing was, though, that the greater the sacrifice, the larger the portal, and the longer it lasted.

If three Ochvari came together to bulkbattle, two of them would survive while one died. If five came together, three would survive while two died. The total number of attempters, number of sacrificers, and number of survivors each went up exponentially according to the Fibonacci sequence. It was the most clear evidence that this sequence was more than a series of numbers, but a tangible physical phenomenon with real-world consequences. One of these consequences was that Ochivari ships were incredibly rare. The size and stability of the portal wasn’t actually based on the number of Ochivari involved, but total mass. The higher the mass, the more voluminous the pheromones and chemicals, the more stuff that could be used to fuel transportation.

A battleship was a profoundly massive object, so the sacrifices required to move it from one universe to another were equally profound. They numbered in the tens of millions of people, but even then, there was a catch, because the ship was a giant weapon flying through space, and that would kill anyone upon impact. So even the survivors of the bulkbattle generally ended up dying soon thereafter, because a ship would immediately come barreling towards them in order to make it through the just opened portal in time. It could last longer than smaller portals, but still not indefinitely, and it was possible for it to collapse while you were still trying to pass through it.

Over 70 million should be an unacceptable loss by anyone’s standards, especially since the reason they were fighting was because the Krekel figured out how to do it without incurring any loss. Instead of hating them for it, they should learn from them. As it turned out, these sacrifices didn’t need to happen at all. The winginsing that the orchestra of Nexus guards performed for them last year wasn’t just a beautiful symphony of nature. When done in the right way, using the right melody, and other mathematical precisions, it too could open a bulk portal. Krekel portals were not any more stable than Ochivari ones, but no one had to die to open them, even for those large enough to accommodate ships.

The Krekel were at a huge advantage because of their alternate technique. It made them nicer, peaceful, and more harmonious amongst each other. But their disadvantage...was that they were nicer and more peaceful than the Ochivari, so when war came for them, they mostly lost. Until recently. In response to the unprovoked attacks, the Krekel started building out their own armies, training them with the lessons they had learned from those early losses, and really fighting back. Their return to Worlon was not just because they were homesick. This was a staging planet now, and the Ochivari didn’t like that. That was why the fleet came here, and why they were even angrier than usual, because the sacrifices made to transport them had to total nearly a billion people. This was crazy. After all, that was the first rule of warfare, always outnumber your enemy.

The Battle Over Worlon lasted for only days, and in the end, the Krekel won with their home field advantage, and their ability to recruit reinforcements from a planet called Folia, in a universe called Moderaverse. That didn’t mean it was over, though. Krekel and Ochivari looked exactly the same, just as British and German people did because they were both humans. The only distinction possible was clothing, which could always be changed. The Krekel won the war, but that didn’t mean there weren’t survivors. Some of them escaped through sacrificial bulk portals, but others were believed to have blended in with the locals, and assimilated into society. Maybe some of them were indoctrinated into the new way of life, which included a lot less death, but others held firm. They became sleepers. Today on Cadatora, they attacked for the first time since the end of that fateful battle months ago.

Olimpia was the first to see the knife. She wasn’t sure if she should be nervous at first. Maybe it was some kind of ceremonial gesture, and wasn’t intended to be used as a weapon. But the supposed Krekel’s body language seemed to indicate that he had ill intentions towards the Domina. While the timeline that the Krekels came from was different, there were still some similarities. Their respective cultures were both ruled by diarchies. The Domino and the Domina were like King and Queen, except they were not in a relationship with each other. In fact, the more they liked each other, the harder it was for them to maintain power. While all systems of government that relied on non-elected leaders were at least a little tyrannical, in this case, it was pretty easy to overthrow a Dominé that began to act outside the interests of the people, and in the Krekel’s case, it could be done nonviolently. The Domini were well-loved, particularly the Domina. That was why the Ochivar infiltrator was attempting to assassinate her.

Everyone on the team picked up on Olimpia’s unease, and Leona acted quickly. She pulled out her weapon, and once she saw where the danger was lurking, she took her shot. She could have set her gun to incapacitate the attacker, but she didn’t. The would-be assassin was killed instantly, placing everyone in an awkward position. The only way they even knew that he was Ochivar, and probably was trying to kill the Domina, was because they could not identify him, so he wasn’t a known citizen of Worlon. He was certainly not approved to be in the Royal Court during the Royal Cadatoran Breakfast. So Leona almost definitely saved the Domina’s life, and who knows how many others, but that didn’t make it okay.

Weapons were not allowed in the Royal Court. All armed guardsmen kept their posts outside its walls. The guards inside had to check their weapons in, and if a problem occurred, would only be allowed to use their fists and feet and wings. The attacker broke the law by sneaking one in, but Leona shouldn’t have used hers either. They made an exception by allowing her to bring it in in the first place, but they were humoring her as their honored guest. They didn’t think that she would actually use it, and now that she had, they were all in big trouble.

“You have two options,” their state-appointed advocate explained to them. “If you risk going to trial, there is no telling what the arbitration panel will decide. You could be put to death, placed in prison, assigned to a work camp, forced into the military, exiled in universe, or expelled to the bulk. Or, I guess you could be found innocent. The first six are equally likely, but that last one is remote. These consequences could be suffered by you alone, or shared by the whole group, or each of you could conceivably be handed different sentences. Like I said, it’s a risk.”

Leona lifted her hand, and started counting herself and her friends, as if she didn’t know that there were six. “Death, prison, work, military, exile, expulsion. Six people for six punishments. Sounds like a long arc...except for one of them,” she mused, referencing execution. “You said there were two options. Was all that one option?”

“You could volunteer for one of them, but you would have to do it together, and obviously you can’t choose freedom.”

“Well...obviously we should choose exile, right?” Angela figured. “We didn’t really want to be here anyway.”

“That comes with a caveat. There are pros and cons to all of them. Death would be swift and painless. Prison would be comfortable. The work would be easy. Military service would be relatively safe. Expulsion would be to the universe of your choosing.”

“You skipped one,” Olimpia pointed out, “the one that we’re actually suggesting.”

“If you don’t leave by the end of the week, which for you would only be a few hours, you will experience all other punishments, and none of the advantages will apply. You’ll be put to work doing hard labor in an uncomfortable prison, and then sent to the frontlines of the war once the appropriate opportunity arises. If you somehow survive that, you’ll be expelled to a universe not of your choosing, and while I’m not privy to which universe that would be, my guess is that it would be an extremely hostile environment, especially since they were clear that you would have to go through all five other punishments, and death would necessarily be the last on the list.”

“Who came up with this, a science fiction writer?” Leona questioned.

“Probably. It’s not in the law books. That’s why it took me all day to get back to you while you were in jail, because the court had to explain it to me and the adherent first. He didn’t know what they were talking about either, and he’s more upset than I.”

“Okay, this doesn’t make any sense. Why is there a time limit on self-exile? We’ll just go through the Nexus, and it’ll be done,” Angela presumed.

“That’s the thing,” the advocate went on. “You can’t use the Nexus. And no one who lives here is allowed to help you. I told you there was a caveat.”

Leona sighed, annoyed at yet another round of games. This was reminding her of The Cleanser’s Tribulations, Arcadia’s Expiations, and all the other needlessly convoluted missions that people have sent them on over the centuries. “So it’s our responsibility to punish ourselves, and if we fail to do that, they’ll punish us, and it will be five times worse.”

“How would we get off this planet without help?” Marie asks.

“I don’t know how you could,” he said, “but I’m just an attorney. You’re the legendary adventurers. Isn’t escape sort of your thing?”

“Emphasis on the sort of part,” Ramses clarified.

Leona looked at Mateo. “You’ve been quiet. I noticed you put your thinking face on.”

Mateo turned his neck to face different parts of the room as if members of a crowd in the middle distance were taking turns expressing their thoughts, and he was listening politely. He settled on the door. “I’ve already solved this problem.”

“How do you figure?” Leona pressed.

Mateo kept staring at the door. “I just feel it. Help is coming. Senona Riggur lives outside of time. They can see the future as easily as anyone can see the present. Venus is no different.”

“What do those so-called gods have to do with anything?” Angela asked.

“Five..four..three..two...” Mateo lifted his hand, and pointed at the door just as he finished the countdown. The door opened to reveal Maqsud Al-Amin, a.k.a. The Trotter.

Maqsud was one of the few people in histories who were capable of transporting themselves from one planet to another, at seemingly infinite distances. He helped return Leona and her then-team from Dardius to Earth a long time ago. None of the others had ever met him, but they all knew who he was. He dressed very uniquely. “Does someone here need a ride?” he guessed. “I did not come to this planet on purpose.”

“We’ll take exile,” all six of them volunteered simultaneously.

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Extremus: Year 66

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Arqut wanted to pretend like he never professed his love to her last year, and Tinaya decided to respect that. They could revisit their respective feelings at a later date if he ever felt comfortable enough for it. In the meantime, it’s not like she’s going to entertain other suitors. If she were ever going to settle down with anyone, it would be with someone like him. She already knows him, and they have a rapport. She’s the First Chair, and doesn’t have time to hunt around, looking for love. Yeah, it sounds very impersonal, but again, that’s not what she’s looking for. If it finds her, then fine, but she can’t let it distract from her responsibilities. Though, if Cleader is to be believed, a relationship wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world right now. It is an election year, and her tenure is up for renewal. She needs all the help she can get, because incumbency comes at a price. She’s not allowed to campaign for reëlection. The way the founders thought of it, a civil servant’s duty is to serve their office, not to concern themselves with retaining that office. All sorts of problems throughout the history of politics might have been solved or subverted if elected officials did their goddamn jobs, instead of spending all their time trying to keep them.

So it’s been a stressful time, because Cleader continues to push Tinaya towards making herself look her best for the electorate, and while that doesn’t qualify as campaigning, just the strategy meetings she’s had to endure with him have become tedious and annoying. As predicted, her approval rating has dropped in recent months. She’s still slated to win at the end of the year, but it’s going to be tighter than she would like. But if she loses, it will be okay. She will not crawl back into the hole she lived in after she failed to get into college. She’ll do everything she can to make this ship, and the journey they’re all on together, safe, enjoyable, and productive.

There is no exception to the rule that prevents Tinaya from campaigning for herself, but there is nothing to stop others from doing it for her. Any private citizen has the right to free speech, and that speech may include their political affiliations, and the candidates who they support. Everyone has their fanbase, and Tinaya has a particularly vocal one. The thing is, though, she’s not allowed to meet any of these people, at least not within the context of their campaign efforts on her behalf. It is reasonable for the First Chair to meet her constituents, to discuss their needs or whathaveyou, but only as long as it doesn’t raise any suspicion that she’s involved in her own reëlection endeavors. Her doorbell chimes, and she answers it.

“Miss Kurosawa, this is highly irregular.” She’s the spearhead for Tinaya’s campaign. She’s not supposed to be anywhere near this office.

Avril nods. “Well, it’s unusual, but I have a good reason. If I promise that this does not break any policies or laws, can I come in for a chat?”

Tinaya thinks about what to do. She lifts her watch to her lips. “Call Hozan Peck.”

“Hozan Peck here,” the voice comes in from her watch.

“Could you please teleport to my office?”

“Right away, sir.” He appears.

“Mr. Peck, would you please sit in on our meeting?”

As Head of Ethics, he’s just as surprised to see Avril Kurosawa here, but he knows that both of them know the rules, so if this meeting is happening, calling him was the right thing to do. He doesn’t feel the need to argue that this shouldn’t happen at all, because there must be a decent reason. “Certainly.”

Tinaya goes back to behind her desk while the other two sit opposite her. “Miss Kurosawa, could you tell me what this is about?”

“I am here to tell you that I can no longer lead your civilian campaign.”

“Now, it’s not mine,” Tinaya argues. “Mr. Peck, the two of us have never spoken to each other before today. I want to assure you that—”

“Yes, yes, yes, I believe you. Go on, Miss Kurosawa.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you anymore,” Avril continues. “I just feel that I can do better. I have been studying your career since it began, and it has prepared me for civil service in surprising ways. I’m confident that I can be an even better First Chair than you. You have been focused in recent years in maintaining the status quo, and I think we should begin to focus on improvement. As your former campaign leader, I was unable to voice my concerns to you directly, which is a sacrifice I willingly made at the time, but what my partner has helped me realize is that my ideas should not be silenced, and the best way for me to see them through is to become the one who can enact them. I am here as a courtesy before my public announcement to inform you first that I will be running for your seat this year.”

Normally, Avril’s decision would be considered a bit late. This is not in any legal sense, of course. She could submit her name to the ballot on the day before the vote if she wanted to. It’s just that most people need time to get their name into the public consciousness. In this case, however, she might be okay, because her shift in loyalty will likely cause a stir, and expedite the process. It’s not impossible that this was her intention all along; stepping up to become Tinaya’s biggest fan just so she can popularize herself without getting lost in a sea of other candidates. There is no limit to the number of people who can be on the ballot. One year in history, there were thirty-one names in total, which caused a division, and ultimately made it difficult for the winner to feel like he earned it, but there was nothing he could have done to stop it.

Avril has a point, that Tinaya did more for the ship before becoming First Chair than she has in the last two and a half years in this position. Now she kind of wishes that she could say something to the people—to make them promises about what she’ll do for them in the future. But it’s too late for that now. It would be construed as campaigning, or actually be rightfully considered campaigning, and she’s always agreed with that policy on principle, even before she worked for the government. The people have the right to trust that their leaders care more about the happiness and stability of the state than their own self-interest. She still believes that, but at least a campaign would give her something to do. This period of peace barely stumbled even when Tamm was ousted. Maybe that’s what she’s worried most about; that people will elect her opponent only because they’re bored.

But now she has a new opponent, with a different take on how things should be done. It is logical to presume that there are others who feel as Avril does. In fact, Avril probably wouldn’t be here today if she didn’t put out feelers to see what others were thinking. She knows the voters well. She’s built her career upon. She would do a good job if elected. No, Tinaya has nothing to worry about. A win for either one of them would be a win for Extremus. She can’t say the same thing about the other four candidates currently on the ballot, but this one is good people. And right now, it’s time for civility, and most importantly, brevity. There is no need to drag this conversation out. She stands up, and offers her hand. “Thank you for informing me. Good luck on your future endeavors.”

Avril stands up, and shakes Tinaya’s hand. She appears to want to breathe a sigh of relief that Tinaya didn’t jump over the desk, and start ripping Avril’s hair out, and start chewing on it, but she’s worried that this is a trick.

“Really, it’s fine, Miss Kurosawa. Never let anyone feel that you’ve made the wrong decision. I look forward to hearing your ideas, because—forgive me for being blunt—no matter who wins, any good ideas will see the light of day.”

Now Avril’s even more scared, as is Hozan Peck. “Careful, Chairwoman...”

Tinaya needs to backpedal a little. “Don’t worry, either of you. I’m not going to tell the populace that anything you can do, I can do better. That’s just what I’m telling you. I mean, not better, just also. They’ll vote for who they want to vote for, but if I end up winning again, I’m not going to ignore a good idea just because it came from someone else. That would be...unfair to the people. I should stop talking.”

“You were on the line,” Hozan warns, standing up as well, “but you didn’t cross it.” He turns to face Avril to reiterate, “she didn’t cross it.” Now it’s going to be harder for Avril to use this interaction against Tinaya in the future. Thank you, Hozan Peck.

Avril closes her eyes, and nods. “Good luck to you too.” She taps on her watch, and disappears.

Tinaya scratches at the back of her neck. “I do need to be more careful.”

Hozan pulls a portable drive out of his bag, and hands it to her. “It’s a VR simulation filled with ethically questionable scenarios.”

“I’ve done these all before.” It’s required in school, and as a condition for her role as First Chair. Virtual reality is a great way to teach people concepts in literally any conceivable environment without going through the trouble of actually building that environment. It’s especially helpful on ships, where resources are limited, and space is at a premium.

“They’re new programs, created by the next generation of programmers and designers. You apparently need a refresher anyway. They’re what the other candidates will be experiencing in the coming months.”

“Thanks. There’s always more to learn.”

He nods. “Goodbye, Chairwoman Leithe.” Most people don’t call the First Chair Chairwoman or Chairman, but some prefer the sharpness of morphologically shorter language. He teleports away.

That night, Avril does as she warned, and announces her intentions, shocking many. As the broadcast is running, Tinaya’s doorbell chimes again, but she’s in her stateroom now. She finds Arqut on the other side of the door. “I just heard, I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she replies sincerely. “If I lose, I would be glad it was her.”

“You won’t lose, not once we institute the plan.”

“What’s the plan,” Tinaya asks, emphasizing the words just like him, as if there’s something special about this particular plan, whatever it is.

“I wasn’t joking last year; I do love you, and I think you don’t absolutely detest my company either. If you would be willing, we could boost your polling with news of a new relationship. They’ll forget all about the other candidates within a week. Now, I know you don’t feel as strongly about me, but I think that we have to do something to respark people’s interest in your. Is that even a word, respark? Anyway, as I was say—

She pulls him into a hug “Let’s do it. But not just as part of some kind of plan. I’m sick of being alone, and I’m sick if you avoiding me.”

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Microstory 2020: Indiana

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My Aunt Cooper has three children, who are all boys, and they’re my cousins. Her first was born in the year 2000. She was 29 years old, and she lived with her new husband in a city called Gary, Indiana. Even though it’s located in Indiana, it’s really close to the border with Illinois, so it’s considered part of Chicago, which is a really big city next to Lake Michigan. While my papa was in the Navy, he was busy with his work most of the time, but he didn’t have to spend all the time working. Officers get to take time off just like regular people, except unlike them who get vacations, people in the military take something called leave. Specifically, since he was in the Navy, he was on shore leave. He decided to fly up to Gary to spend some time with his sister, and their new baby. My cousin is 12 years older than me, but we’re really close. After my papa was done with his required service, he retired and moved to Chicago to be closer to his sister. And years later, when he decided to move to Massachusetts, they all did the same thing he did, and moved with him. They lived in separate houses, though. But I’m getting ahead of myself, because none of that has happened in the story yet. My cousin’s name is Nash Ruskin. His father’s name is Currian Ruskin, and I love him too. My other cousins’ names are Osmond and Thatcher, but they haven’t been born yet. My papa was only allowed to spend five days there, since two of them were spent traveling to and from Indiana, but he enjoyed it, and he got to go back a few times before moving closer anyway.

Microstory 2019: Arkansas

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It makes sense that papa lived in Texas, because it’s next to the ocean. He worked on a submarine, so Corpus Christi was the perfect location. That’s why it’s so weird that he was later moved by the Navy to Arkansas. Arkansas is what’s called a landlocked state, because it doesn’t border the ocean. Most of the states in the United States are like this. But that doesn’t mean there’s no water, of course. It has lakes, and the really long Mississippi River, which is between it and Mississippi. We don’t have much information, because like I said, the military has to be really secretive, but after papa died, my dad and I were looking through his things when we found something interesting. It was a photo of him and some of his Navy buddies when they were young. They were smiling in front of the river, and what looked like a boat behind them. Except that the boat wasn’t above the water very much. It actually looked like a submarine! The Mississippi River is pretty deep, but not really deep enough for a normal sub. Again, no one can tell us anything, so shh, be quiet, but we think that he was testing special technology. They might have come up with a submarine that can move in shallower waters. It would be interesting to know if they could get something like that to work. *winky face*

Microstory 2018: Texas

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After my papa was finished with his education at the Naval academy, he didn’t go back home. He was stationed in Corpus Christi, Texas. He couldn’t tell me exactly what he did while he was there, because the military keeps all of that secret, so this is going to be another really short slide. He was able to say that he lived there for only a year before he was moved somewhere else, which he said was unusual in the Navy. I don’t think that he was always on a submarine. I think that maybe he spent a lot of time carrying out missions on dry land. I even think they sometimes sent him out of the country, but he hadn’t met his husband yet, so he didn’t have to lie to anyone about it, since his parents still lived in Idaho anyway.

Microstory 2017: Rhode Island

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After my papa was finished with college, instead of going out to get a job, he decided to attend a place called Watch Hill Naval Academy. He had to take more classes in order to learn how to be an officer in the Navy and work in a submarine. From the records that my dad found, papa first took a 3 month course to teach him what it’s like to be a military officer. After that, he spent another 6 months learning about nuclear power, which sounds really scary and cool. Then after that, he spent another 6 months using what he learned working at an actual nuclear power plant. Finally, after all that, he got on a sub to learn to operate it with a crew of other officers. Submarines are really dangerous, and hard to use. That’s why he had to spend so much time learning these skills, because if someone messes up on a submarine, it could mean everyone on it dying all at once. Unlike the way it is on a ship, if something goes wrong in a sub, you can’t jump off and swim away. Not only can you not breathe underwater, but the water is really heavy, and it hurts for it to be on top of you when you go deeper and deeper. My papa was really smart, and he also cared about people, which is why he wanted to use his engineering degree to protect this country, and make the world a better place. I’m so proud of him, and I wish I had known all of this about him before. The military is a noble and difficult profession. Probably no one in our class will join the military, but if it turns out to be true, it will only probably be one of us, according to the math.

Microstory 2016: Missouri

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Papa graduated from Promontory University in the Spring of 1996 when he was 22 years old. Like I mentioned before, he met a lot of friends at college, and some of them belonged to a religion called Mormonism. He didn’t believe in the same things that they did, but they still got along with each other. A few of them had families that lived in Missouri, so they invited him out for a big graduation celebration. They had actually already been to a few other parties, but this was the only one that was over a thousand miles away. It took them three days to drive all the way there, which they did to save money on plane or train tickets. They drove through Wyoming and Nebraska on their way there, but of course, he had already been to those two states anyway. They slept the first night in Cheyenne, Wyoming, where some of his old friends lived. Remember that he lived in Buffalo, Wyoming for about ten years when he was younger. On the next night, he once again helped his college buddies with somewhere to sleep. He still had lots of family in Grand Island, Nebraska. He wanted to help them with where to sleep because his friends were going to give him somewhere to sleep once they arrived in Missouri. They lived in Independence, Missouri. The party was really big, with I think over a hundred people! Some of them were just family members, but others were other graduates who had gone to schools in other parts of the country. He stayed with one of his friends’ parents for three nights. He slept on the floor in a bedroom with five other people. Can you imagine? When it was over, he took the train back home to Idaho alone.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 30, 2421

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It was really dark when they arrived on Worlon. Not a single star could get its light through the thick armor of clouds in the atmosphere. They decided to stay near the Nexus, because it was probably the safest place on the planet. There was no sign that the Ochivari who once lived here still kept this place active. They might never have used it at all. Once they developed the ability to travel across the bulkverse, it may have seemed mostly pointless. That, or it had just been enough time. Venus wasn’t responding to them at all; not even Leona. They were where she wanted the team to be, so she was perhaps done providing her guidance. There were countless other Nexa in multiple universes too, so she could have also been quite busy from whatever perspective of time she experienced.

They left the Dante on Flindekeldan. It was funny, they were gifted this giant capital ship that was capable of true faster-than-light travel, but they gave it away again almost immediately, deciding to limit themselves to one of its shuttles. Shortly thereafter, they gave that away too, but that didn’t leave them with absolutely nothing. Ramses was hard at work every day he was in the timestream, and left a lot of the intervening time to a stunted copy of the Constance intelligence. This version of Constance had no personality, and no sense of free will. It could continue solving calculations on its own, but had no need for companionship, or any other form of stimulation. Ramses couldn’t even talk to it. He had to input commands manually. They were developing a lot of projects simultaneously. One of them involved the pocket dimensions that were being stored in the shuttle. He found a way to separate them from the vessel, and make the access portals small enough to fit in one’s literal pocket.

They were skin tight silver bracelets; stylish and not uncomfortable. They served as doorway access keys. Leona and Mateo shared access to the same door, while the rest each had their own abode. Ramses and Leona had a second bracelet, which granted them access to their shared laboratory. Once an individual was inside their respective room, they could then open doors to each other’s rooms, but not from the outside, unless they were wearing extra bracelets. The pocket dimensions could not be stored and established with these bracelets, though. It wasn’t like they could open them from anywhere. They first had to be built at a chosen location. Ramses could do this with a larger device ahead of time, which was sufficiently powerful enough to generate the pocket dimensions. When they were done with a particular location, they could be collapsed again, and rebuilt elsewhere. While active, they were invisible and intangible, even to the team members. One could walk right through it without realizing it if they couldn’t remember where it was. They had to have the intention to open their door with their bracelet by hovering it near where the lock would be if they could see it.

After Ramses taught them how all of this worked, they decided to go to sleep. None of them required the rest, but dangers could be lurking outside. It was best to be fully functional once the sun rose. They didn’t know when that would be, so he quickly rigged up a light sensor on the Nexus to awaken them at the appropriate time. He was still trying to figure out how to set up security cameras on the pocket dimensions. Being invisible to the world outside inherently meant that everything else was invisible from inside as well. Transmitting images in spite these complications was not going to be easy. The scientists still had so many other things to take care of.

When the sun sensor woke them up, it was shortly after midnight central. No one was in a hurry to leave their pockets but Mateo. He opened his invisible door, and took a breath of fresh air. And fresh it was. This world was apparently free from all pollution, having recovered from centuries of it brought upon by its native inhabitants. No one on the team knew all that much about the Ochivari. In fact, Mateo, Angela, and Marie probably knew the most of all. It wasn’t clear when they abandoned their homeworld so it could be brought back to homeostasis, but they had returned at some point this past year. A group of them were standing at the entrance to the Nexus, hanging out as if smokers on a break from work. They stared at him, shocked at his sudden appearance, and not sure what to do about it. Mateo could tuck himself back through the door, but then what? They would just wait for him to come back out again eventually. “Hello,” he called politely. He cleared his throat, and closed the door behind him. “How do?”

Even though they very much looked like aliens, Ochivari had very humanoid faces, and very humanoid facial expressions. One of them raised his eyebrow like Mr. Spock. He pulled a handheld device out of his pocket, and seemingly snapped a photo of Mateo with it. He tapped on the screen a few times, and then showed it to his friends. “Mister Matic.”

Mateo rolled his eyes. More fans. Cool. “I see my reputation precedes me. “Friends or foes?”

“We’re friends,” another Ochivar claimed. “We took this planet back from the Ochivari a few months ago.”

“Forgive me, I thought that’s what you were.”

“No,” the first one said, shaking his head. “We’re Krekel. Same species, technically speaking, but with different ideas about how to deal with aliens. Particularly, we don’t cause harm. You are in no danger around us.”

“I appreciate that,” Mateo replied, having trouble believing it. He wanted to trust them, but he had heard nothing but bad things about the critters that evolved on this planet, and his personal experience supported this position. When did this reportedly good faction break off, and under what circumstances exactly?

“We see that you’re still concerned. What can we do to make you feel more comfortable and safe?”

“We could sing,” another one suggested.

“Oh, yes, let’s sing.”

“No, that’s okay,” Mateo said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“Nah, it’ll be good. You’ll love it.” The Ochivari—or rather the Krekel—gave each other some space, and started to play. They didn’t do anything with their mouths. The sounds they made came from them rubbing their wings and legs together like crickets. Cricket. Was that related to Krekel?

It was actually rather good and mesmerizing. Mateo didn’t even notice that everyone else had come out of their pockets to listen. Once the orchestra was done, they took a bow, and let the humans clap. “Are we sure about them?” Mateo asked quietly.

“No,” Leona admitted.

“I am,” said someone else. It was Ellie Underhill. “They’re fine. They’re friends!” She waved over at the Krekel orchestra, who all waved back.

“When did you get here?” Leona questioned.

“About the same time you did. I teleported down from The Phoenix.”

“That’s in orbit right now?”

“We’re using it to protect the Krekel. They can’t travel in ships, because they’ve not figured out a way to transport them through their bulk portals, so they require protection if they want to maintain a stronghold on this planet. The Ochivari have few qualms killing the dozens of people that would need to be sacrificed to accommodate the mass of a starship.”

“What makes the Krekel different?” Angela asked.

“They’re from a different timeline. They were taught how to travel the bulk without killing each other. That’s why Ochivari are so angry all the time. Every time they do it, there is a strong chance that they’ll die, and an equal chance that a friend will. Without that, the Krekel were able to keep their social civility. You really are safe here.”

“Okay, we’re safe,” Leona began to reason, “but that doesn’t explain why we’re here. We were sent.”

“You were?” Ellie was surprised. “If that’s true, then it has nothing to do with the past. Something is going to happen, and whoever sent you wants you to be here for it. Now I’m worried. Nobody sends you nowhere without a reason.”

“It’s probably a good thing you brought that ship,” Marie decided. “What, are you on a break?”

Ellie shook her head. “No, the work is done. Somebody did it for us.”

“Wadya mean?” Ramses asked.

“Everyone still left on Violkomin was transported to their new homeworlds all over the galactic neighborhood. It wasn’t all at once, but it was a lot quicker than it would have taken for us to do it with the Phoenix.”

Everyone looked down at Mateo. He chuckled softly. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re responsible for that?” Ellie questioned him.

“Not me personally. I asked a god.”

“Oh. Well, thank you anyway, and thank them for me. That’s a load off my chest.” They stood there awkwardly for a moment. “So, do you want it back?” she offered.

Rames reached over and unlocked the door to his personal living space. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We have everything that we could possibly ever require.”

“If you don’t need the Phoenix anymore either,” Leona concurred, “find someone new who does.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” Ellie took a breath, and clapped her hands. “Anyway, we were just about to share a breakfast. Humans and Krekels don’t eat the same foods, but we have plenty to share. That is, if your bodies even need that anymore. Mine doesn’t, but I still like to partake anyway.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Are they going to be there?” Mateo asked, pointing.

“Those are just the Nexus guards. Subordinaries. I do not know them. We’ll be dining with the Domini.”

“Are they nice?” Olimpia asked.

Ellie grimaced a little. “No. We’re working on it. They’re dictators, but I’m trying to introduce them to democracy. They’re mostly peaceful, unlike their Ochivari counterparts, but they’re not altruists.”

“We better get dressed,” Leona decided. She opened a door, but not to her and Mateo’s dwelling. She went into the lab instead, and later showed up at breakfast armed. It wasn’t necessary then, but they were all grateful that she repeated it the next day.

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