The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 13, 2465

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Angela was on the observation floor of The Waycar, resting her elbows on the railing. That was what this section of The Transit that they managed to this universe with was apparently called. In all the fuss, they weren’t able to do a very thorough sweep of the thing before, but now they were going all over it. Of course Ramses was spending a lot of time in the engineering sections. There were two of them. The front end had a very low ceiling; too low when you remember that the average Maramon stood at around 200 centimeters. They must have considered it more of a crawlspace. It housed the machinery that kept it running, while all the interfacing happened near the back, underneath the briefing theatre. The rest of the levels had everything that a good squadron needed to live while they were training for war. Personal quarters, lavatories, mess hall, other communal areas. Training rooms, armory, command center. Despite it only being one car of 56, it was clearly always designed to be self-sufficient. They had seen everything by now, but didn’t know everything about it. Case in point, a weird remote floor that Angela was staring at right now.

Her sister, Marie walked up from behind her. “They’re almost ready for us.”

“Okay,” Angela replied solemnly.

“What are you doing up here?”

She was facing the back of the car, towards the smaller window. But she wasn’t looking through the window. To the left of it was a platform of some kind, a little bit higher than the floor they were standing on. She pointed to it. “Look around, Mar-Mar. There’s no way to get to that. No ladder, no elevator. It’s too far away to leap to. What the hell is it for? Is it just decoration? It does vaguely look like a giant sconce.”

“Well, I mean, we could just teleport to it.”

“Yeah, we could, but...this wasn’t engineered for teleporters.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I guess not.”

Marie smiled at her alternate self with her eyes, but not her lips, as she offered a hand. “Let’s go together.”

They took hands, and cleared the nine or ten meter gap with ease. Only now could they look down to see what was here. The floor was flat, but there was a seam running all the way across, and a handle. They exchanged a brief look, then Angela reached down, and opened the trapdoor. They looked apprehensively at what was there. “Get Leona,” Marie said.

Angela didn’t go anywhere. She just tapped her neck to activate her comm disc. “Boss, better get up here. Just you, though. Not much space on this.”

“On what?”

“Let’s call it the perch,” Angela replied.

Leona quickly figured out what she was referring to. She too looked down at the stasis pod. “Either o’ you recognize this guy?”

They shook their heads. “Nope.”

“Should we wake him up?” Leona asked.

“You’re asking us?”

“I want your opinion.”

Marie consulted her watch. “We have to get to the negotiations.”

“You go,” Angela suggested.

“What?”

“They don’t need both of us. Go facilitate. I’m curious.”

“So, is that a yes from you?” Leona pressed.

“If not us, then who? If not now, then when?”

Leona chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Go,” Angela encouraged her sister. “I love you.”

“Mateo,” Leona asked through her comm.

“Yeah?” Both Mateos answered simultaneously.

“Who gave him a comm?” she questioned.

“I did,” Ramses answered. “It seems like he’s gonna be with us for longer than we presumed.”

“I want it out of his neck,” Leona ordered. “He doesn’t have one in the past, and we have no idea when he’ll end up going back. Carlin could find a reason to relapse him any second now.”

“Understood,” Ramses replied.

“You had a question?” Future!Mateo asked.

“Is that Stoutverse doctor still helping us with inventory in the infirmary?”

“Sure is,” Future!Mateo replied.

“Tell her she may have a patient on the way.”

“Understood,” he echoed.

Leona cleared her throat, and got down on her knees to start tapping on the stasis pod interface screen. “Cassius Hoffmann. Is he on our known list?”

Angela tapped on her arm to access their personal files. “No. Only a Cassidy.”

Leona tilted her head. “Maybe they’re related.” And with that, she released the hatch, and lifted it open. There were two kinds of stasis technologies; one which used magical powers to slow down time, and another which Earth developed. Induced cryptobiosis didn’t manipulate time, but slowed the subject’s metabolism down to almost nothing. There were complications with this technology, such as a build-up of radiation in the body, which had to be periodically purged, and a limited operational timeframe. To avoid these pitfalls, true stasis was one of the technologies that the Shortlist agreed to provide for the stellar neighborhood to make their lives easier, under the condition that it would only be used for long-term space travel, not for any other reason. It could scale into a weapon if harnessed by an abusive or nefarious party.

This Cassius guy was just in a tun state, like a tardigrade. It was more difficult to maintain, and required more maintenance, but he could have been in here for centuries. One of the downsides of cryptobiotic stasis was the length of time it took to revive the subject. Water filled the pod to rehydrate him, and an electrical charge was delivered to revitalize his nervous system. They waited there for minutes before he finally opened his eyes, and looked at them. “Can you speak?” Angela asked.

Cassius blinked twice.

“Does twice mean no?”

He blinked once.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He blinked yes again. Then he struggled to adjust his gaze towards his feet. His eyelids fluttered. When they expressed concern, he stopped, suggesting that it was a voluntary gesture.

“Are you trying to point to something?” Angela asked him.

Yes.

“They screen?”

Yes.

“Can it expedite your recovery?”

No.

“What does it do? I mean...ugh.” She thought about what binary question that she could ask. There was none. “A, B, C, E, E, F...” She kept going until he blinked yes at M, then she started the alphabet all over again until she got to I.

She only ended up having to elicit M-I-N-D-R-E before Leona decided to guess mindreader, and realized what he was going for. “Oh my God, of course. He wasn’t just asleep. His mind was probably in a virtual environment.” She tapped on the screen some more until she found what they needed.

A tiny hologram of Cassius appeared on the glass. The physical Cassius looked at it for a second before closing his eyes to continue his recovery. “Hey, folks!”

“Cassius Hoffmann?” Leona asked.

“That’s me!”

“What are you doing here?”

“How long has the Transit been active?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Leona replied. “Maybe a few weeks? We’re no longer connected. The Waycar is now free and independent.”

“I see. Who’s on the Transit?”

Leona didn’t know who he was, or whether he could be trusted, but he appeared to have been in some control of this machine before anyone they knew was, so there were probably some things he knew about it without their help. “The beginnings of the Transit Army.”

“Good,” Cassius decided. “They don’t need us. I was only placed here to make sure that they were the ones who found it, instead of just any rando astronaut who happened to land on Hyperion.”

Leona shook her head tightly.

“It’s one of Saturn’s moons,” Cassius explained. “That’s where the Transit was.” Now he was getting suspicious of them. Who are you?”

“Captain Leona Matic of the Vellani Ambassador.”

“Oh, okay. Whew.” He was relieved. “Yes, my name is Cassius Hoffmann, Second Lieutenant to Nereus Jolourvedin, Thief of the Transit Bulk Traveling Ship. Together, we and a group of other humans escaped Ansutah, and made our way back to Salmonverse. Most of them went off to live their own lives in peace. Nereus and his First Lieutenant claimed their destinies. I was left here with only the one job, and I didn’t even have to do it.”

“Something must have gone wrong at any rate,” Leona imagined. “You should have been awakened either way.”

“Nah, the machine has a mind of its own. If Freya or Azura stepped foot on board, it would have recognized them, and left me alone. I’m not surprised it’s taken weeks for you to find me. This car was invisible. You see, this was more of a punishment than anything. Don’t worry, I’m not a killer or anything. I just didn’t always know my place as Second L-T. I was a bit of a nuisance.”

“Nereus Jolourvedin now serves as The Repairman,” Leona told him, not knowing whether he knew that or not. “He doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t wanna see me again.”

“Then he’s in luck,” Angela clarified. “We’re not even in Salmonverse anymore.”

“I see.” Cassius placed his hands on his hips, and looked around as he was nodding. “Do you lay claim to the Waycar?”

“We need to verify your story,” Leona began. “If it checks out, then this here vessel is yourn. We have our own.”

“I need to get to the negotiations,” Angela suddenly decided.

“Okay. Thanks, Angie,” Leona said.

“Thanks, Angie!” Cassius echoed before adding after Angela left, “she single?”

“She only dates corporal people,” Leona joked.

“Touché.” After a beat, he added, “I only need another hour.”

An hour and a half later, Cassius was able to return his consciousness fully to his body, and go see the doctor for an examination. By then, the diplomatic discussions were over. They turned out to be a lot more complicated than anyone could have guessed. It wasn’t only about letting Kineret leave with her daughter. It all had to do with the Waycar, the consolidator, and a new crew. “They want this?” Leona asked.

“No, they want to create a crew for the Waycar. Any of us would be welcome to stay and lead them,” Angela explained.

“I see. I have no intention of leaving the Ambassador.”

“Neither do I,” Angela replied. “But someone who knows a little about this stuff should become part of the executive crew. I don’t think the Stoutversians could handle it on their own. Do you know how many people can fit comfortably?”

“About a hundred by our calculations,” Ramses answered.

“I’m sure that Cassius will be staying, no matter who else comes aboard,” Leona clarified. “He can lead them, I guess. He knows this thing better than any of us. We brought them the quintessence consolidator. I suppose our job is done.”

“We still need them,” Future!Mateo reasoned. “If we want to get to Verdemus to find the timonite for my past self, Carlin can’t do that.”

“True,” Leona realized. “It will take weeks at best to form the crew of this new ship. We can’t leave until then.”

“They’ve already agreed to take us back to Salmonverse,” Marie revealed. “But we won’t be able to call upon them if we end up needing something else later.”

“That should be fine,” Leona decided. “But Carlin, we will need you in the future. Past!Mateo has to get back to his time in the Third Rail. I can see your eyes, though; you wanna stay here on the Waycar.”

“I do,” Carlin admitted, “but I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Leona looked at the Walton sisters. “We gave them the consolidator, and in a way, we’re also giving them the Waycar. Did we happen to get anything out of these talks?”

“The new crew,” Angela began. “It won’t be as hard to form as you might believe. They don’t have a very large pool to pick from. Our one condition was that no one who leaves this universe is allowed to be a carrier for the deadly dragonfly flu. They made their choice in exposing the majority of their population to it, but they can only use it to protect their world. They’re never allowed to leave.”

“I guess that’s something,” Leona figured.

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Extremus: Year 81

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Tinaya and Aristotle got Spirit and the rest of the gang up to speed on what happened after they left Verdemus. They made introductions, and integrated themselves into a new society. It’s been four years since their return, and this planet now has a significant population. They actually represent only a small fraction of Verdemusians at this point. Omega made 18,000 drifting clones of himself. The drifting part is important, because while they were all sourced from the same progenitor, their personalities ended up straying at around the same rate as the genetic drift. The 18,000th clone is the least like Omega than the first, and it scales fairly predictably from latter to the former. What would not have been predictable is the responses that they gave when asked whether they wanted to stay on mission for the Ex Wars, or start to live their own lives in peace.

In the end, after giving a choice to all clones 147 at a time, 42% of them chose to reject their mandate entirely, and live the rest of their lives on the surface in peace. But it’s not like it was the back two-fifths, or even the front two-fifths. Their personalities gave rise to sporadic fluctuations, leaving them with a hodge-podge of differing viewpoints. A side effect of this variability was that they didn’t all see it as a binary choice. Only 56% chose to go back into their stasis pods, and await the start of the war. Roughly two percent had other ideas. These were the leaders, and the misfits. Some of them wanted to become part of an elite force, or the executive officers, while others wanted to leave entirely. This was not an easy process. Once Omega and Tinaya started receiving these unforeseen ideas, they realized that they hadn’t asked the right questions for the first several batches. So they were reawakened, and given the new choices. They could stay awake to train at a new Officer’s Academy, or maintain their positions. This resulted in a few hundred of them agreeing to train under the guidance of one Eagan Spurrs. They constructed a campus right on top of the original settlement, allowing the peace-seekers to live separately in the megablock many kilometers away.

But these warriors are not what Tinaya is concerned about at the moment. Precisely 83 drift clones don’t want to be a part of this at all. They don’t want to train as officers, they don’t want to be enlisted hibernators, and they don’t want to live in the megablock. They’re currently staying in the mess hall, because no one knows what to do with them. There is no leaving Verdemus. There are two ships here. The shuttle can make interplanetary trips, and while the Anatol Klugman can travel the stars, it sort of has a different purpose. What they need is something in between, which will allow these independents to escape the star system, and forge their own paths. Omega is not being cooperative. He doesn’t hate them. In fact, that would probably be easier to deal with. The problem is that he has no strong feelings about them, and sees no reason to expend resources to help them. To him, if they don’t want to live in the megablock with the others who don’t want to fight in the war, they can...suck it up, and do it anyway.

“These are your people, Omega,” she argues.

“No, they’ve drifted the most from me, neurologically speaking,” Omega reasons.

“Are you sure about that? Half of them are within a hundred degrees of separation from you. The rest aren’t far behind.” She starts getting sassy. “Why is it your name is Omega? Oh, that’s right, because you were born with a complex that caused you to go AWOL from your own calling, which is what has led us to this in the first place! The independents are probably more like you than any of them.”

Omega doesn’t want to admit that she might be right. “I can...see where you might think that. But I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“The Klugman, it has shuttles of its own, right?”

“Yes.”

“And they’re reframe capable?”

“One class of them are. There are only four of that kind.”

“Can twenty-one people fit in each one?” she asks.

“Tinaya, I need those. They’re for advanced recon, resupply missions, and multi-front engagements.”

She sighs, and itches underneath her eye. “Omega, the war is not for a hundred and thirty years. You don’t think you can rebuild them in that amount of time?”

“I see your point.”

“Give them the shuttle stocked with supplies that were grown and manufactured at the megablock, and let them leave.”

“Where the hell are they gonna go?” Omega questions. “There’s nothing out here, except for the Goldilocks Corridor. And I don’t think they want to go there. I sure as hell don’t want them to. What if they alert them to our plans?”

“They don’t know your plans.”

“They know enough. Our only advantage is a surprise attack. It has to be a complete surprise.” He spoke demonstratively with his hands.

She laughs. “You don’t trust...yourself?”

He was ready for this counterpoint. “No, I don’t,” he replies quickly.

Tinaya nods gently, and looks down at the ground. He doesn’t need to trust every single one of them. “I’ll go with them,” she offers. “I’ll make sure they don’t give your plans away, even unintentionally. You can trust me, right?”

“Tinaya, you can’t do that; you have a life,” Omega contends.

“I’ve had many lives. This would be just one more.”

He shakes his head, trying to work through the consequences. “I wanna say that I can’t ask you to do that, but I’m not asking for anything. This is all you. I straight up don’t want you to do it.”

“This planet, it comes with radiation. It does weird things to time powers. It probably made the two explosions worse than they should have been.”

“I heard.”

“Aristotle can’t get us out of here. There is no way back to Extremus. If I can’t see Arqut again, it doesn’t matter where I am. I can do this. I can care for your wayward children. Give us the shuttles.”

Omega looks awkward, like he wants to spill the beans, but he doesn’t want to have to clean them up afterwards.

She can sense his reluctance, but can also tell that it’s important. “What is it?”

They left the Kamala Khan in cislunar space. After rigging up teleporter relays on both the planet, and the moon, they now use the shuttle as a midpoint to allow them to travel freely back and forth. Well, it’s not free, per se. You either have to go to the jump terminal, or have an emergency teleporter on your person, which not everyone does. Not even Tinaya, though that’s more because she doesn’t really need it. Omega places hands around her upper arms, and jumps them to the moon. But they don’t end up in the cloning facility. This place is unfamiliar.

“Where are we?”

“My secret lab,” he answers.

“All of your labs are secret.”

“Yes, but this...is the big one.”

“Bigger than the clone army?” That seems unlikely.

He walks over to the wall, and rests his elbow against it, ready to pull a big switch down, the purpose of which she does not yet know. “The time mirrors. They worked fine while they were active, but you can only fit one person through at a time, and they were an annoying drain of power. People who weren’t supposed to know about this operation would have eventually noticed the discrepancies. We actually had to bribe the independent energy auditor with a lifetime of contribution points.”

“Why are you telling me this? I don’t wanna know this.”

“It was a temporary measure while we worked on a permanent way to travel back and forth. And we certainly needed the time.” Omega drops the big switch down. As lights flip on, a set of blast doors open.

More lights illuminate on the other side, revealing something that Tinaya only ever saw once in her life. “A Nexus.”

“That’s right.”

Nexa are a mysterious interstellar transport machine that were invented by an even more mysterious alien race, and placed on an unknown number of inhabited worlds. It could take you tens of thousands of light years in minutes, but there had to be another one on the other side to receive you. What good would this do them?

“I know what you’re thinking. What good is this to us? The Extremus doesn’t have one of its own. We could go back to the Gatewood Collective, or maybe to Earth. But why would we want to?”

“I can think of a few reasons.”

“My mistake. The point is that you would be wrong either way. Extremus does have a Nexus.”

“Since when?”

He steps a little closer, and admires the thing. “It’s not done yet, but Valencia is working on it on her end. I built this one muhself.”

“How do you know what’s happening on Extremus at all?”

“They’re both complete enough for a phone call.”

She hesitates for a moment, but takes it. He escorts her down the stairs, and into the machine. The original design apparently comes with four walls, but two of them were excluded from this one, as they were on Gatewood. Each machine must fulfill a strict set of requirements to function properly, but some components are evidently negotiable. They step down into the cavity. “Hey, Opsocor. Can you connect me to the Extremus?” A dim orange light appears from above. “We’re waiting for her to answer. She may not be there. Our scheduled check-in isn’t for another couple of hours.”

Just then, two holograms render in the cavity in front of them. One of them is Omega’s wife, Valencia Strong. The other is Arqut. Arqy!” Tinaya exclaims.

“Teeny Toon!” he shouts back. They almost hug, but don’t try, because they’re not really in the same room together.

“He figured it out,” Valencia explains to Omega with a shrug.

“She didn’t,” Omega replies. “I just thought she oughta know.”

“Finish this,” Tinaya orders, gazing upon her husband. “Get me back to him.”

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Microstory 2235: Constant Federal Supervision

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This is Nick. The FBI has developed a way for me to write my posts, and have them published on my website without actually having to access the internet myself, and risk giving away my current location. I’ve been asked not to place myself in that risk in other ways, such as describing where we’re living, or anything, but other than that, I don’t have to run anything by them. There’s no approval process here. It’s just me, printing a copy of what I want to say, and sending it to the agent who has access to the right web accounts. I will tell you that I’m granted brief, monitored, and heavily secured access to the internet to make sure it looks the way I want it, but other than that, we entertain ourselves with physical media, like books and DVDs. They’re not that interesting to me, but the other two don’t seem to have any issues with it. I’m getting back into writing, because I think this world needs more compelling stories, so that takes up a lot of my time. God knows there’s nothing else to do stuck in this safehouse at 221B Baker Street in foggy Londontown. Ha! Fooled you! That is a reference from my homeworld. It’s not really where we are, you chumps. Anyway, my new stories have given me an idea of how I might get back to my friends, but it’s going to take help from viewers like you. I’ll have the details later—I just remembered this cosmic trick yesterday—but basically, if I put on a production of a particular stage musical, there’s a chance that a universe-hopper will come and get me out of here. I know that sounds bizarre and random, but it does make sense once you know the full story. Again, these are only the early stages. I’m still in protective custody, so if I want to take it one step at a time—which I should—carving a new life out for myself without the need for constant federal supervision would be the first one. So don’t ask me when auditions are. It’s not time yet. There’s a strong chance that it wouldn’t even work. Joseph is very...critical of people’s interpretations. I’ll give you more information at a later date if I decide to move forward with this plan.

Microstory 2234: Apologies for the Interruption

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[Apologies for the interruption. This is Halya Perugia, current Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We are developing protocols which will allow Mister Fisherman and Miss Serna to continue contributing to their social media presence. This is an unprecedented situation here, but we feel that it is necessary for the public good that their website remains active. This is in no way an endorsement of their words or actions by the United States government, or the FBI. Their message is not our concern. It is our responsibility to keep them safe, and part of that mandate is allowing them to reassure the public that they are exactly where they need to be. Mister Fisherman and Miss Serna will make occasional—and highly secure—public appearances to reinforce the cooperative nature of our new professional partnership. We will not be simply hiding them away. The US government and this agency will take every threat to their safety, and the national security of this country, seriously, and will take any action necessary to ensure the domestic tranquility of this nation. We appreciate your patience while we work through our new protocols to allow the frequently visiting, and ever-growing, audience of Mister Fisherman’s website to continue to be part of a centuries-long global conversation that ensures governmental transparency, social justice, and public advancement. Thank you for your time.]

Microstory 2233: Some Semblance of a Normal Life

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People are crazed, and neither Nick nor Dutch is safe anymore. The word has gotten out about the miracle of Nick’s healing. While a ton of people around the world don’t think it’s real, that still leaves a ton who do, and they all want a piece of him. Some people believe that he can cure them of their own conditions, which is an honest mistake, I suppose. Others just want to be close to him, to varying degrees. There are even those who want to kill him, for every warped reason that you could imagine. Both of them have been taken into protective custody by the FBI. I obviously can’t tell you where they are. Since I was intimately involved in the whole situation, Nick has requested that I join them, which I will be doing soon. I truthfully didn’t think that I qualified, but the government would rather be safe than sorry. I can’t tell you if this website is going to survive all this. He’s more than any regular public figure now. Hopefully, the insanity dies down eventually, and he can have some semblance of a normal life, but we recognize that our lives will no longer be the same. I’m hoping that we can still stay connected with our mentally stable readers through some kind of technological firewall, or whatever, so no one can actually find us. We will just have to wait and see.

Microstory 2232: Death’s Doorstep

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Nick is finally out of the hospital, and back home on his cozy couch. This all happened so fast that getting out of the lease wasn’t on his radar at all. I would have kept paying the rent, and lived there myself if it had come down to it. It’s not like they could have charged a dead guy. His will was clear, that all his money was to go to charity upon his passing; nothing was set aside for debts. I’m sure it would have happened anyway, but I did not study law, and neither did he. Now it doesn’t matter, and we don’t have to worry about that anymore, yay! He’s not quite ready to get back to this website, and not because he’s not feeling up to it, but because he needs to reconsider his life choices. I mean, he had to leave his job because of his poor health, and he knew fairly early on that he was never going back. Now things have changed, but does that mean that he should start leading the team again? Jasmine is doing fine job work, and he wouldn’t want to take that from her. It’s not like he was ever more qualified for the position. He’s not sure if he would want to get back into the business anyway. Things were going on in his head while he was dying that he was unable—or unwilling—to express. I’ve been updating you on what’s going on with his life, but his personal thoughts were a big part of the posts that he wrote himself, which I obviously couldn’t have provided. This has changed him in ways that we could never understand. The first time that he was on death’s doorstep, he gained his immortality right away, but this time, he sat in it. He lived through it for an extended period of time. That would change anyone. We’re going to take his reintroduction to the world of the living one step at a time, so please be patient with us while we figure it out. I have my own life to consider. I was hired to keep him safe and comfortable, in ways that he was unable to do for himself, but my job is over now. Per protocol, I should be moving on to my next patient, but this experience has changed me too. I need to think about whether I even want to do this anymore. Nick says that I should, because that’s why I went to school, and my motivations for doing it ought to still be there, but of course, it’s complicated. Stay tuned, I guess.

Microstory 2231: Back to Life

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I can’t believe that I’m writing this. Something truly miraculous happened, which all but proves that Nick was telling the truth the whole time about being an immortal time traveler. I guess I better start at the beginning of the story. At exactly 8:15 this morning, which is reportedly Nick’s favorite time, the nurse switched off his life support machines, and let him pass on to the end of his life. I was there with him, as was his former assistant at the jail, Jasmine. We were crying, and telling him that it was okay for him to leave, that we would be able to go on without him. And with those words, his vitals dropped to zero, and he was gone. Not five seconds later, a guy I used to know came in through a door near Nick’s isolation bubble—which is supposed to lead to a supply closet—brought forth by a spread of colorful light. Those who saw it at the right angle report seeing some kind of tropical beach on the other side of the threshold. Months ago, just as Nick was starting his job at the nursery where I worked, a coworker named Dutch Haines mysteriously disappeared. Nick was convinced that there was a supernatural explanation for it, and of course, no one believed it, because they had no reason to. But now we do. Dutch has told me that he was on another world, though we have not had enough time for any specifics, because his reëmergence was not the most impressive part of the story. Not at all.

Nick suddenly came back to life. The monitors started beeping again as he was arching his back. Color returned to his skin, and his eyes opened. He pulled the intubator out of his throat with ease, and sat up. For a moment, he sat there, strong and proud. He was not just back to his old self, but a powerful, more confident version. He looked younger than he did the day I met him earlier this year. He pulled the IV needle out of his arm just as Dutch’s door was falling closed. Someone tried to open it again, but found only the supply closet on the other side. I remember Nick positing that his health could be rejuvenated if a link to the multiverse was created, even if only for a few seconds, and he was so right about that. For those few seconds when Dutch returned to us, Nick was immortal once more. He has seemingly gone back to normal since that door closed, but it’s too late for the prion. Apparently, Nick’s immortality came in multiple layers, even though some may seem to cancel out the others, and those layers are there for a situation such as this. In that one moment, the prion disease was cured, and Nick was restored to health. He was invincible and ageless for only that short period of time, but that’s all he needed. He now looks like a normal twentysomething guy, free from all disease, or other medical problems. He can now surely suffer from something new again, but at least he’s not terminal anymore. Now we just need to convince the world that this hasn’t been one big lie. People will say that it never happened—that it was just a prank, or maybe even a long con. But it’s real. Dozens of people witnessed it in person, and millions more watched the livestream. Plus, several doctors diagnosed his condition before the miracle. He was definitely on his deathbed, and there was no way for him to get out of it unless something like this occurred. The doctors are frantically examining and testing him now, but we all already know the truth, don’t we? Nick is meant to be immortal, and he’s not meant to be in this universe. Now more than ever, he must find a way back home, and I for one, am ecstatic for the opportunity to help him

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 12, 2464

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Using a communications array that the Maramon built, Leona was able to make contact with Hogarth Pudeyonavic. She was aware of the membrane thickener that the Angry Fifth Divisioner had deployed, and was working on a way to get rid of it. In the meantime, there was another way out of this universe. Like many other places, time travel was illegal here. And like all other places, there were exceptions. The way A.F.’s machine worked—which Leona now believed should be called a quintessence multiplier, or maybe a concentrator—what used to be known as dark matter would consolidate over the boundaries of the target universe. It would seal up any dark energy leaks, and tighten the borders. What was unclear as of yet was whether this happened like blood platelets clotting a wound from the inside, or more like a bandage wrapping it up from the outside.

The fact was, this process happened in realtime, starting from the moment that it was initiated. It did not extend backwards in time, which meant that the kasma was still accessible from any point in history. Hogarth agreed to send them back just long enough to let them cross over through the aperture, where they could go on their merry way. The only condition was that they not attempt to change the past in any way, even to stop A.F. from completing his mission. If Hogarth ended up solving the problem using such a technique, then that would be her decision, and it would happen on her timetable.

Hogarth could not, or would not, send them back in time in the little ship that Leona had engineered for them. The suspicion was that Hogarth wanted to use the skeleton key that it was equipped with for herself, which was surely okay, and a fair tradeoff for them. In another deal, they also agreed to take the hybrid, Aclima with them. She didn’t want to give them her reasons, but she promised that she harbored no ill will towards them, nor any nefarious plans for the multiverse. As payment for her ticket to the past, she gave Past!Mateo his own suit; helmet and all, so he too could survive wherever they ended up going.

Once they returned to May 30, 2451, the group was free to leave Fort Underhill. They were planning on crossing the kasma, and entering Salmonverse through its own aperture, but decided that they wanted to reunite with the rest of the team first. Now that they were already in the kasma, it was better to return to Stoutverse now, or they may never get another opportunity. They would still find a chance to help Past!Mateo complete his mission on Verdemus, even if that meant having Carlin relapse them to the Goldilocks Corridor in the 2420s and 30s. That was assuming the Maramon wasn’t lying about its significance anyway.

They were floating in the kasma now, listening to their past selves in the Transit deal with A.F.’s wrath. “We have to get on that train,” the present day version of Angela determined. She was speaking through the laserlink. They needed to be able to communicate with each other without interfering with the timeline, so outgoing signals from their comm discs had to be disabled. Laser communication was a great way to send a signal to a specific target—or in this case, targets—without worrying about anyone else intercepting it.

“All right, we teleport to the caboose,” Leona decided. “Stay on the outside for now, and find something to hold onto for a few seconds. I’ll teleport in while invisible, and scope out the car, then signal the rest of you.”

“We don’t have much time,” Marie pointed out, realizing that their past selves were nearing the end of their argument with A.F., and would be bugging out soon.

“We don’t need it.”

Past!Mateo took Aclima’s hand, and they all teleported to what they believe to be the outer hull of the rear car of the Transit. Instead, they found themselves inside of it. They had gotten pretty good at precision, so it didn’t make much sense that they would be off target. Sure, it was only meters too far, but it was weird just the same.

Future!Mateo pulled his helmet off, as did everyone else. “What the hell happened?”

“Let’s just be happy that no one is in here to catch us,” Marie said.

Leona started to look up and down the car. “No, this is weird. Hold on.” She looked through the window. “There’s the next car.” She jogged over to the other end. “There’s the equilibrium. I gathered information about this thing while we were on our way to Stoutverse. Every car is the same size; roughly thirteen by fifty-five by twenty-one meters. This is much shorter. I would have seen it on the floor plans if this were a thing. I think...” She trailed off.

“We’re invisible,” Aclima guessed.

“I think so. There are meant to be fifty-five cars, but this could be the fifty-sixth.”

“It’s like it was made for us,” Angela mused.

“Check out this caboose!” Past!Mateo joked.

They felt a lurch as the Transit flew into overdrive in a desperate play to escape the kasma. Olimpia would soon use the Sangster Canopy to cleave a canal between the two universes to avoid being captured by A.F. All the future versions of the team would have to do now was sit tight, and wait to catch up with their own time period, effectively closing their loops. If they lay low, and waited patiently in secret, they could reveal themselves in four days, and get back to work with the knowledge of the quintessence consolidation machine. They could also engineer a new skeleton key, which should allow them to somehow return to Salmonverse, and make their way to Verdemus. Navigation was going to be the biggest issue, but that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, they just had to be concerned with life support for Aclima for four years.

The secret fifty-sixth car was shorter than all the others, yes, but it was slightly taller. At twenty-four meters, instead of twenty-one, they were able to look through a window to see the rest of the Transit. Wow, it really was inspired by trains. This would be called the cupola. It also had a window in the back, which was showing them what was happening behind. While most of them were watching the ship race through the kasma canal, Past!Mateo was looking in the opposite direction. “Uh, guys? Something looks wrong here, so maybe you oughta look?”

“What is it?” Leona slid over to check out what he was seeing. Brilliant technicolor lights were illuminating the walls of Salmoverse and Fort Underhill. Olimpia’s magical powers were separating them only for long enough to let the Transit pass through. It wasn’t ever meant to be a permanent canal, and in fact, that was probably not physically possible. The walls were closing back in on themselves, and this appeared to be happening faster and faster. She lifted her watch to her face, and kept an eye on the timer. “It’s accelerating. We’re not gonna make it.”

“That’s impossible,” Angela said. “We already know that we’ll make it. We’ve done this before.”

Leona shook her head. “The Transit will make it, but not every car...not this one, and maybe not the next one over. I don’t know. There is a margin of error in my head math that I am not comfortable with.”

“We need to teleport to the next car,” Marie assumed.

“I’ve been trying,” Future!Mateo said. “We can’t do it, not now. I think it Olimpia’s power is blocking us.”

“Or the kasma, or the canal, or the bulk, or the quintessence. There’s no way to know what the problem is.”

“Fine, then let’s just walk over there,” Marie offered.

“Can’t do it!” Aclima declared from one level down. “The door’s locked!”

Leona looked back at the advancing walls of doom. “Brace for impact!”

 Suddenly, the door that Aclima was trying to get through opened from the other side. A man stepped through. “What’s going on in here?”

Before anyone could answer, a burst of technicolors flooded the room from the outside, and threw him across the car, and down a couple of levels. Everyone else fell down too, though not quite as hard. Leona got herself to her feet, and raced down to shut the door, but it didn’t seem necessary. They were exposed to the harsh environment of the equilibrium, but doing just fine. The atmosphere wasn’t trying to escape. Well, there had to be a reason it was called an equilibrium in the first place, right? Still, she closed the door, and reached down to check on Aclima, who had hit her head, but was conscious, and recovering quickly.

Everyone checked on each other, and seemed all right as well, having suffered only superficial wounds. They found a cot in a nearby compartment to lay the man down. Leona looked down at him with a sense of familiarity. “I know him.” She pulled her handheld device out, and started swiping through their list of known persons.

“That’s not important right now,” Marie told her. “We’re drifting.”

“So go check the systems,” Leona ordered. You’re tech-savvy enough. I shouldn’t have to do everything.”

“I know who that is,” Past!Mateo said as both Angela and Marie were walking down to the control terminal. “I remember him from your memories, back when I didn’t exist. That’s the guy in the secret seventh pocket dimension on the Elizabeth Warren. His brother was the one who killed Annora Ubiña.”

Leona nodded. “Right. But it wasn’t his brother. It was his cousin.” She found what she was looking for in the list. “Jarrett. That makes him Hadron.”

Hadron’s eyes were still closed while he swallowed, and adjusted his position on the cot slightly. “That’s me, Hadron Grier.”

“What are you doing here?” Leona asked.

Aclima slipped her hand under Hadron’s head, and pulled it back out. There was a little bit of blood on it. “No more questions.”

“That was one question,” Leona clarified.

“I’m fine,” Hadon said, sitting up, and allowing Aclima to move the pillow up to the wall for him to lean back on. “My medical nanites will heal the wound. To answer your question, I never thought I would see you again. My cousin was sent to prison for murder, but since he did it for me, it was decided that I wasn’t completely innocent. I was sentenced to house arrest for three years. That was fine, I was finally free of the tyranny of Durus. Still, when a magical door suddenly opened up on a wall that wasn’t supposed to have a door, I took the opportunity to cross over.”

“You worked in The Crossover,” Leona noted.

“For a while, until I found myself taking up a righteous cause in Universum Originalis. I should have known that I would end up in a place like this. What goes around, comes around, eh?”

Aclima pulled her suit’s drinking tube past her neck, and hovered over him to let him have some water.

“Thanks, love,” he said. “Are you gonna take me back to jail?”

Leona scoffed. “Ha, what? That was, like, 280 years ago.”

“Oh.” Only now did he get a look around. “I don’t understand what this is. I was in the caboose. I thought maybe you were a boarding party, but this appears to be of Transit architecture.”

“This is the real caboose,” Future!Mateo explained to him. “It was invisible for some reason.”

“I see.” Hadron took another sip from Aclima’s water tube, which from the right angle, looked a little like he was breastfeeding from her.

Angela came back. “Interestingly, this thing can operate on its own power. We think that we can follow the Transit to Stoutverse, but we’ll never catch up. It doesn’t go fast enough.”

“That’s okay,” Leona said. “Time ain’t nothin’ but a thang. Plot a course, and yalla.”

“We’ve already done that,” Angela replied.

“Great. Mateo?” Leona asked

“Which one of us?”

“Both,” she answered. “Go explore this place. Find out how many cots we have, and see if you can find a food synthesizer, or anything else we can use.”

They did end up finding a food synthesizer, as well as a number of cots, though they didn’t really need them all that badly. The most important discovery was an advanced industrial synthesizer, which was compatible enough with the datadrive that Leona already had with her regarding the skeleton key. She was able to build a new one in a matter of hours, which allowed them to cross over into Stoutverse without having to piggyback on the Transit proper as it entered. They didn’t even have to worry about laying low until they closed their loop in this world either. That navigation issue randomly spit them out of the bulk on June 12, 2464, which wasn’t that much later than when they left.

They were able to reconnect with Ramses and Olimpia, who updated them on everything they had been dealing with. The government wanted to use a Westfall visitor as a human bioweapon, and since they couldn’t accomplish that, they just took his blood to develop a serum, which they distributed to the whole population. Despite it seemingly being over, Westfall still wouldn’t let the man go home. They offered to try to take him back instead using their new bulk traveling machine. That seemed to be enough to break reality, though. When Dutch Haines attempted to follow them through one of the doors of the bunker, he disappeared, hopefully back home where he belonged anyway. But there was no way to know. Oh well. They were still going to leave, but they weren’t going alone. Kineret asked to tag along, but this was a complicated situation, because technically, due to her position as the Primus’ lieutenant, it was considered going AWOL. They needed to approach this with care and caution.

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