For nearly two years now, little but old Silveon Grieves has been going to
see his older but younger friend, Waldemar Kristiansen almost every single
day. It is this boy’s destiny to grow up to be a tyrant...or maybe it isn’t.
That’s what Silveon came back to put a stop to, but he won’t know for a long
time if he’s successful. He seems to be doing okay for now—better than just
a few years ago—but none of them knows what that means. Just because the
timeline has changed doesn’t mean it’s better. If Waldemar eventually
discovers the truth, he may swing all the way back to where he was headed,
or even further into his evil ways, just to spite Silveon. Neither Tinaya
nor Arqut are young enough to expect to be alive when Silveon’s efforts come
to a result, whatever that may be. Niobe is, though, so when the parents
die, it will be up to her to maintain vigilance, even if he’s legally old
enough to care for himself. She is typically responsible for sitting with
the boys when they’re playing. Calla has grown used to this situation, and
self-medicates enough to be passed out most of the time, thankful for the
extra parenting help, be it unexplained and unconventional.
Tinaya once asked Silveon why they don’t ever have Waldemar come to the
captain’s stateroom to play. Apparently, his distrust in authority is
innate, or is otherwise so ingrained in his worldview, that exposing him to
leadership this early would only do more harm than good. Right now, he needs
positive influences, and since they can’t control all the variables, the
best way to do that is to simply limit the number of influences, full stop.
The older they get, the less relevant their age gap will become, though,
which will supposedly make these secret morality lessons easier to
accomplish. At the moment, Waldemar likes their playdates, and hasn’t made
any attempt to stop them, but he does see Silveon as a little kid. One day,
though, he should see him as a peer, and that’s when the true education
begins. This is a very long-term plan, and will probably never end until the
day Waldemar dies. Silvy has sacrificed his own personal life to save the
happiness and freedom of everyone who will be alive on this ship over the
course of the next several decades, and probably no one will ever know. If
it backfires, however, things will end up so much worse, because he’ll have
associated himself with an authoritarian oppressor. The Leithe family name
would never recover from that.
While her son is dealing with all that, Tinaya is busy with her usual
Captain’s duties. Even in times of peace, there’s work to be done. They are
nearing the end of Year 92, which of course means that it’s time to start
thinking about the next captain in line! Yay! Who will it be? Who will
Tinaya choose? No one.
Head Councillor Paddon Paddon is here to discuss the matter. “Have you had
time to take a look at the class of 2365?” The reason the successor is
generally considered around this time is because the only people who will be
qualified to take over the position have to at least graduate from school by
the selection date. In this case, the greenest of candidates are currently
four years from graduation, and by now, pretty much anyone who was going to
wash out of the captain’s track would probably have done so by now. The best
of the best have already proven themselves in every meaningful—yet still not
official—sense. Basically, the idea is that everyone who can be put on the
shortlist is already a known option. They don’t have to worry about someone
sneaking up on them closer to the deadline, because even if they would be
great for the job, they won’t be ready yet.
Tinaya doesn’t care about that, because it’s not her problem. It’s
supposed to be, but...it can’t be. Not this time. Not her. “I’m
afraid that I will not be participating in the process. You will have to
make the decision on your own.”
Paddon scrunches up her face. “I don’t understand.”
“We have exhausted the conversations surrounding my appointment to the seat.
My aunt, my friendship with the previous captain, my relationship with the
superintendent. It all sounds great to you, but history will not look kindly
upon us unless we leave it where it is. I am done. Well, not today. I mean,
in four years, I’ll be done. I’ll become an admiral, and then I’ll die. Or
I’ll die first, who knows? That is the order of events, and we shouldn’t add
any more to that.”
“I really don’t follow what you’re talking about,” Paddon complained.
“There are other variables which I am not at liberty to divulge,” Tinaya
says vaguely. Silveon and Waldemar are the big ones, but her knowledge of
The Question, the Bridger Section, the Nexa, and Verdemus also contribute to
the complexities of this fragile situation. “What you would like me to do is
help appoint someone who I believe will captain the ship in the same way
that I would. That’s the idea, whether it’s in the bylaws, or not. Belo
wasn’t too dissimilar to Yenant. Leithe the First wasn’t too dissimilar to
Belo. Tamm was a weird one, which actually proves my point. The council
appointed him, and while it didn’t work out in that case, we went right back
to the pattern. Keen wasn’t too dissimilar to my aunt, and I’m very similar
to them both! Some people feel—even though they don’t actually believe it in
the literal way—that the same captain has pretty much run the ship the whole
time.”
“So, what?” Paddon asked. “That’s called continuity, and it’s a good thing.”
“Yes, in wartime, it’s a very good thing. In peacetime, it’s not. People
crave change.” Tinaya laughs. “Even if the candidate they love is running on
a campaign of going back to the good old days. They want to see someone come
in who is not a carbon copy of the person before. Trust me, I have been
paying attention, and I have been listening to my advisors, both official
and unofficial. The populace is restless. They need someone new. They need
to feel that they were involved in the decision. And most importantly, they
need to know that I was not a part of it.”
“This is so subjective, and our studies are not reflective of what you’re
claiming. You are the most popular captain in our history, including Olindse
Belo, who has become a sort of folk hero because she burned bright and
early. They wanted you in that chair for years before you finally sat down,
and they don’t want you to get up. But since you are, the easiest way for
them to accept that is if you are totally involved in the succession search
process. It’s the opposite of what you think, and I don’t know how you could
be so wrong about it.”
“Like I said, there are other variables.”
Paddon Paddon is a reasonable woman, who doesn’t ask questions that she
doesn’t want the answers to. She is aware that Tinaya has had a much more
eventful life than the general population was told, but she’s never tried to
investigate. She assumes that it was all necessary, and that Tinaya deserves
to be where she is today. Nonetheless, she has her limits. “I respect that,
but if you can’t tell me what they are, then I can’t take them into
account.”
“How about a compromise?” Arqut is coming in from the closet.
“How long have you been there?” Tinaya questions.
“I teleported in there to change my shoes about a minute ago, but I didn’t
want to interrupt or eavesdrop, so I eventually decided to do both!” he
answers.
“What is your suggestion?” Paddon asks.
“Make your pick,” Arqut begins. “Select the new captain yourself, but choose
someone good. Find the best candidate available, and I don’t just mean by
your standards, but by the passengers’. They need to be socially accessible,
well-liked, noncontroversial, and clean. Once you do, make the announcement.
At least a day later, Tinaya will make her own, independent announcement,
with her endorsement of this person. This new captain will benefit from her
stamp of approval...without having gotten the job because of her.”
“Hm.” Paddon thinks about it for a moment. “That’s not a bad way to frame
it.”
He laughs. “Of course, she can only give that endorsement if the candidate
has truly earned it, so you really do need to find someone worthy. To
maintain ethics and transparency, we can’t have any secret meetings to make
sure that they’re gonna secure that endorsement. You have to get it right
the first time. You have to not screw it up.”
“I think we can make that work, Superintendent Grieves.”
“I’m only Mister Grieves these days,” he corrects. “Except to you;
you can just call me Arqut. We’ve been friends for years.”
“Okay,” Paddon says with a deep, rejuvenating breath. “I’ll take this to the
council.” She pauses for a bit. “Though, I don’t think I’ll tell them
everything.”
“That might be for the best,” Tinaya agrees.
They shake hands and part ways. Tinaya and Arqut won’t have to concern
themselves with any of this for the next few years as the entire point is to
leave them out of it. After Paddon leaves, the two of them start to have
lunch together, but it’s cut short when they receive an emergency call from
the infirmary. Silveon has been hurt. They teleport straight there to find
their four-year-old son lying back on the examination table. They can only
see his body, though. A mounted scanner of some kind is blocking the view of
his face at the moment.
“No, don’t,” Dr. De Witt warns. He steps in between when Tinaya tries to
look underneath the scanner.
“What do you not want me to see? What is that white stuff on his shirt?”
“It’s cake frosting,” Niobe explains.
“Cake?” Tinaya questions. “What the hell happened to my son!” Tinaya screams
as she tries to get to him again, but this time, the doctor holds her back
physically.
“You don’t want to see him like that! Besides, the machine is currently
assessing the damage, so we need to wait until extraction is complete.”
“Extraction. Of. WHAT!” Arqut cries.
“A candle.”
“Why the hell is there a candle in his face? Why the hell is there a candle?
We’re on a ship! We don’t need candles, we use lights!” Tinaya is not
letting up.
“It’s an Earthan tradition,” Niobe starts. “You make a cake with sugary
frosting, and you stick little candles on the top. Since he’s turning four
next week, there were four candles. One of them got into his eye. It was an
accident.”
“How would they get into his eye? How is that an accident?” Arqut asks.
“Go on, Ni!” Tinaya urges when Niobe, for some reason, looks over at a door.
“It was only a prank,” Niobe goes on with sadness. “He thought it would be
funny if Silveon got some frosting on his face. He didn’t factor in the
candles, but he didn’t hurt him on purpose. I promise you, this was not on
purpose. It was just a stupid joke that went too far.”
“Are you telling me that a twelve-year-old boy shoved my baby’s face into a
candle—four candles?”
“The other three fell down from the force of his forehead and cheeks,” Niobe
recounts. “One of them got caught between his eyelids, and remained
straight.”
“The nanites will repair the damage,” Dr. De Witt says. “I assure you that
he will be good as new once he wakes up.”
“Where is he, in that room?” Tinaya points at the door.
“I don’t think you should talk to him right now,” Niobe suggests.
“Why, because he’s upset...or because he isn’t?”
Niobe doesn’t answer.
Without permission, Tinaya opens the door to the private consultation room
to find Waldemar sitting on the bench against the wall in the dark. He looks
mad, but it’s not entirely clear why. It could be that he blames Silveon for
ruining the perfectly good cake, or it’s because a certain sports team lost
some game way back in 2024. Honestly, it’s impossible to tell with an unwell
kid like this. “Are you sorry?” she asks him.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, so no,” he spits.
She looks over her shoulder, then shuts the door behind her. She turns the
lights on, but keeps them at a low brightness. “Even if you didn’t do
something intentionally, you should feel remorse for it. You should at least
wish that it hadn’t happened.”
“My therapist says that I don’t have remorse. I don’t know where to get it.
I don’t know where everyone else keeps theirs.”
Tinaya nods. “I’m not qualified to help you with that. But you need to
understand that what you did was hurtful. It may have been a mistake, but
there were consequences. There are consequences to every action you take.
Maybe...” she trails off. “Maybe your brain can’t feel guilt. Maybe you’ll
always have to fake it. But truthfully, I don’t really care what’s happening
in your brain; right now, or ever. It’s what you do that matters. Regardless
of what you’re feeling—or not feeling—don’t do bad things. I am
ordering you to not. Do. Bad. Things. You know right from wrong, whether
they impact you or not. If you’re ever confused, or unsure, you can read up
on the laws and rules. And if you still don’t get it, ask for help. Ask my
son. He will always be a great resource for you.”
“No, he won’t...not anymore.”
“I guarantee you that he will not let this stand in the way of your
friendship,” she contends. “When he’s feeling up to it, he’ll wanna see you.
I’m first trying to teach you that you will not be able to function in
society if you don’t follow society’s rules. Even if they annoy you, even if
they make you mad; they are there for a reason, and you are beholden to
them, just like everyone else. Humans are not stupid. We are not doing
things that don’t make sense. So again, if you don’t understand why things
are the way they are, ask someone you can trust, like me, Silvy, Niobe, or
Mr. Grieves.”
“Not my mother?”
She takes a long time to respond. “Not your mother.”
He nods.
“Okay. You wait here. I’ll come get you after he wakes up.”
“Missus Grieves?” He stops her when she tries to leave. “Thank you.” He
waits for a second. “Sorry.”
