text: Today, finally I get to go visit my Aunt Mary and spend the day with her at work. For Sophomore year Social Studies, we’re required to do a team report on a relative (or family friend) with an interesting or unusual job. Melissa (my best friend) and I have convinced our teachers to let us do our joint report on my Aunt Mary. She’s the Command Logistics Coordinator for an Imperial Tactical Assault/Rescue team. She makes sure all the right people are in the right places, and have the right equipment when and where they need it. Mostly for assaults against hardened criminal or military elements, but also for the occasional hostage/rescue mission, and the very rare extraction of a defector or agent (spy) that has been inserted somewhere dangerous. It’s unusual to be allowed to shadow anyone working at the TOC (Tactical Operations Command) as Mary calls it, but they occasionally make exceptions, primarily to instill goodwill with the general public, and also to remind the younger generation that these service positions exist. Hoping that future generations with the right aptitude, and attitude, will choose a career in this area to replace older members as the retire. And we can write the report, only with the strictest understanding that Command have first option to read-approve-edit-and potentially destroy the report. While anything else we see/hear/read/think about what we experienced is to be kept strictly secret. &#x200B; Our cab makes the last turn to the base, “Oh, I’m so excited I can’t stand it.” “I know April, me too. But at least you’ve been there once before.”, Melissa replies. “Only for ten minutes to pickup Aunt Mary once for a family funeral. And then she met us at Reception for pickup and we returned her to the gate after the funeral without even going into Reception.” &#x200B; “Is it just us?”, Melissa asks. “No. There is a group of ten or so visiting dignitaries from a neighboring galaxy. We’re to be observers on the tail end of their group. So, aside from just visiting the TOC, we have to be on our best behavior to help leave them with a good impression.” “No pressure. As if I wasn’t freaked enough already.”, Melissa adds. &#x200B; Aunt Mary asked us to arrive “on time” and not be over eager and arrive too early. We’ve timed it pretty well. Stepping out of the cab three minutes before entry time at the walkway up to the guard gate. &#x200B; A young man, with short hair, and immaculately crisp pressed khaki shirt and pants uniform, around 25 years, with a pistol sidearm on his belt, addresses us as we approach, “Names and ID’s.” &#x200B; The young guard may only have a pistol, but he’s flanked a few meters back by two more Marines with environment sealed body armor and rifles. Off in the distance, with overlapping fields of fire, I can see turrets with heavy weapons pointing in the general direction of the gate. Checking our ID’s visually, then scanning them into his clipboard, the guard looks back at the guard station, to see another similar dressed Imperial Marine look up from a terminal and nod back clearance. The guard hands us our ID’s, “You’re right on time. Thanks. The Utt delegation is in transit and will be clearing the gate in about two minutes. Corporal May will take you to the reception area.”, the guard waves us over to a transportation cart already waiting a few steps away. &#x200B; Corporal May talks as he drives, “You’ve probably heard it all before in school, but you’ll be watching the “Intro to the Empire” vid shown to all visiting delegations. Then follow them in for the tour and actual TOC visit. It will be a busy day. There is a Rescue Op in progress. If you’re lucky, you might get to see some of the actual extraction.” Corporal May parks, escorts us into Reception for a second ID verification. The receptionist offered us water or soft drinks, but we are too nervous to touch anything and respectfully decline. We’re asked to wait in the anteroom chairs while the delegation cars are clearing Security scans at the gate. &#x200B; We are off to ourselves and mostly out of earshot of the others waiting nearby, and Melissa speaks for the first time, other than saying her name earlier. “Have you ever seen one? Did you see one here last year when you picked up your Aunt Mary?”, she asks. She doesn’t explicitly name them, but I know exactly what she means. One of the Sezrakeen, the Emperor’s Daughters. “Last time, when mother was talking to the Receptionist, telling him we were here to pick up Mary, I felt an unusual new sensation off to my right and slightly behind. I looked down one of the hallways leading away from the front desk, and saw the trailing edge of what was a gown or cape on the floor. Just the briefest glimpse of black fabric trailing behind someone passing through the hallway intersection. I can’t describe the sensation well enough. Have you ever walked through the kitchen when your parents were cooking something that required a high temperature, just as they opened the oven door?”, I look at Melissa, “It was like that, but there was no heat. It was just the sensation of standing next to something of immense power. It must be what it’s like to stand next to a nuclear warhead. Nothings really happening, but you have the awareness of being in the presence of great power, ... and doom. I looked back straight ahead and caught the eyes of one of the guards, and blurted out softly ‘Was that . . .?’ The guard still looking forward, with the barest of perceptible head movements, gave one head nod down and up to indicate ‘Yes.’ ” &#x200B; The Utt delegation arrives. Only six of them, with four escorts/guards surrounding. &#x200B; The receptionist waves us up and we fall in behind the delegation, with two of the guards trailing our group. As a young Corporal joins addressing the group. “With all respect, please forgive me for dispensing with the normal formalities. My name is Corporal Novis. If we can take you straight in and get you through the introduction vid, we’ll head directly to the Ops. We should just make it in time to see an Extraction Op.” &#x200B; We’re lead into a theater/auditorium, as I see/hear the receptionist calling my Aunt Mary to announce that we’re here. I can hear my Aunt Mary’s voice faintly from the phone, “Oh God, is that today? OK, thank you Lieutenant.”, She says to the receptionist. “It’ll either be the best possible day to be here, or the worst.” Sounds like Aunt Mary is having a “Manic Monday”, even if it is actually Tuesday. &#x200B; We enter the auditorium and take a seat. The video begins and gives a quick recap of The Empire formation. The Emperor’s early (normal-human) life. His gathering/training over time of the women that would come to be the Sezrakeen. As their lifespans began to extend, so did their power. ”Absolute power corrupts absolutely” as the saying goes, and they were ‘oh so very’ powerful, which lead them to corrupt and crave even more power. It showed the stages we’ve all learned in school. The gathering years, when the young man who would be Emperor gathers the women. The first separation years, where they all pulled away from him, and grew in wisdom and power, . . . and fear of each other. Fear that lead to the great war with each other. After millions of years, traveling through time, back-stopping whole Galaxies to acquire resources and form armies, and waging war to a standstill. Tens of Billions dying as human cannon fodder, but the several hundred Sezrakeen themselves always fighting to a draw. Then the “bitter” years, when they returned to the young man that started them on their path. The 20,000 years of torturing the man, relishing their revenge on him, for the actions they couldn’t take responsibility for themselves. The 40,000 years of the second separation when they abandoned him, alone, on the planet where he had been tortured. Then, finally realizing the faults they were projecting on him, were within themselves. The penitent years, where they sought him out again and set him in place as the Emperor. The Sezrakeen finally becoming the stewards of the Universe, the Multiverse. Committing themselves to serving the people in redemption for billions of deaths, and millions of years of sins. A redemption they don’t ever expect to find. Then finally, the Empire as it exists now. Peaceful. Well, as peaceful as humans can ever be. Spreading across to fill the known Galaxies and exploring the Universe. The vid switched from “The Empire” to the more recent history of the TOC itself, with scenes from assaults on entrenched criminal and military compounds, and a few scenes from some hostage extractions. &#x200B; The auditorium doors open, and Corporal Novis escorts the group out, through a series of three doors, each leading deeper into the TOC. Deeper both meaning, further away from reception, and deeper underground. At one point, we all fit one one large elevator, that ... plummeted is the only appropriate word, down at least 1000 feet underground. The elevator opens. As the delegation in front of us moves to clear our line of sight, Melissa lets slip out, “Is it costume party day?”, I’d thought only I could hear her, but Corporal Novis seems to answer the question. “Today is an Extraction Op, but its one of an unusual type, and requires some of the agents on-site go ‘in costume’ to blend in with the locals. A few have just returned, the remainder are reporting back events/movements, to keep our extraction in sync with events on the other end.” &#x200B; We enter a large set of blast doors, currently open. Mary said they weighed several tons, but was balanced such that a typical six year old could push it open/closed if necessary. &#x200B; “Respected delegates from the Utt homeworld, and other guests, welcome to the ‘TOC’, my name is Lieutenant Mary Corbin.” &#x200B; I see that Melissa is getting her wish, if it was indeed a wish and not a fear. Two of the Sezrakeen are here. Both are in full Spectral form. Imagine ‘Death’ you’ve seen in the movies. Black holocaust cloak. No visible skeleton or body. Just a black void where someone should be inside the vaporous garment. They aren’t walking, so much as gliding when they move. Melissa and I look at each other, but say nothing. &#x200B; Aunt Mary continues, “Today ... is unusual, even for us. For the first hundred years of his life, The Emperor loved stories. Books, Video, Movies, spoken remembrances. You’ve all heard of the Multiverse. The theory that there are an infinite number of Alternate Universes out there. Where if you searched far, and long enough, you could find anything. &#x200B; When the great war was young, and Sezrekeen were looking for a universes with raw materials, and people, to fight their war with each other, they began cataloging the millions, then later billions of “slices” they surveyed. &#x200B; But, like all humans, the Emperor yearned for “Happy Endings” for some of his favorite characters. So many tragic characters, that suffered greatly. It would be cruel to “make” a Universe, where they were enslaved to the stories we’d created here for them. &#x200B; But what . . . What it if was the other way around? What if they were real-true-complete individuals with Free Will in their own Universes. And that the great stories we love, aren’t creations of our Authors, what if instead, the authors of our world were “seeing into” these Alternate Universes, and transcribing what they witnessed? &#x200B; Authors here (sometimes) not being creators of fiction, but instead unintentional witnesses of remote fact. &#x200B; It solved several problems for him. It meant the characters he’d grown to love were real, and had Free Will, and good or bad, happy or sad, at least they were in charge of their own destiny, and it was OUR world, that was different. &#x200B; In the great surveys the Sezrakeen performed, and continue with today, once in a while, they stumble upon a universe from one of the stories in the Emperor’s childhood. &#x200B; A few months ago, one such slice was found. We’ve homed into the particular time and location of interest within that Alternate Universe, and have inserted “agents”, dressed as ordinary citizens, to infiltrate the population, and keep track of the people of interest. &#x200B; The Emperor admits it’s a character flaw, but he can’t help but want to ‘fix’ some of the ends of these stories. And today is one of those Ops . . . &#x200B; But remember . . . Many of these stories were/are classics. Millions, sometimes Hundreds of Billions have read the story over millennia, and even though we can go there, we can’t “really” tamper with the outcome. Or at least, not in such a way that tarnishes the author’s vision into that world. Whatever change we attempt to make, it must be undetectable to the people of that Universe. &#x200B; Two of the Sezrakeen have been overwatch for the the extraction. When our in-place agents indicate the correct time is upon us, they will open a Portal to the Alternate Universe, and Extract the two targets. &#x200B; Timing is hyper-critical, since in the original story, both the main characters everyone has followed, die in the end. &#x200B; But, if we can extract them fast enough, and replace them with clones . . . Then for all intents and purposes, they will “appear” to die in their world to all observers there, and the story will complete as it always had, when in fact it will be the clones left behind that die, and the real characters will be pulled back to our universe/slice and safety. &#x200B; Phase 1 was to find the Alternate Universe slice. Part by arduous an unrelenting searching/cataloging, predominately by dumb luck of just exploring billions of alternate universes until we stumbled upon the right one. Phase 2 was to find the right time within the alternate universe that lines up with “the story” as we all know it. Phase 3 was to get blood samples from both the extraction targets a few weeks before the critical extraction moment. Phase 4 was to grow the clones, and station monitoring equipment (and sometimes human “agents”) near the characters being extracted, to both keep track of timing, and to report interruptions. Agents will report back on the exact clothing the targets are wearing, so we can match it on the clones. &#x200B; This is the point we’re at currently. &#x200B; Phase 5 is the actual extraction/replacement/cleanup. Phase 6 is to “calm” the extracted, perform the necessary medical operations, and explain what’s happening to the two targets. Phase 7 we extract all the inserted agents and clean up/remove any cameras/monitoring equipment. Aunt May bows gently to the group, concluding her presentation. &#x200B; The Sezrakeen, look back at the group, each other, then one of them moves towards our visiting group. The group parts down the middle, until Melissa and I are alone with our backs to the doors. The Sezrekeen holds a black-smoke hand up to my, then Melissa’s foreheads. She was “reading” us. But, she wasn’t just reading us, she changed something. I can feel it. Something is different in me, but, I don’t understand what. &#x200B; Aunt Mary steps forward, speaks, addressing the Sezrakeen nearest me, “Ma'am, the one on the right is my Niece, they are here . . .”, but she stops mid-sentence as the Sezrakeen holds up a hand in the Stop gesture, without looking back. &#x200B; The Spectral form speaks, “It’s fortunate timing. We can use them. They can help.” &#x200B; The black Spectral Form dissipates and leaves behind a woman. Early thirties, about 55 kilos. Long blond hair, green eyes. A slim build. A models build. Likely she was based on a model. The Sezrakeen are so old, even they have forgotten what their original human-born bodies looked like a few million years before. So now, each assumes the form of an Actress or Model when taking physical form. Someone the Emperor remembers from his childhood. It’s both a blessing and a curse. It’s nice to see the beautiful faces he remembers, but they are also the faces of the ones that tortured him for 20,000 years. &#x200B; “Come with me.”, the Sezrakeen / now-woman says to Melissa and I. Walking briskly away out a side door. We hurry to follow. &#x200B; “You can help calm them down. The two we’re extracting. A few minutes ago when I ‘Read’ you, I also inserted the targets birth language. So you’ll be able to understand and talk to them. I could do it, but you’re near their age, and will have more believable responses.”, the woman leads us down a side hall, into a room labeled “Costuming”. &#x200B; Leaving us standing at the entrance, and moving with a blur of speed, she transits up and down the aisles choosing in seconds, two gowns for us to wear. &#x200B; She hands Melissa and I each one of the gowns. Simple designs, muted colors, with long sleeves, and tight upper arms, fluting out into conical larger openings where the hands exit. It’s like wearing skinny jeans on the top, that expand out to bell bottoms on the ends, but, for sleeves. The body of the dress is the same. Ankle length, perfectly sized for each of us, and also conical in shape. There are two black lace veils with some kind of a white under-cap. The Sezrakeen in human form, gives a flourish of one hand in our direction, and I look down to realize now I’ve swapped, and am wearing the outfit, and holding my original clothes. She gestures to the clothes and to a rack of shelves on the side. We set them down. &#x200B; As she leads us back to the Op Center, she tells us the role we will play in the Extraction. &#x200B; “The Alternate Universe we’ve located ... In the original story, two young people we’re extracting, fell in love, but their families were avowed enemies. With the help of her Nurse, and a Friar friend of her lover’s, She had a plan to escape her parents rule by faking her death, then run off to be with the man she loved. She was to take a sleeping potion, mimicking death, then when all had left, to wake and go be with her lover. But, couriers were delayed, messages failed to be delivered, and in a tragic twist of fate, the man only heard news that the love of his life was dead. He goes to visit the crypt. Seeing her lifeless body, is also fooled, and drinks poison he has brought with him to join her. Going unconscious, just in time to see his love wake. Understanding what has happened, she draws her lovers dagger and kills herself, rather than living a life without the man she loves.”, she opens the door for us to reenter the Op Center. &#x200B; She continues, “For the ‘Author’ to see and transcribe the story as it originally played out, the boy must drink the poison, and she must begin to plunge the dagger. It’s at that exact moment, I’ll open the portal to the crypt, the other (pointing to the other Sezrakeen still in Spectral form) will halt the dagger, yank the boy/girl, and replace them with the clones we’ve prepared. The clones were never alive. They have no brain, no nervous system. They never “lived” nor thought any though, but to observers from that place and time, will pass completely for the original targets they are replacing. The entire Extraction/Replacement/Continuing the dagger Plunge, will be over in less than a millisecond. The two Targets will both be ported direct to Med-Bay along with you two. Then comes your part . . . The girl will be conscious and terrified. She’ll have just been stopped a millisecond before committing suicide. The horror of that alone will be traumatic. But she comes from a world, similar to the 1300’s on Mother Earth. Everything she sees, hears, experiences, will all be alien and terrifying to her. She’ll never have had any experience with, or even imagining of . . . Bright interior room lights. Sterile operating rooms and clothing. Intubation tubes and IV’s. Life sign monitors with all their graphic displays and beeping sounds. The foreign (to her) language everyone will be speaking. Your goal is to attract her attention and try and keep her calm. Talk to her in her own language. You need do nothing more than be a friend to her. Let her know we’re trying to help the man she loves, and that she’ll have to be strong for him. Because he’ll be going through the same thing when, if, we can counteract the poison.” &#x200B; A man across the room at suite of consoles announces, “Agent Delta reports the male is entering the crypt now. All units on Stand-By for extraction.” &#x200B; “You couldn’t replace the poison he’s to take with a sleeping potion as well?”, I ask. “Agents on-site couldn’t get to him to swap it unnoticed. We know what it is, so we’re prepared to counteract it, we even managed to lace some of his food over the past weeks, to help build up an immunity and counteract it. But remember, to all observers in that Universe, events must appear to play out as they did originally, in order for the author in our Universe to ‘see’ the vision in his minds eye, of the story he thinks he’s creating, and record the story, the tragedy, just as billions have already come to read it and know it. ” &#x200B; “Video feed on main monitors.”, as we see the view inside the crypt, from three different angles appear on the large end-room monitor. This must be what some of the agents have been doing on-site. Planting hidden monitoring cameras when no one was in the crypt and surrounding passages to see them. &#x200B; “How are we seeing the live feed?”, one of the Utt delegation asks. &#x200B; Aunt Mary responds, “One of the Sezrakeen (now both back in Spectral Form) has opened a mini-portal into that Alternate Universe, and we’re live-streaming radio transmissions of the video feed. We’ve also got comm’s up for the agents in place, and location tracking on the Friar as he approaches the crypt to witness the aftermath.” &#x200B; We wait and watch the monitors, listening to Agents report progress. &#x200B; “Approaching thirty minutes since Target 1 took the poison.”, one of the Tech’s in the Op Center announces to the room. “The Friar is leaving his quarters.”, Agent Bravo announces over the Comm speakers. The room full of people watch as the Friar passes various surveillance cameras, and finally enters the crypt. The Friar and Target 2, the girl, exchange the words most of us have heard. &#x200B; The Friar hears a noise, and startled, begs the girl to leave with him, but, in the seconds after he leaves, she draws the dagger from her lover’s belt and begins to stab herself. In that moment, Sezrakeen one moves, a brief flash occurs on the crypt video as a portal opens, and the two clones, previously waiting on tables to the side of the Op Center are gone. &#x200B; Instantly, now Melissa and I are in another room. A hospital operating theater. Nearly a dozen nurses and doctors move towards and around a young man, unconscious on the hospital bed. Standing between myself and Melissa, is the young girl from the crypt. And she’s screaming. Thumping the empty hand, that only a second ago held a dagger, to her chest. &#x200B; Melissa and I each take an arm in one hand, the other on her shoulder. “Shhh. It’s OK. You are alright. You are safe. He is safe.” Though it sounds strange, because I realize I am speaking Italian. Something I couldn’t do this morning. The Sezrakeen’s change in me . . . &#x200B; “Look. Look!”, I say, moving in front of the young girl, taking her face in my hands. Placing one hand on each side of her face, just in front of the eyes, like forming blinders on a horse, to get her to look only forward, only into my eyes. “You Are Safe.”, I say. “I know it all looks strange. I’ll explain later. All you need to know for now, is that these people are doctors and nurses, and are doing everything they can to save him. Trust them. Trust me. Let them work and help him.” &#x200B; I drop my hands and put one arm around the girls waist, the other on her shoulder, pulling her close to me to have someone to lean on. &#x200B; While Melissa and I have been working with the girl, nurses have been opening the Tunic, and cutting through the white undershirt on the boy. Inserting IV’s, and placing EKG/blood pressure/OxygenFlow monitors on him. &#x200B; The girl looks around at all the displays lighting up with heart rates, respiration, graphs of EKG output. “Just look at him. Only him for now. They will take care of everything else. You’re scared I know. But imagine how it’s going to be for him when he wakes up. All these strange people around him, in a different place. You’ll need to be strong for him. To keep him calm and not fight the doctors and nurses while they get the poison out of his system. Be strong. Strong for the man you love.” &#x200B; The girl lets out a sigh, and leans against me. Then after a moment, stands straight and firm, her eyes, her full attention, now only on the man she loves. &#x200B; I notice the Sezrakeen, previously in the Op Center, are here with us, both in now-human female form. That’s fortunate, the girl would really flip to see them in their normal appearance. &#x200B; One set of doctors/nurses has been inserting/running IV’s. Bags of fluid to counteract any poison already into the young man’s system. Another set working near the head, have inserted some sort of tube, down the nose and into the stomach. We watch for a few minutes and see a black chalky liquid being pumped into, then later drained through the tube. What did my mother call it last year, when our neighbor kid Thomas swallowed the poison? “Activated Charcoal”, mom said it neutralized the undigested poison still in the stomach/intestines, and even helped to leach it out of the lining walls, to keep some of it from continuing on into the blood stream. &#x200B; He’s got a pulse. Had one since the monitors were first hooked up, though at that time, it was erratic, and the blood pressure was falling dangerously. Now, the readings begin to stabilize. Minutes pass like hours. “Blood Chemistry?”, one masked doctor asks. “Coming back. White cell counts went up, trying to fight it as an infection, but everything is stabilizing. And the PPM (parts per million?) on the poison. It’s almost gone.” &#x200B; I ask toward the doctors, “Will there be any long term damage?”, then realize I said it in Italian, and repeat the question for them in English. “No. If he wakes at all, we caught it in time. This particular poison works by suppressing the heart and breathing, if we can make it past that, there should be no long-term organ damage.”, the doctor near the head replies. I translate his response for the girl. &#x200B; “It could still take a few minutes, or he could snap out of it at any second.”, one nurse says in my direction. &#x200B; I move my hand from the girls waist up to her shoulder and guide her forward to the side of the bed. Nurses move to clear a path for us. She’s terrified. She already thought he was dead, and never having seen intubation tubes and all these fluid lines and sensor leads in her world, isn’t helping. &#x200B; “Take his hand.”, I tell her. The girl takes his left hand in hers, putting her right hand on his forehead. &#x200B; “Romeo. I’m here. Everything is fine. You’re safe. I’m safe. Wake up. Wake up my love.” &#x200B; Beeps from monitors, and the whirring cyclical rush of air down and back the intubation tube are the only sounds in the room. Everyone is either holding their breath, or trying to move as little as possible. &#x200B; Juliet looks down at her left hand. He’s squeezing his hand closed around hers. She looks back up to his face. &#x200B; His eyes open, and he begins to reach for the intubation tube, as one of the nurses restrains him. &#x200B; She lets go of his left hand and places her hands on each side of his head as I had done to her. Tilting his head over to her side to look directly into her eyes and leans close, “Look at me. Look only at me. You are safe my love. I am safe. We are both safe, and both together. When they’re sure the poison is out of your system, they’ll remove the tube that is helping you breath. Don’t look at them, don’t worry about them, or the tube, nothing else matters. You are with me, and we are safe, and can live out our lives . . . together.” &#x200B; Melissa and I spend the next few days with the young couple in a nearby resort village for friends/family visiting the medical complex. Explaining how they were found, where they are now. That the Emperor will take care of all their needs. The Sezrakeen we met earlier had already found a planet-system with descendants from Mother Earth, many of whom still speak Italian. Though, even I have been having trouble with dialect. The “old world” dialect of Verona has changed over the millennia and a few of the words just don’t translate. Witnessing the two young lovers experience the modern world, is amazing. Sometimes it’s a bit like watching skittish horses around cars. They’re taken aback by the strangeness of this new world they have entered. But whenever they are afraid, they cling to each other. &#x200B; At night, while the young couple is together, Melissa and I are writing our school report of the events. It’ll be so long, I can’t imagine Ms. Watson will accept it for our school report, “if”, the TOC will clear it when we’re done. We may have to switch over to Melissa’s Uncle, the Llama breeder as our backup plan and use none of this. &#x200B; But even if no one ever is ever allowed to read this story, I wouldn’t trade being part of this, for all the Llamas in the world.