Monthly Short Story for October: A Trip to the IAS (Patreon)

Hello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised as always, in accordance with the results of last month's poll, I present to you the Bonus Story of the Month! There were a total of four choices again, with a majority voting for Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 10.

This time, we’re heading back to Earth, about a year before Emma takes her journey through the portal! The story follows the journey of an LREF (Long Range Expeditionary Forces) Captain, as he makes his way towards the IAS facility that Emma left from to get to the Nexus!

I got to explore a lot in this chapter, mainly focusing on the world and the era Emma hails from. I wanted to use this chapter to sort of give a better insight into that world, and the sort of optimistic vibe I wanted to give humanity and its government in Emma’s future. I also address several points that haven’t been made clear yet in the story, including the location of the IAS’ portal facility! Beyond that, I also allude to a few of the events of the previous bonus stories, including An Interview With An Author and I Woke Up To A Burning World.

So I also highly recommend you check that out too if you haven’t already!

Let's jump right into it then! :D I'd like to proudly present, Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School's ninth side story! :D

A Trip to the IAS

Sol

Special Utility and Operations Yacht Sparrow-Hawk Zero Nine; Registered and Tethered to the LREFS Legacy of the Endurance.

On Approach to the Earth-Luna Transit Corridor

04/01/3047

Captain Li

Many names had been given to it over the years.

Many of them were profound.

Many more were tongue in cheek.

Most were spoken in jest.

Yet none could ever bring themselves to call it anything other than its current namesake.

A name drawn up by a sergeant-turned-poet of all people.

The crown and scepter of humankind.

For as ships of military and civilian designation alike made their final approach into that narrow corridor that was the E-LTC (Earth-Luna Transit Corridor), they would be treated to the sight of some of the greatest ongoing orbital infrastructure projects ever devised of and committed to by man. A project that remains ongoing even to this day.

A project whose official designations, owing to the UN’s propensity for impartial and technical naming conventions, was criminally underwhelming compared to the artistic namesakes assigned to her by all those that had seen her in person.

Here, Earthring and her half-built sister-ring Earthring 2 looked akin to the arches of a crown, encrusted by ‘jewels’ - segments of the rings glowing bright with the flurry of trade and logistics, sparkling against the gray and blue-steel of the rings, and the void that surrounded the homeworld.

Here, Luna, her rings, and her ind-net and def-net orbital arrays were seen laterally. The long line of stations that went up and down the rings blending into what appeared to be a single continuous line - a scepter. The dark and rocky surface of the moon, forever darkened from this vantage point, twinkled like an iridescent stone from the innumerable sources of artificial light criss-crossing about her surface; twinkling like a gem in the head of a scepter.

This sight alone made the hassle that was the 10-layered approach worth it. In fact, the arbitrary limitations placed upon both speed and trajectory turned any approach into a sight-seeing pleasure cruise worthy of envy of even the 20-week trans-stellar blinker run. Though, of course, you had to squint to make all of it out from afar given the actual, practical scale of these structures. Up close though, it was a different story.

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, this is Juliet-Zone Controller Delta-One. You are approaching the Juliet Control Zone of the ELSTA. State your intentions.”

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, last minute itinerary check Lima-Mike-Alpha Mark 3047 Dash Two Dash Two-Three. Authorization was received upon entry into the heliosphere, past the Charon-Dash line. Reference code: Nine Two Seven Five Three.”

…

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine. Last Minute Authorization itinerary confirmed, military authorization received, please hold for final cross-checks.”

…

No one was above the authority of the Earth-Luna Special Transit Authority (ELSTA) and her controllers. With the sole exception of UN-One and maybe UN-Two, not even those on the Unified Command Staff could overrule the desk-jockeys that inhabited the long winding corridors of the ELSTA.

This security was to be expected however, given the density of the spacelanes, the sheer volume of traffic in this small condensed region of space, not to mention the critical significance of Earth, Luna, and her orbiting habitats.

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, come in, over.”

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, receiving.”

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, authorization confirmed. Recognized: VIP military transit. Proceed to space-lane three dash five dash two nine. Repeat, three dash five dash two nine. Switch to secure channel Mike Romeo Charlie. Controller designation Beta-Five. Confirm handover in twenty seconds.”

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, copy. Switching channels, confirm handover in fifteen seconds. Stars Above.”

“Always above, Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine.”

The handover was seamless, the new controller was practically indistinguishable from the previous.

Yet despite being fast-tracked, and despite the last minute approval of my VIP flight path… I still had to go through the arduous process of checking in with the much-dreaded ten-layer bubble that intersected and overlapped into a venn diagram of confusion that only the most seasoned of navigators, or the most daring of fools, were confident in traversing.

Thankfully, I fell into both categories, which made the whole experience that much more exhilarating as the stress and buildup eventually gave way to a front row seat of the blue sapphire of Sol.

Earth.

Her blue radiance unmatched even by the most exotic of extrasolar worlds.

Her aura rich and full of life.

Which was, frankly, to be expected.

Given how she still held on her surface a good fraction of the human population.

But even so, there was still something else there that beckoned me back no matter how far I traveled outwards; as the call to adventure was almost always tempered by the comforts of home.

For no matter how many worlds you encounter, and no matter how quantitatively or qualitatively similar they might seem to the Earth-Analogue Baseline Index (E-ABI), none would ever truly compare to the place that gave rise to our species. There was a reason why everything was judged against the Earth baseline after all.

There was a reason why all worlds, all stations, every habitat and every permanent artificial settlement was judged based on their similarities, or lack thereof, to Earth.

Because ultimately, no matter how you spun it, Earth would always be our home.

No other world, station, habitat, or megastructure could match that which birthed our species.

Which was why it was critical that we maintained it.

The past three centuries marked the greatest extent of the restoration initiatives, balancing environmental restoration and conservation, with human growth and development.

This was clearly visible even here from orbit.

The amazon that had once been so close to collapse, was now greener and lusher than it ever was when the first color photos were taken of it from space. The poles that had once receded to a point of no return, were now refrozen over, back to their size from the first records ever taken of them.

Yet despite the headways made, evidence of the concessions made for the sake of human influence still remained obvious. From the sheer size and scale of the major metropolitan areas and megacities that had all but consumed their local surroundings, to the awkwardly positioned communities and towns that were otherwise surrounded by the Reconstituted Protected Ecosystems (RPEs), to the unnatural boundaries that existed in certain areas where Metropol lines ended and RPE lines began; everything seen on Earth today was the result of the delicate balancing act that was humanity’s never ending thirst for expansion and its desire to protect its home.

Sustainably moving forward, as part of the millennium development goals.

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, this is Alpha-Zone controller Delta-Nineteen. You are approaching the Alpha Control Zone of the ELSTA. State your intentions.”

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, requesting clearance for final approach to Earth, final destination JLZ Acela One.”

“Roger Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, hold for final cross-checks.”

…

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine. Reference code Nine Two Seven Five Three confirmed. Requesting final clearance code and authorization channel for orbit and atmospheric reentry.”

“Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine, copy. Clearance code: Tango Whisky Echo Nine Nine Three Seven. Authorization channel: Swiftbird. In-Atmo designation and callsign: Swiftbird-Nine”

“Copy, Sparrow-Hawk zero-nine. Clearance cross checks complete. Authorization granted. Proceed to corridor Nine dash two two three seven. Repeat, Nine dash two two three seven. Welcome home, Captain Li.”

“Thank you, Delta-Nineteen. Glad to be home.”

=====

Earth - On Powered Reentry and Approach to Joint Landing Zone (JLZ) Acela One

They say that at any given point in time, there were more man-made flying objects than there were birds in flight within Earth’s skies.

It was difficult to really dispel that notion, especially from the pilot’s seat, as flight radars displayed an innumerable number of craft that required the active assistance and filtering of several layers of active and passive VI systems just to make sense of. Tens of thousands of layered flight lanes criss-crossed just my little section of the sky alone. Each and every one of them was busy, with literally no end to their congestion in sight. This was because most of them were paths completely dedicated and relegated to unmanned, or remotely operated flights, operating as an unbroken chain of logistics that extended from coast to coast in what most colloquially referred to as an aerial train.

A system of logistics that was as impressive in scale as they were in punctuality. As delays had become a thing of the past, and any delay was second-swipe news for about twenty minutes at peak hours.

Which was, to say, a big deal; and would more than likely lead to that sector’s overseer getting into some serious hot water.

But whilst navigation was already a headache, flying itself was something that was just as, if not more taxing.

In-atmo flight was something that felt both restricting yet visceral at the same time, like you were constantly and consistently fighting against a force that kept you from leaving its vice grip. Every moment of flight felt as if you were fighting with the forces of nature itself, which honestly warrants respect for those specialized in this sort of flight.

Namely, TASC.

The Terrestrial Air and Sea Command had long been the butt of all jokes within the seven branches of the armed forces.

Even the Electronics Warfare and Cybersecurity Command got in on the train, despite their own lack of physical assets.

It was only the LREF that gave the underdogs any sort of respect in casual banter. Namely because LREF training for those deployed in an expeditionary capacity required powered in-atmo flight certification; which was the prerogative of TASC.

This was why I was even certified to fly in-atmo in the first place, and why I tried to sneak in every opportunity to maximize my in-atmo flight hours, logging them for my yearly review.

This was the part of the job that people don’t often think of. The re-certification, the flight hour mandates, and the qualification review committees. Everything done to appease both personal merit and technical capacity.

Yet despite the more banal parts of the job, it was moments such as these that made it worth it; flying the gold, blue, and white livery from the furthest corners of known space back to where it all began.

It would be even more worth it when I landed at the JLZ.

Because whilst I first signed up for the thrill and the spirit of exploration, the call of adventure, and the drip of the uniforms, both time and age had prompted the formation of another, unexpected desire.

A desire to pass on the torch as best as I could.

Perhaps it was just a quarter-to-midlife crisis thing. Or perhaps it was because I still distinctly recalled the catalyst behind my career in the first place - what amounted to an unprompted and unannounced meet-and-greet that cemented my commitment to the path I’d take. Courtesy of a passing Ranger who decided to put in the time and effort to entertain the boundless questioning of a group of wide-eyed kids.

But when I took a closer look at the likelihood of that whole encounter even happening, I started to realize just how unlikely that turning point in my life really was.

Earth was the last place you’d expect to see the blue and gold cloaks and capes of the LREF. Because even in the JLZs, where civilian and military traffic merge in low-priority security zones, the LREF was often nowhere to be seen.

You mostly saw EAF transfers, EWCC stragglers, and of course your TSEC cross-deployments.

But LREF? The branch was significantly smaller and had less of a reason to transfer through JLZs.

Which made any LREF arrival that much more of a big deal.

“JLZ Acela One Tower, this is Swiftbird Zero Zero Nine Heavy, requesting final clearance to land.”

“Swiftbird Zero Zero Nine, cleared to land, enter right downwind for runway two-nine right.”

“Swiftbird Zero Zero Nine, runway two-nine right, roger.”

With those final few words, I began my approach, but not without checking the local social networks for the latest buzz, zeroing in into a particular subset of niche interests that was now all but blowing up; the result of flight trackers having caught wind of my arrival.

#LREFinbound

#SWIFTBIRDinbound

#FLIGHT009

#MEETUPATJLZONESTAT

Chirpr’s military and aviation geeks were in a frenzy.

Which made sense.

Because that’s exactly how my chance encounter went decades ago.

Ten minutes later, I found myself touching down, and as I ticked off box after box of post-touchdown checklists - of which there were so many that it would’ve taken hours to do without the aid of advanced automated VIs - I began noticing a small crowd gathering in the arrivals terminal.

They’d even brought out a 1:10 scale replica of the proprietary LREF shuttle I piloted down here.

“This is going to be wild.”

=====

Earth - Joint Landing Zone (JLZ) Acela One - Arrivals Public Concourse

Things were, in fact, wild. As after I’d gone through the typical sign-offs, check-ins, and transit controls, I was immediately swamped by a not-too-small crowd of at least twenty or so enthusiasts.

Them, and their seven and a half meter long scale model that they’d lugged along with them.

“How does she handle?!”

“Is it true that the OG 2999 model was actually way better?”

“Have you met ALIENS yet?!”

“Okay okay calm down, erm. For one, read my blog. For two, refer to answer one. As for three, that’s classified.” I winked at that latter question, causing an uproar of groans and frustrated grunts.

More questions were thrown my way, most of them on the specifics behind the new shuttle, though some of them started to trend towards the series of questions I found myself asking just over twenty years ago.

“How’d you do it? How’d you get into the SRE? How’d you avoid getting trapped pushing papers in the MCCE or getting stuck sitting around collecting dust in the ERE?”

The questions were valid to those seeking the honor and prestige that was associated with being on the frontier. The answers I had, more or less lining up with the answers the LREF ranger I’d met in this very concourse twenty years ago.

“Well, first off, there’s nothing wrong about the ERE. The expeditionary response element officers and enlisted are as much Rangers as the rest of us in the scouting and recon element. Secondly, there’s no shame in choosing rear guard duty or office work in the mobile command and coordination element. You’re still as much a Ranger, and that’s what matters… better than flying the same routes over and over again in the EAF at least.” I gave the group a wink before choosing to finally roll up my sleeves, revealing a rubber wrist band that had faded and worn over the years. “As for how I did it? Well, maybe being a huge LREF fanboy had a thing or two to do with it.”

A small period of silence descended on us, only to be broken moments later by what looked to be the impromptu leader of the group. “Is that-”

“It is. Once a Starwing, always a star wing. I was club vice president of the Acela branch, 3015 to 3017.” I grinned out wildly, with the faces I received in response ranging from shock to outright disbelief.

“You’re… Calico Li?”

“Ya’ll still remember me?” I snickered. “And here I thought club drama back in ‘25 outright expunged my name from club records.”

“I mean, that’s old drama, sir.” The teen spoke, before leaning forward with a single hand covering his mouth. “And between you and me, Harper wasn’t exactly club material to begin with.”

I couldn't help but to let out a long drawn out sneer at that, as a massive pang of nostalgia hit me hard.

It was… strange to be on the other side of the fence. To play the role model that you once looked up to. In a way, imposter syndrome was starting to set in.

But those sorts of feelings were inevitable, and par for the course.

“So, let’s get down to business! I’m guessing you guys came here to ask for more than a photo op with your model here.” I pointed to the impressive model, giving the wing a solid smack, only for it to audibly crack, prompting my eyes to go wide, and several more of the group to gasp in sheer panic. “Okay wait, I can fix this.” I began rummaging through my pockets in a fit of panic, before landing on a multitool that had just enough adhesive in it to repair and reseal the sizable crack. “There! All better. Erm, yeah, gosh I’m sorry guys.”

“I-it’s alright sir.” One of the smaller members of the group muttered out awkwardly.

“But yes!” I cleared my throat, trying to rectify the situation by tying it to some roundabout analogy. “That right there? That’s what it means to be a Ranger.”

“To break stuff by being too rough with it?” A voice sneered out from the crowd.

“By being too eager to engage and interact with new equipment, is perhaps a more accurate way of framing things.” I shot back with a finger gun that I hoped wasn’t too awkward.

No response came from either the snarky but well deserved commenter, or the rest of the crowd, which prompted me to continue. “But yes, both by being eager to investigate and interact, but also by being quick-thinking enough to fix and repair anything on the spot. Because let me tell you, out there? Beyond the sphere? Outside of supply lines and the final threshold line where the Minimum Effective Logistics Capacity (MELC) ends? You gotta be quick on your feet to implement quick solutions to the most unprecedented of faults.”

“Which is why you carry a multi-tool even when you’re off-duty?” Another voice piped up.

“Exactly!” I managed out with a dumb grin, before another awkward silence descended on the group. “But in all seriousness, I’m sorry about your model.”

“Don’t worry sir.” The ‘leader’ of the group spoke up again. “We’ll be sure to keep it as is, because we sure as heck won’t let down the story of the Ranger who snapped off a scale model only to play it off as a life lesson.” He smirked, prompting me to chuckle in response as the usual final remarks came around, and several group photos were taken; courtesy of the group’s media drones.

Twenty more minutes would pass as we relocated to the spaceport cafe. And after clearing the bill with the unlimited purse that was the On-Duty LREF Transit Funds, I had only one more closing remark to leave the small group off with.

“Listen, I’m going to be honest here. The path you’re all about to embark on might be tough, and some roads may be longer than others. But at the end of the day, the LREF, and heck, every other department out there needs people. It may take longer for some of you to reach your turn, but trust me, you will. Because despite the rules, the red tape, and the paperwork, the people on the other side reviewing your apps are just that - people. There’s always a human face on the other side of the monitor. There’s always humanity underpinning the bureaucracy. Which means there’s more than one way to reach your destination, even if the most obvious path might not be attainable. Your letters and applications will pass through at least ten desks before arriving back to you. And contrary to popular belief, a flat-out rejection barely happens. Though outright acceptance isn’t that common either. Most letters will offer you conditional acceptances, pathways to hop onto that will lead you to the same destination.” I paused, letting that sink in. “The wall of rules and regs isn’t so much a wall, as it is an endless winding corridor. There’s always a path practically tailored for each of you. You just gotta push through it, poke around, until you see the other side.” I offered, garnering silent yet thoughtful nods from the group as a small alarm started to beep on my HUD. “And with that, I think it’s time to take my leave. You have my contacts and my blog right?”

The group leader nodded confidently, tapping his own AR glasses for added effect. “Yes, sir.”

A few more goodbyes were had and some last minute photos were taken before I started rolling down the concourse once more.

Looking back on the interaction, I knew I wasn’t able to inspire them all. I knew that personal anxieties ran much deeper than what I could feasibly address in an hour. Still, it was better to have had that interaction than not at all. These sorts of impromptu casual meet and greets were important, at least to me.

Because that’s what this whole thing was about, right? Helping out one another, providing guidance where it’s needed?

That’s what society was about in the modern world.

In fact, that’s why I was here in the first place.

As a certain opportunity had reared its head, one that was equal parts fascinating as it was equal parts utterly drenched in mystery.

And like any good Ranger, I couldn’t pass up on the mystery.

So with a few parting goodbyes and a casual salute, I parted ways with the group, heading towards an awaiting vehicle highlighted for me on my AR glasses.

[DOT-MIL-GOVSCORT005.]

A pure white government-escort class utility vehicle marked with the two letters that popped from the stark white of the paintjob.

UN.

=====

Earth - Acela Corridor - Port of New York and New Jersey

Arriving at the long line of skyscrapers that bordered and actually dipped into the Acelan coast, I was greeted with a smaller, more secluded terminal reserved primarily for privately leased or government-exclusive voyages.

Boarding the craft was relatively straightforward, as there seemed to be just under thirty or so people in the comparatively large terminal where we were scanned and checked through. Judging by their badges and their uniforms, most were clearly already part of the IAS, and not newcomers like myself.

The craft in question was a surface vessel that looked to be almost exactly what most would expect from your stereotypical Earth-based ship.

Simply put, it was elegant. The striking shape was as modern and sleek as it was vintage in its callback to the coal-fired days of transatlantic liner travel. In fact, one could say its size definitely fit the bill.

After entering the craft, attending what muster drills there were, I soon found myself gravitating towards the main dining hall given how all I'd had for the entire day was a cup of coffee and a croffle from that cafe.

Picking my seat was a no brainer, given how expansive the space was considering its actual occupancy. So after seating myself down, and flagging down one of the robotic staff to place my order, I began the typical ritual of scrolling senselessly through my feeds as my food was getting prepped.

ENTERTAINMENT: VTUBER DRAMA! LEGACY STREAMER HALTS STREAM FOR SECOND WEEK IN A ROW, AS 20-GENERATION-STRONG ‘LEGACY’ FAMILY EMBROILED IN LEGAL BATTLE OVER THE RIGHTS TO GENERATION VII MODELS!

Ugh. Not in the mood.

SPORTS: LUNAR LEISURE LIVING’S NEIL ARMSTRONG OPEN STARTS ITS 540TH ANNUAL TOURNAMENT! LUNAR GOLF FANS HAIL THE RETURN OF THE 127 YEAR-OLD LEGEND PETER FORESTER!

I don’t even like sports.

TRAVEL AND LEISURE: TRAVELERS DELIGHT AT THE LAUNCH OF THE NEW LOWELL CLASS INTERSTELLAR LINERS! DEPARTMENT OF TRANSPORT AND EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC LOGISTICS CONFIRMS THE APPROVAL OF THIS FISCAL DECADE’S TRAVEL-FOR-LEISURE AND TRAVEL-FOR-WORK SUBSIDIES!

Okay cool. It’d maybe cooler if wasn’t for the fact that all the Lowell class was, was a souped up Dumont class; extended, with 2 hab-rings added to the aft and stern.

I couldn’t bring myself to read more popular news, simply settling for some cat videos, before returning to a series of classified messages that got me here in the first place.

The whole exchange was still bizarre to look back on, even as I now barreled towards the site of the IAS proper. I couldn’t help but to review the whole offer, the one-year long stint on Earth, the promise of several LREF commendations and career perks, as well as the perks of the cross-departmental cooperative. Which would prove to be a huge boon to the later years of my career as it opened up opportunities to move into not just advanced command positions, but also getting first-pick of mission-lead roles in advanced science missions courtesy of the IAS’ parent organization - the United Nations Science Advisory.

Beyond that though, the offer itself was outright wild. It stated that I’d be training a Cadet in advanced forward expeditionary operations tactics. The details were sparse, but at the same time, highly specific. They wanted me to brainstorm more ideas, to improve on what they referred to as a one-man extended mission, a hypothetical scenario of a lone operator operating behind enemy lines and cut off from all UN assistance.

It was downright bizarre, but it was that bizarreness that drew me to it.

That, and I absolutely loved brainstorming these sorts of things.

So I decided that if there was anyone who could draw up the designs to this fantastical thought experiment, it had to be me.

I assumed it was another one of those highly specific, really intense LARP-like situations the really dedicated science institutes tended to cook up from time to time. One that would be published and would lead to another breakthrough in some niche field, but that needed to be hush-hush until then.

But that didn’t explain the wild goose chase the IAS has had the LREF committed to for decades now. It didn’t explain the hushed missions that were retreading old scouting sites, on the hunt for what was being thrown around in name and name alone - quintessence. The only evidence of which was apparently right here on our doorstep, with no further examples found anywhere else.

Whatever the case was, my thoughts were preoccupied with the details behind the offer for the rest of the night, until I finally retired to my stateroom and found something waiting for me on the desk.

A stack of paper, no less. With writing utensils that ranged from graphite pencils to ballpoint pens.

It was oldschool sure, but nothing unheard of. Enough to warrant a few raised eyebrows though.

Sitting down to review the paperwork, I assumed it was your typical clearance documentation and whatnot.

Which it was.

Or at least, that’s what it genuinely was for the first few pages.

However, the deeper I went, the less standard these documents became.

As what started out as the standard E99-Bs through to the H-32s suddenly took a whole other turn, starting with a yellow folder labeled Official Questionnaire, written in a non-official font, and formatted in a way that didn’t comply with the Standardized Formatting Guidelines. In fact, the font wasn’t anything I recognized in contemporary circulation, looking like something that attempted to mimic the ancient typewriter-style typefaces.

The fine print however indicated that the document was proprietary to the IAS. Moreover, it stated in clear legalese that my entry to the IAS proper would be contingent on the answers I gave.

So answer wisely, were the final few ominous words at the bottom of the page.

“Okay then.” I muttered out with a raised brow, before opening the page to reveal what looked to be a basic series of questions and answers. Yes and no questions with bubbles that were to be filled in with graphite, along with a small space to clarify one’s answers should it be required.

The first question was basic enough.

Are you afraid of the water?

I assumed this was just a means of evaluating how comfortable I was with bodies of open water given the geographical location of the IAS installation.

Were you directly involved with, or were in any way tangentially affiliated with, the investigative, relief, or direct military efforts of the Jovian Insurrection?

This assumption was quickly challenged however by the very next question, which definitely threw me for a loop.

Are you a collector of antique furniture?

Do you have an interest in vintage furniture?

Do you often find yourself compelled to visit, or find yourself actively searching for non-permanent private retailers of eclectic antiques? (The term often can be defined as at least one instance per week, with no memory of preceding triggers of this sudden interest.)

This was before it dove straight off a cliff with its nonsensical direction, prompting me to flip the pages forward to ensure this wasn’t a prank or some misprint of some poor intern’s personality quiz.

But the more I dug, the more I found out this clearly wasn’t the case at all. As each and every page was printed with official IAS seals. This prompted me to continue, my suspicions of the whole document increasing further and further which each and every pageflip.

Have you had any strange dreams recently?

Describe to us your most vivid dream.

Have you ever dreamed of any of the following: A. A burning city B. A sinking city C. A falling city D. A sunken city?

Are you an avid reader of fiction? If so, what type, and describe it.

Are you familiar with ancient history? If so, please describe the era and the particularities of your interest.

Have you ever felt like you were not yourself?

Have you ever had lapses in your memory?

Have you ever found yourself in a place you had no memory of traveling to?

What is your oldest memory?

The final question, however, stumped me.

And it wasn’t because it was graphic, or shocking.

It was merely… bizarre and nonsensical.

What is the Oldest House?

I was tempted to just ignore the whole thing.

But then again, I recalled my earlier theory - that this whole operation was the result of a convoluted ten-layered thought-experiment of some eccentric scientist brought to life.

So with that assumption in mind, I began answering each and every question as if it were my entrance exam into the LREF proper.

It took a couple hours to finish, but when I did, I decided to immediately pass out on the plush king sized bed; but not before filing the stack of documents off to some attendant bot that left with a single affirmative beep.

An indeterminate amount of time later, my alarm rang, prompting me to get up, shower, get dressed, and march towards the docking ramp that would lead me and the rest of the passengers to our final destination.

But as the docking ramp opened, and the sight of our destination became clear, I couldn’t help but to let out a long drawn out ‘huh’ of confusion.

What I was seeing was just the open ocean. With the object directly in front of us being just your typical mid-ocean United Nations Climate Control Organization (UNCCO) station. It was large, sure, but much smaller than what I’d expected.

My curiosities continued to pique as I saw another docking ramp emerge from another part of the ship, this time, unloading cargo that would’ve been way too excessive for this little station.

I continued watching in abject curiosity as I walked forward down the ramp and into the station, until finally, the true scale of the operation became abundantly clear to me.

As the interior of the base was effectively hollow, revealing what seemed to be a warehouse-like facility, with control rooms and the appropriate support facilities, all bordering what was undeniably a Class VII deep-sea elevator.

“Ah, Captain Li.” I heard a voice coming from behind the elevator, circling around it to approach me. “We meet at last. I’m Doctor Laura Weir, Director of the Institute of Anomalous Studies.”

“Doctor Weir, I would say I’ve heard much about your operations but-” I looked around, extending my arms out through my cloak for good measure. “-it’s clear that we’re only at the tip of this iceberg it seems.”

The Director, to her credit, broke out a smile at that joke. “A prudent analysis, Captain. And indeed, one quite fitting for the facility which you now stand atop of.”

A small pause punctuated that latter statement, as I let out a single, excitable smirk. “It’s underwater isn’t it? The base, and the unobtainable quintessence you’ve had my compatriots chasing after.”

“Indeed it is, Captain Li. Indeed it is.”