First Mate

The crackling of the boarding device faded as Rodney Trask stepped out onto the deck of The Inevitability. A magnificent view greeted him: broad planks of sparkling mahogany, burnished brass guardrails, and at the other end of the ship, well-oiled doors to the crew’s quarters and captain’s cabin. One slim metal mast, sailless and shining, stood halfway between Trask and the stern. Off the sides of the vessel, ripples of otherworldly colors undulated silent and sublime: the Time Sea.

Trask looked out to the horizon. Rolling ribbons of transluscence flowed in every direction beneath a deep turquoise sky. The waves rose and fell with an unnatural slowness, their colors shifting with each pitch and toss of the ship. One which appeared cerulean at its crest might turn a rich amber as it fell, only to change as though by a trick of the light into crimson, indigo, or azure. Some said that if a person looked too long upon the open Time Sea, they would see the future - or else go mad. Both were probably untrue. But glimpsing the lightless future of a lone pirate wastrel held no appeal for him anyway. Just as he made to turn away, a distant bolt of violet-tinged lightning lit up on the horizon. It arced through the sky in slow-motion, the glow hanging in the sky for an impossibly long moment. Trask might have found it beautiful, once.

He revolved slowly, just in time to catch a glance of the last few wisps of shimmering energy dissipating off of the teleporter through which he had just entered. The next crew member should have arrived right after him. A frown deepened on Trask's visage as he turned back to face the upper deck. Where one might expect to see a captain’s wheel, there instead towered a mass of shining copperish gears, knobs, and dials: the navigation system. Numerous smaller technological protrusions dotted the lower deck at seemingly random intervals. It all looked immensely complex - which it was, of course. Sailing through time was no simple task. Only the cleverest crews could successfully navigate the Time Sea.

Unfortunately, Interchonological Law insisted that no more than one individual was to pilot a vessel through time - a nearly impossible task. While Trask was not above breaking the rules, he was nevertheless hesitant to violate this particular decree. Carelessness in time travel could have consequences far beyond the legal domain, after all. But as luck would have it, some bright, early time-travelers had found a viable solution to the issue which Trask was happy to emulate.

With a sudden mighty zapping sound, the boarding device activated once more. Silhouetted briefly by blazing white light, a second Rodney Trask stepped out onto the deck of The Inevitability. The first Trask approached, sizing up the newcomer as he adjusted to the surroundings. The second Trask was clearly younger, with a thin chinstrap of a beard and hardly a line on his face. More noticeably, the older character bore a patch over his left eye and a broad scar which ran down from his forehead beneath the patch and onto his cheek.

“You’re late, deckhand.”

The younger Trask snorted.

“Well, it’s good to know I maintain my charming personality in old age.”

The older Trask elected to ignore this comment. Running a ship crewed by versions of oneself from different points in time was entirely its own kind of strange. After an awkward pause, he began again in a hoarse growl.

“From now until the conclusion of this voyage, you are not Rodney Trask. You are Second Mate.” Trask poked Second Mate hard in the chest to punctuate this statement. “I will be referred to as First Mate, or First Mate Trask.”

Second Mate straightened a bit, apparently persuaded to adjust his attitude, and nodded curtly. “Understood. Less confusing that way.” His eyes lingered around his elder’s scar-framed eyepatch. “So we lose an eye, huh?” He asked with a sober curiosity, “How’d we manage that?”

First Mate Trask looked away. “Doesn’t matter,” he grunted, “It’s not as though you’ll remember anything I tell you any-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the teleporter crackled to life once more. A thin figure stumbled out onto the scene, clearly disoriented. Though even younger than Second Mate, this was clearly the same man. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, but had the same long nose, same broad, thin mouth, and same molasses-colored eyes as his two elders.

First Mate Trask met his own gaze as the young man straightened up. Those bright youthful eyes were so curious, hopeful, nervous, and searching. He missed the soul living behind them. It was so warm, and so naive.

If only you knew, kid…

How stupid he must have been to not realize that a life of piracy would rob him of his own greatest treasure - that very light behind his eyes. He only had one pupil left to glimmer, anyway, and the prospect of a strong drink was about the only thing that would spark anything in that dim orifice now.

Perhaps the younger Trask perceived something of the First Mate’s thoughts, or else was just unsettled by the sight of the grim and ragged upper-middle-aged buccaneer; he opened his mouth as if to say something, but no noise came out. Thankfully, Second Mate Trask interrupted the young one’s silent greeting.

“Welcome aboard, kid! How’s it feel to be looking at a pair of people who used to be you?”

The youthful Trask chuckled in nervous gratitude as the Second Mate threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Very, very weird. I was told to expect it, though.”

The First Mate turned away as his less world-weary counterparts struck up meaningless banter. They would undoubtedly dislike him - not that he could hold that against them. Why not get an early start on it? He glanced again at the open sea, before wheeling back around to provide further instructions. A hefty clearing of his throat gained him the attention of the two chatterboxes, and he began to speak.

“Our captain is undoubtedly already aboard the vessel and plotting our course. We will all, naturally, be leaving the vessel at different points in time, through the boarding device, once we are in range of the various time ports toward which we each make berth. As you should already be well-informed, none of us will remember our interactions with each other, or anything else from this splendid voyage, other than our individual destinations and purposes, once we exit through that machine. All clear so far?”

The First Mate delivered this presentation with intense speed and volume, while maintaining a remarkably flat tone and affect. Deckhand Trask (as Second Mate had just christened the youngest crewmate) and Second Mate nevertheless replied in enthusiastic unison, “Aye sir!”

Just as the First Mate opened his mouth to speak again, a fourth, booming voice rang out from across The Inevitability.

“GOOD EVENING, GENTLEMEN!”

All three Trasks turned to see the speaker. A large man in resplendent synth-leather garb strode their way, grinning broadly. A broad bicorn hat was perched atop his silver curls, and a jewel-encrusted patch obscured his left eye. The remaining iris matched the golden-brown hue unique to Trask. He was heavier than any of the younger versions, and noticeably taller - though this could be attributed to the huge high-heeled boots he sported. Innumerable wrinkles made a treasure map across the plump, cheery face.

“That was a fine presentation, First Mate Trask!” he called jovially. Arriving at the gathering of Trasks, he extended a ring-encrusted hand to each of them in turn. “Captain Trask, at your service. Though I suppose you know that!” He chortled heartily. His audience was stunned into silence by the jarringly bright presence of this new character. Captain Trask did not seem to mind. Clapping his shining hands together, he barked, “Righto! Deckhand, is it? You follow the Second Mate around a while, aye? He’ll show you the ropes and gears of this old rustbucket finely, I’m sure!” He made a shooing motion towards the younger crewmates, who snapped back into reality to salute their Captain and scuttle off towards the navigation array.

First Mate Trask blinked rapidly, mouth slightly agape. The idea that the next couple of decades would transform him into this jolly creature was beyond imagination. For a long moment, the Captain’s gaze remained across the ship as the younger Trasks set to work toggling various pieces of machinery. He sighed heavily, then turned back to the First Mate with a more reserved smile.

“No need to look so flabbergasted,” the Captain chuckled, “many folks put on some poundage as they get older!” He laughed at his joke, then strode over to a rickety table and set of dubious chairs a few yards away. Sinking into the nearest seat with a groan, he beckoned First Mate Trask over. “Sit with me, Rod! We’ve something important to discuss.”

The hardened, time-traveling sailor followed slowly and sat gingerly upon the other chair. No one had ever called him ‘Rod’ before, and he certainly never referred to himself that way. Normally, overly cheery souls like this one peeved the First Mate like nothing else; yet this character elicited only a subdued respect from the middle-aged Trask.

The enigmatic Captain leaned forward, his singular eye squinting with warm curiosity. For some reason, the First Mate struggled to meet his elder’s gaze.

After a long moment, the Captain spoke. “Tell me, Rod. Is this the lowest you’ve ever been?”

The unabashed frankness of the question stunned the younger man. Then again, the context of a conversation with one’s own time-traveling self pretty much rendered all pretenses obsolete. The silence lasted for a long moment, but did not seem to disturb the older man, and the First Mate looked to the horizon.

“Yes.”

“Mmm,” the Captain leaned onto the table, still looking searchingly towards the avoidant First Mate. “Does the idea of something actually changing…seem impossible?”

There was another long pause. This was unspeakably strange.

“Yes,” the First Mate eventually muttered again. He forced himself to look into the Captain’s eye. “Yes, it does.”

“Mmmmm,” the older man nodded knowingly and slumped back in his chair. It was his turn to look off into the distance.

The Inevitability rocked gently, prompting a quiet siren-song of creaks across and beneath the shining deck. A far-off bolt of lightning wove silently across the sky once more. The Captain stiffened ever so slightly at the sight of it, his lined face illuminated by the lasting glow, before turning back to face the First Mate.

“One last question for now, if you’ll be so kind as to oblige me. If there were a chance for real change…would you take it?”

Anytime before this very moment, the Rodney Trask conversing with the Captain of The Inevitability would have cynically retorted that such a chance could not exist. But this concise, bizarre, and honest interaction drew out a hope that the rugged pirate had forgotten resided deep inside.

“Yes,” he replied hoarsely, “I…I would.”

Lines deepened on the Captain’s face as a slight smile appeared there.

“He said you’d say that.”

Trask blinked.

"He said..?"

The Captain leaned forward, his whole being suddenly charged with a new intensity. He began to speak very quickly.

“There are two important things you need to know, Rod. First off, I am, unfortunately, not you.”

Bringing both hands up to his face, he removed the eyepatch from his left eye and a colored contact from his right. First Mate Trask did not have time to even begin to react before the older man before him continued speaking.

“My name is Matthias Salamugundi, and someday in your future we will be the best of friends.”

Trask began to stand, reeling, but the man named Matthias grabbed his wrist firmly and kept him from fully rising. He continued in a forced whisper, eyes afire in the light from the turquoise sky.

“I have used technology from our futures to temporarily adopt an appearance passable enough to board this ship in your name.” He leaned far forward as he spoke. “I know this is hard to believe, but…you sent me here. Your older self, that is.”

This was too much for Trask to take in; the world was spinning around him, but he anchored his gaze on the man from his apparent future. Somehow, the truth of these unreasonable words was sinking in, even as Matthias continued his rapid monologue.

“For reasons I cannot explain now, the older Rodney Trask with whom I am friends could not come on this voyage. He sent me in his stead, to guide you in a momentous step in your journey.”

He gestured fervently towards the teleporter through which the three Trasks had so recently entered the scene. "You cannot return to your reality through that boarding device - you will lose all memory of this hope for a changed story.”

Matthias erupted from his seat, dragging First Mate Trask with him to the starboard side of The Inevitability, and looked him dead in the eye.

“You have to jump.”

Trask jerked away, disbelieving, but Matthias took him by the shoulders.

“That’s what you told me, Rod! You said, ‘when the third bolt strikes, the First Mate must jump!’" Matthias's face was unquestionably sincere. "He said you would know what that meant...”

As the strange detail fell from his future friend's lips, First Mate Trask felt a shiver come over him. There was no deception in this. Matthias must have sensed Trask's growing trust, as his posture relaxed slightly. He spoke again more quietly.

“Trust the Time Sea, it will take you where - and when - you need to go next. It won't be long for you until we meet properly, though you'll already be a very different man by that point.”

Both sailors looked to the sky, waiting. Trask was still mute from the shock and rapid escalation of it all, but Matthias continued.

“You still have a long journey ahead. Almost never does a person change deeply in a single moment…but this can be the single moment when your deep change begins.”

Matthias clapped a hand to Trask's shoulder, then stepped away. He would need to find the younger sailors and provide some sort of explanation for the First Mate's disappearance. More than that though, he and Rodney both sensed that the time of departure was near.

First Mate Trask looked out over the endless expanse of the Time Sea. Those unimaginable colors still rose and fell as far as the eye could see, like a thousand shifting dunes of blown glass. Could a new story really begin with a plunge into those depths?

Was this completely insane? Was it worth the risk?

Just then, a bolt of lightning blazed a trail across the darkening sky. This was it.

Rodney Trask did not look back.