Jupiter, my Jupiter, welcomed me back to Sol system. I quickly searched the many spacecraft nearby and found the Pykrete floating just outside of traffic lanes. They were trying to get the netting and manipulator arms stowed, but the damage was causing complications. One wing of the ship wouldn’t close.
I took a few deep breaths and brought down my armor. In space, I was aware of the cold, but it didn’t penetrate or damage my skin since the Stoneskin patch had acclimated. My epidermis was hard enough to deflect shipboard railgun fire, but that solar system had left me nearly glowing with radiation. I could feel my crystalline colonies retreating into my other organs and musculature.
With a long, slow exhale, I mentally authorized my suit to skin me. After I had woken up in Sleem, figured out what was happening to me, and started on the path to getting my affiliate back, I’d hoped my days of getting skinned were over. It was getting more difficult to damage me enough to even need it. At least the process regrew my hair and beard once the new skin was in place.
After that particularly unpleasant experience, I pushed my remnant skin toward Jupiter. There was no way I was selling that to BuyMort, no matter how mortie-poor I was. That was the perfect way to teach Axle exactly what my crystalline colonies were all about. I had no doubt he’d placed standing orders the second he heard about my arrival.
Once I had a new epidermis, I got involved in the ship’s problems. With my direct aid, the broken parts were successfully stowed and I was able to board the ship again. I boarded through the regular airlock, to ensure I wasn’t too irradiated to be around the crew. The BuyMort pod locks didn’t typically have the sensors, because BuyMort pods were typically impervious to radiation.
As soon as I was on board, I was confronted by a surprise. My crew was gathered in the embarkation room, applauding as I entered. Our red faced captain led them, but I saw more than one face beaming with pride. We had accomplished a terribly difficult and noble task together, and for all their whining and fear, my crew felt good about what we had done. They felt good about themselves.
Shoshanna stood at the back, one hand partially covering her gigantic smile as tears streamed down her cheeks. Once the applause dwindled to nothing, my girlfriend raised her voice and shouted, “How was it over there?!”
I shook my head, smiled back at her, and shrugged. “Beautiful. He was so excited to be there he left without saying goodbye. Though he never did before when we parted ways, so I don’t know why I was expecting him to this time.”
Our documentary crew approached and the host began haranguing me with questions. They got full descriptions of the solar system and my final moments with Cube, then started in on questions about what was next for the non-profit. Shoshanna and I talked to them for most of an hour as the crew got back to work.
It was time to go home to Nu-Earth. It was time to begin my political career.
With Shoshanna, Terna, and Justin Lee at my side, I made the announcement a week after the expedition’s return. Save the Cubes honored its contracts and paid out the hazard clauses for each crew member. We even memorialized all of them on a plaque at the affiliate’s headquarters, which were set up on Nu-Earth in the wake of our success. Not in Prescott, but close by on the Gulf of Mexico’s coast.
After the announcement, I got to work using various ad assistance affiliate agencies, rolling through a variety of often over-the-top suggestions, trying for a hard balance of truth and awesomeness by which to lead my campaign. After hours of work, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the holographic 'solid copy' display of my first political ad, then approved it, letting it overwhelm my senses and plunge me into ad space. Blinking, I saw myself in a sleek, minimalist room with a vast, wall-sized window overlooking the horizon of Nu-Earth, drenched in the beautiful reddish light of a setting sun.
“Vote Tyson Dawes for CEO of Silken Sands. Bold Leadership. Trusted Experience. A Proven Vision.”
A smooth, authoritative voice echoed through the room as golden letters shimmered into view against the backdrop of Nu-Earth’s skyline. The camera zoomed in on me, standing tall at the edge of the cityscape, my black suit with silver pinstripes catching the last glints of sunlight.
“Under Tyson’s leadership, Silken Sands saw an era of unprecedented growth, stability, and innovation. Now, with the galaxy facing growing threats from dream-crime, associate sanctions, and unrest across the system, it’s time to bring back the man who can steer us through these turbulent times.”
Suddenly, the scene shifted. I was standing on the bridge of a massive ship, the Pykrete behind me, shining under the brilliant stars. I was still in the suit, I noticed, and now that the viewpoint was closer up, I noticed too that my hair was carefully styled. Certainly nothing I'd picked in any of my options. A holographic Cube floated above a console, slowly rotating as I addressed an unseen audience.
“Save the Cubes wasn’t just a success; it was a beacon of hope. Tyson Dawes knows how to unite people, affiliates, and worlds for a common cause. His commitment to every citizen of BuyMort is unmatched.”
The image shifted again, this time to a factory on Nu-Earth where workers labored side by side, building spacecraft. A foreman glanced up from his work as the voice continued:
“The working class of Nu-Earth are the backbone of our system. They deserve a leader who understands their needs and fights for fair wages and improved working conditions. Tyson Dawes will ensure that prosperity isn’t just for those at the top—it's for everyone.”
I raised an eyebrow as the next scene appeared. It showed Axle in black and white, an outdated image that did him no favors. The text underneath read: “Axle Seeker’s Knowle Leadership faction: disconnected, and out of touch.”
“Axle Seeker has kept the affiliate stagnant with outdated policies and dictatorial oppression. Tyson Dawes is the future.” The voice dripped with calm certainty, just enough venom to make the point but not enough to appear outright hostile.
Then, the final transition occurred. It was me, standing once again behind the podium from my announcement, looking into the camera. I smirked in anticipation of what was coming, standing in the midst of Prescott. “My fellow Nu-Earthers,” my voice said. “I’ve returned not just to lead, but to guide our affiliate into a new era of prosperity, unity, and strength. With your vote, I will make Silken Sands a beacon for the multiverse once more."
Golden text rose above my image: “Vote Tyson Dawes for CEO. A Leader for the Future.”
The ad’s closing shot was of a sunrise, symbolizing the new era we were trying to sell.
Then, as expected, the soothing, calming tone of the disclaimer whispered its way into my ears:
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Paid for by Terna NoMort Free Thought Political Initiatives and supported by the Tyson Dawes for CEO Campaign. Some claims subject to further validation. Results may vary depending on galactic conditions. Side effects may include high poll ratings, media scrutiny, and occasional sabotage attempts by political rivals. In rare cases, voters may experience spontaneous motivation to challenge unjust affiliate practices.”
I blinked as the ad space dissolved back into my office. The experience had been slick, powerful, and just the right amount of grandiloquent.
I smiled. “Good enough to sway a few people, I think.”
Public interest shot up as soon as we entered Nu-Earth’s atmosphere, and not just because of our political ad. The documentary crew had been editing as they shot it and released their product before our ships had even landed. It went out to all the major content platforms and was an immediate hit.
My meeting with them before release had been mercifully quick. It was explained to me in succinct detail that ‘inspirational’ and ‘heartwarming’ were on the rise while ‘scandalous’ and ‘interpersonal drama’ were in decline. The documentary team did their job and followed the genre trends, crafting a product that showed us and our expedition in a very good light.
Shoshanna, Molly, and I did a streaming reaction event for the affiliate’s diehard fans. I was pleased to see the challenges and dangers we faced presented in ways that made our crew shine when we triumphed over them one after the other. The entire thing built up until the big climax when we found and transported Cube home.
They chose to skip over the intense fear and lasting anxiety we had all felt during transit, as well as many of the more unsavory elements like the attack by the Cult of Eternal Darkness. I didn’t even have to threaten or intimidate any of them, they left it out all on their own.
Axle’s spies likely delivered him a less enchanting version of our tale, but that had always been the plan. Allow him to see what I was up to. I had nothing to hide from him, after our victory in deep space. All I was doing was trying to help, just like I had said publicly after my trial.
The documentary soared on Nu-Earth. There was something special about Shoshanna’s passion and my matter-of-fact handling of deadly scenarios that combined to win audiences over. In the few days following our arrival back home, Save the Cubes saw a massive growth in awareness and positive sentiment. Donations also increased to a steady flow, settling into a healthy trickle after the documentary’s main bump had faded.
I used that public-awareness surge, and my status as a Nu-Earth celebrity, to push my run for CEO of Silken Sands. Part of that process was giving a small speech, so I spent the week learning how to present myself to the Nu-Earth voting public. I also made sure Shoshanna was on board.
She questioned what it meant in terms of personal danger for her, and I was honest about it. To her credit, she simply took a deep breath, reiterated that she loved me, and stayed by my side. When she saw the armed security Terna had provided, she did pale a bit, but said nothing.
“My fellow Nu-Earthers,” I said, stepping up to the podium as a wave of sound filled the air. A band stationed on a nearby levitating platform struck up an energetic and powerful tune, the kind reserved for a wrestling event. The music swelled, making sure every ear in the live audience and across the streaming platforms knew this was the hardcore kickoff to a startlingly significant moment. I adjusted my black suit with silver pinstripes, the same one I'd used in my ad as a nod to the business style of my time. Demographics told us this look played particularly well with voters over 80, a surprisingly influential voting block on Nu-Earth.
As I began speaking, the hum of engines grew louder overhead. I paused, glancing up with a small smile as the crowd's eyes followed mine. A formation of seven sleek ships, courtesy of the local Screaming Angels Aerobatics affiliate, streaked across the sky in perfect symmetry. They left contrails in the colors and patterns of a rainbow. Within those streaks rose the words, 'TYSON FOR CEO.'
The crowd erupted into applause, and I allowed the noise to settle before continuing.
“Today, I would like to officially announce my candidacy for CEO of the Silken Sands affiliate,” I declared, my voice carrying over the cheers. The band softened their music, now creating a steady, jock jams like back rhythm that had more than one onlooker tapping their foot to the beat as I spoke. Giant holographic banners unfurled behind me, showcasing my silver starfish campaign logo. Supporters in the audience, already prepared by my ad for the announcement at hand, waved flags and banners, creating a sea of color and energy.
“I have the utmost respect for my dear friend CEO Axle Seeker,” I continued, nodding gravely for emphasis, “and all that he has done in my absence to care for the multiverse.” I paused to let the words sink in, then leaned forward, my voice rising with determination. “But the time has come for me to guide our affiliate once more.”
The words "guide our affiliate once more" flashed in bold text on the screens behind me, and the crowd cheered.
“These times require a particular kind of strength,” I said, my voice now strong and unwavering, “and the ability to make tough, uncompromising decisions for the betterment of us all.”
As I laid out my platform, the music shifted into a triumphant crescendo.
“Over the next three months,” I continued, “my campaign will lay out our plans for many hot-button issues, including but not limited to dream-crime, food shortages, harmful associate sanctions, the rebellion on Terna’s World, and several of Storage’s worst issues.”
Another ship, this time larger and more symbolic, performed a slow flyover, casting a shadow that seemed to underscore the gravity of the problems I was addressing. The lights of the ship glimmered in the evening sky, and the words 'WINDOWPUNCHER' flashed on its underbelly.
I paused to let the audience absorb the weight of the issues, the music still playing softly in the background. The energy in the crowd was palpable, and even the air itself felt charged with anticipation as I prepared to conclude my address.
I paused and gave the crowd my best solemn expression, then continued.
“Axle’s Knowle Leadership faction has done a passable job, and I don’t intend to upset the apple cart they set in motion. I merely think we could be doing more, and ensuring prosperity to many more worlds than we currently are. My experience as system Warlord will also be invaluable in bringing to a close the many military conflicts still occurring all around the BuyMort system. Thank you all for your time, and I look forward to improving this affiliate, and its many associates as your new CEO.”
With my speech finished, I allowed my campaign manager to field press questions. While I watched the human man answer their questions from a release I had prepared for him, I thought about how much I missed Yolara Brinks. The world she and I had operated in had been very different though, and my new guy was the right man for the job.
As a Nu-Earth human, from a humble billionaire upper-class family, he was perfect to hit the demographic I most needed to win. Terna had hired him for me, she was well-versed in how the political machine on Nu-Earth worked.
She was my true campaign manager, of course. He was merely the face and mouthpiece we had to use. Terna’s biggest strength had been recognizing the political landscapes her world operated within. She’d miscalculated with Nu-Earth, but none of us had seen Admiral Omen coming. I should have, really. He’d even warned me in plain language what he would do if he ever thought I had become a threat to the affiliate.
After the announcement, we hosted a big gala event celebrating the success of Save the Cubes’ first expedition. Shoshanna was thrilled to have a night of partying to wash away the harsh space voyage, and I was happy to use our fame for my political career. The relationship between my newly founded campaign and Save the Cubes was symbiotic. My presence drew press, which increased public awareness of the affiliate further, and kept it in the public eye after its first success. Normally a news story about a non-profit throwing itself a party to celebrate a win would be a hard sell but add in a scandalous and potentially dangerous political candidate and it was prime time viewing.
My role in the party was supportive, I merely teased the press with small details about my campaign promises and redirected them to Save the Cubes with every question I answered. Shoshanna loved me for it, as Molly showed her the affiliate’s climbing numbers as the night went on.
We actually made more in donations that night than we spent on the party. Even with Molly’s expensive ride service fees and lavish personal spending the non-profit was stockpiling a sizable mortie stash.
The marriage of my campaign with the Save the Cubes affiliate was clear to the public, and the release I had prepared for my campaign manager implanted the narrative that I was there to help. That my return heralded a potential golden age for Silken Sands.