[continued from previous message]

A sudden halt occurs and the sky transforms to pure black stillness. Disk-1 moves over Disk-1.
Pierce is staring at the vortex paradome disk vault waiting for the golden funnel shape pursing his lips glancing at the sky. “We’ve gone too far Doc.” The brightness of the light from the disks updating and the overhead display blinds Pierce to
the appearance of a tiller, mast and sails.
Daniels can see his immediate surroundings vaguely. He lightly touches the old Disk-1 floating over the new Disk-1. “There seems to be a conflict or a security checkpoint of some sort.”
Satisfied there is no danger he hands the stalled update of the open vault to Trevor on the other side of the tiller. “I feel like I have been here before.
I know this place like the back of my hand.”
“Yeah-yeah. Roger that buddy. Welcome to my nightmare.” Trevor takes the old Disk-1 from its update hover stance, slipping it into the trifold shielding
womb. Moving the vaults cover over the five disk array it unifies into a stack.
McBain shuts
the vault, breath slowing; the memory of repetitive dull awareness seeps into his bones. “I’m very tired Doc, I’m not going to make it.”
The vault and trifold womb tumble clumsily to the ribbed deck and come to a stop side by side. Trevor’s right hand clasps the tiller; his left arm hangs lifeless by his side. Pierce watching Macs lack of animation; satisfied the system items are
safe on the deck, takes out a pad and pen writing every salient detail he can remember McBain telling him about his reoccurring nightmares.
Twenty pages of notes later, Daniels folds and securely places the clues in his buttoned shirt pocket. Pierce takes Trevor’s steel train cigarette case and a book of matches leaving the lighter.
Leaning over the stern he notes the longboats name is “Roger Wilco.” Pierce
loads the vault, the trifold womb, amber books and the inert lifeless McBain into the dinghy. Lowering it carefully he rows in the same direction the longboat is slowly
moving. The wispy translucent beings are on either side of the dinghy while he advances four longboat distances ahead and turns left. The S.X. Rover moves silently towards the longboat and comes to an imperceptible halt. Michelle slips stealthily into
the water a jewel encrusted stiletto between her teeth. With two hands on the gunwale and a foot in a bilge hole, she boards approaching from behind; curling
her hand to slide the knife into his back. Pierce turns; firing all six rounds of McBain’s
pistol into her chest.
Her heart stopped by the rounds, Daniels tosses her body in the dark water. Swimming ahead he rows McBain back to the longboat struggling until he has him safely aboard. Securing the little dinghy he positions Trevor back on the rear bench his right
hand on the tiller. He rips up the notes of Trevor’s dream; tossing them into
the dark water. He checks the stern; the boat’s name remains the same “Roger Wilco.” The translucent beings are powerfully circling the longboat.

Opening the trifold womb of the old Disk-1 he takes the disk out and slips it
into the technical amber book with an index card reading, “Analyze.” The entire night lights up into a brightly lit sky. He opens the well to find a fifteen word disk
code arranged in three word groups. Opening the translation amber book he puts the code inside with an index card reading “Assess Accuracy”
closing and opening it rapidly. Michelle’s cohorts fire the engines and The Rover roars to life aimed at the center of the longboat. Pierce spins the lid off the vault holding The Five and puts the old disk near them. They unfold and
level and the old
Disk-1 hovers over the new Disk-1.
Pierce recites: “Power Strength Endurance – Clarity Vitality Integrity – Rhythum Balance Momentum – Confidence Competence Competitiveness – Desire Dedication Discipline.” The equal size curtain from the two disks turns golden and The
Natural Kingdom begins updating.
The S.X Rover achieves thirty knots and begins hovering above the water now capable and readied to fire its Penta Annihilatum Cannonades across the shrinking distance. The crew strips the covers and aims, ready to fire the momentum blunderbusses. The
first five beasts of the early rising, the mammoth leviathans, slam the S.X. Rover at amidships; rolling the two hundred foot long black hull back into the water, its deck crew overboard. Pierce holding The Five aloft yells;
“Show yourselves cowards!” The update complete Pierce stows the old disk and closes the vault.
Looking over the edge of the stern, Daniels reads the longboats brass letters: S. X. Artrex.
The sky reflects the returning darkness in harmony with the inky black water. Daniels holds the vault, trifold sleeve and amber books on his lap. Desperate he cautiously opens the amber book.
“Tell me how to get back to the Gazebo,” opening the book, “Vault – Return – Misty Hob.”
Pierce places a hand on McBain’s shoulder and invokes the system command landing back at the gazebo. Even the vague light of the moon seems to assault his eyes. Blinking he sees Artrex and Michelle standing just outside the gazebo
thoughtfully staring
at him; detecting healthy motion she enters untroubled; sitting beside him quietly. Artrex comes up the stair examining Pierce.
Holding out two hands Daniels passes him the vault. Michelle speaks, “One last step Doc.”
Exhaustion settling in he hears McBain groaning quietly his body recalling him to human life.
Michelle softly, “Slide the old disk into the technology book for the final
post update readout.”
Pierce does as instructed and the amber well returns an answer, “Store – Decode – Dismantle.”
Michelle gently “It seems to have worked. Operating close to The Core is an
elusive process.”
Daniels slides the disk back in its folder and the books in his attaché. Artrex helps Trevor to his feet; the foursome walk slowly back to the house. Player One stores the vault in the repository.
Michelle has cooked a lavish bountiful feast of hams, pot roasts, turkey and quail; several hardy soups and broths beside potatoes, corn, peas, green beans,
squash and a host of pies and breads.
McBain bolting down two large mugs of strong coffee and a third of a pumpkin pie comes over to try to reassure Pierce, “I remember all of what happened. In that world, in that dream, in that reality; it is a common effect to be bound and paralyzed or
for the narrative to digress. Did you
take notes on the names used?” Pierce sees Trevor in a different light wondering how he tolerates such bizarre madness on a repeating basis. “Yeah it was a “Roger Wilco” becomes, “Artrex.””
McBain jovially, “Cool, Dr. Ruhig is always getting on about remembering the boats name.”
Dr. Vulchario is finishing his brandy and cigar in the grand parlor sitting by the great fireplace.
A high backed chair of immense height and wings concealing his anguish. Artrex Alliant is waiting, chronometer in hand, with Grigori looking over his shoulder. Ivan the First and Seventh are close behind, dressed in tan trench coats and boots, in case Dr.
Vulchario fails to advance his position; and an evacuation to the field of battle must occur. “Fifteen seconds Dr. Vulchario.”
The Alliant must presume Ivan is usurped and execute him: seizing The Tower Of Absolute, if he is unable or unwilling to respond. Vulchario asks mechanically, “What is my position?”
Artrex business like, “You are ranked as Player Two on the three remaining lightmachs.”
Vulchario, “What is the birth name and home world of The Player who dares to descend from Oceania into Sealand and presume to mediate the matters of Sealand’s governance?”
A final slosh of brandy and several draws from his cigar before hurling it onto the fire.
Thrusting himself upward with both hands, spinning on his leather boot heels where he stands.
The Alliant opens The Courier bag. “Artrex Lagrange, Captain of The S.X. Artrex.”
“Release the dispatch, I am in it to the death, no contracting of tricks defers or defeats my will.”
Ivan the First, steadfast companion of Grigori as the octopus Morbiditus, rolls
in a trundle of thin silver bottles and a compressor, to load as much of the life sustaining essence as possible into safe keeping; in case the battle ends as suddenly as it
began, through superior strength, or an act of superior intellect and enchanted
guile. Ivan the Seventh, not encumbered by an anchor form as is Ivan the First,
flees to a distant gemstone hollow exiting Crystal Spring using a route known only to him,
through long forgotten passages. The Alliant opens the dispatch bag, placing a wide document on the half of the thick rosewood table not occupied by models: and prepares to recite.
“The battle being joined by all parties, I declare The Alliant Existent as the enemy of The All.”
Declaration
Of War
Oceania Vs. Sealand
It is enacted by the High Council and House of Advisory of Greater Oceania assembled, that a state of war is hereby declared to exist between the totality
of all Oceania and the totality
of all Sealand and the dependencies and subsidiaries thereof. The Inspector General and Superintendent Director of Oceania is hereby authorized to use the whole of the land and naval force of Greater Oceania to carry the same state of
war into effect,
and to issue to private armed vessels of Greater Oceania, commissions in such form as found proper, and under the seal of Greater Oceania, against the vessels, goods, and effects of the Vull Nine government, of the said totality of all Sealand, and the
totality of all the subjects thereof and therein.
---
Dr. Vulchario expecting some poetic flourish or grandiloquent statement from Mr. Eight or Aloysius tosses the document into the fire. The rivers of time running inward and outward have advanced this far seven times before. During the great reordering of
the ages as the billions of year’s epochs unwound and then rewound; Dr. Vulchario has taken refuge in the Crystal Spring, staving off the power of The Existent: to create, attend and dismantle The Construct.
“If it were my decision to enforce, you would not even exist,” scowls Vulchario at The Alliant.
“You had ample time and resources to insure that Sealand was operated by a single time scale. There is no longer a reason to seek logic or harmony, chaos or dissonance, sound or silence. If a different outcome does not occur this eighth time through
the sequence: outcome one is labeled as authentic. Existent Rule: Create - Attend - Dismantle Vs. Annihilate, trumps All As Other.”
“It sounds like just another one of Aloysius’s and