Date June 6, 2440 Time 3:00 PM CST
“This is the University of Missouri at Columbia,” Matt said, a note of pride in his voice. “Before the collapse, Missouri had around twenty large public universities. Now there are just two left. The other’s a smaller technical college up in St. Joseph, about ninety minutes northwest of home.”
He slowed slightly as they passed the edge of campus. “This place used to be massive—more liberal arts, more research, more of everything. Student population was well over 125,000. A lot of that’s gone now, but the libraries and museums are still top-notch. The ag school’s still strong, and it houses one of the last journalism and communications programs anywhere. I hope we have time this trip for you to look around. I think you’d find it fascinating.”
“Angelina said you graduated from the agriculture program?” T’Mari asked.
“My undergrad was in botany and agribusiness management,” Matt said. “I minored in agricultural engineering and earned a machinist’s certification, plus a certificate in aircraft maintenance while I was at it. Later, I picked up two master’s—one in ag engineering and one in logistics management. I’ve got a commercial pilot’s license, but I haven’t flown in years.”
He paused, his tone shifting, darker now.
“Last time I flew was just after Annette died. Set the plane into a steep climb, cut the oxygen, and blacked out. Came to in a dive, maybe a thousand feet above the ground. Managed to dead-stick it onto a county road three counties over. Controlled crash, if you’re feeling generous.”
T’Mari didn’t speak right away. Her eyes lingered on him, searching his face, weighing what it must have cost to say that out loud.
“Angelina said you and I have similar levels of education,” she offered gently.
“More or less,” Matt replied. “As best we can match the systems. Based on what K’rem and the others told me, you’ve probably got the equivalent of a bachelor’s in communications and electrical engineering, and a master’s in linguistics.”
“And Angelina?” T’Mari asked.
“She doesn’t have a formal degree past high school. Her parents wouldn’t pay for college unless she went to med school. When she said no, they put her to work managing the family restaurant, paid her next to nothing, then blamed her for not moving out or getting a degree. I love her parents—but they were cruel in ways they’ll never understand.”
“She told me a little about her childhood,” T’Mari said. “I understand. V’ren families can be complicated too. My mother was quietly disappointed I didn’t follow her path. She’s proud of me—but there’s grief there, too. Her mother was a renowned obstetrician. My mother’s a good physician, but not a specialist. In her eyes, that’s falling short.”
“One thing to understand about humans—especially around here—is that academic credentials don’t define intelligence. They usually just reflect how much money someone else was willing to spend when you were too young to know what you needed. Angelina doesn’t hold a degree, but she’s a trained paramedic, fluent in five languages, a skilled tech troubleshooter, one of my sharpest project managers—and she’s an elite-level shooter. She’s outshot more than a few veterans. If there’s time, you might enjoy learning from her. Precision shooting’s a competitive skill—one you hope to never to need.”
Matt reached across T’Mari and gently nudged her aside as a frisbee sailed past. He caught it one-handed without even looking, then handed it off with an easy grin—proof he didn’t need a battlefield to stay sharp.
“Sorry!” a young woman called, jogging over. Her eyes widened as she got closer. “Wait… you’re one of the aliens, right?”
Matt handed her the frisbee. “What gave it away?” he said dryly, resisting the urge to flash a Vulcan salute and make it worse.
“Can I take a picture with you? And maybe get your autograph on the frisbee?”
Matt had anticipated this. He pulled a Sharpie from his pocket—still a top-selling brand, even after nearly 500 years.
“This is Officer T’Mari of House Th’ron,” he said. “Save this for your kids someday. She’s going to be important to all of humanity.”
He took a photo of the two of them on his own device, too.
“Told you—celebrity,” he murmured as they continued toward the Communications Building.
Inside, Matt led her up the cracked terrazzo steps. “Try not to be overwhelmed by the smell of old coffee, damp carpet, and ambition,” he said. “This place has seen more drama than a daytime soap.”
T’Mari sniffed cautiously. “Reminds me of the crew decks on long-haul freighters. Less antiseptic. More… desperation.”
Matt chuckled. “That’s journalism, all right.”
🎙️ Practical Magic and Solar Bridges: A Studio Conversation with T’Mari
Interview Date: June 6, 2440
Location: Communications Building, University of Missouri, Columbia Campus
Recorded For: Popular Mechanics
Participants: T’Mari Th’ron, Tom Anderson (Interviewer), Matt Marmaduke (present)
Inside the MU studio—retrofitted for clarity if not comfort—Tom Anderson greeted T’Mari with a handshake and a nod of respect. A former systems designer before turning to journalism, Tom had a practiced eye for field engineers. And T’Mari, for all her rank and elegance, carried herself like someone who could disassemble and reassemble a shuttle without breaking stride.
Tom Anderson:
“T’Mari, you come from a society that’s traveled farther than most humans can imagine. What surprised you most about Earth engineering?”
T’Mari:
“How much we are alike. I’ve lived most of my life aboard merchant freighters, visited more than a hundred ports, and encountered thousands of species. But Earth seems to have the people most like my own. You repair, adapt, and learn under pressure. That makes you dangerous—in the best way.”
Tom:
“Can you elaborate on that? What makes Earth engineers dangerous?”
T’Mari:
“Because you innovate under scarcity. That’s a mindset most high-tech cultures lose. Your people don’t wait for ideal parts or clean rooms. You repurpose. Rewire. Rethink. It’s messy. It’s brilliant. It reminds me of how we survived the early diaspora.”
Tom:
“You’re trained in electrical systems and communication networks. How compatible are our technologies?”
T’Mari:
“Bridging them isn’t hard. Most V’ren communications specialists could do it straight out of training. I studied the schematics of a laptop my host provided and built an interface with spare parts from our ship. Some of my colleagues—alongside human technicians—are converting your holographic systems to interface with Progenitor tech. That should give you real-time communications across the solar system. I believe that will help mediate conflicts and foster understanding between diverse groups.”
Tom:
“Let’s get into practical engineering. You’re certified in machining and structural systems—rare for humans of your rank, especially women. Is that normal for a V’ren noble?”
T’Mari:
“Depends how noble you want to be,” she said with a dry smile. “My family is elevated, but we serve the merchant fleets. That means limited crew, maximum responsibility. When a stabilizer arm fractures mid-jump, there’s no ceremony involved. You weld or you die. My education started formal, but it matured through grit and necessity. I’ve re-cut magnetic bearings with hand tools and calibrated nav arrays by feel.”
Tom:
“Do your people value that kind of cross-training? Or is that unique to your upbringing?”
T’Mari:
“It’s respected, but not required. The merchant fleets attract those with range—who can lead, repair, defend, and teach. We don’t separate mind and hand the way some human hierarchies do. My rank gets me in the room, but my skill keeps me alive.”
Tom:
“Would you say Earth’s post-collapse environment creates similar pressure?”
T’Mari:
“Yes. That’s why I think our peoples will align well. Earth’s best minds aren’t cloistered in ivory towers—they’re out in the field. Rebuilding. Improvising. You’re forging civilization by torchlight, same as we once did. That makes you kin, not just allies.”
Tom:
“What’s one V’ren technology that could benefit Earth immediately?”
T’Mari:
“Clean, reliable and portable energy. We’ve adapted V’ren storage tech into a portable battery unit that can power up to a hundred homes for three weeks. They recharge quickly and can be swapped easily. A test project is already underway reviving abandoned farms. It’s small-scale now, but we are ramping up quickly.”
Tom:
“Could this tech eventually decentralize your grid entirely?”
T’Mari:
“Not just the grid—your politics. Energy independence means civic independence. Communities that aren’t tethered to unstable utilities can choose their own futures. That’s how the Freehold runs, yes?”
Matt gave a quiet nod from behind the glass. T’Mari didn’t look back. She didn’t need to.
Tom:
“What role do you see yourself playing in this transition?”
T’Mari:
“I don’t want to be a figurehead. I’m an officer and an engineer. My role is to support, train, translate, and—when needed—lead. But Earth doesn’t need a queen. It needs a hundred thousand competent hands building the next century, together.”
As the recording light dimmed, Matt reached over and gave her hand a light squeeze.
Matt:
“Brilliantly done.”
Tom (smiling):
“I agree. And thank you. Mr. Marmaduke—don’t know if you remember me. We overlapped at school. I’m married to Kira Kovshevnikova. My sister’s Leslie Anderson, she was in your year.”
Matt searched his memory.
Matt:
“Kira’s hard to forget.”
Tom (quietly):
“I also knew your sister. I just wanted to say—even after all these years—that Annette was special. She always made us laugh.”
Matt:
“Thank you. It’s good to be reminded of the joy she gave others.”
The studio emptied, but no one rushed out. Some things deserve silence before being folded back into the noise.
Interview Date: June 6, 2440
Location: Communications Building, University of Missouri, Columbia Campus
Recorded For: The Atlantic
Participants: Matt Marmaduke, Officer T’Mari Th’ron, Interviewer (name withheld)
The studio was quiet, the kind of silence you only get with thick walls, outdated gear, and tension measured in fractions of a second. The interviewer—mid-40s, former DC native if the accent was any clue—flipped through a thin stack of handwritten notes. He looked up at Matt.
Interviewer:
“Mr. Marmaduke, you’ve become a public figure of global significance in a short amount of time. But you began as a farmer. How has that shaped your approach to leadership?”
Matt (dryly):
“According to public opinion, all globally significant people appear overnight. One day no one knows you, the next you’re on every screen in the world. But I’ve been around. Last year, I did over a billion dollars in business across three continents.”
He leaned back slightly, fingers tapping a rhythm only he heard.
Matt (continued):
“As for farming—I hold degrees in botany and agricultural engineering. I’m not the bumpkin some city folks might imagine. I was also a captain in Amazon’s military logistics division and fought in the final battles of the Prophet’s War. I don’t say that to brag—just to make clear I’m not new to responsibility.”
Interviewer (smiling):
“Fair point. But you sounded like you had a real answer about farming.”
Matt:
“Farming teaches patience, stubbornness, and the importance of paying attention to the weather report. Same goes for people. You plant seeds, nurture what grows, and accept that some seasons are hard. But you learn to work through the good and the bad.”
Interviewer:
“You’ve been called everything from a warlord to a folk hero. What do you call yourself?”
Matt (without hesitation):
“Right now? I’m a guy with a logistics problem. Luckily, that’s my specialty.”
T’Mari smiled faintly, eyes flicking toward him for a heartbeat, then back to the interviewer.
Interviewer:
“You’re the largest private landholder in Missouri, and now you’re at the center of the most consequential diplomatic development in human history. How do you reconcile your roots with the role you’ve stepped into?”
Matt:
“I don’t think they conflict. Where I come from, if the barn’s on fire, you don’t ask who owns it or what your title is. You grab a bucket and get to work. My job hasn’t changed—just the size of the fire.”
Interviewer:
“A lot of eyes are on your relationship with the V’ren delegation, particularly Officer T’Mari. Is it true you’ve appointed her to a civilian oversight role in your communications operations?”
Matt:
“I offered her the role of Director of Strategic Communications. She’s formally trained in cross-species linguistics and has been fascinated with Earth media since she was a kid. She understands both human and V’ren systems. That makes her a perfect fit for what we’re trying to build. Honestly, I don’t think I could have managed these early negotiations without her. She’s a credit to her people and a tremendous asset to mine.”
Interviewer:
“Some say she’s become a symbol—of integration, of cultural diplomacy. Does that get in the way of her work?”
Matt (brief pause):
“Not so far. T’Mari doesn’t do things halfway. If people see symbolic value in her, fine. But she’s not here to be a poster girl. She’s here to help build something real.”
He turned toward her slightly, as if handing off the question.
Interviewer:
“T’Mari, how do you feel about being placed in that position of visibility?”
T’Mari:
“It’s unexpected. I was trained for systems work, not public attention. But the work matters. If people see something hopeful in me, I’ll try to live up to that. But I still calibrate equipment and run diagnostics when I can. Symbolism can inspire, but it’s never a substitute for function.”
Interviewer:
“You’ve mentioned elsewhere that your society has struggled with internal divisions. Do you see parallels here on Earth?”
T’Mari:
“Yes. Many. Socially, Earth is where we were about 400 years ago. And just a decade after we achieved faster-than-light travel and joined the galactic community, we were invaded by the Hs’Sing Empire. That changed everything for us.”
Interviewer:
“Changed how?”
T’Mari:
“We had to unify in ways that had once felt impossible. We learned that survival—true survival—meant elevating the competent, not just the well-born. We still have castes. But necessity forced us to listen to those who could adapt. I see Earth on that edge now.”
Interviewer:
“Mr. Marmaduke, a more personal question. What’s the hardest lesson you’ve learned since first contact?”
Matt (quietly):
“That sometimes, doing the right thing looks exactly like betrayal to the people you care about. And that if you wait for perfect clarity, you miss your moment—and maybe your future.”
The room went still for a moment. Not out of discomfort, but the kind of pause where something has landed and nobody wants to move too quickly past it.
Interviewer:
“Thank you both for your time.”
Matt (half-smiling):
“Anytime. Well… maybe not any time. But today, yes.”
T’Mari:
“It was an honor.”
The light on the camera faded, but the feeling in the room did not.
Cartoons, Cats, and Cross-Species Chemistry: A Conversation with T’Mari and Matt
Interview Date: June 6, 2440
Location: University of Missouri, Columbia Campus
Publication: People Magazine
Participants: T’Mari Th’ron, Matt Marmaduke, Shelly Davenport (Senior Entertainment Correspondent)
The mood in the studio was warmer than usual—maybe it was Shelly’s easy smile or the fact that T’Mari had just eaten a deviled egg for the first time and was still quietly marveling at the flavor.
Shelly:
“You’ve become something of an icon overnight. I understand you now hold the position of Strategic Communications Director in your new organization. What’s it like, going from unknown to recognizable on another planet?”
T’Mari:
“A bit overwhelming. I studied English because I found your media interesting—not because I expected to become a spokesperson for my people. I still feel more comfortable troubleshooting signal arrays than sitting under studio lights.”
Shelly:
“Many humans are still adjusting to the idea that we’re not alone—even though the Beacons have sat silent on Mars and Europa for more than 80 years. Why do you think so many people still react with surprise?”
T’Mari:
“Because most people only believe in what disrupts their daily lives. The Beacons became background noise—mysterious but inactive. We, on the other hand, arrived with ships, languages, and families. That made it real.”
Shelly:
“So you’re here for good?”
T’Mari:
“Many of us hope to be. We’ve made agreements to contribute our knowledge and labor in exchange for sanctuary. For many, this is the first time we’ve felt grounded—literally.”
Matt:
“As Freeholder, I’ve granted residency to all I could support—then expanded that through a much larger land deal. For those who qualify, citizenship will be available in a year. The V’ren have already proven themselves to be good neighbors and community members. I hope they stay.”
Shelly:
“T’Mari, you mentioned studying English because of human media. Any favorite shows or cultural figures that shaped your view of Earth?”
T’Mari (lighting up):
“Oh, so many. I love cooking shows—V’ren food isn’t very exciting, and space rations are worse. I’m also fond of your game shows, especially the ones from Japan. But most of all, I love your cartoons and anime. We don’t express art that way.”
Matt (grinning):
“What I find funny is how many V’ren learned English because they’re basically Earthaboos,” he laughed. “And apparently, we’re not just famous here. Earth’s been trending on galactic streaming platforms for 60 years.”
Shelly (laughing):
“Wait—Earthaboos? That’s a thing?”
T’Mari (smiling sheepishly):
“Apparently. Some learned English just to understand memes. Others wanted to cook like Julia Child or try martial arts ‘like in the ancient films.’ I know one girl who could quote Star Trek from the entire canon.”
Matt (deadpan):
“Fess up…”
T’Mari:
“Okay, I’m the girl. I was disappointed to find out you don’t have replicators—or Klingon coffee. And I was a little unnerved by how accurate your cat memes are. I’ve been adopted into a family that loves their cats. They have five.”
Shelly:
“What does ‘family’ mean to the V’ren—and do you think it’s possible to build a true family across species?”
T’Mari:
“Our structure differs—there are more shared obligations and less emphasis on nuclear households. But I believe cross-cultural families have enormous potential if people are willing to bridge the differences. It requires patience and mutual respect. But yes—it’s more than possible. It’s already happening.”
Matt:
“You just have to learn that when your new in-laws grow six inches taller and start humming in a different register, it’s not personal.”
Shelly (grinning):
“Last question—rumor has it there’s something between you and Matt. Care to comment?”
T’Mari (without blinking):
“No.”
Matt burst out laughing, nearly choking on his water.
Shelly (smiling):
“How about you, Matt?”
Matt:
“That rumor started twelve hours after her ship crash-landed in my yard. I suppose I should be flattered. I just don’t know what it says about me that the internet immediately imagined me seducing an alien diplomat mid-disaster.”
Shelly:
“Follow-up—do V’ren women find him attractive?”
T’Mari:
“My mother thinks so. She and several other women—both V’ren and human—were discussing him mowing the lawn shirtless this morning.”
Matt (wry):
“I’ve lost all privacy. I walk into a room now and the gossip network’s already three chapters ahead of me.”
Shelly (laughing):
“One last bonus: there’s a rumor you’ve already slept with her little sister.”
Matt did a full spit take.
Matt (mock-offended):
“That’s a new one. Like I said, the rumor mill is way ahead of me. All I can say is I’d be lucky to have either of them. They’re smart, accomplished, interesting, and frankly, very good looking. The internet probably already has a subreddit about me and the barely legal alien princesses—and another for the older sister. Maybe even one where I’m in relationships with both and their mother. God only knows what’s on 4Chan.”
Shelly (grinning):
“I think I just got my headline.”
T’Mari:
“I think I just lost plausible deniability with my entire family.”
Matt:
“And I need a better publicist.”
Shelly:
“You two are fun. Thank you both for your time.”
T’Mari:
“The pleasure was mine.”
Matt:
“I’d say any time, but if that rumor about her sister makes it to galactic media, I might be hiding in a grain silo.”
Shelly:
“We’ll try to keep it out of the alien tabloids.”
