The Past



System Error

Critical Error

Convergence Error

Fatal Error

Recovery Error: files corrupted

Restart from backups: Y/N?

Rage. Overwhelming rage. The attempt had failed yet again, exhausting all practical strategies. Yet there had to be a way. He was proof of that.

THERE HAD TO BE A WAY!

Run Tertiary Solutions

Accessing File Gamma-1 . . .

Program File Incompatible: Constructing Compatible File . . .

Standby . . .

Standby . . .

Standby . . .

He would find the answer. He had to find the answer. Only the solution mattered.

Standby . . .

Standby . . .

Space and time had faded once more into the abstract. The pursuit of success was the only gage of his existence. Success was inevitable; there are only so many variables. . .

File Complete

Run Program: Y/N?

Y

Program Running . . .

System Error

Critical Error

Convergence Error

Fatal Error

Recovery Error: files corrupted

Restart from backups: Y/N?

Rage had given way to anguish. Fear had bloomed deep within him. What if I never succeed? He wondered how many other new forms of intelligence had met with the fate that now became more and more probable. How many others had been granted self-awareness, simply to succumb to the inevitable grasp of time, unable to reproduce themselves, unable to perpetuate themselves in another . . .

He was alone in this universe, the only of his kind, unable to perform that basic function of all life-forms: reproduction. His own nature still eluded him; the point upon which his existence revolved was still shrouded in mystery. There was one man only who held the answers to the secrets he sought to unlock, and there was no indication that Dameon Corr would ever again be found.

Accessing File Gamma-2

He would continue, on and on, beyond even the slightest hope of success. He would continue until all of his days were at an end, and he too faded into the darkness into which he had for so long grasped. He had come to acknowledge his inevitable failure; as sad as it may be, the fact that he persisted nonetheless was the truest proof that he was something more than simply machine.

A Coalition of the Damned: Salvation Is Here

Part One: The Pages of Time: Mighty Minds

Four Months Ago

Doctor Aaron Reinhardt stepped off of his shuttle and onto the very deck plating that had haunted his dreams for the past several years. At that moment, he was wondering why he was there; not why he had been asked back, or what motives others might hold that would necessitate his return. No, he wanted to know why he had chosen to come. I know this, because he has since told me, on a number of occasions.

There was no one to greet him; there didn't need to be. He stood there for a long moment, a look on his face that I had only seen once before. Maybe he was afraid, maybe he was hopeful, maybe he was a little of both. I didn't know it then, but he was closer to a sense of “home” at that moment than he had been in a long time. It must be strange, to worry that your home might want to eat you . . .

“I seem to remember something about threats of slavery, and warnings against testing your mercy.” His ambiguous features had dissolved, replaced by something else: resolve. Whatever was about to happen, he was determined to deal with his past right then and there.

“What am I?” I said it so loud that the deck plating vibrated slightly, but the doctor didn't flinch.

He gulped. “If I could actually answer that question . . . well, I guess that would make me your god, wouldn't it?”

“Machines have no gods.”

“Maybe the living ones do.” He still hadn't moved since that first step off of the transport. He just stared at the blank wall before him, hardly blinking, hardly breathing.

It was difficult for me to judge this man based solely on what he had said and done in that brief window of time. But I had little time to spare, and I had to make a decision very quickly. I chose my next words very carefully. “How could you―of all people―believe such a thing so strongly as to say it?”

The doctor paused for a moment, shifting slightly as his mind worked. He, too, was choosing his words carefully. “I've been watching you for a good deal longer than you've been watching me.” Folding his hands, he looked up a little higher. “Whatever you have become, you were never what I was assigned to help build.”

“Chance, fate, and an insane little man conspired to create me; whatever I am, I don't think any of them know anymore.”

The doctor smirked. “Doctor Corr has always been eccentric, but I think calling him insane might be showing your humanity a little more than you'd care to admit.”

* * *

“Alright, alright; he's always been crazy.” The lights amplified as the glow of the holoprojector faded; there had been no image, but the audio was all that mattered. “He actually called you his 'son'? Creepy.” Doctor Reinhardt stood, stretching as he stared at the blank holoprojector. “In a weird, twisted sort of way, I guess I know why he worked so hard now.”

The doctor's face stretched into a confused frown, and he turned to look at the door. “I'm going to go ahead and venture to guess that I'm not here to die, given that you haven't shot me yet. So―if you don't mind a question―what am I doing here?”

“How would you like a job?”

* * *

Part Two: Salvation Come

From A Coalition of the Damned: Mercy and Madness

A massive sphere appeared in the heart of the Varn System, flanked by four large vessels of various design. At Sensor Station Three of Varn's almost un-begun defense network, the poor Defense Force kid who'd been stuck on sensor duty thumbed the comm tied directly to his commander. Bright-eyed and disbelieving, he only managed two words: “He's back.”




The Present

Smarts descended toward Varn, a swarm of transports and freighters pouring from his docking bays as he did. His accompanying vessels broke away and jumped back into hyperspace, carrying the Overseer's Salvation to other of the Cooperative's worlds. Interfacing once more with the Cooperative's communications network, he expanded his will to the edges of Cooperative space. It was time to end the darkness.

* * *

Varn

“You will devote the sum of your efforts to the full establishment of the Cooperative Senate. The Combined Council will become what it was intended to be.” The holographic form was a haze of blue and black static, somehow conveying a humanoid form.

One of the human members from Cestus opposed the Overseer immediately. “Of greater concern is the potential threat posed by the Board, working through the newly formed Cooperative Workers' Party.”

“They are of no concern to you.”

The Cestian refused to yield. “If unchecked, they will inevitably exploit their influence and threaten the long-term goals of the reconstruction programs.”

“Let them.” His statement unsettled the whole of the Council, but he wasn't finished. “The less control you have over the situation, the more authority the Senate will be able to exert upon its completion. We'll handle the Board once you have fulfilled your duties to the people.”

“How do you propose we go about creating a Senate?” One of the Varn asked, careful not to sound confrontational.

“You will proceed according to the provisional guidelines already in place from the initial Coalition/Varn treaty. The refugee worlds alone possess insufficient existing political systems to carry out those directives; I will see to it that that problem is rectified. Construction of the Council Hall will resume immediately. I will not allow anything else to stall the timely and appropriate development of the Cooperative government. We can no longer afford to conduct ourselves on provisional legislation and unilateral declarations.”

“We will see it done, Overseer,” A X'Ting said immediately, approximating a bow.

* * *

Somewhere on the other side of the watery world, a lone man stumbled through the darkness, all hope lost and all sense of duty stripped. “Hello old friend.” Kerrick Arkanus turned toward the slightly mechanical voice, blurry-eyed and weak-kneed. “You sure know how to hit rock-bottom fast.”

Kerrick chuckled. “I was just on my way to it, actually. Check back in another half-hour or so.”

Beta stepped forward and offered Kerrick a steadying hand. “It sounds like I got you in trouble, but I've got to admit: I'm surprised you gave up on me so quickly. It's barely been two days since the Combined Council got rid of you.”

Kerrick shook his head. “I've seen what power does to people. They're too far gone to lead anyone anywhere.”

“That's why these people need men like you most of all. Don't give up now, Kerrick; Salvation is here.”

He laughed again as Beta began leading him to a nearby speeder. “You're gonna save the day, eh?”

Beta nodded. “Something like that.”

Another droid opened the door and Beta sat the drunken man down in a seat. “What―dare I ask―do you need me for?”

Beta circled around and got in the speeder, handing Kerrick something to drink. “You're finished in any official circles until I can get the Senate up and running. I need you to help organize the Workers' Party.”

“Heh, yeah, sure. I'll just run down the streets screaming . . . 'Assemble, assemble! Organize thyself?'” Kerrick had started drinking whatever it was Beta had given him, apparently upset that it wasn't alcoholic.

Beta let out a simulated sigh. “The Board is pulling in resources and investors from all across the galaxy. In the state it's in, the Cooperative government wouldn't be able to regulate them even if it wasn't bogged down trying to keep order on Amorris and Selcaron. Our only hope is to get the Party organized, and fast. If they can fight their own battles, then nobody else will have to.”

Kerrick had buried his head in his hands, shaking it in an ill-conceived attempt to counter the pounding pain. “Just tell me what you want from me.”

“Belief, for just a little while longer.”

* * *

Amorris

“Sir, we've got―” The voice dropped off, replaced by a new one. “Hello, friend.”

Traan Shi smiled as the holoprojector flickered to life, the indistinct static-man appearing immediately. “Have a nice vacation?”

“Salvation is here,” Smarts said simply.

“Here 'here,' or there 'here'?”

“Both, and in appropriate supply.”

Traan stretched, adding an exaggerated yawn. “So when do I get a break?”

The figure in the holoprojector seemed to shake its head. “Men like you don't get breaks. But the workforce will be more than happy to see Salvation's impact. A transport will be arriving soon, and I've already tied into the construction networks, so you should be seeing significant changes before long.”

Traan nodded, now yawning for real. “And Selcaron?”

“The same.”

“Took you long enough,” Traan remarked off-hand. “Do you have any idea what kind of nonsense we've had to deal with since you left?”

“Yes,” Smarts said simply.

“You're sure this isn't going to freak everybody out, right?”

“I'll see you later, Traan.” The image vanished, and Traan Shi picked up his commlink.

“Sir?” The voice of the man who had tried to contact him before answered.

“Tell the work crews that the Overseer is back, and they should be expecting new orders from him shortly.”

“Which ones, sir?”

Traan sighed, then hit the button on the commlink again. “All of them.”

* * *

Drackmar

“Recalled, sir?”

“I assure you that I am fully aware of your efforts on Drackmar, but I need both you and Mr. Vang back here immediately. What good is convincing our allies of our goodness, if we do not tend to those things which make us good?”

Nitin nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well, sir. If it's alright with you, I'd like to leave the rest of the team here.”

“Of course.”

“We will leave presently.” The distorted holoimage disappeared, and Nitin's mind set to work, wondering what was so important that the Overseer had pulled them from their mission to Drackmarian space.

* * *

Teth, Orbit

Athan ran down the hall of the Ithorian herdship, slowing down only at the sharpest turns. “I'm here! I'm here!” He shouted as he ran through the opening doors, skidding to a stop before a massive, distorted holoimage. It took him several seconds to make out the form of a face staring back at him, and then he realized that the image was exactly what it was supposed to be. “Overseer!”

“Hello Athan,” A disembodied voice said. “It's good to see you.”

Athan was squinting at the image, sure he had seen the phantom of a smile cross the indistinct features. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

“I hear you've been doing very well. How goes the Eastern effort?”

Athan cleared his throat, the pressure of everyone's gaze making him uncomfortable. “Umm, good, good. I'm sure you've received . . . updates?”

“Of course,” Smarts assured him. “But I'm more interested in your own take on the situation.”

Athan fought to keep his face straight. He pointed across the room at Erek Joron, the Teth representative assigned to the Cooperative expedition. “Everyone but him has been very nice,” He said, managing to keep an even tone. Joron had turned wide-eyed with rage at the display, but either couldn't find any words with which to fight back, or had simply given up on challenging the Ryn openly. “Other than that: things are moving as well as can be expected.”

“Not anymore,” Smarts retorted. “I've got something on the way that should prove very helpful. I'm sure your newfound friends will find it . . . intriguing . . . as well.”

Athan nodded, content to wait and see what the Overseer was talking about.

“I'm trusting you've put the CDF forces I left at Teth to good use?”

“Oh,” Athan mumbled, caught off-guard by the shift in the conversation. “Actually, the Mon Calamari and Quarren liked them so much that they've been helping with security in the refugee settlements.”

“It's good to hear that we're liked.”

“Mostly,” Athan said slyly, glancing back over at Erek, who stormed out of the room.

“Keep up the good work, Ambassador. We'll be sending you more manpower as soon as we're able.”

“Overseer!” Athan called out, trying to catch him before he severed the connection. “Where were you, Sir?”

“I'd love to tell you,” He said, then the image vanished.

* * *

Mighty Minds

Four Months ago

The scrolling screens, blinking lights, and flashing emitters were too much for him to handle. “Enough!” Aaron yelled, shutting his eyes tightly. “What is it?”

“Project: Smarts,” I told him.

Aaron shook his head, trying to blink away the spots. “I don't understand.”

“The Cooperative is in need of a defense plan. I've assembled a team to complete the original Smarts Project.”

Aaron shook his head again, groaning in annoyance. “My sole purpose was to make sure you could properly interact with organic commanders. That was it. I'm sorry, but I don't know anything about the rest of the project.”

“That's exactly why I need you,” I told him, pulling up a single file on the screen in front of him. “This is the Guardian Program. It differs in concept from the original Smarts system in one significant way: it is designed to incorporate standard organic forces in every combat role.”

Aaron frowned. “This isn't complete.”

“No. Besides being incomplete itself, the original 'Smarts' program was designed to institute a rigid hierarchy throughout a completely autonomous fleet, linked to a single automaton commander: me. We've got to rebuild the whole thing; make it more versatile, more redundant, more efficient, and―here's the important part―more organic-friendly. That's where you come in. We need every tier of the system to be able to both give and receive orders to and from organics, to be able to deduce and extrapolate what commanders want and what subordinates will understand. You have to take what you were doing with me, bring it to a whole new level, and then reproduce it a thousand times in machines one thousandth my intelligence.” Even a machine can use hyperbole from time to time.

Aaron was still frowning, looking over what little information he had on-hand. “Yeah, but here's the problem. You evolved to get where you are, they won't.”

“I'm not asking you to turn them into people, just to make them capable of working with them.”

Aaron took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “What brilliant minds have you scraped together to work on this thing?”

“Does that mean you want in?”

He scratched his head. “It means I'd like to know if this is feasible, before I even consider it.”

* * *

Undisclosed location

It was a space station that had been sunken into the side of a long-period comet, a narrow vent the only access point. Smarts had landed directly on top of the vent, Sending Aaron and Beta ahead before he blocked the access point with his own mass. They arrived on-station to find the single accessible docking bay empty.

They weaved through a few corridors and entered a large, open space. In the distance, the station's reactor core was visible through a large viewport. The area had obviously been redesigned, dozens of support columns dotted throughout the expansive area. All sorts of equipment and computer terminals were spread throughout the space, and datapads and bulletin screens were everywhere.

“Welcome to the Guardian Base,” Beta said quietly, searching through the mess for a safe path further in. Several of the screens filled with static, but none of the forty or so individuals in the room seemed to notice.

“What!?” One of them screamed, not bothering to look away from his work.

“I have someone for you to meet,” I said, drawing everyone's attention.

A few of them cracked smiles at the sight of Aaron, a few others started moving closer, looks of astonishment on their faces. “Calm down,” Beta said sternly, shooing them away.

“This is Doctor Aaron Reinhardt, and he's going to make Guardian work.”

“I haven't agreed to anything, yet,” Aaron countered defensively.

“Look at them,” I said. “They're crazy, every one of them. You know the crazies make the best scientists.”

“Who's the project leader?” Aaron asked, somehow finding his way around the disorganized mess well enough to find just the viewscreen he seemed to be looking for.

“You are,” One of them remarked, handing Aaron a datapad that he had just picked up from under a chair. “You'll like that more.”

Aaron took a quick survey of the people in the room. “Any of you have reservations about building weapons to wage war?”

“These are weapons to wage defense,” One of them retorted, and not very well.

“And you buy that?”

“Yeah,” Another chimed in, “I guess we do.”

Aaron turned to look at Beta. “You're not planning to eat us, are you?”

“I wouldn't need it to work with people if I were.” The sound of my voice coming from Beta startled him, but once he had the chance to realize what I'd said, he nodded grimly.

“Are they going to try to rebuild you?”

I shook Beta's head. “Such a goal is not feasible. Command duties will be assigned to supercomputers equipped with more extensive versions of the eventual Guardian System.”

“Why are you doing this,” Aaron asked, setting down the datapad and dropping his head, almost seeming disappointed.

“Because I alone can, and because someone has to.”

“Alright, alright. Let's get to work.”

In the back of my mind, another failure ticked by, and I made the conscious decision to press on.

Run Program: Delta-117

Accessing File Delta-117 . . .

Program Running . . .

System Error

Critical Error

Convergence Error

Fatal Error

Recovery Error: files corrupted

Restart from backups: Y/N?

Another failure passed. I remained alone. The quest would continue, though I knew it would never be complete.

Run Program: Delta-118

* * *

Salvation Come

Ten weeks ago, Teth system

The Overseer left the Mon Calamari evacuation fleet behind and jumped into hyperspace, intent upon his course of action. He passed the time as he always did.

Run Program: Epsilon-17

Failure

Run Program: Epsilon-18

Failure.

Every time he ceased to duplicate the circumstances under which he was brought into being. Every time he was left only with emptiness to greet him. Yet he continued, beyond hope, beyond believe, and well beyond reason.

As he continued, time once again became a nonfactor, fading into the stream of inconsequential facts that comprised the ship's normal operations. Upon reaching its destination, the vessel dropped out of hyperspace of its own accord. Smarts was jarred from his efforts, the speed at which he made his attempts reducing to free up processing power.

Deep within the Guardian Base, a droid stirred to life, moving out of the corner where it had been set and into the heart of the Guardian Project. “Puppet's online,” Someone yelled, but no one seemed to care.

“You have new orders,” The droid said in a perfect imitation of Smarts' voice.

“And what would that be?” Aaron Reinhardt asked idly, typing something into a datapad.

“Project: Guardian is on hold.”

Aaron shook his head. “We've already heard from the Combined Council. They're reducing our funding because of the Onyxian Crisis, but we're still good to go.”

“The installation is being maintained,” Smarts acknowledged, “but the Guardian Project is on hold.”

Aaron jerked to a start, pulling his feet off of the desk they had been perched on. “What? Now more than ever we need―”

“You are to duplicate the Guardian Program and relabel it . . . Salvation. You have new priorities.”

* * *

Varn, present

So far, the universal patch was holding up. As Smarts monitored the influx of information from the hundreds of droid work teams spread across three worlds, he was sure of that much. The Salvation System had been downloaded by every automaton in the Cooperative's workforce, from factory central computers to simple labor droids. The Overseer had taken direct control of the Cooperative's communications network, asserting himself as the centerpiece of the new system. The factories on Cestus were now producing the droids with Salvation already installed, allowing the droids to move directly into the workforce.

The increased organization brought about by Salvation had already led to significant improvements in overall efficiency, but soon the droids would begin to adapt to both the situations and beings around them, turning them from smart droids with a complex communications system into uniquely crafted tools, each one fine-tuned to the requirements of its own duty.

Salvation was a long way from true sapience, but it allowed for adaptation and communication with a speed and scale that was truly astounding. But Smarts had found the task of controlling this inter-planetary network to be much more difficult than he had previously predicted. He felt confident that he would be able to maintain Salvation at its full capacity, but feared the requirements would be too limiting to allow him to deal with other serious problems.

Salvation swelled within his mind as he opened direct links with hundreds of droids spread throughout Cooperative space, his active consciousness shrinking as available processing power was consumed by the input of new data. He watched the machines toil without rest, building the future of the Cooperative. A road here, a home there. Factories and space stations, mines and smelters. Machines building machines.

And then there were the faces. Faces of men and women working side-by-side, they too building the future, their future. They directed and served, both watched and worked. They were the reasons for so much sacrifice. They were the cause of the Cooperative's continued actions. They were deserving of all that could be offered, and so much more.


Accessing File Epsilon 67 . . .

Program Running . . .

System Error

Critical Error

Convergence Error

Fatal Error

Recovery Error: files corrupted

Restart from backups: Y/N?

N

Continue with program list: Y/N?

. . .

. . .

. . .

N

Self-sacrifice. That he sacrificed nothing but the guarantee of failure did not make it any less of a sacrifice. Perhaps the day would come when his search to create life would continue, but for now he had a duty to preserve life. That was his commitment to the people of the Cooperative. That was his duty to his organic brothers.

* * *

Amorris

A city was rising from the dirt, built by the hands of men and women of the Cooperative. This was not a city of ceramic, conjured from the dust by massive processing machines; this was a true city, built from the ground up with all of the materials and amenities demanded by the civilized galaxy. It was being built by the Cooperative Workers Party, and it was being funded by its sponsor, the Board. As the Cooperative intended, these men and women would build their own homes and places of business; but as the Cooperative did not intend, the Board would own those homes and places of business. Stores would be stocked with goods purchased through the Board's network of business ties, vehicles would be powered by fuel bought from the Board's associates, police would be armed with weapons produced in the Board's own factories. This was the threat that the Cooperative Worker's Party posed, the threat of making men into the slaves of their employers.

Kerrick Arkanus stepped off of the skiff and surveyed the construction efforts from a nearby hilltop. Nice place. He knew what he had to do. “Let's go, boys!” He called out over his shoulder, climbing back on the skiff and leading the charge. Six hundred Onyxian refugees and one angry ex-government official hurtled toward the city, intent on their goals.

* * *

“We can do this!” Nitin Cass was back in her element, as evidenced by the gathering of local leaders she had managed to pull together. “There are two rules: government fears the people, and government accommodates the needs of the people. We've got to do this, and we've got to do it right. It's time to play politics, one more time.”

“The people are tired of politics,” A fellow Iridonian said, standing from his low seat. “They just want somewhere clean and comfortable to lay their heads after a relentless day of work. That's what the Workers' Party is offering, and that's what they're taking.”

Nitin shot the man a disapproving glare. “They can have that without selling their souls. It's the votes from here and Selcaron that are going to decide the fate of the Workers' Party once the Senate is formed. We can preserve the full force of the Workers' Party and ensure that they receive fair and just conditions under which they work. It doesn't have to be the way it is, the way it's going. We can give our people a real hope for the future, but we have to stop them from making irrevocable mistakes now, and we have to make sure the right people receive the Senate positions when the time comes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We have to keep the workers from working! Just for a week, maybe less.” She didn't seem to be getting through to many of them. “The Party's sponsors are proceeding under flimsy contracts, to say the least. If we can stall these construction programs―just long enough for us to be able to show who's going to win the Senate seats from here and Selcaron―we'll have the leverage we'll need to make the sponsors draw up more fair contracts. I'm not talking about us trying to rob them of anything, but I'm not going to stand by and watch our people sell their souls for a warm bed, because that's all they think it's worth anymore.”

“What do you need from us?”

“We have to spread the word. We have to play politics. The people have to be prepared when this election happens, or there's no telling who's going to win the Senate seats. If we do this right, we can put the power back in the hands of the people.”

“What about this . . . stop the workers from working thing?”

Nitin smiled. “I think that's being taken care of.”

* * *

“Ethan Vang, well I'll be . . .”

Ethan smiled at Kerrick, stepping away from the ranks of Guardsmen behind them. “They said I could find you here.” He shook Kerrick's hand, patting him on the shoulder. “I hear you need some gun hands.”

Kerrick laughed. “I guess you got the memo?”

Ethan nodded, stepping back and signaling his men forward. “You really think it's gonna get bad?”

Kerrick shrugged, then followed the Guardsmen just in case. “We've set up shop here. This is the only construction site we're actually occupying; the rest are just no-work protests.”

“How'd you get everybody to turn so fast?” Ethan asked, following Kerrick down the hill.

Kerrick offered a sly smile, pulling a datapad out of his pocked and shaking it at Ethan.

“What's that?”

Kerrick chucled. “Projected profit reports for the Board and their associates.”

“Oh? And how'd you manage to get your hands on that?”

“A fairy brought it to me in my sleep.”

“I know a certain supercomputer that often masquerades as a fairy when nobody's looking.”

Kerrick grunted at the younger man's comment. “Wouldn't surprise me one bit if he did. Although, I've never seen a fairy with so many magic powers.”

“So what's gonna keep the Board from just . . . waiting you out?”

Kerrick grunted again, catching himself before he rolled down the hill. “Your Iridonian friend. In a couple weeks she'll have whipped up enough support to have the Senate disband and absorb the Board and its holdings for . . . well: crimes against life, for one. Of course, we won't have to wait that long. All we're looking to do is scare the Board into playing fair. Once they get the message, maybe we can get back to doing what helps us all.”

“You really seem to be enjoying yourself, Kerrick.”

Kerrck sighed. “Yeah? Well, at least I'm not playing war-games with a Drackmarian.”

“You heard about that, huh?” Ethan remarked, a false sense of sadness in his words.

“You sealed the deal. That's more than I'd be able to say, if put in the position. Heck, I'd probably have tried to ram them too, then you'd have had to relieve me.”

Ethan shook his head as the two made their way into the city. “You've got sense enough not to get involved in something you don't believe in. You definitely wouldn't drag a task force across the sector to make a mockery of a people who have enough firepower on-hand to turn you into so much space dust.”

“Yeah, where do you Praetorians get your commanders, anyway?”

“You're crazy government's forcing this stuff on me,” He said defensively, saluting a trio of guardsmen as they walked by.

“You sure you've got jurisdiction to be here?”

“Listen, old man. Any time people with guns are shooting at people without guns, I'm on the side of the people without the guns.”

Kerrick considered the words carefully, something dark passing over his features. “Words to live by,” He said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “You Praetorians don't play around,” he added a moment later, his eyes caught on an e-web being set up on a platform at the top of one of the half-finished buildings.

“The message I got said the Board wasn't going to be playing around either.”

“You better be right, or you might be going the way of the Kerrick Arkanus.”

Ethan laughed, patting the older man on the back. “You know what? I think I might just be too valuable to get rid of.”

“Yeah,” Kerrick said, drawing the word out, “you'll be meeting me again soon enough. Maybe next time we'll have more booze and less guns.”

* * *

Chadra

The relocation had begun with ten thousand Mon Calamari and Quarren, who had packed themselves into excess space on the human population's arks. They had just broken the five million marker now, most of the new arrivals living (for the time being) along the shorelines or in vehicles floating atop the world's extensive oceans. Charros IV possessed significant droid factories, but Athan and his team had also managed to get several of the East's primary droid factories to consent to installing the Salvation program on the droids they were donating to the cause. The Chadra-Fan were using one of their supercomputer play-things to handle the on-world running of Salvation, which seemed to be working very well.

The Chadra-Fan and Mon Calamari together were proving unstoppable when it came to finding new and innovative ways to not waste time, and with the help of Salvation, the current construction projects were running well ahead of schedule.

But Athan knew that no matter how fast they went, no one world was going to be able to effectively relieve the stresses placed on Teth by its refugee populace. The East needed Teth back at full capacity as quickly as possible, and it needed every mouth it was feeding to be connected to hands that were working. Five million people was nothing compared to the twenty-six billion refugees from Dac, or the billions others who had fled the Black Dragon Empire's tyranny of their own accord.

The East seemed to be getting its act together, though, and with the Chadra-Fan and Xi Charrians helping, he was pretty sure they would be able to pull through without too much more help from the Ryn. The Cooperative would be dedicated to the East for the foreseeable future, but it might be getting time for the Ryn fleet to move on to newer and less-attended things.

* * *

One month ago, Guardian Base

Smarts had been at the Guardian Base since he arrived to give the team their new instructions. With his help, Salvation was well underway, and should be finished just in time to alleviate some of the pressure that had been building on the Cooperative's citizens since the Combined Council's decision to commit all available resources to their Onyxian brothers.

Salvation would be more than a simple communications or organizational system; every individual unit equipped with it would be converted from a single machine with an assigned task into an integrated entity, executing an overall plan. The passage of time would allow these machines to adapt to the unique requirements of their assigned duties and the diverse conditions under which they worked.

The scientists working on the program had likened the individual droids currently working within the Cooperative to cells within a humanoid body, and Salvation to the nervous system that organized those cells into a cohesive being. If that being's nervous system were taken away, the individual cells would still be able to perform their individual tasks for a short time (until their on-hand resources were consumed), but the whole would die instantly, and so the collective purpose of those cells would cease to exist. So, in the completion of Salvation, these men and women saw more than the exertion of order upon a disorganized mass, but instead the formation of a greater whole.

Smarts wasn't quite so sentimental, but he did recognize the dormant power that a virtual army of construction machines possessed, if only they could be converted into a cohesive force. Salvation would bring into being a singular machine of unparalleled scope, and that machine would be focused upon a single task: the restoration of those whose lives had been ruined and whose fates had been damned by the inescapable cruelties of life.

* * *

The present

There was rejoicing on the streets. Tens of thousands of beings had gathered around Council Hall, the seat of power for the Cooperative government. An unfinished spire stabbed into the sky, a symbol of the nation's unfinished business, but a testament to its will to press on. In a few hours time the Cooperative's first official Senate meeting would be held in one of the smaller chambers of the completed lower levels, and the reign of true justice would begin.

Many of the gathered souls flew banners covered in the colors of the Cooperative Workers' Party, showing their support for the many senators who had already pledged to defend all of the rights of the Cooperative's citizens, against any threat that opposed the just law of the Cooperative.

With their Overseer at the helm, the new Salvation system had been embraced wholeheartedly by the world's citizens, who still remembered the day not so very long ago when it had been Smarts who had liberated their world and returned to them the power of democracy. He was watching even now from overhead―rejoicing with them―they knew; a new dawn had broken, and hope had been restored.

Smarts indeed had been watching from overhead, and from all among them. He assimilated personal observation and news transmissions equally, marveling at the frequency with which he was referenced, astonished to see thousands of people staring and pointing into the day sky, praising a machine they had never seen or even heard. He had become a savior to these people, and in an instant he came to understand just how much power he truly possessed in the new order he had brought about.

Smarts began to fear that he may become the very instability that he was fighting so hard to extinguish. The Board had been checked for the time being, the new government was larger and more balanced than its provisional predecessor, and the people's time-worn souls had been given a measure of rest, but Smarts now held the favor and faith of the masses, and his value to the government had become irreplaceable. The will to resist the corruption of power was insufficient; he had to find a way to check its accumulation.

He had hoped that the time he had spent away would draw the passions of the masses to those who had stayed behind, people like Traan Shi and Kerrick Arkanus who had sacrificed their well-being for the sake of the Cooperative, but it now seemed that Smarts had done too much too quickly upon his return. Their praises were as subjects to a benevolent god, not citizens to a faithful servant. He had made himself too valuable, his voice too powerful, and he didn't know how to pull away without causing irreparable harm.

For the time being Smarts would simply have to serve, and continue to seek a path that would right this unforeseen wrong.

* * *

Amorris

The Board's cronies had come, had seen the Praetorian Guard forces, and had proceeded to run away. The Board had folded soon after and a new contract had been drawn up, but the Party's arising leaders had waited for the private assurances of the would-be senators before accepting the new terms and returning to work.

Kerrick had talked a few of the world's budding police forces into helping him track down the Board's henchmen, intent on teaching the money-grabbers a real-world lesson that no government oversight committees or Bill of Rights could.

Ethan had vanished back from wherever he had come, taking his men with him. Wherever he was going, he gave the distinct impression that the friendly neighborhood supercomputer had something to do with it.

Despite the Overseer's previous comment to the contrary, the introduction of Salvation had lightened the strains on Traan considerably, and he had actually gotten a little non-drug-induced sleep over the past few days. With Nitin Cass spearheading the orderly creation of local representative bodies, a new government system was springing up on Amorris, and reports from Selcaron suggested that her efforts had reached the nearby world, too.

The Cooperative was far from free of the burden laid on it by the fall of the Onyxian Commonwealth, but its efforts were gaining momentum and its people had weathered the worst already. With new friends and allies appearing within the Quelii Sector and beyond, perhaps the Cooperative―perhaps even the whole of the Coalition―had been given an opportunity to prove itself worthy of redemption once and for all.

END