The Rebel Faction

Brandenburg.

Elegant civilization flourishing among the savage expanse of Genon's vast jungles. The Neo-classical buildings of the government and the more modernly vogue residences built by Stellar Enterprises had slowly pushed back the jungle, claiming the land for man and alien alike. It was an indomitable process that still continued as the Confederation flourished; more buildings, less jungle. With the buildings came new people. With people, new ideas, new money, and new problems.

"Sir no sir," replied the Kashan marine, "there's nothing unusual, for the most part. Some people arrived from Talcorra yesterday. One of them got into a brawl at the Red Moon..."

"And?" demanded Hans.

"...he was subdued. The local constabulary got him before our first men arrived."

Hans smiled. "Now that is an improvement. For once, the police are keeping up with the expansion. If this trend continues, soldier, we might be able to get you out of frakking babysitting duty to do your real job."

The armored man mutedly nodded.

Trutzig marched over to his office desk, "You can pass word throughout the regiment, we'll probably be deployed out of Brandenburg soon."

"Where to, sir?"

"The Swiftguard, the newest of Revanche battleships. It's probably one of the safest deployments possible. It's not like a pirate ship could put a dent into that thing. Heck, there's only a dozen or so Imp ships that could take her on..."

Brandenburg Stock Exchange

“Good morning,” he said calmly. “I was hoping you could help me with something; my associates and I were assigned to check on the servers here, and we’re…well, we’re new to this facility.”

The clerk leaned back into his chair. Typical. One of the servers has been having problems again. But these aren't the usual guys...wait a minute...the usual guys have already signed in. But if there's two server errors...to hell...we're going to hell if they don't fix that one.

"You're lucky. There's only one thing I know about the computers, and that's where they are. Jim, could you cover for me while I take these guys to the auxiliary servers? Thanks. Right this way, gentlepeople."

Civilian Hospital, Brandenburg

"I see...well, welcome to Springs Hospital," smiled the receptionist, "I'll have an orderly show you to the hospital's director. I'm sure he knows of where you're suppose to be..."

Brandenburg Stock Exchange

It is said that a cheap ruler will quickly be a dead ruler. And cheap protection is just one step above none at all. Cheap and shoddy methods were dispised by military men as a dardinal sin. But here in the realm of economics, being "cost-effective" was a virtue. The private owners of the Brandenburg Stock Exchange did have security in holocams and routine patrols by low-grade security droids such as surplus Imperial Mark IV Sentry Droids. Nothing to stop an overt attack, but more than to provide documentation of the attack or alert its owners of "fishy" business on the exchange's bustling floor. But perhaps the greatest asset of the security was its ability to alert the massive COnfederation forces in the surrounding area. It was highly unlikely that any team would be able to outgun the thirty-two Paladins stationed across the street at the local police precint. As well, the hangars of Victory Base always had a squadron of Deathsabers on standby alert, making a quick extraction nearly suicidial. No, the only way to defeat the Stock Exchange would be subtlety. Subtlety that TNO special forces probably possessed.

As the young desk clerk led the men into the server room, holocams recorded their every movement, copying it into a massive storage mainframe located offsite near the capitol. The desk clerk unlocked the door, ushered the Imperial men, and abruptly left to get back on station.

Brandenburg Hospital

Bacta Storage? Must be a surprise expection. Let's see...the only ones that haven't been checked up on recently has been the basement auxiliary lot...C-14? C-14. The orderly shook his head, leading the two through a maze of hallways and stairs to a turbolift. He inserted his ID card in, and the lift started up. The doors opened with a ping, and the men were wisked inside. The orderly tapped another button.

"You guys are here all the time I see. You're hear to check out C-14, right?"

A computer and its software, to a degree, is a complicated thing. Thousands, sometimes millions, of tiny switches transformed simple electrical currents into binary, and from binary, to become interpreted into the universal language of mathematics, most often done through Power Series. From there, the mathematical data would be interpreted by any number of programs, all of which their own protocols and data types. The computer programs would then use a variety of functions and interpret the inputted data and make it…somewhat understandable to the user. A computer is a complicated thing.

But what happens when a computer links up to other computers to make a network? An already complicated subject becomes a twisty, tangling web of intricacies to the unlearned. Data transfer between units has to be considered, both in efficiently and securely. Computers within a network must adopt a systematic method of reading data, of understanding programs. If the data flow is to be kept both secure and flawless, a full-time staff of trained technicians would have their hands full with monitoring the large amount of transactions that took place within the Brandenburg Stock Exchange. Several staffs of workers could somewhat alleviate the mess, but rapidity of communications would have made their job difficult. No, few living peoples would be able to keep up with the flow, but machines certainly could.

Enter the Apollo Artificial Intelligence System; envisioned by the Kashan military as the next wave of the information warfare technology; powered by positronic processors, programmed by fruits of dozens of technicians over the course of decades. Designed to creatively hack into computer systems and networks for espionage and sabotage, and to protect those networks to which it was hosted. A potent tool, a closely guarded tool, an unacknowledged tool. But one that secretly kept watch over all of the entirety of the Confederation Information Infrastructure, whether it be the shipboard computers of the Revanche, or those of the hundreds of small, local government agencies across the Confederation. If the system was used for governmental work, or was important to a local government, it would be being watched.

Accepting data transfer…running standard diagnostics of data…scanning…invalid code…code is not according to the standards established by the Genon Stock Exchange computer administrator…searching for recent software updates authorized by the Authority…0 results…Quarantine protocols are in effect…locking down rogue program…program is neutralized…proceeding to evaluate programs code for possible repair…program is a virus…flagging program as hostile…notifying authorities…

Three Days later…

Victory Base, Brandenburg

“What do you mean?” frowned Trutzig, rising from his chair, “a computer virus pops up, and you’re wanting me to send in the calvalry? Guns don’t fix things like this, Mr. Essex.”

“No,” acknowledged the businessmen, “they do not. But guns can guard doors. Here is an order from the Marble Mansion, dictating that the Stock Exchange receives an emergency armed guard for this crisis.”

Trutzig folded his hands. “What exactly has happened from this virus?”

Essex sighed. “Well…it appears to have tangled with the stock records of a couple of local companies…some government security program caught it before it could do much software damage, and we’re restoring the correct data from other hubs and reserve data backups kept offsite. But, it has eroded some investor’s confidence…but we’ve kept it quiet…so most people don’t know exactly what’s going on…”

“Don’t you think the presence of armed guards in full battle armor is going to tip them off that something is wrong, Mr. Essex?”

“Well…er…”

“Mr. Essex, I recommend that you ask the Marble House to assign some CSIS agents to keep watch on your facility for interim. At nightfall, we can have some Paladin IIs permanently stationed within the server rooms. I can arrange for that quite easily. Do we have any idea who instigated this attack?”

Essex shook his head. “Not yet, but we’re sifting through the surveillance tapes. I expect we’ll have answer tomorrow morning…”

“Very well…”

Brandenburg Hospital

“Right,” bowed the orderly, “I’ll be in the main office if you need anything.”

General Trutzig stared out of the stain-glassed windows, watching the daily bustle of the capitol's streets. Several landspeeders passed by on the cobbled roads. More citizens walked by, going about their daily life; buying groceries, taking children to school, going to work. Hans sighed. This could almost be a normal day. The Audacian pivoted to face his awaiting aide.

"How many?"

"Twenty dead, sir."

Trutzig sighed, "Where, how, and when?"

"One of the SE built civilian hospitals, Memorial, Bacta Storage Tank C-14. It appears that someone added a contaminant that turned the medicine into, well, basically a biological weapon. We're still analyzing what exactly it is. And we're not entirely sure when it happened, but within two weeks since it's last registered inspection."

"Registered inspection?" questioned the officer, "As opposed to an unregistered inspection?"

"Yes sir," replied the soldier, "One of the staff members reported that a pair of doctors took a look at it a little over a week ago."

Trutzig frowned. "Do we know the doctors names?"

"No sir, and no-one at the hospitol staff seems to have recognized their names according to the man's description of them. Though several of them do remember seeing people that matches their description, wearing scrubs."

"Holofeed?"

"We're working on that. But sifting through all of those recordings will take some time."

"Inform me immediately when we've found them."

"Sir yes sir."