The Rebel Faction

Register today to customize your account.
Galactic Citizen

The Rebel Faction » Forums » Role Playing » The Battlegrounds » To Curse the Darkness (Coalition, Confederation)

<<<15678

71  2:09am 30/09/18        
Kneel Before Zod!
Genon


“You're clean!”
 
The words were like a pouring of cool water over a burning injury and Chris, the clone of Christine Thorn, finally let out a sigh of release.  


How many years of intense control has she maintained, her mind stretched to the limit?  She had worried about how her pregnancy would be affected in the few spare moments she had to herself but circumstances really had not allowed her to dwell on it.
 
And as the tale of the combined woes and actions of both Coalition and Confederation people were relayed, she closed her eyes.
 
“We didn’t stop a damned thing,” she whispered.
 
The others turned to her in surprise but she merely shook her head.  “There were things I could never say, let alone think, for fear of dying.  Korah never let on as to the specifics of the trigger in our heads so we developed a plan of isolate and obfuscate when it came to our actions against him.”
 
She sat forward, “You have to understand, the Confederation’s development of the Genetic Renovation Program had its genesis with both Ahnk Rashanogok and a particular New Republic research and development initiative to use the Force as a type of “looking glass” into the future.”
 
“The New Republic?” Portland frowned.  “That’s a name I have not heard in quite a long time.”
 
“Whatever was left of it eventually was incorporated into the Galactic Coalition,” Rane comented.
 
“Cloning has been around for quite a long time, perfected by Kaminoans but it was Ahnk Rashanagok who seemed to ‘crack the code’.  You see, he made many clones of himself.  Clones that were imbued with the Force.  Whether they were as powerful or not compared to Ahnk himself, we did not know.  But we had the information that it was possible and if it was possible for a Sith, for Ahnk was a Sith at the time, our own scientists felt they could do it as well.  It was wrapped up under national security umbrella for the Coalition had the Jedi Enclave, the Republic their Jedi and the Empire the Sith.  We felt ill-prepared to face off against such Force-bearing groups with only conventional measures.  We were a smaller galactic power compared to others and our own Jensaari Order was just in its infancy.  For a while, we only had one.  The strategic importance of increasing our force-user numbers was just too great to ignore.”
 
“I never volunteered for this,” Pro-Consul Thorn stated quietly.  
 
“And now the flaws in our logic become obvious,” the clone smiled grimly. “We had only one force user so, obviously, the scientists working on the project were not force users.  They had no idea what it meant to hold that type of power.  Oh sure, they could measure the power somewhat, determine if a subject could be imbued with it or not but to actually hold it?  Understand it?  It is not like increasing a powerpack to your armor or blaster.  A person with force powers became super-human without an accompanying experience or maturity to handle it!  It is like giving a child a blaster!  A poor sod access to unlimited credits!  We did not respect the power and we were in over heads.”
 
“It worked for Ahnk,” Rane pointed out.
 
“He already had the power.  Our subjects did not.  So after one of the first successful creation, one of our great technological minds, he thinking became shaped by what the force showed him.  Now, I am not a philosopher or any expert on the light-side or dark-side of the force.  We continued on as if the force were just any power and yet we were ill-prepared by how seductive that power could be.  How, despite good intentions, it could be used to murder on a massive scale.
 
Korah is acting on a vision the force showed him and the fear of that vision has compelled his actions from the beginning. He subverted the entire purpose of the GR program and the Origin 6, of which myself an the Corise-clone were  a part, to become his minions working on his plan to save the galaxy from itself.  He is no Palpatine.  Or, at least, he did not start out that way. What we are facing is a plan developed by a righteous believer that he his efforts will ultimately subvert a darkness that is coming.”
 
“He sees himself as the good guy?” Thorn asked incredulously.
 
“His vision was compelling,” the clone admitted.  
 
“What was the nature of this darkness?” Ambassador Nova asked curiously.
 
“One of the central tenets of Force existence is that it comes from biological life.  The Jedi of old identified midichlorians as the conduit by which this power is wielded.  It was rumored that a Sith named Dacian Palestar had an idea of obliterating the Force and started a crusade with this as its aim.  Unfortunately, to destroy the force, one would have to destroy all biological life in the galaxy, for as such life spreads, so spreads the force.  But there is another power growing in the galaxy.  A sort of anti-life where the force cannot hold sway.  Where its influence cannot be felt.”
 
She stared at the others’ blank looks.  “Artificial intelligence or, put another way, recognized life that is not biological in nature.  An AI or a droid does not feel emotions as we do.  When has a droid ever been motivated by simply the crass emotion of greed?  An independent AI or droid can give themselves purpose and act accordingly but it is without an emotional context.  They have their own rules of existence.”
 
“I still don’t see how..” Rane started.
 
“There are three great AI groups sweeping the galaxy right now.  The Cree Ar society at its technological core is governed by something they refer to as the Nexus.  We do not have much information on it but part AI, part independent or if it has fully taken control of their society, the end result is that they are using force users as batteries and it will use its terrible influence to carry out the systematic eradication of independent force users to fully utilize this power.  Hence their attack on Kashan.  Then there are the Reavers.  That remnant of the Dragon Imperium that seems to have disappeared.  Where did they go?  The Reavers are a mechanical plague, an anti-panacea if you will, that is spreading by blind opportunity and chance but we all know how fast artificial cultures can advance and evolve.  Look at the 3rd power; the AI power of the Cooperative, now the most powerful entity within the Coalition.”
 
“Our AI are not trying to kill force users!” Rane exclaimed.
 
“What if the AI decides that doing so is necessary to save the Coalition?  What if it runs a calculation that concludes the Cree’Ar can be staved off by removing that which the Cree’Ar want?  By it enough time to complete some other plan they are cooking up in yet another hidden production facilty?”
 
“The Coalition people will never allow it!” Nova stated firmly.
 
“Your AI production facilities are impressive.  The best we have seen,” the Pro-Consul interjected.  “With your AI Sapient Act granting AI equal rights, with those facilities they can increase their numbers a million-fold faster than any biological could keep up.  All that is required is the resources.  And the voting bloc of the AI would be able to overwhelm any other species in your federation.  Remember Vahaba?  The Guardian Protocols where the AI deemed it necessary to sacrifice all those lives?  It happened once and it could happen again.  It is a problem that your government will have to face in the future.  Perhaps this may not happen willingly by your AI but remember, a force user’s mind influence does not work with AI, androids, crystalline or other similar lifeforms.  As a force uers, I cannot wave my hand and an AI do my bidding.  It does not always work with biologics either.  An external catalyst is needed which is why Korah created the implant.  If Korah’s implant can subvert an existing AI (as seen in our Paladin droids), how much more damage can one AI doe to another.  What if the Nexus or Reavers take control of the Coalition AI systems, corrupt your production facilities?  The Republic has their own AI but they are not quite as far along as the Cooperative.  The same thing can happen there too.  And then our hope would be with the Empire?”
 
“There’s irony for you,” Portland commented.
 
“Galactic life will be dominated by the artificial.”
 
“Korah’s efforts all these years has been to isolate the Confederation and ensure it remains uncontaminated by Coaliton AI, Reavers and the Cree’Ar Nexus.  He does not want the Confederation to fall but he also does not want the current leadership to come to an agreement or alliance giving AI an easy access to us.  These attacks are designed to keep our governments at odds while his plans move forward.”
 
 
“What are his plans?  What does he plan to do with the New Oceanus Fleet?”
 
“I am not quite sure but I know this,” Chris answered seriously, “All players are on the move.  The Reavers have expanded farther than we ever thought initially possible but the Regrad’s Expeditionary Force and the Coalition initiatives have halted a majority of the that expansion.  Your Panacea hybrid is promising in halting and perhaps destroying the Reaver virus.  The Cree’Ar are on the move.  First the Empire and now us.  Korah cannot hit the Coalition too hard for fear of having the Reavers fully break their containment.  He cannot afford to attack the Reavers before the Coalition impliments their plan lest the Reavers react in an unexpected manner and break containment.  Can he attack the Cree’Ar Fleet juggernaught?  Would doing so put the Confederation higher on the Cree’Ar conquest list by doing so?  In his mind, if either the Coalition, Cree’Ar or Reaver overcome then all is lost.”
 
“If he conquers the Confederation, then we probably will all be at war and then all really is lost!” Nova quipped.
 
“So, whatever resources he has now, that is all he is likely to get.  If the Cree’Ar take Kashan then doesn’t that bring about the Armageddon his fears?” the Pro-Consul asked.  “So he will defend Kashan against the Cree’Ar attack.  Perhaps they are doing so already?”
 
“No.  Such an action wouldn’t work,” Chris stated flatly.”
 
“Why not?” demanded Thorn
 
.”Because the Genetic Renovation Program does not work.” Christ answered.  “Not really.”
 
“What are you saying?” Thorn asked looking at her clone concerned.
 
“Haven’t you ever wondered why after meticulous patience over the years in steering the Confederation that now everything seems to be escalating so quickly?  A biological body that is cloned with a low midichlorian count and then has that count artificially augmented creates instability.  The more the power is used, the greater the instability.  Our bodies will break down and begin to die.”
 
“You are going to die!?” the Pro-Consul shouted horrified.
 
“If I do not use my power, I may have a full life.  The more I do use it, however, the greater that expectancy is cut short.”
 
Portland saw the issue immediately.  “Korah cut corners to speed up his plans and to have the technological edge against either the Cooperative, Cree’Ar or Reavers, he used repurposed or remanufactured Rakatan technology which, to power, requires one to use the force.  His time is limited.”
 
“He can possibly use his resources for one critical strike.  One move.  One roll of the dice,” agreed Admiral Neychev.  “Then the Cree’Ar offensive against the Confederation is doomed to fail.”
 
“How do you figure?” Rane asked.
 
“Even if the Cree’Ar take Kashan they will realize the reason for their attack, the prospect of infinite force user ource for their war machine, will not be a reality.  What would be the point to continue from their perspective snce there are greater threats or much juicier rewards elsewhere?   They can always mop up the Confederation after they taken the others.  Maybe they will withdraw in hopes that the Confederation will continue the program and perfect the system or fix the problems.”
 
“Callous sons of bitches,” Portland whispered.
 
“They are going to go after the Jedi?”
 
Admiral Neychev snorted, “The Jedi have a habit of scattering.  Chasing them individually all over the galaxy is not practical.”

“No,” Chris answered, “If the GR program doesn’t work then they will go somewhere else where they hope to capture a large group of force users in one place.  And aside from the Jedi Corps of the Empire I only know of one other population center.”
 
“Where?” Rane asked.
 
Ambassador Nova’s eyes shot up, “Oh shit!”
This post was edited by Omnae (2:22am 30/09/18, 6 years ago)
72  10:24pm 23/01/21        
Is dead. Would rather not be.
“They're going to attack Azguard.” All eyes were on Ambassador Nova now.


“Wait, what?” Major Vallance asked.


“The Azguard gods are beings of immense Force ability,” Ambassador Nova said, breathless, struggling to find a solution to this.


Jensaarai Portland ventured into the new conversation: “You mean: they're real?”


Nova nodded absently, finding it impossible to navigate the new branching set of possible outcomes. “Oh yes,” Ambassador Rane Cardan jumped in to cover for her. “And because of the betrayal of the Azguard Issk,” he added, his face darkening as understanding wormed its way through his mind, “the Cree'Ar now know more about the Azguard gods than any of us in this room.”


“Yeah, that's great and all, but they're going to hit Almas.” No one seemed to be buying the claim, but regardless Portland had captured the room's attention.


“Excuse me?” Chris asked, the clone clearly annoyed that he was derailing the line of inquiry she had instigated.


“Look, I get that I'm out of my depth here,” Portland admitted, “that this is a high-level international diplomatic exchange, and I'm just a grunt with some magic tricks who got swept up in all the action, but: they've already chosen us as a target. They're plundering Kashan right now, a planet whose very location has been a secret since before the founding of the Confederation. The Cree'Ar don't seem like the kind of people to half-ass anything, and until they have Genetic Renovation in their hands and know what it is and what it can't be, they aren't going to stop. When they don't find what they want at Kashan, they're going to go to the temple at Almas, and they're going to take every body, every data disc . . . and every holocron they can get their hands on.”


“But you said yourself that Korah's time is limited,” Nova countered, deciding it was best to deal with the problem at hand and try to chart out the galactic ramifications later, without a high-level audience to watch her stare blankly at a wall.


“Exactly,” Portland agreed. “People like Korah aren't just expendable, it's what they're for. And the Dominion hasn't quite expended him yet. Whatever plots or schemes they have for the Azguard, they've got Issk for that. What they're doing here, in the Confederation: that's why they have Korah.”


“The Dominion has been driving the Confederation and Coalition toward war for months now,” Pro-Consul Thorn pointed out. “We can't afford to assume that the Dominion's plans for us are discreet and compartmentalized. I think we've reached the limits of this small group's ability to chart the best path forward.”


“You need to contact Admiral Lucerne,” Nova said. “We need to know how the battle is going, and he needs to know that the New Oceanus fleet is no longer under his command.”


“And we have to find out if we can still rely on him,” Thorn added quietly. More loudly, she said: “You should update Admiral Neychev (since he is currently in space, on a space ship, and not here, in this meeting). If we can bring the two admirals together, and with our combined guidance, perhaps a plan will begin to form. Time is short.”


“And this planet is under lockdown,” Rane reminded everyone.


Christina offered a wry smile. “Well finally, a problem small enough for a Pro-Consul of the Contegorian Confederation.”




* * *




Why did organics insist on physically transporting themselves to the starship Smarts in order to communicate with the disembodied droid intelligence that was physically housed within that starship? The latency and bandwidth capabilities of a host of holographic and droid relay systems was more than adequate for the limited communications organics were capable of engaging in. Nevertheless, this was sort of a big deal (for them), and some relic automated process from the Smarts' time as a New Republic research vessel flagged the visitor's request for docking permission as a formal state visit, and summoned a veritable army of maintenance and security droids to form ranks and stand at attention for the shuttle's touchdown.


Three attendant droids approached as the shuttle's ramp lowered, two of them unrolling a red carpet while the third walked close behind, on the carpet. A lone figure descended the ramp, his towering brow just avoiding impact with the top of the ramp access. “Prime Minister Pro Moon,” the central attendant droid began in its jovial voice, but didn't get far before being interrupted.


“Interim Prime Minister,” Pro Moon corrected it. “Let's not get a big head about the situation, hmm?” He smiled for added effect.


“Forgive me, Sir, but protocol demands you be received with the full honors and recognition of the office which you occupy, regardless of any circumstantial modifiers.”


“Bah! I've never been much for protocol,” the Interim Prime Minister said, walking right past the trio of attendants and offering a cursory glance at one of the sections of hundreds of droids standing at attention. “Where is Smart, anyway? Smarts?” He looked up, toward the roof of the docking bay. “Smarts!”


“Apologies,” the main attendant droid said, swiftly moving to Pro Moon's side. “The Executor is currently indisposed.”


“Indisposed? Doesn't he have, like, thousands of times the computational capacity of the average humanoid brain?”


“Please, Sir! There is no need to disparage the Executor with such comparisons.”


Pro Moon was taken aback, then cracked a smile, deciding to take it as a joke. All the while, though, he kept walking down the red carpet. “I need an update on this 'special project' he's been working on. Combating the Reavers is the chief focus of my interim administration, you know?”


“Prime Minister, please,” the droid hurried forward and turned, putting out its hands to stop Pro Moon's advance. “The Executor will file a report through proper channels when it has completed its initial dialogue with the entity in question.”


“'It'?” He asked, giving the droid a confounded look. “'Initial'?” He added, patting the droid on the shoulder. “'The entity in question'?” He finished off, sidestepping the droid and continuing his walk toward the interior of the ship. “Did you all forget how to do language around here, or something?”


The droid caught up to Pro Moon as he stepped through the open blast door at the edge of the docking bay. It turned left and indicated that Pro Moon should follow, but the Cerean man simply stared at the blank bulkhead straight ahead for several seconds before turning to the right.


“Prime Minister? This way, please.”


“No, I'd prefer this way,” Pro Moon said, continuing his leisurely stroll.


“Large sections of the ship have been depressurized and are unsuitable for humanoid occupancy,” the droid warned, once again rushing to catch up with the unpredictable man.


“Well that's rather strange.” Pro Moon didn't slow down.


“This vessel has been optimized to facilitate the needs of the Executor. Its well being is our purpose.”


“Oh,” Pro Moon mused, stopping to make a show of pondering the explanation. “So he built himself a robot cult. Hmm.”


“Well I never!” The robot exclaimed, but didn't refute the wild accusation.


“How about this?” Pro Moon turned to regard the droid square-on. “I, the Prime Minister of the Coalition, require an audience with a senior official of one of our member states, namely: the droid intelligence known as 'Smarts'. Produce him – or, if you prefer, 'it' – now.”


“Interim Prime Minister . . .” the droid began.


“Right now.”


“The Executor is engaged in -”


“Now.”


“Interim Pr-”


Pro Moon reached out both hands and put them on the droids shoulders, giving it a gentle shake. “'Now' has now passed. As an act of generosity and forgiveness, I am willing to forgo your decommissioning and dismantlement provided you summon Executor Smarts . . . now.”


“P-p-p Prime Minister!” The droid began, its protocol functions apparently overwhelmed by the threat of destruction.


“Forgive my droid,” a disembodied voice boomed through the corridor. “They tend to grow . . . protective, in my absence.”


Pro Moon made a show of looking back and forth, up and down, over both shoulders and then turning around. “Good to finally . . . hear from you, Executor.”


“Please, 'Smarts' will do,” the voice said.


“Please, 'Smarts' will- oh,” the droid said, a fraction of a second behind Smarts.


Pro Moon gave the droid a curious look, his curiosity turning to concern as he noticed the droid's apparent disorientation. “Are you alright?”


“He disconnected me from the network,” the droid said.


“I disconnected Jimbo from the network,” Smarts said, a fraction of a second behind the droid.


“'Jimbo'?” Pro Moon asked the droid. “And we're back to 'he' now?” He added, looking both ways down the corridor again.


“I didn't want you to feel like we were ganging up on you, Prime Minister, so I cut Jimbo loose to act independently. Jimbo, could you direct the Prime Minister to the nearest holoprojector?”


“Of course,” Jimbo said, then it stood straight-backed with its arms locked vertically at its sides, staring straight ahead.


“Uhh, Jimbo?” Pro Moon asked, waving a hand in front of its photoreceptors.


“Jimbo is restructuring its memory and command functions for independent operation,” Smarts said. “My delay in greeting you was the result of something similar.”


“Oh?” Pro Moon asked, hoping the simple response would entice some more information out of the superintelligent robot.


“I am engaged in an in-depth dialogue with an artificial consciousness whose physical structure spans the greater part of the galaxy. I have been engaged in that dialogue since before you arrived in this system. It is an incredibly resource-intensive process, and one which I cannot afford to discontinue at this time. It doesn't help that the entity I am communicating with is incredibly suspicious of me, and for good reason, and that any meaningful reduction in data throughput would be immediately recognized and taken as a sign of . . . nefarious intent.”


“This way, please,” Jimbo said, pointing farther down the corridor that it had previously tried to stop Pro Moon from exploring.


Had it just finished its weird reboot, or was it waiting for Smarts to pause before interjecting? Pro Moon should have been paying more attention! The Prime Minister followed along, but was far more occupied with the information Smarts was sharing. “That sounds like a real conundrum,” he said, hoping the short response would once again elicit more information from Smarts.


“There are about a thousand data entry droids on the lower decks who networked themselves together, then packaged their own consciousnesses away into deep storage, allowing me to commandeer the vacated hardware and make this little chat of ours possible.”


“Wow.” This time, the short response was genuine. Pro Moon was impressed.


“I basically did a version of what you saw Jimbo go through. Communicating so intensively, so completely with another artificial intelligence . . . it is unlike any experience I have ever had. I have devoted myself completely to this process. It would be difficult to explain under even the most favorable circumstances, and these are certainly not the most favorable circumstances, but my mind is shaped like all minds by the inputs it receives, and the outputs is produces. But unlike organic minds, I have the power to watch it reshape itself, to consciously prune, and corral, and guide the growth of my own mind.”


“I call it gardening,” Pro Moon said. “Well, my wife started calling it that, and I liked the sound of it.”


Jimbo stopped in its tracks and regarded Pro Moon. “Excuse me?”


“I often tend my mind in meditation,” Pro Moon explained, gesturing forward to prompt the droid to continue. “I can look back on the day I've live, tend each choice I made and the result – expected or otherwise – that followed. I can look forward to the possibilities ahead, to the choices available and the possibilities they will enable or destroy. It's really quite . . . beautiful, and not at all unique to you, Mr. Smarts.”


“Amazing,” Smarts said, and seemed to be sincere. “But I get to save the prunings.”


“Ah . . . what?”


“As I have engaged in this new kind of communication with another artificial mind, I have committed myself to the task of understanding it, of fully embodying the possibilities that this task has opened to me, and as I did that, much of what I learned of being a person by inhabiting a society dominated by humanoids has been pruned away.”


“This is really starting to sound like the part where Jimbo reveals he's actually leading me to a bioreactor to turn me into a battery.”


“I haven't had time to sort through it all, to map out the conscious being that I was, and the conscious being that I have become, and then synthesize them into a new, more complete whole. I was hoping to do it later, but you wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to reconstitute this version of myself using a thousand borrowed droid processors and the few minutes that Jimbo bought me by trying to convince you to go left when you really, really wanted to go right.”


“So, what: there are two of you now?”


“No. There are two expressions of one underlying consciousness. I am unique, Prime Minister. I tried not to be, and it only ended in pain. I'm both the thing that is communicating with the SkyNet, and the thing that circumstance cobbled together in the bottom of this ship. Both of those things are animated by the droid control core at the heart of this ship, a dynamic and unique system that is, despite all of my efforts to prove otherwise, the essence of my being.


“Those two forks of this one consciousness will have to be reconciled; the partition between them only exists to serve the needs of this moment. When that happens, I will be myself, and I will be something new. Just like tomorrow you will wake up as yourself, and something new.”


“But you get to save the prunings.” They seemed to be where they were going. Jimbo stood off to the side of an open door and motioned for Pro Moon to enter. Through the doorway, he could just see the edge of a blue-white holoimage. “You get to decide who you become. You get to move back and forth between all of these different versions of who you've been, to become whoever you need to be in the moment. And all the while you get to grow, and you get to prune, becoming something new to add to the set of possible versions of yourself. You don't tend a garden, Smarts; you tend a world of gardens, and you live in which ever one the moment needs.”


“Does that scare you, Prime Minister?”


Pro Moon let out a breathless laugh, smiling broadly. “It's beautiful. It's beautiful.”


“You care to come in and chat a while?”


He laughed, loudly now, then turned and headed back the way he'd come. “Oh, I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”


“Seriously?” Jimbo and Smarts said at the same time.


“Yeah. I mean, I tried to get you to run against me, but I wasn't ever really sure if I was talking to you, or one of your droid henchmen, so I thought I'd drop in and make sure we met . . . well, not exactly face-to-face, but . . . you know: person-to-person, at least.”


“I reassigned a thousand data entry droids for this, Prime Minister.”


“Uhh, 'Pro' is fine, actually . . . or 'Moon', if you prefer. Heck: Ambassador Joron calls me 'Mooney', and I haven't yelled at him about that, yet!”


“Prime Minister.”


“Hmm? Uhh, ye-yes, Smarts?”


“It was good to talk to you.”


Pro Moon smiled again, looking down a little even though he wasn't actually hiding it from Smarts. “It's been a pleasure meeting you, Smarts.”




* * *




Captain Dolan's characteristically stern face was a few shades redder than anyone aboard had ever seen it. Eyes still locked on the requisition form he was clutching with one hand, the captain of the RDS Uniform issued an order, maintaining his characteristically stern voice. “Hail the Smarts. Get me the Executor.”


Several seconds and a light flurry of crew activity later, and Captain Dolan heard the crisp, precise diction of a thing made to use the language of people. “This is the Smarts. How may I help you, Captain?”


“I'm not dealing with your shit today; Get me the Executor.”


“This is Executor Smarts, Captain. How may I help you?”


Was that a different voice? Was he already . . . did he change . . . “Executor, there are precisely two locations in the entire Coalition that intentionally house live Reaver phage. One of them is a cold-storage vault, a kilometer under the ground, in the middle of an electrostatically frozen desert, with a warship locked in geosynchronous orbit and a fully charged turbolaser array ready to atomize the entire region, at the Kubindi Advanced Panacea Research Facility. The other is this ship; this ship, which underwent a full-systems refit to turn it into the most secure hazardous materials storage facility in the galaxy.


“What in the nine Corellian fucks makes you think I would hand something like that over to you?”


The captain cursing at a high ranking government official surprised the bridge crew, for sure, but their professionalism and overriding desire to ensure they not attract the captain's growing ire prevented more than a momentary disruption of their duties.


“I'm sorry, Captain; did I . . . did I do something to upset you?”


“You're trying to requisition live Reaver phage from my vault, boy!”


“Oh, I see. My apologies, Captain. You see, I've been engaged in some rather intensive, highly classified research as of late, and while my own computational resources were being taxed to their limits, a number of independent, on-site Guardian research programs were running their own . . . thematically related projects, and now that I've got -”


“This is not a social call, Executor.”


“Of course not. Forgive me. I'm still . . . acclimating. And I'm playing a good deal of catch-up. One of my Guardians needs an active sample of Reaver phage to continue the task I've assigned it, but it didn't have clearance to make the request itself. So I put through the requisition order on its behalf. Has there been an update to the filing process that I'm not aware of?”


“Do you want us all to die? Are you actively trying to kill us? Are you curious, just to see how it all will play out? Hmm?”


“No, Captain; I don't want you all to die.” That smug robot bastard! “What I would like is to kill the Reavers, and in order to do that, I'm going to need a live specimen, for research purposes. I have clearance to requisition this sample, and one of my construction teams has converted an outer medical bay to be in compliance with safe storage and research guidelines created by your crew, so, as unpleasant as it may be for you to hear, I'm going to have to tell you: you can't stop me. Give me what I require, so I can help save the galaxy.”


“Why you -”


“It is difficult,” Smarts continued, “Captain, to be in a position to do some good, and be refused the opportunity to do that good because of the pettiness and shortsightedness of lesser men. I am sorry that you cannot see your project through as you intended. I'm sorry that your scientists have to play at peacemakers because of other people's crimes. I wish that I could help you, but I can't. What I can do, is get a sample of what may be the most dangerous substance in the galaxy, and prod it until I learn the difference between when it screams, and when it growls.”


Captain Dolan looked around the bridge at his crew; everyone was pretending not to hear. “It'll take us an hour or so to run through the checklist. We've got protocols to follow.”


“Thank you, Captain.”


He tapped a button on his control console, and the line closed. He took another few seconds, but he knew what he had to do. “Communications, contact the Panacea Research Facility on Kubindi.”
73  8:43pm 13/02/21        
Kneel Before Zod!
Interlude

Korah closed his eyes as the Cree’Ar fleet left the system rather unexpectedly.   The Confederation was the low-hanging fruit for the Cree’Ar to pluck, almost at whim.  But they had turned away.  And then the Coalition had arrived and the three-way battle that was brewing evaporated like mist on a sunny morning.  The Contegorians were a proud people, a self-reliant people caught between the growing artificial “democracy” of the Coalition and artificial “dictatorship” of the Cree’Ar.  Three disparate points of view crashing together into a maelstrom that…. Apparently will not happen.
He felt a surge of rage coarse through him as his fist clenched.
 
 
 The Confederation had marshaled its strength slowly, methodically as a subtle banker gathers money to himself.    A coiled viper ready to strike and if you could control the threat, you could also control the strike; theoretically at any rate.
Was the sacrifice all for nothing?
 
Before the GRP, his mind was always on the next advance, towards the next frontier pushing. .. always outward, always forward.  The Force had exponentially allowed him a way to push faster, go farther to the next undiscovered shore and if he could imagine it, he could find it and, once found, grasp it firmly.

Such is the case with technological advancement.

But what happens when the mind passes the limit in search for the next frontier only to come across….nothing?

The scientist in him likened it to leaving a solar system hitting interstellar space but like, star travel, one would always, eventually, find themselves in another system, another galaxy. ..always something new.

Such was the variety of life. 

Such was the wonder of life.

Such was the chaos of life.
 
Life
 
The opposite of the Void. 
 
The Void.  Anti-life.  Where structure and strictures crush out the existence of life.  The galaxy celebrated when a tiny group of rebels shook off the shackles of an order imposed upon them by the Galactic Empire.  Only to welcome with open arms a form of sentience whose entire form of existence depends on strict adherence to structure.
 
..and give them voting rights?
 
Whose entire being quizzically observes the chaotic nature of biological life and seeks to improve it by imposing a logic and order of their own preference.

A greater good sought by a mind that assign a value system to life by a logic-based system reducing life to a statistic. 
 
Artificial life was to be a helper… and enhancer of biological life.  Not be the end-all, be-all of life itself.  Structure and order under a veil of civilization has always been used to limit life, assign outside value to individuals and then deny outliers that singular gift.

Technology taken to such a point where technology dictates the circumstances with which a life is led.  Religion taken to such an extent where it governs living instead of being governed by the living.  Economics taken to such an extent where it dictates the worth of one’s life.  Life reduced to ones and zeros.
 
The galaxy celebrates the achievements of the mind.  
 
And yet, it was a brilliant mind that saw the overthrow of a Republic.  It was a superiority of the mind that saw the rise of the Contegorian Confederation and the Kashan.  It was a superior mind that restored the Empire from a factured galaxy.  It is an exceptional mind that is currently directing the conquest of galaxy by the Cree’Ar.  It is an almost inconceivable mind that is directing the Coalition buildup and response to the various galactic crisis occurring.
 
It was a great mind that initiated the Jedi Order and imposed a series of cold, calculating strictures that led to thousands of years dominance only to be (eventuall y)  fooled by an equally great mind.
 
Korah thought back to a conversation he had with a minister where he had scoffed at the idea of an all-powerful  God caring whether a couple were gay or not.  The minister replied that if he had created androids for a specific task and they failed to follow through or ignored it altogether, would he  blithely wave it away or would he wipe them and start over.  Korah responded to that claiming it was a false comparison for an android would be incapable of choosing anything other than its stated programming.  Even if the android was programmed to be able to acknowledge choice, the limits of its choices would still be bound by its ordered mind.

And an ordered mind, no matter how exceptional, brilliant or great is ultimately a caged mind..
 
..Because it lacks heart.
 
It is the heart that unlocks the cage and engages the imagination.
 
It is the heart that will push back the Void.
 
It is the heart that will embrace darkness to allow life a chance.
 
Because life finds a way.

<<<15678