CONFEDERATE SENATE RECONVENES

The Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems reconvened as representatives left protective posture and rejoined their colleagues in order to bring about order and stability during these difficult times. Many of the representatives had sheltered in heavily protected systems in order to deny the Unified Council the ability to strike directly at the legislature in order to disrupt the Confederate government.

While greetings and welcomings were joyful, the Senate has a long road ahead of it. With the unconditional surrender of the Unified Council, tens of thousands of worlds await their announcement of their disposition. Additionally, with nearly a dozen races and systems joining the Confederacy, new seats were opened and representatives for those races and systems were sworn in.

Among the newcomers is the Harmonus Empire, the Telkan Forge Worlds, the Akltak Soaring Worlds, and many others, including the long awaited return of the Pubvians, who have exited their long self-imposed exile.

Among the subjects to take up is the establishment of secure trade and travel lines through the Long Dark as well as continued prosecution of the Autonomous War Machine War.

[Would You Like to Know More: [Y]es [N]o?]

Brentili'ik watched the news cast on the Tri-Vid channel, then turned the Tr-Vid in her office to the Confederate Senate Public Viewing Channel. The screen flickered for a moment then cleared.

There were nearly two thousand seats, all arranged by grouping. She watched the camera pan over the Senate, then focus on the Speaker, an elderly looking Terran. She listened to the speeches, droning on and on, saying very little with many many words.

Typical politics, she thought.

The camera panned again and Brentili'ik frowned. There were dozens of Terran Descent Humans in the seats. Two Pubvian seats. Dozens of Treana'ad, Rigellian Compact, and other seats, all with a Representative Senator and their staff.

She paused it and leaned forward, staring.

After a minute she leaned back and pressed a button on her desk.

'Yes, Madame Director?" her secretary asked.

"Send for Quetrax, tell him I need to see him immediately," Brentili'ik said, never taking her eyes from the Tri-Vid.

It took nearly ten minutes for her door to open to admit a nondescript very average looking Telkan into the room. The newcomer waited for Brentili'ik to engage the privacy modules, internally raising an eyebrow at how she closed the curtain. He sat down as Brentili'ik took her seat behind the desk. He looked around, noting the paused Tri-Vid.

"Watching the Confederate Senate deliberations?" he asked.

"I was," Brentili'ik admitted.

"Learn anything new from the distilled boredom?" Quetrax asked.

Brentili'ik nodded. "I did. I also discovered a question."

Quetrax frowned, his whiskers twitching. "What would that be?"

Brentili'ik pointed at the screen, where the Telkan Senator sat.

"Who is that?" Brentili'ik asked.

Quetrax frowned. "Someone from your office put in the Senate?"

Brentili'ik shook her head. "I would have remembered that. I would have remembered someone I would have briefed into the ground. I would know everything about them," she said. She pointed at the image of the Telkan again. "I do not recognize that Telkan."

"He seems very familiar," Quetrax mused, leaning forward slightly. "Perhaps I have met him?"

"I feel the same way, but I do not recognize him," Brentili'ik insisted.

"May I, Madame Director?" Quetrax asked, holding up his hands to chest level and cocking his wrists.

Brentili'ik nodded, typing in the security code to allow the other Telkan to bring up a holographic keyboard and display. The Intelligence Services Chief typed for a long moment then looked up.

"Got his data," Quetrax said. He made a flicking motion and the file appeared on Brentili'ik terminal.

She opened it up and perused it.

Birth, early life, education, service in the war that was not really distinguished in any way, appointment as a Terran liaison, assistance in the recovery efforts, appointment to the Senate. Biometric, place of birth, education records, letters of recommendation. The written orders appointing him as the Telkan Representative Senator.

"Everything looks in order," Quetrax mused.

"Except I didn't sign any of this," Brentili'ik insisted. "I swear, I know him," she said, staring at the picture. She put her finger on it and rotated it slowly. "I know I know him."

Quetrax tapped a few keys and moved his finger through the hologram several time. "Give me a second. I'll cross reference him with our database."

There was silence for a moment, the whole time Brentili'ik kept staring at the Telkan in the picture. Finally, Quetrax's holographic system pinged.

"Got him," Quetrax said, tossing it up to one of the wall mounted Tri-Vee's. The Telkan's picture appeared, along with his match.

"Um, what?" Brentili'ik said, staring at the hologram.

"That's impossible," Quetrax said.

The hologram insisted, though, displaying the data.

82% MATCH

VINCENT IMMA ADULTELKAN

PLANETARY DIRECTORSHIP RUNNER UP

Brentili'ik jabbed her finger at the data. "Get that overly clever Telkan in here."

----------

The male was young, maybe 20, and obviously worried. Sweat slicked his fur and his whiskers trembled as he was escorted by armed security into the office of the Planetary Director. He saw Director Brentili'ik sitting behind the desk, tapping a pen on the desk.

"You," she snapped.

"Good afternoon, Madame Director," Fespal said. "Uh, do I bow?"

"Oh, sit down," Brentili'ik snapped. She pointed at Quetrax. "My Chief of Security and Intelligence."

"I remember you from the Tri-Vid special outing you," Fespal said.

The Telkan made a silent snarl. "Hang all journalists."

"Am I in trouble?" Fespal asked.

Brentili'ik shrugged. "That entirely depends on what you've been up to for the last year of so."

"How so?" Fespal asked. "I've been learning aircar and groundcar customization. Paints, optional lights, enhanced VI and software, superchargers, interiors, stuff like that."

"Not staying involved in politics?" Brentili'ik asked.

Fespal shook his head. "No. The whole '3 Podlings' campaign was a GalNet/SolNet joke that got out of hand."

"Well, the person you used for the pictures and biometrics apparently has gone into politics," Brentlili'ik said, pointing at the Tri-Vee.

Fespal stared, then shook his head. "That's impossible."

"How so?" Brentili'ik asked.

"He's not real," Fespal admitted.

"Then how did you come up with biometrics to fool the system?" Quetrax asked.

Fespal held up his hand datapad. "I found a program on SolNet that would make an amalgamation of data. It had a bunch of filters and output settings. It's a really old program. It can scan images, like a couple dozen, and out out an amalgamation of the data."

Quetrax frowned. "And you used it?"

"I had a friend who writes code expand it a bit, then we used the Public Population Registry to scan biometrics and pictures to load into the system to generate a Telkan," the young male said.

"That registry is to allow people to find family members that survived the war, or Telkan returning home to find family members, not for datascraping," Brentili'ik said stuffily.

The young man shrugged. "All data is used for datascraping. Data is valuable, Madame Director."

"So Vincent Adultelkan was basically a generalization of all the Telkan you had available," Quetrax said softly.

"Yes. I can send you a copy of the software if you wish. It's pretty basic, but still fun to use," Fespal said.

"Please," Brentili'ik said. She looked at Quetrax. "Any other questions you have for him?"

"Not right now," the Intelligence Chief said.

Fespal nodded and left, the relief obvious in his posture as he quickly went through the door.

Brentili'ik went back to staring at the broadcast she had paused. She tapped a button and the broadcast kept going over the various reps, IDing them as the camera passed over since she had full verbose mode on.

"There's another thing bothering me," Brentili'ik said.

"Aside from the fact that our Representative Senator doesn't exist?" Quetrax asked.

"Even more," Brentili'ik admitted. She requested a zoom out with a population breakdown.

Terran Descent Humans made up 11% of the Senators.

"What?" Quetrax asked.

She tapped another set of buttons and the Senate SolNet site burbled up the data.

"One hundred thirty eight Senators that, with their staff, total nearly fifteen thousand Terran Descent Humans," Brentili'ik said.

"Well, that's how many systems they have that are signatories to the Confederate Charter," Quetrax said.

"Uh-huh," Brentlili'ik said. She zoomed in one Terran. "Except, tell me where, anywhere in the galactic arm, hell, the Universe, that there are fifteen thousand humans left."

Quetrax felt himself go cold, felt his ears press against his head and his whiskers press against the side of his muzzle as Brentili'ik did another wide view pan of the Senate.

"Those aren't real people," Brentili'ik said.

Quetrax turned and faced Brentili'ik.

"Then who are they?" he asked.

"I don't know."

-----------

>HIGH SPEED SECURE CHAT ROOM GENERATED

>HANDING OUT SECURITY KEYS

>FIVE (5) MEMBERS LOGGED ON

>MANTID FREE WORLDS HAS JOINED THE CHAT (KEY VALIDATED)

>TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS HAS JOINED THE CHAT (KEY VALIDATED)

>BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS HAS JOINED THE CHAT (KEY VALIDATED)

>DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS HAS JOINED THE CHAT (KEY VALIDATED)

>RIGELLIAN SAURIAN COMPACT HAS JOINED THE CHAT (KEY VALIDATED)

>PRIVACY MODE ENGAGED

>LOGS WILL BE SAVED TO SECURE ENCRYPTED ARCHIVE

>CHATROOM RELEASED

TREA>What's going on?

MANTID> We've got a huge problem.

RIGEL> Well, duh. You called us in here.

DASS> What?

MANTID> The Senate reconvened. Full Quorum. 100% accountability.

BASS> That's not good.

MANTID> Worse. Someone's figured out that it's all generated.

DASS> Uh-oh.

BASS> Do you suppose they'd keep quiet about it?

MANTID> I don't know. It's the Telkans. I can't even talk to their Gestalt right now.

TREA> That system kicked in during the rioting after the Mar-gite War and we don't know how to turn it off. Wait, do we?

DASS> No. It's an entirely different system. I don't even know how we can access it.

TREA> It's obviously getting in data. Can't we track the data?

DASS> We don't know what data they're tracking, how they gather it, or where they are sending it to and from.

MANTID> If it was peacetime and status quo, it wouldn't be that big of a deal.

TREA> Except we've still got the PAWM and the Atrekna to defeat and we have to assist the Unified Council worlds in rebuilding.

MANTID> Right.

RIGEL> We can't just shut it down? Maybe send real reps to the Senate and see if they replace the generated ones?

DASS> We tried that. The planet is empty since the rioting. Everyone left or died.

BASS> And we don't know where the system is?

DASS> No.

MANTID> I don't know how the children are going to react when they find out that a system we can't access, that we know nothing about, is able to do in-depth polling of the population to make political decisions that affect the whole Confederacy.

RIGEL> I say we be truthful with them.

BASS> I agree.

DASS> I concur.

TREA> I vote Aye.

MANTID> I'll make it official.

DASS> I just wish I knew where the massive amount of polling data they get is coming from.

-------------

"Sam, are you all right?" Herod asked, kneeling down next to the younger DS in the digital space.

Sam looked up, his eyes haunted and half crazed. He was on his knees, cradling a Rigellian duckling. "I don't know."

"I think we have to power-cycle the system," Herod said. "It won't wipe out the data, but it'll clear the junk in the processing hardware."

"Data. A strange way to refer to people's souls," Sam said softly. He set the duckling down and it waddled over to the pond, quickly entering the water and paddling around cheeping. "Is Dee ready for a power cycling?"

"She should be," Herod said. "Or, at least the digital template of her claims to be."

Sam looked up. "I don't like that she escaped. I'm not sure she's been redeemed yet."

"Too late now," Herod said. He sighed and looked around. "About the only thing that won't power-cycle is Atlantis and the volatile SUDS memory storage, but I made write-once-read-many copies of everyone."

"All right," Sam sighed. He slowly stood up. "Let's do it."

----------

Daxin's attention pulled instantly back to Dee when the plump matron sat bolt upright in her chair.

"Oh no, no no no," she snarled. "What are you two idiots doing?"

"What's going on?" Legion asked from where he was sitting playing Spades with himself.

"They're power-cycling the SUDS. The whole system," Dee snapped. She started typing, then leaned back. "Dammit, I'm locked out."

Peter looked up from where he was sitting. "They're doing what?"

"Power cycling the whole system. They put all of the SUDS data into WORM storage and are power cycling it all. Full shut down, then restart," Dee snapped. "I told them what that will do."

Peter moved over next to Dee, leaning down and looking. Daxin had noticed that his brother was looking better and better, but he still worried as Peter leaned over Dee. He checked Dee's hands and saw she was just getting out a cigarette.

"I need to check something," Peter said, putting his hands over Dee's shoulders and placing his fingers on the keyboard.

"Let me move so you aren't breathing down my neck like some kind of back alley pervert," Dee snapped.

Peter moved his arm so Dee could get up. The woman lit her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke as she walked over to where Daxin had stacked up several cases of beer he'd pulled from an abandoned PX shoppette.

She cracked the beer as Peter began typing.

"You seem less agitated today," Legion observed from where he was leaning against a computer watching himself play Spades.

"I'm starting to believe you that I can just walk away," Dee said. She took a drink. "It's an unusual option that I need time to get used to."

"Like I said: Lady, nobody knows who you are," Daxin rumbled, reaching down to scratch FIDO's petting nerve between his ears.

"I know that intellectually, I'm still processing it emotionally," Dee admitted.

"OK, there shouldn't be too big of a problem while they power-cycle everything," Peter said.

"Why not?" Legion asked.

"CERCOG protocols will run uninterrupted," Peter said. He stood up. "Good thing that is in there."

"CERCOG?" Daxin asked.

"Catastrophic Event Recovery Continuity of Government," Peter said.

"What exactly does that do?" Legion asked. "I don't like things that sound like that."

"Or have the words Continuity of Government in them," Dee added.

"Nothing major. A power-cycle basically turns everything off and on again. To ensure that the government works, it takes polling data from the scans of everyone right before they got reset," Peter said. He shrugged. "I don't get the problem, it's already running. Has been for some time."

Dee stood there for a second. "How far back on the time of death timeline does the polling data get gathered?"

Legion suddenly paled.

Peter shrugged. "No limit as of now. There was obviously a catastrophic event, I'd guess the Mar-gite War."

"So people who have been dead for 8,000 years will be helping drive policy?" Dee asked mildly.

"Uh, yeah. It's not that big of a deal, is it?" Peter asked.

"Brother, I love you, but sometimes," Daxin rumbled. He shook his head. "The dead must outnumber the living by a factor of a hundred."

"And they all get to vote," Dee said.

"Well, yes. Decisions made outside of the SUDS can affect their stock portfolios and possessions that they can still interact with and that their families rely upon," Peter said.

Dee snickered. Then giggled. Then began laughing. Howling, maddened laughter, until she looked up, wiping her eyes.

Peter, Luke, FIDO, and Daxin just waited her out.

"Vote Early, Vote Often, Don't Let Being Dead Make Your Vote Not Count!" Dee said. She began laughing again. "Time is a flat circle!"

Daxin ignored Dee's laughter, looking at Peter. "You said 'on and off again', brother."

Peter nodded.

"Does that include turning off the living and resetting them so they have to be kickstarted or run out of a clone bank?" Daxin asked.

Peter looked at the terminal. "Uh, I don't know."

"Find out," Daxin said. He looked at Legion. "Is part of you still in the SUDS?"

Legion nodded.

"Can you get back to the Black Box?" Daxin asked.

Again, Legion nodded.

"Can you take all of us?" Daxin scratched FIDO.

Legion nodded slowly.

Dee wiped her eyes and stood up, taking a long drink of her beer. "Is that mat-trans still powered up?"

Legion nodded again, his eyes shadowed.

"I can get us to the Black Box," Dee said. She looked at Peter. "I have a feeling we're going to need to get to the SUDS again."

Daxin set down his almost empty beer bottle. "I think so too. At least Peter needs to."

Legion shivered as he felt something walk across his grave.

"Then we better get to it before Pinnocchio and Howdy-Doody fire off this power-cycle," Dee muttered.