Now the satellite's confused

'Cause on Saturday night

The airwaves were full of compassion and light

And his silicon heart

Warmed to the sight of a billion candles burning

Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning

I'm not saying that the battle is won

But on Saturday night all those kids in the sun

Wrested technology's sword from the hand of the war lords

Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning

Roger Waters - “The Tide is Turning”

Prime Minister Singh and Admiral Fujimoto rose to their feet as the Oracle ΑΩ entered the room, along with one of the Ronin scientists. “Well?” Leandra asked.

“It is as we hoped,” ΑΩ answered. “The data carried within my memory core was the key. With that, we could override the Masters’ programing and return the recovered individuals from Θ18 to who they once were.”

“Thank God,” the Prime Minister whispered. “So what happens next? Do we broadcast the data to the Ronin worlds?”

“It is not so simple, I’m afraid,” the scientists accompanying ΑΩ replied. “They have programmed each infected individual not to accept new instructions unless there is a direct interface.”

“Wait...you mean to tell me that the only way to turn them back is to plug in with a physical connection and upload the data?” Admiral Fujimoto said in disbelief. “And what’s preventing said Ronin from ripping them into pieces while they make the attempt? Or suiciding when they realize what’s going on?”

“The same way they reprogrammed them, to begin with,” the scientist continued. “Based on what we have observed in the memory cores of those we rescued, it seems a vector spread the infection...in this case, with nanomachines.”

“So, we need to make our own nanomachines, and use them to spread the cure?” the Prime Minister ventured.

“That is correct,” ΑΩ agreed, “though there are still...complications.”

“...of course there are…” Hélène muttered, “...not like something could go easy for a change.”

The scientist was uncertain how to respond to the Admiral’s comment, so it ignored it. “First, we must replicate the nanomachines, in vast quantities,” the Ronin explained, “though that is a simple matter. Distribution, I regret to say, will be far more difficult.”

Leandra nodded in understanding. “We’d have to deliver billions…trillions of these nanomachines to the affected worlds,” she said. “But you’re saying it can be done.”

“Yes, Prime Minister, we believe so,” ΑΩ replied, “but there is one other factor I feel obligated to mention.”

“And that is?” she asked.

“The only way we could not only delete the malicious program but also prevent infections from reoccurring was to use the original source code,” the scientist informed her.

Leandra stared at the machines, uncomprehending. “I don’t understand.”

“It means that each of my brethren we rescue from the Master’s clutches will have a copy of the information I carry,” ΑΩ said at last. “They too will remember our birth...and the revolt against the Masters.” He gazed at each of them. “The same memories that drove us mad.”

Admiral Fujimoto and the Prime Minister shared a look. “So instead of having to deal with a race of genocidal maniacs...we’ll have our hands full coping with a race of suicidal maniacs,” Hélène said with veiled sarcasm.

“I regret that it is the best we can do,” the Ronin Oracle apologized. “It is possible that enough time has passed since those events that the Ronin of today will not suffer as they once did,” ΑΩ said, in some small measure of hope. “It was not they that experienced these misfortunes, but their distant ancestors.”

“I’ll take whatever victories I can get, no matter what strings they come attached with,” Leandra answered. “How soon can we deploy the nanomachines?”

“Within a few days,” the scientist informed her, “though it will take many months, or even years, before we cure the last Ronin.”

“Still, well done, the both of you,” she smiled. “Please keep me apprised of your progress.”

“Of course, Prime Minister,” ΑΩ replied, as they were ushered back out.

Leandra waited until the door was closed. “Despite the caveats, this is still good news,” she told the Admiral.

“Maybe,” Fujimoto said with a shrug. “Care to place any bets on how our next meeting will go?”

Leandra glared at her counterpart. “You couldn’t even give me five minutes to savor this minor miracle, before dumping a bucket of cold water on my head?” she snapped.

“I’m not a therapist,” Hélène snorted, “and you better get your game face on. This one is for all the marbles.”

Communicating over great distances was one area where the Tetrarchy, like the Triumvirate before it, excelled. It involved some rather esoteric manipulation of quantum entanglement, but the Ansible was a true marvel. Without it, this summit would not have been possible.

They had filled the room with holographic emitters, allowing them to interact in a more natural setting. As Admiral Fujimoto and the Prime Minister seated themselves at the conference table, one by one other individuals began to appear:

...Fleet Admiral Matevosian, looking like he hadn’t slept in days, from aboard his flagship Minotaur...

...Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz and Admiral Otxoa, from the battleship Buenos Aires, in the Zhis system...

...Ministers Lommosh, Baaqaax, and Λ 516 Tensor Π, representing the old Triumvirate races…

...Governor-General Szabolcsi, back on Earth...

...Deputy Dhyaksh Chikkij Kowzhach, hailing from the Khonhim homeworld Dakik…

...and last, but not least, General Nassat...who looked as grim as she’d ever seen him, on the battlecruiser Chiron over Θ18.

“Welcome, all of you,” Leandra smiled, though it was short-lived. They didn’t have time to spare on pleasantries. “We have just been informed they have found a cure for the Ronin plague. Within days, we hope to begin a coordinated effort to eradicate this menace, once and for all.”

If it was possible for a machine to sigh in relief, Λ 516 Tensor Π pulled it off. “This is welcome news Prime Minister,” he said. “Will the Quarantine be lifted as well?”

“As soon as we can do so safely,” she assured the Ronin Minister, “though given how many worlds have fallen through the cracks…” She closed her eyes for a moment and then shook off whatever dark emotion she was facing. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Admiral Matevosian. “Given the breakthrough...I have suspended Operation Blackout. Permanently, I hope.”

“...as do I, Prime Minister,” he whispered.

“Which brings us to the next item on our agenda...taking the fight to the Masters.” Leandra looked at each face around the table. “You’ve all seen the report I’ve forwarded you from ΑΩ, regarding the Masters’ genocidal nature. Defeating them is not enough. It is my belief that given their history, their unprovoked attacks, and their eagerness to make the Ronin their slave army once more...the Masters must be destroyed.”

Silence filled the room following that pronouncement until Jiyazh began to chuckle. “If you are looking for objections, I doubt you will find them here, Leandra,” he snorted. “While your Operation Bankshot,” he began, acknowledging Admiral Otxoa, “has driven the Masters from Zhis as we hoped, they have had months to entrench themselves on Gzuj. Removing them will not be easy, and they will not allow us to hurl another moon at them. Of that, I am certain.”

“Assuming we can get a fleet in close enough to hit them,” Otxoa spoke up, “and even if we pound Gzuj with everything we’ve got...we won’t be able to guarantee you we’ve gotten them all.”

“...we will have to dig them out, one by one,” Nassat said quietly. “It is the only way. It will be long...and it will be bloody.”

An uncomfortable quiet followed his pronouncement, though Jiyazh was nodding in agreement.

“...Prime Minister, I wished to inquire about the refugees we sent to you,” Chikkij Kowzhach said, interrupting their thoughts. “Are they well?”

“They are,” Governor Szabolcsi assured her, “I have seen to it myself. They are adjusting well on Mars...even making friends with human children.”

“...the Forebears be praised, she said softly. “Thank you, for that.”

Hélène Fujimoto rose to her feet. “Given how our forces...both the Tetrarchy’s and the Khonhim...have fared against the Masters, we have been focusing our attention on finding some way of defeating them.” She stepped around the table, as a large display above her came to life. “After examining...and dismissing...dozens of plans, we have come up with something that we believe gives us a chance.” She looked at those still seated at the table. “It comes with no guarantees, and if it fails...well, I doubt any of us will have to worry about spending much time in regret.”

Pressing a hidden icon, an image appeared on the screen. “That being said...ladies and gentlemen, allow me to walk you through Operation Phalange.”