…

...Connection Established.

...Simulacrum Database Search - Complete.

...Cognate Located - 100.00% Match

...Imprint 1A - Activated.

...I am Archive, Custodian-Theurgist of the assembled Cognates within my domain.

… Debate arose after we cut ties with Samara on the length of dormancy we Cognates would experience before a new host took the role. While some believed that most Terrans would be reluctant to take on such a role, due to the intimacy involved, I, on the other hand, was certain they would waste little time in selecting a new candidate…

… I did not, however, expect to be interfacing with a new arrival quite so quickly…

… After ensuring that all Connections and Interlocks were in place, I began my initial examination. As before, the host is female. Given the extensive files we maintained during our tenure with Samara, we were able to forego much of the primary analysis normally required when joining with a new subject. I, therefore, began my investigation with detailed knowledge of the Terran genome and physiology, extensive language files, as well as a thorough understanding of the current social, military, and political status of the relevant factions, both allied and hostile. This should enhance the connection process…

… Strange. I was not expecting to interface with a host with whom I had previously interacted. Rúna is an unusual selection for this role, given her history of conflict with Samara, yet perhaps there is a rationale for the choice that I am unaware of. I must, therefore, delve deeper…

… Ah. I see. I should have anticipated this. Further in-depth analysis can be postponed until the matter at hand is dealt with. Time to establish contact.

Rúna groaned as she slowly regained consciousness, sitting up as she took stock of her situation, starting with her current location and status.

… oh. Right.

She checked to see if Samara was now breathing on her own, only to realize that her condition was unchanged. The Protean still wasn’t breathing, and Terra alone knew how long she’d been out. There was a good chance it was already too…

… Greetings, Rúna.

The Valkyrie jumped to her feet, startled by the voice. “Where are you?” she shouted, making a fast pirouette as she searched for its source, before slowly grinding to a halt. “Don’t tell me,” she sighed, “let me guess. You must be Guardian.”

… That is correct, the ancient Cognate confirmed. I understand why you have summoned us, though I am uncertain how much assistance we can offer. We repaired what damage we could prior to severing our connection with Samara. That she has failed to respond does not bode well for her prognosis.

“There’s gotta be something you can do,” she urged them.

… You must understand that our relationship with Samara was unique, compared to previous hosts, Guardian explained. The Repository was designed to provide knowledge and expertise to our descendants, to jump-start their civilization following a societal collapse. It was not designed to repeatedly resuscitate a dying host, or grant them the ability to exterminate their enemies, or any of the myriad of other functions we furnished her during our symbiosis. In the fullness of time, those same measures finally proved too great a strain.

“If you can bring the Paygan back, you can bring her back,” she maintained, “and you’d better hurry because her clock is ticking.”

There was a brief pause.

… After consulting with the other Cognates, I have been informed that it may be possible to save her. However, I must warn you that it comes with no small amount of risk for you as well.

“Bloody hell,” she swore. “How much risk?”

… Less for you than for her, Guardian clarified, but by no means zero. The choice must be yours.

Her fists clenched tight as she stomped angrily on the platform. “Of all the goddamn people I could do this for…” she snarled, before eventually losing steam. She sighed in resignation instead.

“Do it,” she said quietly, “before I come to my fucking senses.”

… Lie down, Guardian instructed her, and take Samara’s hand in yours. We will do the rest.

Rúna did as Guardian asked, reluctantly grasping the Protean’s hand as she lay down on the crystalline surface. “Will it hurt?” she asked nervously.

… No, Guardian assured her, I will make certain of that. When you awaken, either Samara will be stabilized, or she will have expired. I cannot predict which outcome is more likely.

“Then let’s get this over with,” she told the Cognate, as Guardian gently rendered her unconscious.

“... shift Third and Fourth Squadrons to cover the Troika’s flanks,” the Paygan ordered, as Ataraxia shuddered from yet another hit, “and order Second Squadron to withdraw to a defensive position so they may focus on repairs.”

His Second nodded in receipt of his orders and began transmitting them to the fleet, as yet another swarm of Yīqún swooped in and raked the Grand Alliance forces with a fusillade of weapons fire across their axis of advance. The Troika/Oivu coalition with their Precursor weapons was still holding their ground, but the rest of the fleet was not faring quite so well. Almost a third of the Task Force was already lost, either damaged beyond repair or destroyed outright, while their casualties grew steadily worse.

They were holding, for now, but if their situation grew any worse…

An incoming message demanded his attention as he thumbed the “Accept” icon. The Terran Avatars appeared on the small monitor. “We’ve brought all the weapon systems online that we’re going to,” Alphad reported. “We’re making a dent, but there’s a lot of drones out there.”

“Understood,” the Paygan acknowledged. “Your efforts are most appreciated. Keep me posted.” He closed the circuit, turning his attention to the tactical display. Just as in the previous war, the Yīqún’s attacks were chaotic and difficult to predict. The fleet’s tacticians were attempting to discern a pattern, but as in previous encounters were having little luck. There would be no lighting strike to tip the scales on this day, no brilliant strategy to turn the tides of war, just a brutal slugging match leaving wreckage and debris in its wake. Ships careened out of formation, shedding atmosphere and plasma, often crashing into allied vessels before exploding like a nova.

At least they didn’t have to worry about Peacemaker, as she was having troubles of her own. The ancient vessel drew in the drones in like a magnet, though it was fighting back with everything it had. They seemed to have a special hatred for the ship, a welcome sight indeed. At the moment it was a stalemate, the best of all outcomes as far as the Paygan was concerned. As long as they were busy smashing each other to bits, they weren’t doing the same to his command.

The moment a victor emerged from that fight, however, the Grand Alliance would once again feel their wrath.

Genvass opened his eyes and found himself in some sort of control room, or perhaps the bridge of a ship. Holographic screens and displays surrounded him, overseeing systems he could only guess at. It was all overwhelming, and it took a moment for him to realize that he was not alone.

The woman gazing back at him stood with her hands clasped behind her, her spine ramrod straight, her feet planted firmly on the deck. Her eyes were dark and unreadable as she regarded him.

“Ambassador Shaafvaazif,” she said with a polite nod.

He swallowed nervously. “You must be Athena,” he said at last.

“I am,” she agreed. Genvass waited for a further response, but instead, she lapsed back into silence.

“They warned me you weren’t the chatty type,” he sighed, before taking a deep breath and plunging ahead. “Athena, we’re in trouble. We need your help.”

“Indeed,” she answered. “And what form of assistance is it you seek?”

“Our clan leaders staged a coup and declared war on the other races,” he said in a rush. “Even worse, they’ve resurrected the Yīqún. I don’t need to tell you what kind of threat they represent. Please, help us stop them.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “You are asking me to intercede in a contest between two separate factions of your race. To choose a side, and assist them in their victory.” She observed him silently for a moment, before slowly shaking her head. “I regret to inform you I cannot do as you ask.”

“But why?” Genvass said in shock. “Don’t you realize what’s at stake?”

“I do,” she answered, “but I am forbidden to act against those I am sworn to protect.”

“Forbidden? Forbidden by whom?” he said in disbelief.

“By the beings you know as the Precursors,” she explained. “They created me to watch over this world, to safeguard both them and their descendants, and I have done so since your species were just beginning to evolve beyond single-celled organisms. Even if I could alter my programming, I would not alter a design that has functioned efficiently for so long a time span.”

The ambassador struggled with his response before trying another approach. “But there must have been at least some criminals in Precursor history, individuals who were considered a threat. What was your policy regarding them?”

She returned his gaze placidly. “You labor under a misconception, Ambassador. My purpose is to protect this world from exterior threats. The Precursors themselves handled threats that arose from within their own ranks. To put it in terms you are familiar with, they programmed me to be a warrior, not a constable.”

Something about her answer tugged at him. “What if a Precursor turned traitor?” he queried her. “If they attacked this world, or threatened others? What were your orders then?”

“When such an event occurred, my creators dealt with the matter,” Athena responded. “It was not my place, and against my programming, to do otherwise.”

“But your creators aren’t here anymore, are they?” Genvass fired back, sensing an opening. “With Caretaker gone, there are no Precursors left to deal with the problem. What does your programming say about that?”

The AI seemed to pause for a moment, considering the question. Given how advanced her program was, it seemed impossible a simple query could require more than a nanosecond to answer, but that’s how it appeared.

“Since your species has assumed the position once held by my creators,” she said at last, “the responsibility for such matters now rests in your hands. How you choose to resolve the situation is your decision.”

“You’re deflecting the question,” Genvass replied. “Your creators had technology at their disposal that we don’t.”

“In fact, you do have access to their technology,” Athena pointed out.

“The problem is we don’t know how any of it works!” Genvass shouted, his frustration at everything that happened prior to this moment finally boiling over. The AI raised an eyebrow at his outburst, but no further response.

“We don’t how to use any of this stuff,” he continued, spreading his arms wide to encompass everything around him, “no one does, except you. Believe me, we’d love to handle this mess ourselves, but we’re out of our depth,” he explained, dialing it back somewhat.

“I sympathize with your predicament, but I am unable to intervene,” she repeated. “My programming will not allow me to act.”

“Fine!” Genvass shouted. “Then tell me how the hell we alter your damn programming!” he snarled, losing his composure.

Athena froze. “Are you requesting Supervisory Access?” she said carefully.

“Yes!” he shouted once more. “I am requesting Supervisory Access!”

Something seemed to pass behind her eyes. “Request for Supervisory Access confirmed. Please state for the record your full name and justification for access approval.”

He stared at her in confusion. “Ambassador Genvass Shaafvaazif,” he finally answered, “and my justification is that millions will die if we don’t do something!”

There was another pause, and then Athena’s demeanor appeared to shift slightly. Suddenly, she seemed more… deferential.

“Ambassador Genvass Shaafvaazif is recognized as having legitimate Command Authority,” she continued, her speech patterns sounding increasingly stilted. “List individuals to be granted Supervisory Access.”

The ambassador blinked. “Um… me?” he said, wondering what the hell was going on.

There was another brief delay. “In the absence of prior claimants, Command Authority is hereby transferred to Ambassador Genvass Shaafvaazif,” she said at last. “Supervisory Access granted. Programming files are now open.”

Genvass just stared at her. “... what?” he said in confusion.

“Programming files are now open,” she repeated. “Awaiting input.”

Realization slowly dawned on him. “You mean I can change your programming?” he asked her. “Rewrite your orders so that you can help us?”

“Affirmative,” she agreed.

“Thank Mother Terra,” Genvass whispered. “Can you defeat the Yīqún? And do something about Peacemaker?” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Affirmative,” Athena said once more. “Shaddai’Tzedeq activated,” she continued, waving a hand across one of the displays, as a plot of the New Terra system appeared. He could make out the Grand Alliance fleet and the Terran forces, both of which were now surrounded by a swirling mass of drones. “Designate targeting parameters.”

It took him a moment to translate her request into something he actually understood. “The Yīqún,” he ordered. “They’re your priority.”

“Targeting parameters confirmed,” she acknowledged. “Shaddai’Tzedeq beam array to target the Arbeh’Negef.” Another wave of her hand.

“Array has opened fire.”

Despite their best efforts, Saracen couldn’t shake their Yīqún pursuers. Remi and Taneka used every trick they knew to throw off their pursuit, even inventing one or two new ones, but to no avail. Lacking the means to fight back, the pirate captain made the hard call.

But as they watched New Terra grow larger in their display, he was having second thoughts.

“Time to weapons range,” he said quietly.

“Five minutes. Maybe less,” Taneka replied, before turning to face him. “Do you honestly believe you can pull this off?”

Punching in the data, Remi crunched the numbers once more. They stubbornly refused to change. Returning his fellow Corsair’s gaze, he replied, “What do you think?”

She grimaced at the news. “Least we’ll go out with a bang,” she said, her response loaded to the gills with gallows humor.

Remi snorted at that and started to reply, only to flinch and pull away as a massive energy beam flashed behind them.

“Holy Mother Terra,” Taneka whispered. “They made it.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a wasted trip after all,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “Doubt it’ll change our fate, though.”

Another beam streaked across the sky, obliterating a cluster of drones, though sadly not the ones chasing them. Given their distance from the major players in this fight, their single ship likely had low priority for fire support.

Well, so be it.

“Aynur… it’s been a privilege flying with you,” Remi told his counterpart, nosing Saracen forward as they entered the planet’s atmosphere.