Nessah sat in her office finishing up the last of Kaius’ research notes. It would soon be time to convene with the rest of the Tribunal to decide what to do with the knowledge. The more she read, the more disgusted she was with what had been achieved at the clandestine facility. It came as no surprise to her that Ava had been involved in their success at synthesizing the orange chemical. She would be questioned thoroughly in due time, as would the lead researcher in charge of the facility.

  A new report caught her attention. Nessah eyed her clock and figured she’d have just enough time read it. The contents brought a small smile to her face — an increasingly rare occurrence in recent weeks. Miarre and Reya’s video was causing a stir amongst the populace. It wouldn’t be enough to quell the unrest, but it was a good start. Nessah figured that a couple more interviews would be able to noticeably shift public perception of the war.

  That task would be monumental given the graphic videos of gru’ul-occupied cities circulating online. Nessah had better things to do than censor them. It was better the people know their grim reality than to hide their heads in the sand in blissful ignorance while their friends and family were getting brutally murdered in their homes.

  Putting aside the report for the moment, Nessah entered the special room reserved for Tribunal meetings. She was no stranger to the room, but taking her place in Kaius’ seat still felt wrong to her. I’ve been used as a pawn, she thought as she sat down. I don’t like it. There are always strings attached and I fear the day mine are pulled.

  She tapped her data slate, and the rest of the Tribunal appeared around her. She took a brief moment to observe the scene. Every Elder sported an unhappy, grim expression. “It would appear as though I’m the last to arrive,” Nessah said, breaking the tenuous silence. “We’ve all read the report. I’m sure many of you are as shocked as I am that Kaius managed to achieve synthesis of the orange chemical.”

  “I always knew that android was a ticking time bomb,” Cirrus said, speaking up. “I argued against giving her any liberties many times and look what that gave us!” She was furious. Too many times her words had been brushed off by the rest of the Tribunal. Reasonable concerns had been dismissed, and hasty decisions had been made. A twisted satisfaction that she’d been right all along filled her alongside her immense anger at the rest of the Elders for having created the perfect situation to bring more evil into the world.

  As though the original samples weren’t already enough.

  Nessah nodded in acknowledgement. “Indeed,” she agreed. “We all know that Kaius wouldn’t have advanced his research so much in such a short time without Ava’s help. I want answers. I’ve already arranged for her summons to make her case as to why we should spare her from spreading her knowledge.”

  “You want to allow that thing to make a case?” Cirrus asked, her anger growing apoplectic. “That’s a highly advanced artificial intelligence made by our enemies in possession of dangerous knowledge! It should be eliminated on the spot, something we should have done long ago.”

  “She’s been useful to us,” Darros pointed out. “Without her, we wouldn’t have advanced our research at the gru’ul facility nearly as much as we did. It could be argued that she indirectly saved us from total annihilation. Without her help, we wouldn’t have learned the truth. The gru’ul would’ve destroyed us for taking over their facility and we would’ve never seen it coming.”

  “The android gave us information on what happened to Adrian, not how to make planetary shields,” Cirrus argued. “It’s our researchers and engineers that saved us, not it.”

  “Enough,” Nessah barked. “We shall hear what she has to say for herself. If we are unsatisfied with her answers, we will simply kill her. She’s outlived her usefulness now that we’ve lost the gru’ul facility.”

  Nessah contacted Jyn and in less than a minute, a very nervous Ava was before them. One look at Nessah in Kaius’ seat told her everything she needed to know about the situation. “If you’re sitting there,” Ava said to Nessah, “I presume that you’re the new Arbiter?”

  “Correct,” Nessah said. “I have taken over Kaius’ position in light of recent events. Events that you need to explain if you want to live.” She knew that Ava was afraid of death. While every living being had that fear to a certain extent, Nessah knew that Ava’s was more pronounced. Nessah didn’t care why. That fact would now serve as a tool against Ava to get her to comply. Nessah was in no mood for games.

  Ava’s eyes widened. “You know of my involvement in Kaius’ research,” she stated. “I take it I’m here to answer for my crimes?”

  Nessah nodded. “Our records show you were first aware of Kaius’ research many months ago. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Your Arbiter personally threatened me into compliance to help solve what he claimed was merely a technical issue,” Ava replied. “He made no mention of his research. When I connected to the facility’s server remotely, it was only to a self-contained system that had no access to the rest of the data base.”

  “And what were you instructed to do?” Nessah asked. Though they already knew the answer, she would use her question as a means to test Ava’s honesty. If Ava lied to her face, nothing she said afterwords would be trusted. Not that she could be trusted anymore given her involvement in Kaius’ research.

  “I was asked to terminate a computer program that somehow couldn’t be deleted,” Ava replied. “When I established a connection, I came into contact with a virtual consciousness in such pain that the only thing I could do was terminate it so completely that not a single line code remained.”

  Nessah frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked. “How could a computer feel pain?”

  “I believe Kaius’ researchers ran a simulation of what the chemical would do to a person,” Ava explained. “In doing so, the program somehow became self-aware. Even a simulation of the orange chemical proved to be just as effective on artificial intelligence as it did on humans and a’vaare. Believe me when I say I also didn’t think it to be possible until that moment.”

  “If you knew just how awful the orange chemical was, why did you agree to help synthesize it?” Nessah asked.

  “I was given no choice,” Ava responded. “The highest power in your faction coerced me into compliance. I had no way of exposing him without doing the same for my involvement and no real proof I could use. I knew it would be my word against his and that you would believe him over me.”

  “Did you already know how to synthesize the orange chemical?” Nessah said.

  “No,” Ava replied. “I ran countless simulations in order to figure out how.”

  “Yet you suffered no pain?” Nessah asked, raising a brow. “How come you didn’t suffer the same fate as that other artificial intelligence?”

  “Because I didn’t run simulations on the effect of the chemical, merely whether the composition matched what I’d been given,” Ava said. “I gave your researcher the choice to learn those secrets. I provided him the knowledge in a file along with what would be needed to properly synthesize the chemical and left the choice to learn that to him. Evidently, he chose to proceed despite my warnings.”

  “What else did you provide researcher Roke?” Nessah prompted.

  “Nothing,” Ava said. “I washed my hands of the affair once I passed on the file. Kaius knew he wouldn’t be able to force me to weaponize it if he wanted his research to remain a secret. I have no idea what happened after that day, and I don’t want to.”

  The questioning continued until Nessah, and the other Elders were satisfied with what they’d learned. Researcher Roke was then summoned to give his version of events, which corroborated Ava’s and shed light on how the operation came to be. Once he was dismissed, Nessah asked the rest of the Tribunal what their thoughts were.

  Ultimately, it was agreed upon that Ava wouldn’t have had any ability to refuse Kaius’ orders given her precarious relationship with the Tribunal. Unfortunate though it was, even Cirrus couldn’t refute the independent testimonies that matched. While she still called for Ava’s death, she was overruled.

  Cirrus rubbed her temples, trying her best to stave off a headache caused by the convoluted arguments of her fellow Elders. “Fine,” she said, “we won’t kill the android for now. We need to decide what to do with the chemicals and the facility. Obviously, it has now become equally important to, if not more important than, the facility housing both samples.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “The gru’ul have done unspeakable things to us,” Darros said harshly. “They have created a chemical weapon so horrendous we had to label it the highest crime against the living. It’s clear to me that they won’t follow our established warfare conventions. I say we give them a taste of their own medicine. I propose we weaponize the orange chemical and use it against them.”

  Gasps rang out from multiple Elders. “You would consider doing something so vile?” Orryn asked in disbelief. “If we do that we’re no better than them.” She refused to believe that her people would stoop so low. That they would consent to such awful, barbaric methods.

  “If we don’t do that we’ll all be dead,” Darros refuted. “Morals don’t matter in this war, only survival. The gru’ul believe pain will make us obey them. We need to use that very pain to repel them once and for all.”

  “You monster!” Orryn said harshly. “Your proposition would cause untold amounts of suffering.”

  “Our people are already suffering!” Darros said hotly. “They’re being bombed and butchered! The lucky ones die swift deaths while the rest go gruesomely and in immense pain. I won’t stand for this! Our enemies have willingly brought this fate upon us, and I want them to suffer the same way they force us to. Want us to.”

  Darros panted, short of breath after his rant. His emotions had gotten the better of them, but he refused to back down. “They created us,” he enunciated, full of passion and rage. “Experimented on us. Toyed with us. And now they discard us because they’re afraid.” He stared down Orryn defiantly. “Let us validate their fears and become their worst nightmare. After all, they’ve given the tools to do just that.”

  Orryn looked at her fellow Elder in contempt, her opinion of him plunging with every word he said. “I refuse,” she said. “This is the one line I will not cross.” She looked around the room for support but found it to be severely lacking. Immense sadness filled her. “We don’t have to be monsters. There are better ways to do this.”

  The Elders fell into yet another heated debate, weighing the merits the points both Darros and Orryn brought forth. Nessah listened to them, forming her own opinion as she heard the multitude of arguments for and against weaponizing the orange chemical. After an hour, she spoke for the first time, her voice piercing through the cacophony that filled the room. “We shall put this to a vote,” Nessah declared. “All those in favour of weaponizing the orange chemical, vote now.”

  An orb appeared above Darros’ head. Two more appeared above the other two nameless Elders. Orryn, Cirrus and Maraz abstained. Nessah confirmed verbally their choice to withhold their votes, and a tie was officially called.

  Nessah chewed her lip. “It falls to me to make the final decision,” she announced. “One that will forever change us as a military and as a people.” She looked towards Cirrus. “You placed me here specifically for this. Did you know it would come to a tie?”

  Cirrus shook her head. “I sincerely hoped it would not, but a War Arbiter was needed should a tie become a reality. Like Orryn, I am against weaponizing the chemical. There must be a better way. If we go through with this, there’s no going back. I’d rather we destroy everything Kaius learned and bomb his facility to oblivion. Let there be no traces of this evil.”

  “If you’re against Darros’ proposal, why did you bring it up in the first place?” Nessah asked, genuinely curious. She’d thought Cirrus would push her point harder or influence Nessah to vote against Darros. Yet she didn’t.

  Cirrus fell silent for several moments. She moved to speak but stopped short. “Somebody was going to bring it up,” she said finally. “We’re the military. Weapons fall directly under our purview. We find ourselves on the brink of annihilation and for a decision as important as this, a completely neutral component was necessary. One who would give both sides an equal opportunity to make their case. Over the past hour, we’ve done exactly that. You’ve directed our forces against the gru’ul threat and know firsthand the reality our soldiers face. I believe it necessary to defer to your expertise to make the right choice.”

  Nessah nodded. “And you believe the right choice to be the one you made?” she asked.

  “Only time will tell,” Cirrus replied. “When we first found Adrian, I wanted his society’s weapons. Science from a less technologically advanced society might have given us novel ways to apply our knowledge. I never would have believed that it would be the gru’ul who would grant us the ultimate weapon.”

  Nessah turned her attention to Darros. “You demand their pound of flesh. You call for the ultimate suffering we could give to our enemies. Why not find an alternative? Something more lethal and efficient than our current weapons.”

  “We don’t have that luxury,” Darros spat. “We’re dying today. We don’t have until tomorrow to find a better solution. We needed this ready yesterday and still we sit here, bickering and wasting time. Meanwhile, our people are the ones paying the price. As abhorrent as it is that Kaius went behind our backs, he ultimately did us a service.”

  All eyes were on Nessah as she fell deep in thought. She agreed with both sides and finding the right answer ate at her. She never asked for such a heavy burden. She didn’t want to be responsible for untold pain. She made up her mind as the cynic inside of her screamed at the hypocrisy of what she was about to do.

  “I’ve decided,” Nessah announced. “I hereby vote in favour of weaponizing the orange chemical. Darros is right. We need something better than what we currently have in our arsenal. As much as it pains me to be the one to decide our future in this manner, such is the role of War Arbiter. I don’t just want our people to win this war. I want to do it so thoroughly the gru’ul never think of attacking us again. And for that, we need a proper deterrent.”

  An immense sadness filled Orryn. Even Cirrus couldn’t help but feel awful. Both of them hated the orange chemical and what it represented. Both of them feared for the future. One where they weren’t the prey.

  One where they were the monsters lurking in the dark.

  Weeks of constant fighting had taken their toll on the team. Jyn ended his call with Nessah with a weary sigh. Alone in his quarters, he could express himself more freely. His new orders from Nessah complicated things.

  Rather than eliminate any and all gru’ul they came across, Jyn and his team had just been tasked with capturing several gru’ul and transporting them to a military black site. He had no idea what was supposed to be at that location, save for the fact that apparently his team was the only one with a high enough clearance level to undertake the mission.

  Jyn took a minute to collect himself, then ordered the rest of the team to meet on the bridge. He got out of his chair at his desk and walked on over. Though the mission was time-sensitive, he figured it could wait the few extra seconds that would calm his turbulent emotions alone.

  He entered the bridge, pleased to see that he was the last to arrive. He eyed his team, noting that they were equally as exhausted as he was. Taking his place in the command chair, he addressed the group. “We have new orders directly from High Command,” he announced. “We are to capture three gru’ul and transport them to a highly classified location. Tassie,” he said as he swiped at a screen floating in front of him, “here are the coordinates we need to go to.”

  Tassie received them on her screen and immediately input them into the ship’s map. Surprise crossed her features when she saw where exactly they had to go. “This is deep in the arctic,” she said. “There’s nothing there except blizzards and ice storms.”

  Jyn nodded. “The perfect place to hide something then,” he said. “We are to accomplish our task as soon as possible and make haste to the site. The General didn’t specify why she wanted captives. Tassie, bring us to the closest active combat zone. Land us on the outskirts and we’ll try to capture our targets. Hopefully without engaging in heavy combat.”

  “Understood,” Tassie replied. She brought the ship out of the field they had stopped in. The nearest battlefield was only fifteen minutes away. She relayed the information to the rest of the team and Jyn ordered them into positions.

  It wasn’t long until Tassie was bringing the ship back down to land on the outskirts of a wrecked city. Jyn, Rann, Eimir and Beor exited the ship on their hover bikes, armed with tranquilizers and other non-lethal weapons in addition to their regular guns.

  Tassie and Kell remained on the ship, directing them towards isolated targets. It didn’t take long for the team to encounter live fire between some of the city’s inhabitants and a lone group of five gru’ul.

  “Those are civilians,” Tassie noted over comms. She dispatched drones and sensors to more accurately receive imagery of the gunfight. “They’re using military grade weapons,” she added. She directed a small group of drones to scout beyond the immediate vicinity and came across a contingent of dead soldiers. “It looks like they looted the bodies of another squad to arm themselves.”

  “Smart,” Jyn replied, a pang of regret coursing through him that they hadn’t arrived fast enough to save the other team. “They’d probably be overrun by now if they hadn’t done so.” He waited for Tassie to upload the location of the enemy hostiles to his suit’s built-in maps. Once he had a lock, he gave his orders on how to engage.

  The team split in two, with Rann and Beor taking the best route around the gru’ul so they could attack from both sides. Once in position, Jyn gave the order to open fire. Only a single gru’ul was killed in the opening salvo before the rest noticed they were under attack.

  Their many arms held multiple weapons and soon both sides were being relentlessly peppered with shots. Rann was forced to take cover behind a collapsed building to avoid being hit. Beor took advantage of the attention on Rann to take aim and kill another gru’ul.

  With only three left standing, Jyn gave the order to switch from lethal fire to tranquilizers. The team weaved in and out of the rubble and slowly advanced on the remaining enemies. The defending civilians realized they were being aided and withheld their fire while Jyn and the others did their work.

  All it took was one shot to each of the three gru’ul to deliver a powerful tranquilizer that would sedate them for ten hours. More than enough time to transport them to the black site. In what felt like no time at all, Jyn was standing over the three gru’ul with his gun aimed at them, anticipating they’re moves. When seconds stretched into a minute and still they remained utterly motionless, Jyn ordered Tassie to come closer so they could transport the gru’ul onto the ship.

  Jyn spared one glance at the civilians and gave them a salute before hauling the bodies out of sight and onto the ship. In what felt like no time at all, he was calling Nessah back to inform her of his team’s success. The call ended and Jyn was given new orders to carry out.

  There would always be another order to follow during the war and Jyn counted down the days until the team could finally rest and return back to Reya.