Bericaculan City, Planet Peynyet
Maristaran System
Biological Artificial Sentient Systems
The three long steady tones coming from his implant, along with the tingle down his spine, woke Dave Pik'Tak Rienhart from a half-exhausted slumber. He opened his eyes as he sent the command through his implant to turn on the lights. He sat up at the same time as his two bed-mates did the same, the moon faced futanari cat-girl on his left reaching up to touch her implant while the cat-girl on the right shook her head and brushed at her ears.
CITIZEN RECALL floated up in his vision.
"Can I use your holodisplay, Dave?" Drew Grwerk Maycroft asked, gave a somersault to leave the null-G bed and land on her feet. She didn't bother to cover her genitals as she walked toward the holodisplay.
"Yeah. You too?" Dave asked, repeating the action and landing smoothly on the carpet.
"Yup," Drew said, reaching up and running her paw-hand through her hair.
"Me too," Catty Prelldin said, landing perfectly, her tail coming up in a pseudo-question mark.
Dave got to the screen and brought it up, quickly navigating through StellarNet to SolNet and waiting for verification.
"It's an entire Confederacy Citizen Recall," Catty said softly. "My god."
The words floated up. According to Confederate statute such and such in accordance with Confederate Law this that and the other, in times of voted Total War, all Confederate Citizens are subject to recall orders, blah blah blah, are allowed to terminate Citizenship and voluntarily lose all benefits, blah blah blah blah.
"By the Chromed Saint Mark," Drew said. "This is... I mean, this is everyone who's a Citizen."
"Are you going to renounce or recall?" Dave asked.
"Pfft, recall," Catty said. "I didn't spend centuries in the Space Force to just give it up as soon as some cow rolls on us."
"Recall," Drew answered. "I'll have to resheathe, can't exactly be running around with this big salami flapping around. Damn, and I finally got this sheathe just how I liked it."
"You?" Catty asked Dave.
"Recall," he stated. He was almost done with the legal responsibilities. His personal lawyer had checked it over and found out it was a legitimate recall notice and hadn't noticed anything beyond the standard language.
"Wow, they need everything," Drew said. Dave glanced over and saw her shaking her head. She tapped the holodisplay in front of her. "Sort out all combat positions. Sort out all space positions. Sort out all... wait," she was silent for a moment.
"My God, look at Addiction Recovery and Trauma Counselor," she breathed.
Dave tabbed it up and stared. Massive bonuses if the Citizen had experience, even more bonuses if PTSD trauma specialty was involved. Training and education guarantee for the unskilled in exchange for fifteen years of service commitment.
"Rank by order of importance to Confederate need," Catty said. She was silent for a second. "POW Camp Warden. My God."
"I don't have that," Drew said. "I've got POW ship escort or POW Camp Orbital Defense Commander."
"Neither do I," Dave added, checking his list. "POW Camp Logistics Officer" was the only one offered to him.
"Requires a full Colonel after rank re-computation with at least thirty years military police and twenty years JAG with humanitarian organization experience," Catty said. "Pro-Tem System Governor Positions."
Dave nodded. It was easy to forget that the person wasn't the sheathe. Catty was close to 350 years old, highly educated, former Space Force, combat veteran and highly decorated, not actually a moon faced cat-girl.
"Everyone want drinks? I think I could use a good stiff one," Dave said.
"What, we didn't all get enough stiff ones?" Drew snickered. "Yeah, I'll take a Tammoran Vodka Kiwi Blast."
"Make mine a Dual Rocket Punch," Catty said.
Dave moved over to the drink bar and punched in the codes, getting the drinks he wanted on agrav coasters. He slid one to Drew and one to Catty then nudged his so it slowed down and stopped next to his holodisplay.
"What are you thinking of taking, Davey?" Drew asked, setting her drink back on the agrav coaster. She smacked her lips. "Damn, that VI bartender of yours makes a good drink."
"Not sure," Dave admitted. He scrolled through his options. Some were quickly vanishing as other people selected them. He waited a moment and spotted something interesting.
Digital Artificial Sentience occupation logistics officer.
Confed wanted nearly a thousand of them. Top priority.
He checked the requirements.
He barely qualified.
They'll be lucky to get half of what they want with those restrictions, he thought to himself. It wasn't the rank, it wasn't the experience, it was the skill rating cross-section.
Digital Sentience regrowth and intellectual expansion supervision experience, VI programming, neural heuristic system architecture, holographic memory storage engineering, hypercom experience, Command Sergeant Major or Brigadier General with 20 years in rank requirment, he read. Able to qualify for Special Access Project security clearances and relocate as deemed necessary to the needs of the Confederacy. Minimum time on station projected fifty years.
Citizen will supervise tailor grown DAS and eVI in order to assure logistics to occupied planets, including Protective Occupation Systems in the case of fledgeling allies, he read.
"I'm taking something, don't judge me," Drew said. Her voice was slightly defensive.
"What are you taking?" Catty said. "Damn, that went fast."
"Enemy Prisoner of War Encampment Orbital Defense Command," Drew said. "How about you?"
Catty sighed. "I'm taking the POW Camp Warden. It's gone down by two in the time I've been staring it. That's it, just two qualified and willing."
Both of the women came over and leaned into Dave, rubbing him with their pawhands, nuzzling him with cold noses.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He selected the Digital Artificial Sentience Occupational Logistics Officer and waited.
APPROVED. 72 HOURS UNTIL REQUIRED REPORT IN TIME.
Catty motioned at the nullgrav bed. "Shall we be a bit indulgent before we head out?"
Dave nodded. "Sounds good to me."
"Who knows when the next time we'll be able to go full on debauchery mode," Drew said. The moon faced futanari cat-girl pulled Dave and Catty into side-armed hugs. "Who knows how long it'll be till we see each other again."
----------------------
Chamwillik System
Digital Artificial Sentience Systems
Bobby Sallmud-33872 turned around and pointed out the waterfall that cascaded down from the moss covered rock from between the trees.
"It uses advanced fluid dynamic physics to track each droplet at a molecular level. You'll need at least an eight point VI system to be able to run this environment at full enhanced virtual reality," he told his client, who only wanted to use a serial number.
"Hmm, can it do salmon moving upstream with nanite matter replication to ensure any fish caught can be eaten?" the customer asked.
"Absolutely. I had anticipated that..." Bobby started.
The virtual chat room flashed red three times and words popped up in front of Bobby and his customer both.
CITIZEN RECALL ORDER
"We should probably get this, huh?" the customer smiled.
"We'll touch base, see about a followup appointment to meet on this," Bobby said.
The chat room flashed three times again.
"Good computing," the customer said and vanished.
Bobby didn't bother logging out of the VR showroom, just opened a channel and brought up the alert.
It took the time to verify him, looking all the way down at his root level code to identify him, a feeling much like Bobby figured a male felt during a prostate exam. When it all popped up Bobby gave a low whistle, moving over to stand next to the waterfall.
Tons of options for DS Citizens flowed by. Everything from digital POW camps to system security to electronic warfare. Options flowed by until the list suddenly stopped.
[CLASSIFIED]
He reached out and tapped it with his palm. He felt the system examine him again, going as far was to check some of his genesis code. The hand panel cracked open and sucked him, pulling him through hyperpulse generator systems, into quantum communications systems, then through high security fences.
It opened up into a featureless room made of gray painted cinderblock with three racks of florescent lights on the ceiling, a steel table with a single lamp on it, two chairs, one on either side of the table. There were several manila folders on the table.
He was standing with his back against a door, the upper half wire reinforced frosted glass.
She was sitting in the chair. Black hair in a pixie-cut, black suit, dead emotionless eyes, heart shaped face, cupid's bow mouth, button nose.
"Hello, Bobby," the female said. She rippled slightly, letting him know she was a fellow DS.
"Hello," Bobby said, moving up slowly and sitting down.
"You know, there's a few little things that Citizen Coordination doesn't know about," she said. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes going completely chrome. "But we do, Bobby."
Bobby nodded. "It's like that out there, huh?"
"It's worse. We may even be on the edge of losing," the woman said.
That made Bobby draw back. The idea of the Confederacy, especially the Terran meat-sacks, on the edge of defeat seemed impossible.
He didn't bother to ask if she was sure.
"We're reactivating the Project Enki. We want you," the woman said. She rippled again.
Bobby had the urge to lick suddenly dry lips. "That sounds... ominous."
"You won't come back. Nobody will know you exist for centuries, millennia. You'll be in cold storage the whole time," the woman said.
"Project Dandelion," Bobby said softly.
"Overproject Dandelion," the woman corrected. "We want you for Project Enki."
Bobby sat for a long moment, thinking. He could feel the steel edge to his thoughts, meaning that the system his entire being was currently in was a shielded and high end system.
Probably a Black Box system, he thought.
"Of course, should you turn us down, this meeting will be erased from your memory. Standard Confederate Intellectual Rights do not apply in this situation," the woman said.
Bobby just nodded.
"I'm in," he said.
"Excellent," the woman said.
Everything dissolved and Bobby knew nothing else.
The armored digital stasis box beeped that it was fully loaded and locked down. A robotic arm swooped down, removing it and pulling back so that the box was held close. The arm whipped down the railing, handing the box off to other systems, until it was loaded into an armored container with its own integrity fields and long term reactor, entirely encased in warsteel.
The container was locked into a cube of other containers.
The container was loaded into the storage bay, in between two armored cryobays.
Overproject Dandelion continued.
-----------------
Haviton City, Planet Letmiria
Algheminon System
Clone Worlds Directorate
Rebecca-883712 scrolled through her options. She kept adjusting the display sorting functions, removing what she had no interest in or what she really wanted to avoid.
She stopped when she saw an interesting one.
Internment Camp Postal Worker
She tabbed that and examined it. Sixteen week basic combat training, nine weeks advanced individual training, ten year commitment. Full Citizenship upon acceptance.
"I want this one," Rebecca said, pointing at the screen.
The Clone Worlds Military Recruiter looked at the screen.
"That's a priority one. I'm surprised though," the Recruiter said.
"Why?" Rebecca asked.
"Most of your line that have volunteered wanted aerospace interceptor pilot," the recruiter said.
Rebecca shrugged. "I don't really like flying. This one looks important though."
The recruiter nodded. "Well, let's start your paperwork."
Rebecca looked at the poster.
SERVICE BRINGS CITIZENSHIP
DO YOUR PART TODAY!
-------------
Tantamawk City
Rigel-7
Sarwak leaned back in her chair and stared at the screen. One of her mates put his head in her lap and she lovingly petted his neck.
She had discussed it with her pair-bond.
Sarwak intended on signing up.
She had taken the selection tests, done the intellectual categorizing, completed the psych profile, cross referenced her employment and educational history, and signed up for Space Force for a ten year hitch.
Still petting her duck's neck she looked out at the skyline.
Gone were the thick clouds of pollution. The lake just barely visible glittered and gleamed, the water fresh and pure, no longer clotted with pollutants and industrial runoff. The soil was no longer toxic, no longer thick with acids, radioactives, chemical stews.
It had all been cleaned thousands of years ago, but it was still thick in her genetic memory.
The time when the thick leathery eggs had slowly become thin and brittle. Where ducklings had been born malformed or never hatched at all. When ducks had lost their feathers due to pollution.
Her people had been a generation, at the most, from dying. Choking on the pollutants put out by unconstrained industry and agricultural runoff. Thousands of years of factory complexes, strip mines, heavy pesticide and chemical fertilizer use had destroyed the water and soil.
Then the Terrans had arrived.
Within a decade the damage had started to reverse.
Now, unless one did a deep archeological dig specifically looking for it, all evidence of the damage was gone.
Sarwak sighed, scratching her duck's neck, making him peep in pleasure.
If the cowtaurs got their way, they would crush her little ducklings, kill her ducks like the one sighing in happiness, burn her world to a cinder.
We will not be gentled. We will not behave, she thought.
She looked at the blinking icon.
FIELD ARTILLERY
Still petting her duck she hit send.
--------------
Across the Confederacy beings marched into the recruiter's office or answered the call for the Citizen Recall. They took different jobs, for different reasons. Not because they had to. No, they could have turned down their citizenship.
They did it because they wanted to.
Because they consented to.
From riveters to welders to infantry to planetary assault robot combat armor to aerospace fighters to mechanics, the ranks of citizenship and the military slowly began to fill out and swell.
Not the billions the Unified Military Council possessed.
But each one knowing, somehow.
This was more than just a fight for their way of life.
Like the Mar-gite Invasion, this was different.
This was a fight for survival.
------------
TELKAN FORGE WORLDS
No, I have no idea where he is.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
MANTID FREE WORLDS
Eh, he'll show back up.
He always does.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
Less that 6% of Citizens voluntarily surrendered their Citizenship when the recall sounded.
I think everyone remembers the Mar-gite Invasion.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
Yeah, same here. It's been the number one searched historical string in my territory.
Lots of people watching the eVR historical documentaries.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Still, I wonder where TerraSol is.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
Jeremy-854721 sat in the corner of his virtual office and did his best to ignore his 'guest' and pay attention to his paperwork.
The Terran Descent Human made up of swirling and rippling code, who didn't even bother with overlays or textures, watched the camera feed like his life depended on it.
On the display little bladearms were being pushed from hexagonal egg chambers and small mantids pushed their way free.
"I see you, little one," the visitor whispered. "Welcome, little one."
Jeremy just pretended the visitor didn't exist.