Brentili'ik stared at the Tri-Vee, watching it closely. On it, point totals were being displayed as news anchors went on about each candidate for the Senate Chairman.

Apparently the entire Senate had been up for re-election, then the Senate Chairman seat had been up, with each Senator voting according to their election vote total.

The female human had taken enough votes to have a comfortable lead of several hundred million over her opponents, an insurmountable lead. She was now being escorted to the Senate Chairman's chair, her shoulders draped with a white mantle with black spots in the fur, and a bejewelled crown put on her head. She took a crystal orb in one hand and a hammer in the other, lifted the orb, and tapped an iridium bell with the hammer three times.

The voting was over and the Confederate Senate was in session.

Brentili'ik stared at the scene, frowning. She rewound it to the vote totals, paused it, split-screened then rewound again till it showed the entire vote per region, and paused it again.

Then she hit the button to summon someone that had been in her office far too often lately for her comfort.

After a moment the door opened and a non-descript Telkan male entered. He looked as if someone had taken the holopic next to the Galactepedia entry for Male Telkan and had abracopocus'd it to life. He moved in and sat down, looking at the two screens for a long moment.

"None of the four Telkan running for Senator exist in our files," he said.

"I was aware of that," Brentili'ik said.

"The amount of votes cast, total, equaled the exact number of registered voters our species possesses," the Telkan Intelligence Director said.

"Voting is mandatory," Brentili'ik offered.

"I voted for Charlie Moomoo for Telkan Fifth Senate Seat," the Director said. "I checked the marginal vote. No Charlie Moomoo votes."

"So we were right," Brentili'ik mused. She shook her head. "I've got worse for you."

"Might as well," the Director said.

Brentili'ik highlighted the amount of votes total cast in the Senate Seat Election.

"Eighteen billion votes, rounded down," Brentlili'ik said.

"All right," the Director said.

Brentili'ik looked at him. "Fine. Tell me where we'll find eighteen billion humans. Right now. At this second," she leaned back and folded her hands over her stomach. "I'll wait."

He frowned. "We can't. They're gone," he thought for a second. "We've been hearing rumors of something called an Earthling. Could it be them?"

Brentili'ik shook her head. "No. The Earthlings have an empty seat. Zero vote totals."

"Cybernetic Organism Collective or the Biological Artificial Sentience Systems?" the Director asked.

Brentili'ik shook her head again. "They have their own seats."

The Director nodded. "So, eighteen billion votes, but by who? Maybe they're just making up the totals? Just a sham election?"

Brentili'ik gave him a smile. "I'm about to ruin your day."

The Director sighed. "You're a prime example of why the Lanaktallan didn't want females to learn to read, Madame Director," he lamented.

Brentili'ik's smile got wider. "Why thank you," her smile vanished as she brought up another holofield. She tapped the voice system and waited till it made a chiming noise.

"Show Datapoint One," she ordered.

Numbers streamed down the side of the holotank.

"That's the vote count totals for the Terran Descent Humanity Senate seats for the last three thousand years," Brentili'ik said. "Notice anything?"

The Director leaned forward. "Are you sure this is right?"

"I took it from nine different data sources. They all match," Brentili'ik said.

"Then according to this, not a single human has died or been born in three thousand years."

"Play Datapoint Two," Brentili'ik ordered.

The system pinged again. It brought up a rotating orb that was obviously Terra, then zoomed out to show the Sol System, then zoomed out again to show what the Terrans had called the "Local System Cluster" Systems were highlighted.

"At the time of the initial attacks of the First Mantid/Terran War, human population throughout known space and colonies was thirty-three billion," the computer said. Worlds suddenly became red-ringed, nearly all of them. "Eight primary systems and thirteen of twenty-three colonies were attacked in a sudden surprise attack by Mantid ships using orbital fire and then landing ground troops."

There was a pause in the speech for a moment. "At the end of the war, less then fifteen years later, there was only two point seven billion humans left in Local System Space."

"Play Datapoint Three," Brentili'ik ordered.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Initial Terran Descent Human casualties of the Mantid surprise attack on TerraSol, the primary systems, and thirteen colonies was a grand total of twenty five billion, three hundred forty million. Any closer approximations are complicated by the fifteen years of warfare following the surprise attack, an entire generation for Terran Descent Humanity," the computer said. "An additional five billion TDH became known as 'The Sleeping Ones' due to catatonic shock."

"Play Datapoint Four," Brentili'ik said.

The computer beeped again.

"The Sentience Upload Disaster Storage System and the Sentience Uninterrupted Database System, colloquially known as the SUDS System, had been in place for nearly eighteen years at the time of the Great Glassing. The system suffered a major systems crash and did not work for nearly five years," the computer said. "The Fourth Miracle of the Digital Omnimessiah was the reactivation of the SUDS System, allowing Terran Descent Humans to recover instantly from death. The system went offline approximate two point one years to eight point four years ago, depending on local time dilation."

Brentili'ik looked at the Director. "Notice anything?"

The Director's mouth was slightly open. He looked at the frozen screens of the Senate, back at the four datapoints displayed, then to Brentili'ik several times.

"You're kidding," he said.

"We're not done yet," Brentili'ik said.

"Play Datapoint Five," she ordered.

"The amount of Terran Descent Humans who died between the wide spread acceptance of the SUDS System and the Mantid Attack is: eighteen billion, four hundred twenty two million," the computer said, showing the stats and news articles. "Average human life expectancy was only one hundred seventy-two years for males, two hundred and five years for females, at that time. Due to the 'wine glass' population metrics, in the eighteen years the SUDS system was active, the aging population, nearly 30% of the Terran Descent Human population, succumbed to unrecoverable age effects as well as the Extinction Agenda Attack on Earth's steady progression."

Brentili'ik looked at the Director, who's eyes were wide.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "This isn't some kind of mistake?"

Brentili'ik shook her head. "No. The numbers match. Take the Sleeping Ones, standard warfare casualties, and until the SUDS system crashed, and I believe the system overloaded before the victims of the Glassing could be processed."

She pointed at the last datapoint. "Terran history is extremely garbled, to the point it looks intentional. Their exact population since the founding of the Confederacy has been a closely guarded secret. However, historical data is there if someone knows to look for it."

The Director shook his head. "You think that the generation that died after the SUDS was implemented are the ones calling the shots?"

Brentili'ik nodded. "Have you ever reviewed the logs of what's called "the Gestalts" since they found us?"

The Director shook his head. "Not really. We just know that they're the amalgamation and aggregation of our population's opinions and interests."

"I have. If you look at the one marked "TerraSol" you'll note that it seems almost schizophrenic at times. It's quick to jump, highly aggressive, but then, it will calm down suddenly, as if it was side-loaded with enough data to change its attitudes and data points," Brentili'ik said. She saw her Director's surprised face and laughed. "You were a mechanic before the Terrans came. I was a domestic, and the first thing a domestic learns is how to keep their mouth shut and their ears cocked. I learned a lot then and paid attention to the training offered by the Terran Office of Diplomatic Affairs when I took office."

The Director nodded. "My apologies for under-estimating you, Madame Director."

Brentili'ik waved a hand to brush the apology away. "No, it's all right. Under-estimation by others is how domestics and laborers survived the purges and attention of the Overseers. It was our only defense."

The Director nodded, then turned his attention back to the data. "So, the dead, who were processed into the system, are the ones running the Senate and adjusting the TerraSol Gestalt?"

Brentili'ik nodded. "Except they're locked out. The TerraSol Gestalt can't communicate due to interference from the Black Bag," she made a humming noise. "It's awfully convenient that the Confederate Senate reconvenes right after the TerraSol Gestalt is put out of operation."

The Director held up his hand, requesting data real quick and looking it over.

"Before the Lanaktallan's 'Kill the Stallion' attack, the Senate passed nothing except the budgets and a few other things. No real policy modifiers. Not since the end of the Mar-gite War," the Director said. "Huh, there's something I didn't know."

Brentili'ik frowned. "What?"

"The Confederate Senate, after the Mar-gite War, disbanded the Confederate House of Representatives and the Hall of Ministers, leaving only the Senate and the High Court," the Director said.

Brentili'ik leaned back in her chair and rocked slightly, staring at the data.

"And, since the Senate reconvened, they've been passing bills right and left regarding expansion into the Long Dark, our treatment, our acceptance to the Confederacy, and a lot of other stuff. They're busier now then they've been since the end of the Mar-gite War," the Director said. He looked at Brentili'ik. "The status-quo got disturbed and they're reacting."

"Dead Terrans, dead over eight thousand years, making policy on a world they have no stake in," Brentili'ik said. She shook her head. "The question is: what can we do about it and what does it mean?"

The Director shook his head. "I don't know, Madame Director, but I advise we be very careful from here on out. People have died over data like this, and nobody is beyond something like this's reach."

Brentili'ik nodded. "I agree."

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

It was late. She'd eaten a light dinner at the office and then gotten involved in work again until she had looked up and seen how much time had gone by. The ride home seemed to take forever and once the hoverlimo landed, she hurried downstairs to the small living room that saw more use then the rest of the manor combined.

The pillow fort was up, the Tri-Vee was showing the grass growing channel. The podlings were all asleep in the pillow fort by the time Brentili'ik got home, the broodcarriers inside with them, curled up and purring.

"You look tired, beloved," Vuxten said.

"Stressful day," Brentili'ik said.

"Sit," Vuxten said, patting the couch.

With a sigh, Brentili'ik sat down. Vuxten put his arm around her and she leaned against him, cuddling for a long moment and letting the stress drain out of her.

"Got good news," Vuxten said after a while.

"I could use good news," Brentili'ik said.

"Mental Health cleared a couple of the Dogboi's to see Lady Keena," Vuxten said. "If your office doesn't mind, I'll take them to see her tomorrow after work when I go for more practice."

"All right," Brentili'ik said. She waited a moment. "How is your practice going?"

"Better," Vuxten said. "I think it's why I'm sleeping better," he hugged her tight. "Well, the practice and you."

"Sometimes I wish we were just like everyone else," Brentili'ik said. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't Madame Director."

"One of those days?" Vuxten asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. I can't tell you about it, but, yeah. I wish I could. Don't be upset."

Vuxten shrugged. "Some things I can't tell you."

Brentili'ik gave a quick grin. "Like what?"

"Like the 2nd Brigade ice cream dispenser is out, or that the speed zone lettering on Canal Street was done backwards, or that for some reason the vending machine at the Delta Company, 3rd Brigade barracks is loaded with Kobold snacks," Vuxten said. "Can't tell you any of that."

Brentili'ik snickered, then laughed. Vuxten joined her.

Synthal'la stuck her head out, blinking sleepily. "is funny?"

"Just a joke, Synthy," Vuxten said. He stretched and yawned.

Brentili'ik smiled. She gestured at the cushion fort. "Shall we squeeze in?"

Vuxten nodded. "I think so."

Together, they managed to shift everyone in the fort so they could squeeze in.

In the dark, the little red telltale LED bypassed, a security camera watched the entire thing silently.