Keven sent a furtive glance at Jeffo Lorillia, the Republic’s transportation secretary, not far away on the plateau and deep in conversation with Senator Izzet Noor, his long face uncharacteristically animated. Lorillia had pulled in incredible favors to bring so many navidroids together, and on such short notice. The Outer Rim was still in its hyperspace quarantine, much to Senator Noor’s intense frustration, but Secretary Lorillia’s requisition had taken so many navidroids out of circulation that it wasn’t just the Outer Rim experiencing shortages. Shipping all over the Republic was beginning to be affected.

Yes, if Keven’s algorithm performed correctly, they would know where the Emergences would happen next, and could end the blockade—but that was a big if. He only had fifty-seven thousand droids, when the number he actually needed was more like twice that. The calculations he had to run would now take at least double the time, even pushing his system to the limit. That much stress on the machine for that long would generate…well. He had his doubts about how many of these hugely precious electronic brains would make it through the process. That was the essential fact he had chosen not to share with Secretary Lorillia. The array, once powered on, would be hungry, and what it ate…was navidroids.

But this was the solution he had. He had to try—even though he knew what would happen to him if he failed. That’s what good people did.

“Peeples! Get your toe out of there! What do you think you’re—oh, that’s actually a pretty good idea, I guess,” Chief Innamin said over the comlink, his voice a little distant, as if he had turned to yell at someone on his side of the transmission. Then he came back, strong and loud. “We’re good here, Mr. Tarr. Linkage complete.”

“Thank you, Chief—and you can call me Keven. Clear the area, and pull out any other teams you see out there. Get off the plateau, back up here on the observation platform.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just pull everyone back, all right?”

Keven lifted a datapad, the central control unit for the entire array. He shot off a quick prayer to the Vine Matron, patron saint of the area on Hetzal Prime where he had been raised, then tapped the single button that turned the whole blasted thing on.

Farther along the plateau, Senator Izzet Noor fanned his face as the huge networked array of navidroids hummed into life. It sounded like a hive of insects—not even a sound, really, more like a sensation, just below the level of true perception. He was also praying, but not to the Vine Matron, more of an unfocused “please, please, please” muttered under his breath.