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🕑 Added 2025-03-14 15:47:01 +0000 UTCDominion Navy Central Command, Znos-4-C
POV: Sprabr, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Eleven Whiskers)
“What appears to be the problem, Eleven Whiskers?” Dvibof asked nervously as the grand fleet commander hovered over his shoulder, watching him operate his console.
“No discrepancies at all, Six Whiskers?” Sprabr repeated his question.
“None— none that we have detected.”
Sprabr’s expression was one of utter disbelief. “Bring the logs up again.”
A litany of texts and communications scrolled by on the screen as Dvibof complied. “What are you looking for, Eleven Whiskers? Perhaps I should get others to assist us in the search.”
“Unnecessary,” he said, waving off the offer as he stared intently at the console. “The Vdrajma system, where the predators disappeared. Any communication disruption event recently?”
Dvibof confirmed with a few taps on the keys. “None… that we could tell.”
Sprabr looked at him sharply. “What about disruptions we couldn’t tell?” Then, he immediately realized the folly of his question.
“Uh— We have constant, automated connection checks with the systems in question.”
“Can’t the predators fake that?” Sprabr asked. “In fact, didn’t State Security intelligence reveal that they can spoof even videos and call audio?”
Dvibof confirmed it with a nod. “They can, which is why we also do manual checks with our patrols.”
“Manual checks?”
“We ask verification questions that only our people can answer.”
“Verification questions?”
“Like where they were born, their hatching date, their training academy instructor’s name… Trivia questions of that nature to ensure that they are genuine Servants of the Prophecy and not predator fabrications.”
Sprabr considered it for a moment. “That seems reliable enough. And have there been instances where they failed to answer correctly?”
“A few, but it happens,” Dvibof admitted. “Some people forget. Or possibly we have inaccurate data in our computers. But we simply wait for them to take responsibility and ask another.”
“And if they fail the check again?”
“Then procedure dictates we ask for their captain’s one time State Security authentication code, the one that is impossible for the Great Predators to crack into. As far as we know, anyway.”
“Why don’t we just always ask for that from the start?”
“It’s— it’s a lot of effort to complete a full one-time code handshake,” Dvibof answered. “And we are responsible for monitoring a lot of ships all around the Dominion — many thousands of combat or noncombat ships. Additionally, we would need to have a State Security officer here to supervise the procedure. Doing it all the time would take up all our resources…”
“I see,” Sprabr said as he considered the procedure. “That makes sense. But what if the predators listen in on our verification questions?”
“We don’t repeat the questions.”
“Ah. That seems reasonably secure for mere patrol checks. Bring up the instances where wrong answers have been given,” Sprabr ordered.
Dvibof brought up the list on his screen.
Sprabr stared at the entries for a heartbeat before giving up. “Map them. Are there any specific concentrations?”
“None that the Digital Guide is aware, Eleven Whiskers. By procedure, we would scrutinize a system if we saw any emerging patterns of failures…”
“Any failed question checks around the Vdrajma system?”
A few more clacks on the keys. “None in the last month. Out of seventeen patrol checks.”
“None in the last month?” Sprabr asked suspiciously. “What about the systems near it?”
Dvibof checked again. “Not a single one within twenty light years, Eleven Whiskers.”
“Is that rare?”
“Well… most people get their questions right, but a perfect record is… somewhat uncommon.”
“How uncommon is somewhat uncommon?”
“In my experience… about seven-tenths of sectors get at least a failed check a month,” Dvibof guesstimated. “Why do you ask, Eleven Whiskers? Is there something special about the Vdrajma system?”
“It’s where the Great Predator invasion fleet was last seen.”
Dvibof looked at him in concern. “I thought they’d left. That is what our State Security intelligence briefing said.”
“It’s important to be sure, especially against an enemy as practiced in subterfuge as the Great Predators.”
“Of course, Eleven Whiskers. I take full responsibility in my lack of diligence.”
Sprabr waved it away. “That’s fine. I might just be getting paranoid in my old age.”
“But… Eleven Whiskers… we can resolve this ambiguity right now.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“We can call them right now and ask for the responsible captains in each sector to verify their status with one-time codes. Would you like me to do that now?” Dvibof asked.
Sprabr nodded, annoyed he didn’t think of that first himself. “Oh. Right. Do that.”
Dvibof dialed a few switches on his console, and then spoke into his microphone. “May I get a State Security officer in the command center now?”
A few seconds later, a smartly dressed but young-looking Znosian hopped up with a red-shelled datapad in her paws. She did a double take at Sprabr.
He introduced himself. “I am Eleven Whiskers—”
“I know who you are, Eleven Whiskers Sprabr. I am Khesol,” she replied briskly, then turned to Dvibof. “One of your poorly-bred officers got a wrong answer again?”
“No,” Dvibof shook his head. “We are just going to conduct additional verification for a sector.”
She sighed in her very hatchling-like way. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with. I’ve got two predators and an apostate to interrogate before lunch.”
“Yes, Operative,” Dvibof said as he dialed the current ship responsible for the Vdrajma system, and spoke into the radio microphone again. “Central Command to ZNS 3420. Central Command to ZNS 3420. Report in.”
There was some light scratching on the return, and then a face appeared on his console. “ZNS 3420 reporting in from Vdrajma.”
“This is Six Whiskers Dvibof of Dominion Naval Command. Identify yourself.”
“Six Whiskers Dvibof. I am radio operator Four Whiskers Talnenglom,” she replied in a bored but respectful voice.
Dvibof turned back to look at Sprabr. “That’s her. I remember her. She just did a check-in two nights ago when I was on duty—”
“Verify with the one-time codes,” he ordered.
Dvibof spoke again into the screen. “Four Whiskers Talnenglom, we are doing a random one-time code check. Get your captain on the line with his State Security authorization codes.”
The radio operator gave him an expression of mild surprise but recovered immediately. “The captain is predisposed at the moment. He cannot come to the radio at this time.”
“Predisposed?”
“He is physically down at Vdrajma-4, supervising a shipment of reactor coolant. Would you like me to call back when he is back?”
Sprabr snatched the microphone from Dvibof and spoke into it. “This is Eleven Whiskers Sprabr. How long will your captain be gone for?”
“Ah, Eleven Whiskers Sprabr. I take full responsibility for this inconvenience,” Talnenglom replied. “I do not know how long the captain will be gone.”
Sprabr wasn’t about to just stop at that answer. “Call your computer officer over. He must know.”
“Of course, Eleven Whiskers,” she said, bowing her head before she pointed at her door. “I will go get Six Whiskers Fkuzha now.”
She stood up and left the field of view of her camera.
“What do you think, Eleven Whiskers?” Dvibof asked nervously.
“I don’t think that is really Four Whiskers Talnenglom. I think our four whiskers here is a predator in a fake suit of white fur. And I think they are simply—”
“What do you mean, Eleven Whiskers?” Khesol challenged from next to him. She pointed a claw at the screen. “We’ve verified the call is from the Vdrajma system. And that system was verified clear of predators a few weeks ago. She’s gotten her trivia questions right. Just because the captain is busy…”
Sprabr rolled his eyes in impatience. “I’m not going to bother repeating myself every time one of you fools comes along, Operative. We’ve been over this. Dvibof can catch you up later if you’re really curious.”
Her expression turned into outrage at the blatant disrespect. “Excuse me? I’ll remind you that the Navy, including every officer in it — no matter the rank, is subordinate to the authority of State—”
The video feed of a taller Znosian officer entering the room and sitting down at the radio operator’s station interrupted her indignation. “This is Six Whiskers Fkuzha. I am the computer officer for ZNS 3420. I take full responsibility for our captain’s absence, Eleven Whiskers.”
“How long will he be gone?” Sprabr asked.
“About two weeks, Eleven Whiskers,” Fkuzha answered. “His work— it is a highly involved process.”
“Highly involved?! Inspecting a shipment of reactor coolant? I’m sure it is,” Sprabr answered sarcastically and disconnected the call with a pointed claw.
“I thought you were going to need me to verify their codes,” Khesol huffed in annoyance. “Why did you bother to waste my time?”
“We’re not done here. That was clearly not one of ours. Six Whiskers Fkuzha, the real one, is likely already dead or captured by now. You might want to reschedule that interrogation, Operative. We have a few more calls to make.”
She stared at him with growing hostility on her face, if that were possible. “You can’t just upend my entire schedule. I have actual things to do—”
“Where, Eleven Whiskers?” Dvibof asked.
“Calculate the shortest blink routes from Vdrajma to every major industrial system of the Dominion,” Sprabr said calmly. “And go down the list to request verification. Until we find a sector that we still actually hold.”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers,” Dvibof started typing immediately on his console.
“Oh, and you better do it fast,” Sprabr added. “The predator’s lie was that the captain would supposedly be back in two weeks, and we know that the captain is never coming back. That is just a timeframe they gave us to make our discovery of their lie irrelevant. So whatever they are planning… Two weeks, Six Whiskers, two weeks.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dominion State Security HQ, Znos-4
POV: Svatken, Znosian Dominion State Security (Position: Director)
Svatken contemplated the concepts of a new design for the standardized State Security FTL radios in her head. Merely screaming at her subordinates wasn’t enough. There needed to be more. Perhaps some kind of explosive she could remotely trigger to instantly kill the incompetent offender on the other end? She would need to consult with the experts at the Design Bureau.
Whether that would work, she already had a test subject in mind.
Administrator Krelnos bowed deeply in the image, shame and fear mixed in her posture and expression. “I take full responsibility for this disaster, Director.”
“All of our doomsday devices on Grantor?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
Krelnos took a second before she replied, as if carefully contemplating her last words. “Yes, Director. Our assignment of responsibility investigation reveals only one or two of them actually detonated, but that was enough to ruin the rest of them and bury the facility. We are trying to dig up and see if we can reprocess some of the raw material— but I’m afraid it’ll take some additional resources—”
“All of our doomsday devices?” Svatken repeated, as if she hadn’t heard Krelnos’s explanation. “All twenty-four thermonuclear warheads I assigned to your care?”
“Yes, Director. I take full responsibility—”
“Why did we collect all our doomsday devices into one storage facility like crowding a year’s-worth of eggs and hatchlings into a single pool?” Svatken asked, her shoulders shaking with fury.
“Director, that decision— we did it after the Great Predators began raiding our other munitions bases— we didn’t want them to get hold of any— the Digital Guides suggested that— we didn’t anticipate, we didn’t think—” Krelnos blabbered.
“You didn’t think,” Svatken concluded calmly.
Krelnos bowed deeply, exposing her neck. “No, Director.”
“What about our planetary tugs? We had a couple of those on Grantor, didn’t we?”
“We— we— Director, I take full responsibility for—”
Svatken sighed. “They were down there with the nuclear munitions, too.”
“Yes, Director. We placed them there after instruction from your office to minimize the risk of their operatives getting any of our dangerous—”
“It’s too bad we didn’t store your entire bloodline down there with the munitions too,” Svatken lamented.
“Yes, Director.”
There was a minute of silence as Svatken considered creative new ways for the idiotic administrator to be tortured painfully, before her total exclusion from the Prophecy and execution, of course. She just had to find a way to… extradite her back through the predators’ siege lines to Znos. That incompetent Navy eleven whiskers got through; surely there was a way…
Then again, if she simply did nothing, the predators might capture, torture, and eat Krelnos for her in a few months or so when they invade Grantor. That was an attractive alternative proposition too.
“Director?” Krelnos asked meekly after a while. “Are you— are you still there?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Svatken replied, sighing.
“What— what is your directive, Director?”
“When the predators come for Grantor, you are not to retreat or give up. Hold Grantor until your last breath,” Svatken ordered after another moment’s consideration. “If you don’t…”
Then, she realized there wasn’t much more she could realistically threaten the administrator with. After all, she was already going to schedule Krelnos’s entire bloodline for pruning anyway.
Svatken closed the connection with an angry stab of a claw, then closed her eyes in fatigue. She was mulling over which of her underperforming subordinates she could execute by her own paw when her console beeped again.
It was her attendant outside, Fstrofcho.
“What?!” she snapped at his image in irritation.
“The Eleven Whiskers is trying to make an emergency appointment with you again. He is most persistent about this, but I thought you should be informed that—”
“Now is not a good time. Tell him to get out of my lobby before I come out there to shoot him, regardless of how valuable to the Prophecy he mistakenly thinks he is.”
“He is not here. He is calling from the Navy moon Znos-4-C and… he insists the survival of the Dominion is at stake.”
Svatken scoffed. “Of course he does. We live in a galaxy full of predators. When is the survival of the Dominion not at stake?”
“He insists that— Hold on, Director, I’m also getting an emergency message from one of our operatives on Znos-4-C.”
“Which of our operatives?”
“Operative Khesol.”
“Oh, my young prodigy.” Svatken perked up. “What is she reporting?”
“She says that enemy ships have likely just entered the Znos system in force.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
TRNS Crete, Znos (25,000 Ls)
POV: Carla Bauernschmidt, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Rear Admiral)
At 25,000 light seconds, the enemy’s star and planets were mere specks in the ship’s telescopes, but as the ship began communicating with its assets in system, the icons representing them — and their sizable defending forces — appeared on the battle map almost immediately.
“Blink complete. Gravidars confirming our data in system. All auxiliary units with the Crete are combat ready. Squadrons 9 and 10 are already in place and ready for our arrival, Admiral. Minesweeper identifies six mine volumes in range, but they should clear the relevant threats in a few minutes.”
Carla took a deep breath. “Any movement from the enemy yet?”
She knew that her XO’s glance at his console was merely perfunctory. He was ready with the answer. “No, Admiral. We have clearly taken them by surprise. We’re jamming their outer system FTL recon assets so they can’t report us, but they should notice something is up in a few minutes. And even if they are that gullible, they’ll see our light in less than six hours.”
Her eyes were hard. Determined. “Excellent precautions. But… ultimately unnecessary for what we are here to do today.”
“Admiral?”
“First, burn us towards their high command moon, Znos-4-C. Full power. I want them to see us coming.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
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Comments
M
Well, we know who secured that spot for her :P
Spooker
A matter of perspective.
M
Svatken was a perfect choice for her position.
Valdis Trautmanis
Someone's gonna get what's coming for them
xxm1rvxx
Oh boy
