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Imcedi Odegi watched his empire crumble. The massive map of the Thaurian Concordat splayed over the walls in front of the Pontifical Dais would normally act the part of "big board," but whenever there was insufficient information that portion of the display would simply be excised.
The map was depressingly empty.
Fidgeting with a tassel of gold braid on the Dais, Odegi’s jaundiced face took in the room. Always kept so dark… so much the easier for that inquisitor-female to see me and not see her? The Thaurian frowned. On that matter, how am I going to deal with her? She definitely holds most of the advantages… this place is probably bugged. I know Sphet is loyal to me and could run a check… but if I get the paladins to run a bug-check Chreeti will know I’m not completely under her thumb. Best to play the fool for now.
"Umm… Grand Inquisitor?" he mumbled softly.
The grey-cloaked female immediately stalked up from just behind the Dais, hissing as she spoke in obvious disdain. "Yes, Master-Cleric Imcedi?"
Imcedi pointed towards the mostly-blank map. "What do we do about this… situation?"
Chreeti popped a joint between vertebrae in her neck and tapped her wrist a few times. The display updated, showing a giant arrow coming in from the Reaver Biological Collective. "Our inquisition has been… slowed by the presence of foreign powers. It is mildly unnerving."
Staring, Imcedi looked at the map and waved his finger at the Reaver arrow. "The Reavers are invading? What is their strength? Where are their objectives?"
"They have not made their strength apparent to us, nor their objectives," Chreeti intoned, "although I am sure that it is only a matter of time until the Most Holy Ord--"
"This isn’t a job for the Inquisition, this is a job for the Navy? Where are my fleets?"
The inquisitor merely glanced at the cleric with a displeased countenance. "Like most else in your Concordat, it is fighting amongst itself."
Imcedi growled and fidgeted with the tassel some more. "Well, if I’m completely useless, can I at least go for a walk?"
"I will not stop you. Would you like a guard?"
"Do I need one?" Imcedi shot back with an irritated look.
Chreeti merely chuckled. "Not from me, at least not yet. Enjoy your walk, Imcedi."
The Master-Cleric hopped off the Dais and quickly stomped out of the room, muttering under his breath.
Paladin Marshal Sphet looked up to see his boss wearing his old aristocratic attire instead of his new long theocratic robes. "Sir… Our Exalted… what, uh," the poor Marshal searched his head for whatever was appropriate in this situation, "to what do I, er, owe the honor?"
"Ah, Paladin Marshal Sphet, the Pontifical Chambers can be so dusty. I know that you keep a clean room." As Imcedi said this, he tapped his fingers across Sphet’s desk like some sort of five-legged spider.
Light dawned on the Paladin Marshal. "Ah, cleanest in the world, Our Exalted." Tapping a console on his desk, he grins. "And for living in such a dusty place, you are also quite clean, My Father."
Imcedi smiles and sits down. "Good. We have a problem, and stop with ‘My Father.’ I’m not the power in this country anyway."
Sphet scratches his head. "Well, if you were worried about being bugged enough to take a shower and change clothes, then the only people I can think that would have access to tag you would be…" he lowers his voice, leans forward across the desk, and looks around conspiratorially, "the inquisition, sir."
"Very good bit of deduction, Sphet. Now, I need you to show initiative."
Sphet blinked as dawn turned to dusk in his mind.
"Don’t worry, I’ll guide you through it. You do, of course, know that the Reavers are invading, right?"
Sphet blinked again, eliciting only a sigh from Imcedi. "Well, you do now. Make up a legitimate story not involving me on how you found out. Still, you panic at this news and make a call to some mutual acquaintances of the Reavers and our beloved Concordat."
Sphet blinked yet again.
"Damn it, just call the Weirdo Zone and ask them for military assistance. Then call me a few moments afterwards and tell me what you did so I can appropriately fume and moan and finally decide that we’re in for it now so we might as well accept their help. Make sure to keep the line open so the inquisitor-bitch can’t act."
"Oh, okay, boss." Sphet smiled childishly with a bit of imp in him. "You know, you can be pretty tricky."
Or you can just be unimaginably dense. "Thank you, Paladin Marshal, My Son. I’d better be getting back to the Dais… things of national import await me. With alacrity, My Son."
"With alacrity, Our Exalted."
Supreme Emperor J’hsen merely furrowed her brow at the thickheaded (anatomically and proverbially) pumpkin-shaded Thaurian on the communications display on her desk. "You want what, Paladin Marshal?"
"We want military assistance. The Reavers are invading and our fleets aren’t working. Our forces need assistance."
"Riiiiiight. You know, we aren’t going to be your proxies. If the Reavers are invading you, that’s your problem. Good day, Marshal."
The being on the other end blinked. "Er… good day, Emperor." The screen went blank.
J’hsen held her head in her hands and slowly ruffled her silvery hair. "Damn, you’d think they’d put down their stupid holy war for a moment, but nooo, they want us involved."
Wantanabe shrugged. "Fleet Admiral M’sharra just called in… looks like Task Force GLAIVE has rejumped to Failsafe Victor and is awaiting orders."
"Hold station for now. If we fight the Reavers, we fight them on our terms."
Yes, it is possible to surprise a two-million-year-old being. From the look of blank amazement on the High Mind Empress’s decidedly reptilian visage, it was very possible. Garbog Rajzoló merely repeated his offer.
"Our forces are equally matched with the usurper’s, and alone I fear we cannot defeat them. With the assistance of your forces in the area, we can completely crush them."
"So… you want our forces to work together? We’ve already taken several of your worlds!"
The Thaurian rolled its shoulders in an analog of a shrug. "Have them, you won them fairly. They will be a small price to pay for your help."
The Ancient One’s eyes lit up. "I will order my fleets to immediately stand down against your forces and concentrate on your opposition… but be warned. If one single quanta of energy makes it in anger from your ships to ours, we shall avenge it by several million orders of magnitude."
Garbog smiled. "I understand completely."
"We shall determine the… specifics of this deal later."
Chreeti glared at the image of Sphet, filling the left wall of the Pontifical Chamber. "You did what?" Not being watched, Imcedi smiled thinly at the inquisitor’s distraction. Feeling an electric pinprick from her communicator’s incoming message warning, the Grand Inquisitor snatched it from her sleeve and jammed it to her tympanum. "Yeah, what. What? He did what? We can watch his signals, but not kill him? Must I do everything…"
She threw the communicator against the ground, somehow managing to shatter the sturdy composite case. She then abruptly pointed at Sphet, who jumped back a bit in his seat a kilometer away at the sudden movement. Chest heaving and veins popping in anger, she hissed "Call… them… again. NOW!"
"You, again, Marshal. We really aren’t interested…" The Supreme Emperor leaned over to cut the channel.
"The Reavers are helping!" yelped the Marshal with uncharacteristic desperation.
J’hsen paused. "What?"
"The Reavers are helping Garbog. We can’t hold out against them… together, the Concordat will fall!"
"And become a Reaver puppet…"
Sphet snapped his fingers repeatedly, the Thaurian analog for a nod. "Yes!"
J’hsen fell back into her chair and stared at the utilitarian ceiling. Dammit, I really should commission a nice soothing fresco or something for times like these. That, or maybe a skylight. "Well, shit."
"New orders incoming, sir."
Nibnumber put down his massive stein of tea and walked across the command room to his seat. "Hardcopy print, my console, please." Tearing out the sheet of paper emerging from the slot, he whistled. "Well, I’m glad I put down my tea first; would’ve dropped it right about now."
Ka-Ri peers over the human’s shoulder. "What’s the situation, boss?"
Smirking, the fleet admiral drops the paper into the To Do box. "It’s ‘sir’ now, Admiral. We’re back on duty-game on."
Ka-Ri immediately straightens up and begins announcing as Nibnumber sits down. "Fleet to EvCon Zero. All hands to battle stations, all combat systems to full-op." Across Ares, life suddenly becomes a lot more efficient.
"Sal," Nibnumber begins, "order fleet to simultaneous-jump to Green Sector shipyards, clock plus H-fifteen. Complete combat readiness, fleet engagement spread."
"Acting, sir."
"Everyone, you know what to do. By the numbers."
"Orders from Ares, Event Condition Zero, jump to Green Sector shipyards at mission clock fifteen hours."
Stonozka swallowed hard, then set his face. "Reply acknowledgement. Everyone, go to Event Condition Zero, prepare for IID jump. Sensors, try not to blow the scans this time. Weapons to full power, active defenses to full."
My guts tightened as the lighting took on a red tone from the condition indicator lighting and the crew skittered to and fro to battle stations like ants in a hive. Once at their stations, everyone checked their regulation sidearm-standard drill. I did the same, pulling my blazer pistol, disengaging the energy pack and checking its charge (full, never fired) and slapping it back home into the pistol grip, checking the gauge connection on the pistol (also read full), checking the safety (on), and finally returning it to its holster. I always knew but never understood until that moment why they gave D.O.’s sidearms… everyone, in combat, has to pull their own weight.
My hands shook through the entire process, and just couldn’t stop shaking. I hid them between the sides of my seat and my legs so no one would notice. Then again, in hindsight, they were too concerned with their own thoughts to pay any attention to me.