Tor’laen stood on the command dais, his eye roving over the incident reports from Orphila’s government. Vessa was standing next to him, reading as well, while Mikka was lounging, half in, half out of her chair. Her casual posture didn’t fool him, though. Her eyes were as sharp as a steel knife as they took in the information. Behind them, Nalyra was in her usual command seat, almost completely obscured by a veritable wall of floating holographic windows.
The Ydani had been summoned once again to the bridge fairly early into first watch. He hadn’t slept nearly as much as he perhaps should have, having gotten engrossed in one of the novels on his tablet — a fictional piece about a dashing Zakkili mercenary woman hunting down pirates. Well, it wasn’t even close to the first time he’d had to operate on little sleep. He was an old soldier, he could handle it.
“Just an average explosive device,” Vessa muttered, her brow furrowed. “Nothing unique or special about its composition or make, according to the recovered fragments and residue.”
“A bomb you could make anywhere that had a fabricator,” Mikka sneered. “Fucking great.”
“Nobody reported seeing anyone enter the governor’s office, either,” Tor’laen said quietly. “The civilians’ and officials’ reports are generally useless.”
“This one, here.” The Admiral tapped one of the holographic windows, causing it to enlarge. “This woman, an economic minister, reported seeing a Dorrai and Zakkili male she didn’t recognize. Both were carrying boxes that resembled the one that concealed the explosive.”
“It was a document case, Vess,” Mikka snorted. “Half the damn boxes in the building look exactly like it.”
“Either way, the timing is off.” The Ydani shook his head. “She claims that she saw them only a bell and a half before the detonation, and the governor’s office was untouched for that period. The sweep of the building didn’t turn up any secondary devices, either.”
“We did get one thing, though.” The Lieutenant Commander glanced over at the final member of the command staff. “Bring up what you found, Nivi.”
“Right.” The engineer tapped the screen at her station a few times. A new holographic screen popped up in the center of the command dais, showing the building plan of the capital building. “I’m pretty sure I found out where and when the security feed footage was deleted.” Another tap, and it zoomed in, focusing on the basement of the building. A red circle popped up in the corner of one of the rooms. “Right here, just about as first watch ended yesterday. They set the cameras to cease recording. Also, whoever did it even wiped the access log for that terminal.”
“That’s the archive room,” Vessa said, folding her arms.
“Makes sense, right?” Mikka stood up to join them. “Basically no one goes in there.”
“So our infiltrator, or someone working with them, has in-depth knowledge of the capital building,” Tor’laen reasoned.
“Or knows about how things usually go in this kind of place.” Mikka shrugged. “Not sure if that’s better or worse.”
“Regardless, everything points to someone connected to the government.” There was a disapproving frown on the Admiral’s face. “They were able to easily access non-public parts of the building without raising any alarm.”
“Or they took out anyone who saw them.” The Lieutenant Commander drew a thumb sideways across her throat.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Nivi cut in. “There are no reports of missing persons throughout the capital currently. At least, nothing newer than a measure ago.”
“This wasn’t the work of an amateur,” Tor’laen said slowly. “Infiltration, deletion of evidence, targeted destruction…all were achieved without leaving an obvious trail.”
“We cannot treat this as an isolated incident.” Nalyra’s voice came from behind her wall of screens. A moment later, they parted, the Crown Daughter flicking them aside with a gesture. “My sister’s murder was also clearly done by skilled and experienced assassins. It would be foolish to not consider them connected.” She stepped down onto the command dais.
“You believe it to be the same individuals or organization that were responsible for Crown Daughter Taira’s assassination?” Vessa asked, spinning around to face Nalyra.
“I do.” She nodded. “I refuse to believe that Orphila has a surplus of dangerous, practiced assassins and terrorists, hiding just out of sight.”
“But the shape of the board has changed with her passing.” Tor’laen frowned, his eye going to the floating windows of reports once more. “We need to understand the opponent’s endgame before we can predict their next move.”
“Maybe they just want to watch the colony crumble,” offered Mikka, returning to her seat.
“Perhaps,” Nalyra conceded. “As Tor’laen posited, political destabilization seems likely for one of their goals. However, he is correct in this as well. We need to learn why they want Orphila to fail.”
That question hung heavily in the air for a moment.
“It is too early to make guesses,” Nalyra continued, walking around the holotable. “Now, I have several calls to make to people I’d very much rather not talk to, but appearances must be maintained. Maker willing I’ll learn something useful for my troubles.” She paused, glancing at Tor’laen from the corner of her eye. “Ydani, I believe you had something you wanted to fabricate?”
“Yes, Crown Daughter.”
“Until we have more intel, I doubt you will have much to do here. Go and create your ‘keepsake’, whatever it may be.”
Tor’laen gave her a quick salute, and started down the stairs of the command dais, heading towards the door that led to the Mid Deck. He could feel Nalyra’s gaze tracking him as he left.
Tor’laen hunched over the too-low console, manipulating the contents of the screen. Behind him, two Zakkili engineers each peered over one of his shoulders. The woman on his left, Bari, had an expression of undisguised curiosity on her face, while the woman on his right, Avini, radiated suspicion.
The two engineers had introduced themselves when Tor’laen arrived at the fabrication facility. Bari had been clearly excited to meet “the Ydani half the Mid Deck was talking about”, chatting away happily, giving him a quick tour of the facilities.
Avini had been…less than enthusiastic. She had spent almost five whole marks inspecting his fabrication pass, as if expecting it to be a forgery. Considering the morning’s discussion of fabricator-made explosives, Tor’laen could hardly fault her caution. At last, she had begrudgingly accepted his presence there, giving him access to the equipment.
And so he sat, bringing the object from his memories to life.
Luckily, the modeling software was quite intuitive, easy enough for him to pick up in less than half a bell.
A game board, torpedo cruisers, point defense frigates, carriers…he could have listed them off in his sleep. How many thousands of times had he played? How many games had he shared with his peers and subordinates over his lengthy career? More than enough to recreate the numerous pieces and cards from memory.
“Ground troopers are looking a little off, but that’s fine…” he muttered to himself. “Recognizable enough.” Tor’laen had never been very artistically inclined, so “recognizable” was an acceptable level.
“You’re doing this all just from memory?” Bari asked, watching him set the number of ground troop pieces to be fabricated.
“That’s right,” Tor’laen chuckled. “I imagine most Ydani could do the same.”
He started on the cards. Resource cards, fortification cards, bonus cards…he quickly churned out one after another, using some of the preloaded images in the software. The words sometimes fit a little strangely in Zakkili, but they would be usable. It didn’t need to be a luxury set.
“It’s a…game?” Avini leaned closer to the screen, her brow furrowed.
“Yes. Probably the most popular pastime of my people.”
“Look, these are neat!” Bari had plucked a few of the ship pieces from the output chute of the machine, holding them up to show them off.
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Tor’laen barely had to glance over at her.
“That’s a starbase, a carrier, and a destroyer.”
“Hey, is there anything we can do to help?” Bari asked eagerly, earning her a disapproving huff from her fellow engineer.
The Ydani paused, thinking for a moment.
“A box to hold it all might be nice.”
“We can do that!” Bari beamed at him. “You want me to put a title on it? What’s it called?”
“Its name? We call it Dominion.”
By the time Tor’laen left the fabrication facility with his prize tucked under his arm, second watch had already begun. His stomach was growling, and he made his way straight to the mess hall. It was a couple bells later than most of the crew ate their midday meal, so the mess hall was fairly empty. The Ydani joined the small line in front of the counters and was soon selecting his food.
His eye widened slightly. They had scrambled eggs!
Sure, they were a pale yellow color instead of the vivid orange he was used to, but there was no mistaking that fluffy texture. He hadn’t eaten eggs since his last visit to Ydan, almost three years ago. Had it already been so long? There was a tendency to lose track of time in an Outrunner Fleet. He threw on a liberal amount of salt and what the Zakkili called “kona”, some kind of crushed black spice.
Humming a small marching tune, Tor’laen made his way to an empty table, satisfied. He eagerly tucked into his food, savoring the taste and texture. It was delicious. They had mixed something into the eggs, making them much more creamy and rich than he remembered.
Slowly, he became aware of the fact that he was attracting quite a bit of attention. That was nothing new for the Ydani, but the amount seemed strangely disproportionate for the small number of Zakkili in the room. In addition, more than a few eyes flicked to the box he had at his side, next to his tray.
He gave a mental shrug. It didn’t feel like anger or resentment, or something similar. If they wanted to watch him, they were welcome to do so.
As he was finishing his meal, a Zakkili woman tentatively slid onto the bench, across from him. A soldier, judging by her uniform. She had been eating with a group of her fellows, who were now all watching the pair.
“You’re Tor’laen, right, sir? The Ydani we have aboard.”
“I am.” He gave a small smile. “And you are…?”
“Armswoman Tia, sir.” She answered promptly. “Wow, you’re tall.”
Even seated, there was a significant gap between their heights.
“Nice to meet you, Tia. There’s no need to be so formal, you know. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’.”
“Mmmm, no can do, sir.” She pointed at the collar of his uniform. “I don’t know much about alien navies, but I can recognize a captain’s insignia when I see one.”
“As you wish, then,” Tor’laen chuckled.
“They really weren’t lying about you being so polite,” she muttered, but her eyes were fixed on the box sitting next to his tray, tracing over the Zakkili characters for “Dominion” etched on its surface.
“Interested?” he asked, a wry smile on his face.
“What…what is it, sir?”
“It’s a board game. A common hobby of my people.”
The woman’s eyes lit up at the words.
“A game? Can I see it, sir?”
“Sure, Tia.”
Chuckling, Tor’laen opened the box, pulling out a handful of the plastic pieces and cards. He was vaguely aware of the group of Tia’s friends, edging closer.
Tia herself, on the other hand, looked absolutely fascinated. Tor’laen supposed he really shouldn’t be too surprised — from what he had seen, the average Zakkili loved games. They were a common sight in the mess hall, and everywhere in the Under Deck.
“These are little ships, right, sir?” She had picked one up, balancing it on her palm and examining it closely.
“They are.” He nodded. She reminded him so much of new recruits, back on his ships. Always jumping at the chance for a match. “…want to learn how to play?” he asked, on a whim.
“Really?!” A giddy look filled her face. She caught herself a moment later. “I mean — really, sir?”
“Really. Come, I’ll walk you through the basics while I set up the board.”
“Hmmm…so I’ll move my cruiser here, and start bombarding your starbase, I think. And then, start landing troops on this planet?”
“A fine move, Tia.” Tor’laen nodded as she rolled the dice, then pushed a few damage tokens toward his starbase.
“Alright!” The Armswoman pumped her fist, then slapped her open palm against the palm of the woman sitting next to her.
Early on in the game, Tia had been joined by two of her fellow soldiers, and the trio held quick, whispered conferences before each move. Tor’laen didn’t mind, it made the match a bit more even.
Though he had learned not to think too openly about his next move, as a few times the girls seemed to anticipate him a bit too well for first-time players. He should probably add a “no Skimming” clause to the game rules.
“Your turn, Tor’laen!” The woman sitting on Tia’s right, Villi, chimed in excitedly. At least he had finally gotten them to stop calling him “sir.”
The rest of the mess hall had abandoned their attempts at subtly peeking at the game. Over a dozen women, every Zakkili in the room, was now clustered around the table, watching and chatting in low voices so as not to disturb the players.
For a moment, the mess hall almost became another one, a more familiar one. Their race was different, as was his standing, but that same enthusiasm was in his opponents’ eyes, that same excitement that he often saw in young Ydani soldiers. He had to fight to keep a wide grin off his face.
“Then, it seems my new outpost is already doomed.” Tor’laen heaved a mock sigh. “Oh well, a good commander knows when to cut his, or her, losses. That being said…” He laid a card from his hand on the table, denoting a subspace dive. “One must take advantage when an opportunity presents itself.”
He received a chorus of groans from his opponents as he jumped an entire fleet into position around the girls’ farthest colony world.
Most of their audience hissed in sympathy at their comrades’ plight, though it seemed he had a few supporters as well, hearing some appreciative murmurs from behind him.
“Now then, ladies…” He finished the rest of the minor movements and reinforcements of his turn, a smile playing about his lips. “I believe it is your turn.”
They finished the game after almost a full bell, Tor’laen letting the girls grasp at victory before turning the game around with a classic stratagem. One that his commanding officer had crushed him with when he had been a new recruit as well.
He had finally been able to leave the mess hall then, but only after Tia had extracted a promise from him to bring the board game back for evening chow. She had been quite insistent, wanting some of her fellow Armswomen to be able to experience the game as well.
Leaving the mess hall, Tor’laen retired to his cabin, where he spent the next few hours reading through more of the novel he had started. It felt…slightly wrong, somehow, to be whiling away so much time, but he received no further summons to the bridge. And so, he read.
When dinner rolled around, he kept his promise, bringing the game back to the mess hall.
Once again, Tor’laen was surrounded by interested Zakkili, all clearly fascinated by the board game he carried. He found himself in the midst of the Armswomen, penned in on all sides by women wanting a crack at the new game they had been promised. Tia was in the crowd, and somehow Corporal Saia ended up next to him, drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage out of a can and laughing at the sometimes less-than-optimal moves his opponents made.
The Ydani had to implement the sped-up version of the rules for the game, trying to let as many Armswomen as possible play. He made sure to let each of his opponents — or more often, teams of opponents — have their fun and get a feel for the game before ending it gracefully a few turns later.
One Armswoman declared herself a natural strategist three turns before accidentally leaving her homeworld open to his carrier group, which sent Saia into such a fit of laughter that she nearly spilled her drink.
He was able to get through eight full games, to the delight of his opponents and the dismay of the women who didn’t get to play. He barely had time to eat his own meal, but he didn’t mind. It had been far too long since he had just been able to sit and play Dominion without worrying about appearances or a difference in rank. One of the costs of being a Captain, he supposed.
After several bells, he finally was able to extract himself and his game from the mess hall, leaving behind a gaggle of Zakkili, talking excitedly about the game.
After a fairly peaceful night — and a good amount more sleep than the one before — Tor’laen found himself summoned to the bridge once more the next morning.
As soon as he entered the bridge, he could feel Nalyra’s eyes on him once more. They tracked him as he moved to his usual spot, standing next to her command seat. He resisted the urge to stare back, just coming to stand in parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, gaze forward.
The Crown Daughter continued to stare at him for nearly a full mark before finally giving a sigh.
“Ydani, the general fabrication queue has received almost two dozen requests over the past two watches.” She rested her chin in her palm, looking at him as if he were personally responsible. “Just what, in the Maker’s name, is Dominion?”
Ah. He actually is responsible for this one.
“It’s a board game, Crown Daughter,” he replied. “One that is quite popular among my people.”
“And why are my people asking to have it fabricated?”
A small pulse of her irritation brushed his mind. He was vaguely aware of Vessa, Nivi, and Mikka watching, the latter two not bothering to hide their grins.
“I taught a group of Armswomen in the mess hall how to play at their request. I assume they must have enjoyed it,” Tor’laen said dryly.
Nalyra stared at him for a moment, before closing her eyes and reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. A rare show of exasperation, he assumed, but really only the command staff was around to witness it.
“Then, am I safe to assume this is what you used your fabrication pass for?” she asked slowly, eyes still closed.
“Yes, Highness.”
“Of course you did.” She opened her eyes and caught his gaze. “Go and fetch it.”
“Crown Daughter?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I need to personally inspect it before I risk distributing Ydani propaganda throughout my ship.”