Counteraction
© 2020 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  baroncoon


The current Sovereign was not the Oathbreaker, Vikan t’Klar reminded herself. He was less inclined to assign blame until a full investigation had been conducted, and also less inclined to have those who brought him bad news executed. She would come out of this meeting alive.

Whether she would still be wearing the insignia of High Admiral remained to be seen.

Her aide’s ears perked as an attendant approached, and her tailspur tapped against t’Klar’s boot to alert her. “The Sovereign will speak to you, Garfrelen,” the kam said in a quiet, diffident tone. T’Klar and her aide stood, and the attendant added, “Just you, Ma’am.”

“I understand,” the captain said, and he sat back down as the High Admiral followed the attendant to the Emperor’s private office.

The room held no ostentation or ornament apart from small holographs depicting his mate and children, and had two huge windows that showed a view of the Zalgach Range to the east of the Palace. The nearest mountain was heavily forested, but the peaks in the far distance were crowned with snow and ice.

Azraa Tarval XXI was seated behind a desk, poring over text on a padd and occasionally glancing at two separate pages of hardcopy. He glanced up as the attendant closed the door. “Aka, please sit down, Vikan,” he said. She sat, and for a few fractions there was no sound other than the rustling of paper, followed by the scratching of a stylus.

Tarval sat back and rubbed his eyes momentarily, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “The Terrans were smarter than we were at Salient 27-f, were they not?”

“Yes, Sir.” He naturally saw the same reports she did. The sensor encryption had been changed immediately after the Fleet had been forced to fall back.

“How did Threats and Assessments miss this cleverness?” the kam asked. He was wearing a simple, sleeveless shirt and trousers; his feet were bare. His russet-brown fur gained red-gold highlights where the Daystar’s rays struck it.

“One analyst did suggest it as a low probability, Sir,” Vikan stated matter-of-factly. “It was judged to be unlikely, and was omitted from the assessment transmitted to Fleet Command.”

“Aka.” Tarval sat up and looked at her from across the desk. “I want that analyst promoted, and notify Threats and Assessments that I cannot make informed decisions if I do not have all findings presented to me.” His feline pupils dilated slightly. “Is that understood, Garfrelen?”

“Yes, Sovereign.”

Tarval gestured. “Very well. Next. Intelligence reports Terran ship movements near Salient 17-k. They’re starting to push back, as predicted; just sooner than calculated.”

“Intelligence reports indicate that their government seeks victories,” Vikan supplied.

He gestured comprehension. “The Political Monitors have reached the same conclusion. If they can win, they feel that they can bargain. The question I must answer is whether to permit them to bargain.” He sat back, his tail swinging up to drape across his shoulders. “I have already heard from the Council, but I want to hear your thoughts.”

The First Maxim of Command is to achieve victory at the irreducible minimum of loss to your forces, Vikan reminded herself. “Sovereign, apart from closing off salients into the volume we have occupied to consolidate our grasp, I will favor negotiation with Terra. The alternative is to summon the reserves and conquer.”

“Thank you, Vikan. You may go.” She stood, saluted, and left the office.

Tarval XXI sat and thought for several subfractions, and his tail snaked out and touched the intercom. “Yes, Sir?” his attendant asked.

“Please ask the Presiding Officer, and the Ministers of Political Monitors and Information to come to my office at – “ he glanced at the horolog on the desktop display “ – seventh cycle today. If they cannot be here in the flesh, I will speak to them by link.”

“At once, Sovereign.”