Tells
© 2025 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom



Varan was seated in a comfortable chair in a holographic simulation of a dreadnought’s command center, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth in irritation as projections of various staff and command crew went about their duties. She’d been at this almost a half-cycle, with little or no progress to show for it.

The object of her irritation was an image of a glabrous tentacled alien, an Ichoniik, squatting on an elevated pad with its three large, lidless eyes gazing fixedly at her. The creature’s body paints proclaimed it as a Mistress of Swarms, the title indicating a high-ranking member of the civilization’s government or military.

Or both. Intelligence still wasn’t exactly certain.

The four thick members the hermaphrodite used as legs were coiled under it, while the other ten that fringed its head writhed in seemingly random patterns. Varan’s briefing on the race had told her that the Ichoniik language depended far more on gesture and nuance than a tailed species such as a Kashlanin or Terran.

Which made determining if the creature was lying all the harder.

Her assignment, which so far she’d been failing at, was to be the admiral commanding a fleet that had defeated an Ichoniik force. She was tasked with demanding the surrender of the enemy before reinforcements arrived and without the creature deceiving her.

Varan stretched in her chair, took a few deep breaths, and said, “Resume simulation.”

The Ichoniik stirred, mouth and gesturing tentacles moving as Varan watched closely. “What do you want, Kashlanin?”

“I demand your immediate surrender,” Varan said flatly. “You will shut down your weapons and defenses, and disable your engines.”

“You take us prisoners?”

“Or I will destroy you.”

The Ichoniik gestured to one of its crew and Varan paused the image, thinking.

She smiled. “Resume.”

The enemy commander said, “We surrender – “

“All ships, open fire,” and Varan sat back as the fleet under her command cut the Ichoniik force to fragments.

The simulation froze and vanished, leaving Varan seated in her chair in an empty room. Admiral l’Fel walked in as her student stood up. “Successful,” the vir said in her usual businesslike tone. “What did you see?”

Varan instructed the computer guiding the simulation to return to the moment she’d paused the simulation. She stepped toward the enemy commander and her tail gestured at the frozen positions of the various tentacles. “Three of the simulation runs had the commander making this gesture, which resulted in a sneak attack upon my force as we came in close to take their surrender.”

“Very good. And the others?”

The younger vir resisted the urge to let her shoulders slump. “The enemy stalled until reinforcements arrived, and in one case they allowed a boarding party which they then took hostage.”

L’Fel gestured affirmatively. “Ichoniik battle strategy and tactics are insultingly predictable, but individuals of their race are the exact opposite if they feel they can derive some advantage.” She glanced at her padd. “You did better when confronting Terrans.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” At her mentor’s gesture, Varan added, “It is a called a ‘tell’ in Terran Basic and is sometimes used in their games. Gestures, facial expressions and vocal inflection can be used to determine if a Terran is lying or attempting to deceive.”

“And the difference?”

“Ichoniik have no facial expressions, and vocalizations are minimal.”

“Very good,” l’Fel said. “You will have two cycles to rest and get something to eat, when we will resume the simulations.”

Varan smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.”