System State Security HQ, Spofke-4

POV: Farsot, Znosian Dominion State Security (Position: Governor)

Farsot wanted to shrink into her chair and disappear.

While nominally still Governor of the system, her jurisdiction had basically disappeared to less than a quarter of Spofke-4. The Great Predators had taken over half of the continents on her planet, and they had done that in record time.

At her future responsibility assignment hearing, the record would show that she didn't simply allow it to happen. The predators wiped out several of her underground cities before she acquiesced, at every step of the way. And her people were able to shoot down several hundreds of their automated invasion shuttles as they brought freshly printed robots into the fight.

The Dominion still controlled the industry of a planet— less now. But the predators had no shortage of big rocks in space or their cursed combat robots, especially not now that they've set up their industrial fabricators on the planet itself.

She suspected that if the tables were turned and the Dominion Marines were here, they couldn't have done it faster than the predators did.

As a result, many of her people were now refugees, streaming into fewer and fewer crowded underground cities whose continued existence was an act of mercy from the enemy. Her people… who had gotten used to looking up at the sky, wondering if a piece of it was going to come down on their heads any day.

The planetary state security building — the sacred place she was supposed to conduct all business and direct the lives of the billions of people under her care. They had completely taken over that too, leaving just an office for her. Officially, it was an office; in reality, she was more like a zoo animal they kept around for entertainment.

Tonight, they decided to have a banquet in there at her expense. Their robots and troops stomped through the place, and some of them even destroying her precious furniture collection with their oversized bodies and rough machinery.

Her attendance was not optional, hence why she was involuntarily "having dinner" with a group of murderous predators at her table. Thankfully, they at least had the courtesy of not bringing their disgusting meats.

"Farce, you have to try our broccoli," the Ace of Clubs beamed at her, pointing at a fresh plate on the table brought in by one of their chefs.

It did look pretty good. Her stomach rumbled through her head's rational objections.

"Good girl, Farce," the Ace said condescendingly at her as she reluctantly picked up a few heads of them into her bowl. "Greens make you grow big and strong."

She mumbled an annoyed appreciation as she chewed on the alien vegetable.

Darn, it really is pretty good.

"Is that critter really necessary?" Farsot asked, pointing alarmingly at one of the alien pets they'd brought into his residence. It had triangular ears, sharp teeth, forward-facing eyes, and every bit the resemblance of a miniature Lesser Predator.

"Now, now, Farce, you be nice to my doggie," the Ace cautioned. "He might look cute and cuddly, but our German shepherds are trained for serious—"

"Cute?! Cuddly?! He does not look either of those two things…" she objected to the Ace's characterization of the huffing, drooling monster. Strenuously. "Not at all!"

"Like I was saying, he might look friendly, but Bear's job is to make sure you aren't hiding anything that might go boom on us here. And if you make him angry, oh, you wouldn't like to see him angry at all. Hey, Bear, over here!"

Farsot flinched back as the grotesque creature approached her. "What are you doing? It's a dangerous— Ah!!!"

She yelped in surprise as Bear sniffed her twice and began to lick her paw before she could hop out of her chair.

"Hm… seems he likes you, Farce," the Ace said with amusement in her voice as she pulled the dog back, applying a flurry of scratches to its scalp. "Good boy, Bear. Woah! Take it easy, Bear!"

"Your wild animal tried to taste me!" Farsot pointed an accusatory claw at her even as she shrank away from the pet.

"Relax. He's just making friends, see?" the Ace said as she bent down and Bear began slobbering all over her face. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? You're a good boy, Bear!"

"Disgusting."

"Rude."

"Why do you even have these primitive animals?" Farsot asked as Bear was led away for another task. "If you need sniffers, can't you just get your Lesser Predator pets to do the job? At least those are… at least they are capable of some rational thought, if not civilized."

The Ace shrugged. "The Reps didn't lend us any of those. We tried to pay a few of them off to come work for us, but the Reps made that hard. We have a few in our crew, but they work mostly back up in orbit."

"The Reps this. The Reps that. You talk about them like they're your enemy," Farsot said.

"They were… until recently."

"And now?"

"It's… complicated. We tolerate each other."

"Like you and us?" Farsot asked.

"Heh. Not like you and us at all."

"How not?"

"For one, if we turn our backs on you, you'll stab us the first chance you get."

Farsot sniffed twice. "Of course. You are occupying part of our planet. And thus, we will try to drive you away whenever we find an opportunity to."

"Heh, that's…" the Ace frowned for a second. "That's almost— almost like our relationship with the Reps back in the Red Zone."

"Did it work out for you?"

"We're… here. Maybe we'll find another star system for you guys to move to. Don't you guys have like hundreds of star systems? Or was that just another talking point on the Rep propaganda?"

"But we don't want to move to another star system! We want this one!"

"That's what we said back in Sol!" the Ace of Clubs said, grinning. "Ah well, it's fine. See… we're totally different from the Reps. We'll allow you to keep some of your cities. For now."

"But you've forced us out of our best ones! And we can see your people from one of your satellite colonies trying to flood the plains to the north with water to drive us out of one of our—"

"Bah. We're neighbors. There's bound to be some minor border conflicts here and there. But luckily, nothing we can't resolve over a friendly vegetarian dinner, right?"

"Sure… If you can get your people to stop—"

"Relax, Farce. Like I said, we'll lay off your cities for a while. We need time to grow our own colonies, after all."

"For a while?" Farsot said, alarm rising within her. "What do you mean… for a while? You promised in our last… arrangement that it would be the final piece of our planet you wanted to take!"

"For now, yeah," the Ace replied dismissively with a wave of her hand. "As long as your people keep to your areas, there's no reason for us to negotiate with violence. And we both know who will come out ahead in that, now that we've got everything set up here with our fabs, not to mention our total control of your orbital—"

One of her spacers walked up to the table and whispered something in her ears.

"What's wrong?" Farsot asked nervously.

Her expression was sour. "Something terrible."

"What is it?" Farsot insisted.

"It appears that some of your people have decided that they want this system back. A whole fleet of them at the blink limit. Some Grand Fleet. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, do you?" she asked.

Farsot shook her head adamantly. "No— no. Of course not."

And she was being honest; she really had no idea about a counter-invasion force on Spofke. She did, however, pray for them. It seemed like the day had finally come.

"Hm… we'll have to see," the Ace said curtly. She pointed a finger at her to one of her subordinates. "Keep your eye on her. And get me a shuttle. If the Buns want this system back, they're going to need to really want it."

ZNS 0312, Spofke (24,000 Ls)

POV: Telnokt, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Ten Whiskers)

"What in the Prophecy is going on here?!" Ten Whiskers Telnokt asked, pointing at the confusing splotches of colors representing the signals being received from Spofke-4.

"It appears the Great Predators have invaded this system and are in the process of taking over our planet."

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"I thought fighting was supposed to stop with the armistice in effect!"

"Actually, the disposition of this system was specifically excluded by an exception clause in the armistice…"

"Oh. Huh," Telnokt said, looking back at the map. "Ah, that makes a lot of sense. Border system. I guess the Great Predators intend to take it over. Znos-4 must have authorized the armistice knowing that they— Do we have eyes on their bases in the system?"

"Ten Whiskers, I would not recommend—"

"Relax, Seven Whiskers, I'm not going to try to start a counter-invasion all on my own. I'm aware that our fleet is probably being shadowed by a squadron of their hiding ships. Not to mention these…" She pointed at a cluster of odd signals deployed in orbit around Spofke-4. "Whatever those are. I just want to know where they are… just in case."

Her subordinate queried the combat computer for a few minutes. "We have a partial list of their ground and orbital bases. And… one of their ships appears to be hailing us."

Telnokt wrinkled her nose. "Is this some kind of predator trick? Tell them we are merely passing through on our way from Grantor back to Znos, as part of our armistice agreement."

"They demand to speak with… to speak to you, Ten Whiskers."

"Fine. On screen."

A scarred Great Predator appeared on the main screen, and a few seconds later, the combat computer identified her as the "Ace of Clubs", as she was known among her people.

She wasted no time delivering her message. "Unidentified Bun fleet, I am the Ace of Clubs."

Good to know the new predator facial identification system works, at least.

"You have entered the Bunnyland system controlled by the Bunnyland Navy," the Ace continued. "As the state of your origin has not agreed to a convention or treaty regulating the free passage of vessels through our territory, you are trespassing on the rightful orbits of the People of the Free Zone, Sirius, and Bunnyland. As such, your ships are subject to random search and seizure and to a reasonable toll upon blink-in. Confirm your receipt of this message and your intention to comply, or we will open fire on you."

Telnokt spoke into the speaker. "What is— uh— what is the toll?"

For a second, it looked like the Ace of Clubs was surprised by her response. She recovered in no time. "Based on the size of your fleet, we will extract a percentage… a squadron of your ships."

"Our ships?!" Telnokt asked. "You can't have our ships! These are… Znosian ships. What do you even need them for? You are too big to even fit in one of our ships!"

"Are you… calling us fat?!"

"No. But you are!"

"That— that… is incredibly hurtful and none of your business, long ears. And for your information, we do have Znosian ships and crews," the Ace said. "Check your inefficient sensors."

Telnokt's computer officer whispered to her, "She appears to be telling the truth. There is at least one squadron of Znosian ships in this system with their signals, near Spofke-7. They are openly identifying as a non-Znosian squadron. Incredible. Somehow they managed to take—"

"That's… uh— unexpected," Telnokt admitted to the predator on her screen. "But we still cannot forfeit our ships to your people. It is forbidden in the rules of our Dominion Navy!"

"Perhaps, but you know what they say about rules?" the Ace smiled thinly.

"No, what do they say about— about rules?" she asked in confusion.

"That they're made to be broken."

"That— that makes no sense. The purpose of rules is to govern conduct. The purpose of rules in the Dominion Navy is to ensure our effectiveness," she recited. "Why would rules be made to be broken? That makes no sense!"

"Well, it is time you learned some flexibility. Your people in this system… they have already begun to."

"But— but it is stated clearly in the armistice agreement with your people that we would be given safe passage all the way to Znos!"

"Here in Bunnyland, we do not recognize the authority of any agreement you may or may not have with the Reps," the Ace insisted. "But… like I said, we are flexible and nothing if not reasonable. If you cannot give up your ships, surely you can part with some of your excess crew. A tithe of your least valuable crew members, perhaps? After all, their lives were forfeited to the Prophecy the day they left their hatchling pools, right?"

Telnokt bit back an angry reply at the casual desecration of that trusty prayer. It would not do to anger the Great Predators. While she did not fear death, she knew there was no upside to a battle here. The enemy had a whole star system from which to launch attacks against her, and she was not prepared to restart the war with her squadrons that were retreating from the frontline in all but name. And giving up a few… less valuable members of her crew… Eh. They could always requisition more once they get home to Znos.

"How many— how many of our crew does this— this toll require?" she asked with a dry mouth.

The Ace looked thoughtful. "We can discuss the exact percentages and numbers in person if you come to our ship to negotiate. We are civilized creatures here, are we not? And have no fear. I will personally guarantee your safety while you're on board my ship."

Telnokt looked to her computer officer.

He nodded. "I can go and negotiate in your place. After all, I am far less valuable to the Prophecy and my life was forfeited—"

The Ace pointed a claw at the screen as she heard. "No can do. It must be the fleet commander. I won't talk to some random underling who needs to call home every ten seconds for permission to use the bathroom."

Telnokt sighed and addressed the Ace of Clubs. "Fine. I will accept the invitation to a discussion, as long as you do not use this as an opportunity to move your ships into favorable positions in preparation of an attack on our fleet."

"I would never do such a thing!" The predator looked horrified at the mere suggestion. "I am an Ace of my word! You'll see when you get here!"

The visual feed cut off.

"She is probably lying," Telnokt's computer officer suggested.

"Yes. Most likely." She nodded. "And even if she were not, I bet there are a dozen ways to interpret what she said: many of them end in me being served as her dinner… But, logic requires that I try, to avoid an unnecessary fight here that will undoubtedly prove fatal for all— most of us anyway."

"Yes, Ten Whiskers."

"Prepare a shuttle for me. And if you don't hear from me every two hours, or if you see them changing orbits, scatter the fleet and— and retreat for the other side of the system. They can't catch all of us if we run for it."

She was glad that her computer officer simply nodded his acknowledgement, rather than ask the combat computer to calculate for her just how many of her ships and spacers the predators would blow to bits before they can pass through the system if they made a hop for it. Judging by the number of signals in the system — and that was just the ones they could see — the answer appeared to be:

Not many.

Telnokt glanced nervously around the former Dominion Navy ship the predators now controlled, eyeing dozens of Znosians hard at work at their stations. One of them conspicuously averted her gaze. The Ace of Clubs had converted much of the ship's large shuttle hangar into their command center. That made sense. The large bodies of the predators would be uncomfortable in the original armored bridge of this Znosian-style ship.

"My new pets," the Ace said, gesturing at a lineup of Znosians in her crew. "Some of them were from when your people tried to invade the Free Zone back in our original home. And the rest of them… well, Bunnyland provides. Your people down there on the surface on this planet — they've made their contributions to our cultural exchange."

"Cultural… exchange."

"Precisely." The Ace nodded without a hint of irony. "Most of them claimed they weren't originally bred to operate our complex machinery, but… we are excellent teachers, if nothing else."

Telnokt shuddered internally, trying not to imagine just what that undoubtedly inefficient education process would look like. From what she'd seen of how the Slow Predators taught their young back on Grantor, they had cubs questioning their teachers… and play time… and… well, it was a wonder how predator societies ever functioned with that much wastefulness.

Then again, these Great Predators… perhaps they did things differently from the Granti. The thought piqued her interest.

"Teach? How?"

"Another time maybe," the Ace deferred. "And I'm sure one day you too will find yourself a student of ours, Ten Whiskers Flopsy. But that is not why we are here. We are here to discuss the true purpose of your fleet's visit to Bunnyland."

She wasn't sure why they'd renamed her Flopsy, but she tired of complaining about the repeated errors ten minutes ago.

"The true purpose of our visit? You mean—" Telnokt refrained from mentioning that this system was supposed to belong to the Dominion in the first place. "You mean our fleet passing through here on our way back home?"

"Just passing through, huh?" the Ace said dangerously. "We've heard that excuse before. I've read your star maps. There is at least one other route back to your home from Grantor, which you've clearly declined to take."

"That way would add two wasteful weeks to our journey!" Telnokt objected. "We pose no threat to your ships and—"

"Nonetheless, we suspect you are here to spy on our fortifications and fleet deployments, if not to outright disrupt our operations—"

"Spy?! Spy? Like I said, we are merely on our way—"

"I wasn't finished, Ten Whiskers Flopsy," the Ace said softly. And somehow that made her sound even more dangerous, more psychotic.

"I thought you—"

"No, I wasn't finished, Ten Whiskers," the Ace insisted. "Take responsibility. Now."

The old pirate's eyes bore intently into Telnokt, and she felt an inexplicable chill run up her spine. She gritted her teeth, prepared to dish out an insult she'd prepared, then noticed that two of the predators next to the Ace had their hands on their sidearms next to them. The hostile posture looked natural on them. And they had extremely hungry expressions on their face, almost as if they wanted her to say something stupid.

She took a deep breath and bowed her head. The next part came naturally to her. "I take full responsibility for my error and disrespect, Ace. I will refrain from doing so again and wait patiently while you finish your point."

"Good. At least you know your place, Ten Whiskers. As I was saying, we suspect your fleet of an intent to disrupt our operations in Bunnyland. Do you disagree with my characterization of your purpose here?"

"I believe you are…" Telnokt searched for the least offensive word she had in her vocabulary for predators. "… delusional. Like I said, we are simply passing this system on our way home—"

"I don't believe I am. I think your fleet's presence here is an offense to our sovereignty. A violation that cannot be tolerated. As such, your people must be taught a lesson. One that you will not forget soon. To start, this insult demands a tribute. Compensation."

"What compensation?"

"You will hand over one twentieth of your officers and crew members over to us."

One twentieth! That would add up to almost a hundred thousand Servants of the Prophecy!

The predator continued, "And we have a number of positions we prioritize…" The Ace turned to one of her people. "Felix?"

The man handed her a datapad, which she promptly handed off to Telnokt. She glanced at the list.

Radar technician.

Reactor engineer.

Point defense maintenance specialist.

The list went on, including several critical positions and jobs on her ship, as well as some rather expendable ones.

"What is this?" she asked suspiciously.

"This is the list of your people with the kind of genetic talent and training that we want. You will transfer them to us in the numbers specified on the list. They will be treated well in our care, of course," the Ace said confidently. She gestured around at her mixed crew. "As you can see, I take very good care of my people."

"But these— some of these are important personnel. Some of these… some of these take much more resource and requisition time than others," Telnokt ground out.

"That sounds a whole lot like your problem, not mine," the Ace replied haughtily. "And don't think you can skimp on us. My officers…" She gestured around the room of her Znosian crews again. "They will be testing the tribute you send us, to make sure they are exactly who you say they are. That they're people on that list."

"This is— this is—" she stuttered.

"A very reasonable offer?" the Ace prompted. "The least you can do to convince us not to blow your fleet out of the sky?"

"We will need to… think about it," Telnokt managed to say after a moment of speechless, stunned silence. "I will need to consult with my officers on this matter."

The Ace narrowed her eyes. "A ten whiskers of the Dominion Navy… consulting? Consulting with her crew?"

Caught in the obvious lie, Telnokt relented. "I take responsibility for my imprecision of language and concealment of my purpose. I need to contact my crew soon. I left instructions with them in the event of my capture and duress."

"Ah. Of course." The Ace nodded and gestured to one of her people magnanimously. "I expected no less. You are free to use our radios to contact your men when you need to. But come, we are not finished with our discussion. Those terms of compensation were the first step. We can discuss our next ones over dinner."

Dinner?

"Don't worry," the Ace assured Telnokt as she began to recognize the symptoms of hyperventilation in her own breathing. "Vegetarian, of course. We are now very culturally sensitive here in the SRN— Bunnyland Navy. Our chefs have recently perfected a tofu recipe. Very popular with your people down on the planet. Our second-most lucrative trade item down on the surface, really. You'll love it, Flopsy…"

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