Tap. Tap. Tap. Rieven heard it again. Tap. Tap. Tap. He refused to look to find it, attempting to locate it by ear alone. Tap. Tap. Tap. Had something gotten knocked loose in all the fuss with Blind-eye? Tap. Tap. Tap. It’s coming from the vents. I think the one above my head. Tap. Tap. Tap. There’ll be no checking that, and I refuse to allow the meeting to be derailed to check. Tap. Tap. Tap. That’s going to drive me absolutely crazy. Tap. Tap. Tap. What is it? Rieven could feel his pulse increasing. This was infuriating. After the days he’d had the last forty-eight hours, he was ready to kill someone if this infernal tapping didn’t stop.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Three taps. Always three taps. It had been happening since before the meeting began. I should have taken the opportunity when I was the only one present to check that vent. I thought, two hours ago, that of course it would be fine. It’s just a small noise. What’s the problem? Worst mistake I’ve made since leaving Homeworld five months ago. It’s like walking in wet trousers, fine at first, but it starts to chafe and pretty soon you’re raw and in constant pain. Tap. Tap. Tap. Ungh. I give up.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. He pulled out his datapad, acting like he was paying attention to whatever it was Jackson was saying, as he sent a quick query to the SI. As commandant, he was one of the privileged few who could access the SI from his datapad. Tap. Tap. Tap. It came at irregular intervals. There was no predicting it, but it always came. Tap. Tap. Tap. Never more than three. A suspicion started to grow in his mind. He carefully looked at Ono, sitting in the corner under the intake vent, cigar between his teeth, puffing smoke gently in little rings around his head. Tap. Tap. Tap. He looked down and saw that the SI had responded.

  No sir, there is nothing loose in the vents attached to meeting room 3C. You are likely at the mercy of one of the master sergeant’s amusements. Records show that the vent above your head was removed two weeks ago outside of scheduled maintenance and without a reason logged. Oh, would you look at that? I have video of the master sergeant prising the vent open and attaching a magnetic disk to the ductwork as far in as his arm could reach. It would appear he is playing the long game, sir.

  Rieven almost sagged in relief. Knowing that his ship wasn’t going to come apart around him at any moment was a moral boost for sure. Now that he knew what was going on, he could endure it longer. Not eternally, but longer. He tuned back into Jackon’s voice. “The Inquisition, or Mind-readers as they’re also called, are seeing success. By this time tomorrow, there will be no more Wythgoesh axiom within your navy, my lord. Additionally, major Hardy,” he nodded to the major sitting next to him, “forwarded to me a copy of the active list of malcontents within your navy since the Judgement of Blood.” Rieven blinked. That was surprisingly poetic. I wonder who chose that name? “Yes sir, that’s what they are calling it: The Judgement of Blood. Though some of the officers aboard the Hidden Dagger have taken to calling it the Night of Red Smiles, so take your pick.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. “As I was saying, I’ve been taking the ‘Be Obedient to your Commandant Stick” around to those on the list. So far no one is being unreasonable. I predict that as soon as we start active repairs and refits things will calm down and most of them will feel better. However, there is a picture forming that I do not like. I know somewhat about these dead zones. Did you know that signals can be transmitted through them to another location? Irrespective of distances covered? Instantaneously?”

  That was shocking. The official line in the empire was to shut down a dead zone immediately. Looks like someone hasn’t been following protocol. Tap. Tap. Tap. “The dragons have records of what happens with dead zones. Each time,” Jackson looked intently at Rieven, “a dead zone is formed, m’lord, within the Empire of the Celestial Skies, the Wythgoesh reach out through them with their axiom. It never fails. It happens every time. They are not interdimensional beings, they are as tied to this dimension as much as you or I, but they discovered a way to track those dead zones as they form. Their axiom always comes through.” Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “This would not be a problem except for one thing: Several members of your navy, Greeves among them, were using the dead zones to send signals somewhere in the direction of Homeworld. They were unaware of the ability of the Wythgoesh do tamper with a dead zone. So from what we have discovered, major Hardy and I, someone at Homeworld is aware of what is going on here, and they sent back a signal that jacked up the SIs. Major Hardy assures me that such a signal could only have come from a few places and even fewer individuals.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Major Hardy jumped into the conversation then, “Yes, sir, that’s correct. There are only three locations that such a signal would be accepted from by our SIs, they would quarantine the signal and report it otherwise. That means that the locations had more authority over the SIs than you did. The Imperial Palace, the Foundry, or the Shack. For obvious reasons I exclude the Shack from consideration. If the Rat Catcher’s not on our side, then we have no hope of ever reaching Homeworld, so it doesn’t make any difference. That means the Imperial Palace or the Foundry where the SIs are made.” Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Personally I suspect the Foundry. Security there is tighter than the Imperial Palace, but a dead zone does funny things to security. I bet the Branchards would love to destroy you sir. They hate your position, your family’s history, and you personally sir. I don’t believe for a moment that anything could happen there without their approval.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Rieven responded, “Why not the Imperial Palace major?”

  “Because the conspiracy would have to be so large as to be unreasonable. Consider it: If it happened at the palace, everyone would know. That means the bad actors have to be highly placed within both palace security, the rat catchers, and the imperial court. By that point you’re talking fifteen families at least, not to mention twenty or thirty imperial assets. The Foundry seems simpler to me, sir.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Aye, it does.” Ono pulled the cigar from his mouth, twirling it gently between his fingers as he spoke. “We’ve both been to the foundry, sir. It can’t be hacked. Physically impossible. You know why.” He looked around the room for a heavy moment. “We won’t discuss that. What matters is that it can’t be hacked, and the override codes our SIs were given belong to that facility. If the codes live there, and that place can’t be hacked, then that means the codes were either sent from there, or they were given to someone willingly. I don’t see the Branchards giving someone the codes, there is too much on the line, and whomever they hand those codes to would have power, literal power, over their family until the end of time. They would only provide those codes to the emperor himself, and as Hardy said, if the emperor’s involved, the rat catchers are involved, and we give up on returning now. I don’t see it. I don’t see what they have to gain. I think it’s the Branchards themselves.” He sat back in his chair and put the cigar back in his mouth, satisfied with his contribution to the question at hand. No taps when Ono spoke. That confirms it, Rieven thought.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. “So, to sum up,” Rieven said, “It could be the Shack, but we don’t think so because that’s an autolose scenario for us. It could be the Imperial Palace, but we don’t think so because that would be too large and also an autolose scenario for us. That leaves the Foundry, which is run by the Branchards who despise me and want me gone.” There were nods all around the table. “I don’t know that I’m willing to discount the other two, except to say that the Rat Catcher and I are on surprisingly good terms, we go hunting every quarter together and you know how he can’t stand others. I don’t believe he would allow it if he knew someone was trying to destroy us – he’d take that personally.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. “Likewise, he would warn me if the emperor wanted me killed. He’d still follow orders, but I’d have running time. Ship’s Intelligence, have there been any message or signal received in the last two years that indicate anything of the sort?”

  There was an entry tone and the SI said, “No sir, nothing of the sort or even hints in the last two years.”

  “Thank you Ship’s Intelligence.” There was an exit tone. Tap. Tap. Tap. “There you have it, not the Rat Catcher. I don’t believe anything could happen in the palace without him hearing about it eventually. If it happened there, then he’ll be in the know and we’ll be read into it eventually. Therefore, while it may very well come from the imperial palace, I vote we plan as though it originated from the Foundry. Thoughts?” Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Seconded” said Jackson. Ayes of agreement filtered in from around the room. Tap. Tap. Tap. That took care of getting them caught up to the now. They’d have work to do to get preventative measures in place, and planning would be required for after they reached Homeworld, but they had three years to get that together. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Very well. Further discussion on that subject will be tabled for later, pending review of any new data found as the investigations wrap up. On to the next subject: Naval Restructure.” He pulled out his datapad and sent a packet of documents to everyone at the meeting. He heard pings as the message was received. They all began reading as he spoke. “This is not a traditional navy. The Void Spectres are only a few hundred strong, across twelve ships. I command one of the ships, as well as the structure as a whole. With the annexation of the Fourth Navy into the Void Spectres, we grow in size to an absurd degree. I can’t command the Hidden Dagger and an organisation so large at the same time. Therefore lieutenant commander Gahst, I am issuing you a field promotion to commander and give to you command over the Hidden Dagger. I will maintain control of the several areas which belong to the branch head of the Void Spectres, but all other places and duties now belong to you. Congratulations, commander. We will have your promotion ceremony at the Big Meeting.”

  Everyone started clapping and congratulating Gahst. She was stoic as always, but her eyes were slightly misty. She was proud. She should be. She’d earned it. Tap. Tap. Tap. Once people started to settle down, Rieven continued, “That leads us to Death’s Silence. I will be taking that vessel for my own. It has the capabilities required to command an entire navy, along with the space for such things. Chief engineer Warner is making it ready, and in another week we will have it cleared by security. The ship computer has been spiked by the Silent Stalkers, and they see nothing wrong or untoward with the code. Additionally the Ship’s Intelligence for the Hidden Dagger is compiling an update for the computer. Soon it will have all the amenities we’ve all come to know and love from an SI. I’ll move over after they complete their inspection and declare the computer and the ship secure and ready.

  “With me on the Death’s Silence, Jackson’s role as Adjunct becomes more clear. He will be to me as an XO is to a commander. His authority lies within my Hold, but there is overlap with the navy. We’re still developing what that looks like, but it’s been successful so far. Good work Jackson. I’m pleased with your efforts.”

  The dragon looked proud of himself, preening at the compliment. “Ono is the master sergeant of the imperial marines. That doesn’t change, nor do I have the authority for it to change. However, he must be worked into the command structure, so I have him answerable only to me. Objections?” There were none. Noone wanted to be the person who tried to tell Ono what to do. Rieven could have that problem.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. “Very well, that leaves just one thing: training. I will be working with Ono to discover my new limitations. I expect everyone in this navy to do the same – find their new limitations. I want everyone passing basic requirements for the Void Spectres within six months. Training will start as soon as all SIs are functional again. Ono, I’ll hand over initial physical training to you and your marines. There’re too many ships for my men to handle it. If there’re any you’d like for me and mine to give a personal touch to, please let me know.” Ono nodded. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Mental and emotional training will be handled by the veteran Void Stalkers. That will begin after we are underway from the draconic empire. Questions?” Tap! Tap! Tap! It was becoming more insistent.

  Everyone shook their heads as he looked around. “Very well, meeting adjourned. See you all in thirty for the first Big Meeting.” Chairs were pushed back and new conversations started as they filed one by one out of the room. Tap! Tap! Tap! It was working its way into the centre of his mind. He couldn’t take the annoyance any longer. “Ono, a word, please.”

  The man in question waited by the door until everyone had filed out. “Sir?”

  “Will you please shut off that infernal tapping machine of yours?”

  The man slowly smiled, looking not unlike a villain from a melodrama. I turned that off halfway through the meeting. The SI let me know you were asking it pointed questions.”

  Tap! Tap! Tap! Rieven glared at him. “No you didn’t, I heard it just now.”

  Ono looked at him in confusion, the smile slowly falling off of his face. “What do you mean? It’s off, and there’s no others here. Swear on my soul.”

  TAP! TAP! TAP! Crack! Rieven looked down at the pearl as a tremor vibrated up his arm. “Oh,” he said, “that’s embarrassing. It’s hatching.” Ono laughed and laughed and laughed.