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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Spooker0 on 2024-12-25 15:42:34+00:00.
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21 Teamwork I
Grantor City State Security HQ, Grantor-3
POV: Sprabr, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Eleven Whiskers)
“What exactly is the problem here, Administrator Krelnos?” Sprabr asked the shorter female figure in front of him as patiently as he could. This new station director had been giving him a headache for the past couple months. If that Director Svatken hadn’t promoted this one herself, he’d have already done something about her meddling whiskers weeks ago. As it was, she was testing his patience.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Navy Eleven Whiskers,” she answered haughtily, putting a special emphasis on his service as if it were a pejorative. “This is a matter of State Security, not a problem you can simply blow up with one of your ships.”
Sprabr gave her an amused expression. “Station Director Krelnos, I think you will find it easier to do your job here if you can brief us on your intentions so my spacers and Marines can better help—”
“Do not forget your place, Sprabr,” Krelnos replied sharply. “You may be an Eleven Whiskers in the Navy, but the security of this planet is both my responsibility and mine to command. As is the task of wiping out these new Great Predators you people declined to brief me on before your fleet went missing looking for their home system.”
That disastrous decision made by your superiors. Your department… Somehow, you seem to all think it’s my fault now.
He gave her an exasperated sigh. “Of course, Station Director. What do you need from us?”
“Twelve divisions of Marines for the security of Grantor City.”
“Twelve divisions?!” Sprabr exclaimed.
“Do you think that’s too little?” she asked.
“No, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were about to exterminate a whole new predator infestation with that kind of force! There is at most a platoon of Great Predators in Grantor City! Perhaps a more judicious use of force would be an appropriate solution—”
“What’s the problem, Eleven Whiskers?” Krelnos asked silkily. “Is your troop readiness inadequate to supply us with the force we need? Would you like to take full responsibility for that now?”
“That’s not my point—” Sprabr paused and took a deep breath. “Station Director, we are supposed to be withdrawing from this planet soon. Bringing in and landing that many Marines will create logistical issues in even the most well-prepared fleets. And they are additional people that we will either have to evacuate with the fleet or take responsibility for when they fail in their ultimately futile mission in the next few months.”
“Oh yes. Futile! In its infinite wisdom, it appears the Navy has decided that Grantor will be given up on!” she snapped. “That we are going to abandon an entire system— no, an entire constellation of the Dominion to the predators without a fight!”
“Station Director Krelnos, that decision is also corroborated by the calculations and analysis of our—”
“How convenient! That your Digital Guides simply supply you with the exact policy directives that align with your personal preferences!”
Sprabr tilted his head. “What exactly are you insinuating here, Station Director? That I’ve tampered—”
She ignored his question. “Unlike your defeatist officers, Eleven Whiskers Sprabr, I intend to do my job here. Until the abominations invade this system, land their troops on the surface, and physically come here to remove me, I will continue to do the job I was charged to do by my Dominion: pacifying the predators on this planet and preparing it for future Dominion colonization. Until new orders arrive from Znos, I will not assume otherwise and assist you in your scheme to dismantle our own defenses here.”
“That is bordering on— I wish you good luck in completing your mission, Station—”
Krelnos continued without breaking pace, “And for that purpose, I require twelve divisions of your Marines. And well-trained ones this time, not those conscripts you’ve dressed up as Marines like you tried to pull on us last week. I want a well-formulated plan for transporting them here and integrating them into our Grantor City security plans by the end of the week.”
He hid a frustrated sigh. “Yes, Station Director. If that is your directive.”
“It is,” she said imperiously before redirecting her attention back down to the datapad on her desk.
Sprabr waited patiently a moment before he asked, “Can I leave now, Station Director? I have some Navy business to attend to.”
She looked up and smiled thinly at him. “Yes. But your afternoon flight has been cancelled.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your flight. Back up to the fleet. That supply shuttle. I have cancelled it for you.”
His jaw dropped. “May I ask why?”
“You may. You are not allowed to leave Grantor City. Therefore, I have cancelled your flight.”
“Not allowed to— Am I under formal investigation?” he asked, keeping the nervousness out of his voice.
“No. But until you have completed your tasks on Grantor that I have ordered from you, you will stay here. When they are complete, you will be allowed to leave.”
“This is highly irregular!” Sprabr protested. “My duties require that I be with the fleet over Grantor!”
“Do you not recognize my authority — State Security’s authority — over you?” she asked dangerously.
“Of course I recognize your authority, but there is no need for this micromanagement! It is— it is highly inefficient!”
“No matters of State Security are to be considered inefficient,” Krelnos replied matter-of-factly. “Would you like to file a formal complaint against my inefficiency?”
Sprabr waited five heartbeats to calm himself down before he replied, “No. That will not be necessary.”
“Good, I am glad we have an understanding, Eleven Whiskers,” she replied. “If you have any questions about the task I have assigned you, my office is always open to you.”
She didn’t even bother to hide the smug look on her face as Sprabr turned around to leave.
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Grantor City Safehouse Yankee, Grantor-3
POV: Torsad, Grantor Underground (Department Leader)
As the Grantor Underground expanded its operations across the planet, more areas were now considered safe to operate in, and the Republic operators moved most of their equipment into the basement of a pre-war history museum. The aboveground floors had been ransacked and now served as temporary shelter for hundreds of refugees from the rural areas around Grantor. Sealing off the internal stairways and digging additional escape routes at the insistence of their Terran advisors proved relatively straightforward.
Importantly, the underground sections were powered by backup generators before the Znosian occupation began. The generators were no longer there — looted and taken away long ago, but the separate power infrastructure built into its walls still worked; connecting the adaptive Terran equipment proved trivial.
Department Leader Torsad looked around at their new operations room with pride. It was only accessible to the Terrans and a handful of Granti who had been “read in” into the program, but they’d done their best to make it their new home. More people had been made aware of the Terrans’ existence in the underground since the Battle of Sol, but the Terran Reconnaissance Office still liked its secrets on Grantor kept behind closed doors, armed guards, and self-destructing brain chips.
Today, there were five of them, not counting the Terrans.
Torsad read her latest update from her new tablet, “My action cells are progressing nicely along the metrics we’ve recently set. We’ve cut back further on direct operations and focused more on recruitment training. We are up to two regular divisions in the city in terms of quantity. And they have been trained to activate from cell to army at a moment’s notice… as you’ve instructed. That is the good news for our action cells. The bad news is that supplying them continues to be a challenge.”
Kara nodded. “That is expected. I think we were a little too efficient in sabotaging the Znosian war production facilities in the city. They’re moving the important machinery out to the secondary cities.”
“Possibly,” Torsad admitted. “And it is difficult to smuggle weapons in mass quantities into Grantor City in such a short amount of time, even with the development of our new dedicated logistics cells. If we make them too efficient—”
Mark interjected, “The Buns will find out, yeah. That’s fine. Two understrength divisions are still very good. As long as they can learn and they can fight, we can use them. Keep them on the training programs, keep feeding them, and tell them to keep up the good work.”
“Yes, Director,” Torsad smiled. “On the intelligence front, there is even better news.”
“Better news?” Mark arched an eyebrow.
“We have broken into the State Security main branch office here in Grantor City,” Torsad said to gasps and surprised looks around the circle. “We got ahold of their list of secret collaborators at the office, and a couple of them proved… cooperative with us when given the right incentive.”
“You should have led with that one!” Mark exclaimed. “I thought they stopped using collaborators in their critical installations after that Navy base raid la…
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