Predicting the Rules

Posted on Sun Oct 4th, 2026 @ 3:18am by Captain Wilkan Targaryen & Lieutenant T'Krell

1,005 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Flashpoint
Location: Mess Hall, Deck 2
Timeline: 3190-11-05, 21:00

The bright yellow oval shaped eyes of Lieutenant T'Krell were utterly focused at the task at hand. The normal bustle of the Mess Hall had fallen into nothingness and the starscape beyond the wall of glass was nothing more than a backdrop to frame his quarry as they did battle.

Battle, in the form of three dimensional chess - his will against the ships computer.

For the seventh time the arguably older and wiser computer had a sizeable advantage and was several moves away from ending the game in another victory. The caitain muzzle twitched with annoyance as he grappled to understand the finer points of the game and improve his tactical efficiently. Practice had earned him the odd hard earned victory, abet with the competitive edge dulled down a notch. Overcoming the next level of difficulty of the pre-programmed board was proving to be a challenge as it played its next move. The piece shimmered into position and a small growl rumbled from T'Krell throat as bore down on his King, threatening to end the game in a swift fashion.

Wilkan observed the scene from the doorway of the quiet Mess Hall, his broad frame framed against the low lighting. His dark, watchful eyes tracked the Caitan’s tense posture and the flickering holographic pieces arrayed on the board. His ancient, El-Aurian "Listening" picked up the faint, subsonic hum of the three-dimensional chess matrix interwoven with T'Krell’s tight, frustrated breathing. He stepped forward without a sound, his imposing presence moving across the room like a steady, unyielding tide. He stopped just past the edge of the table, his deep-set eyes fixing on the computer's aggressive vector.

"You are playing the machine’s game, Lieutenant," Wilkan said quietly, his deep voice carrying a cold, clinical weight that cut through the silence. He didn't reach out to touch the board, choosing to remain as still as a stone monolith. "It wants you to defend the King and has calculated an estimated 47 variations of that retreat. Force a structural overload on its flank. Sacrifice the attack vector on the lower level and shift your focus to the structural integrity of its defense. Make it calculate an irrational variable."

The Captain's shadow fell across the board a moment before his words followed offering an alternative tactic. T'Krell yellow eyes lifted from the board to meet the dark humanoids that reflected centuries of life's twisted, trodden path. The Lieutenant had heard the rumours that Targaryen was a fossil, one that should have been left to rot in pages of history. That his application, his thinking, his methods were too from a bygone age where peace and prosperity was in abundance - a far cry from current climate, balancing on a knife edge, ravaged by the DMA and where hostility was awaited in every system.

Frankly, based on what he'd seen so far those critics were sorely wrong. Wilkam was everything they needed right now as the Federation took its early, unsteady steps into a bright, unified future and head earned T'Krell's unquestionable respect.

Neatly he folded his arms upon the table and addressed the Captain: "An irrational variable," he repeated. "Sounds like a tactic you've adopted first hand."

"An irrational variable is only irrational to an intelligence that relies entirely on predictable patterns, Lieutenant," Wilkan replied softly as his hands settled behind his back. He stepped forward a fraction, his heavy shadow falling neatly over the glowing matrix of the holographic board, "The computer expects you to defend what you value most, show it you are willing to sacrifice to change the outcome. Make your move."

With a twitch of his whiskers T'Krell returned his attention of the board and block out his Commander Officer's steady gaze along with the notion that this once solitary game had taken a distinctive and unusual turn. With deliberate care as the board posed a physical challenge with his paws as not to upend the game and moved a knight into an aggressive stance.

"A machine calculates efficiency, Lieutenant," Wilkan said softly, "It does not understand conviction, nor does it comprehend the tactical value of a calculated sacrifice." He turned slightly, "Now, force its checkmate."

Once more T'Krell's yellow eyes lingered on the Captain contemplating how much personal history he was revealing. Fixing his gaze back onto the board as it made it's sequenced move, just as Targaryen had predicted and closed in to complete the trap.

"History is not a fossil, Lieutenant," Wilkan said as he watched the holographic grid reconfigure as the computer executed its predicted response. The machine's aggressive posture collapsed into a defensive lock, just as he knew it must. "It is a record of variables already tested... it relies on pure efficiency, but it can't calculate an opponent who embraces the cost of an unpredictable move."

"You have the board," Wilkan added smoothly. "Finish it and tell me if you still find ancient tactics obsolete."

Unsighted beneath the table the Lieutenant's tail flickered with a muted rhythm and lightly swept the deck while his paws moved the final piece into place thus bringing the game to its closure. His gaze shifted towards the Captain as the pieces faded away: "I don't believe I said such a thing," T'Krell said. "At least that was not my intention, sir."

"Intention is irrelevant in tactical execution, Lieutenant," Wilkan said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet room, "only outcome matters. The machine assumed you would hesitate to sacrifice a position of strength, and you proved its assumption flawed. The galaxy rarely plays by predictable rules," he stepped past the edge of the table, "Apply that same clarity at your station and you'll go far in your career."

"I will, thank you," the Caitan nodded.

"Good," Wilkan answered softly as he turned toward the exit, "see that you do."

Watching him depart T'Krell sat back in his seat mulling over the Captain's advice and felt grateful that he was spearheading change in a practical sense instead of joining the diplomatic scene.

 

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