This post is inspired by a prompt in the Worldbuilding community - Worldbuilding Prompt #491 - Avoiding trouble
I'm actually using (and to a certain extent, abusing) it to tell part two of the story I started in my response to the previous prompt - Worldbuilding Prompt #490 - Storing the taxes safely
Image created by AI inWombo.art
"What do you mean, gone ?"
Senior Taxmaster Yavor looked down at the hapless operatives sitting at the desk. Like them, his uniform was ochre yellow, but of infinitely superior quality and cut, and with far more scrambled egg in the form of epaulettes, aiguillettes, and gold braid. He was like a god to them, the master of their careers. There was only one Senior Taxmaster on the planet, but hundreds of underlings to look up to him.
Junior Sub-TaxAdministrator (3rd grade) Malacadra Valla looked up at the Senior Taxmaster, her face deathly pale and tears starting to well up in her eyes. She was young for such a responsible post, and terrified that now, the best she could hope for was to grow old and die in the job after blowing any chance of promotion.
"It's...it's.... just not there, Sir. We checked and entered the retrieval code, but instead of the box with last year's tax chips, all we got was an error message saying 'Box Not Found'. We re-checked the retrieval code three times, just to make sure we input it right."
"Input it correctly", Yavor snapped. Even in moments of stress, he hated poor use of grammar.
Then he collected his thoughts, and gave them the benefit of his great wisdom.
"Have you checked that the despatch code you entered at the beginning of the year was correct ? Does it agree with the replay from the video monitoring equipment ?"
His years of supervision were bound to come into their own, he thought. There was no doubt a simple error that these bumbling underlings had committed, and it would reinforce his reputation and ego to prove the point.
"Sir, we weren't the ones who sent the box into extra-dimensional storage. We were hired after that. After the previous staff left."
Yavor remembered, and a worrying thought crept into his brain. The two previous minions, Vred and Fedric, had both resigned unexpectedly a month or so after the box had been sent away. Could they have found some way to make off with an entire year's worth of the whole planet's tax revenues ?
He spluttered, trying to control his frustration, growing rage, and concern for his own position.
"Replay the damn images. I've got the Battleship Servalan in orbit waiting to collect these tax chips and take them to Homeworld. How is it going to look when I tell the Commodore that we've lost them ?"
Malacadra pressed a few buttons, and the replay began. It showed the image of the camera pointing down at the twin console, the previous occupant of her seat inputting the despatch code which looked correct, and he and his colleague pulling the levers to initiate transfer. Then the screen went blank.
"Something..... something's wrong, Sir. I don't understand...."
"I think I do," said Yavor, a grim expression on his face. "Get me Commodore Deroma on the Servalan. I'll take the call in my private office."
Half an hour later, Yavor sat at his desk. His face was haggard, he knew the Imperium didn't like failures this stupendous, especially when it came to money.
He had explained to Commodore Deroma what had happened, and that he thought the previous operatives had somehow find a way to glitch the system and steal a planet's worth of tax chips.
Her reaction had been.... calm. Far, far too calm. If she had shouted at him or something, that would have been better. That degree of calmness suggested a brainwipe and sewer duty were all that his future held.
On board the Servalan, Commodore Alexandra Deroma sat back in her day room opposite her X.O., Lieutenant Yalandri and chuckled.
"That poor tax collector ! Did you see his face ? I think he might have been wetting himself !"
Taking a sip from her cup, she mused. "And those two operatives.... if they really did find a way to get around the system and steal all those chips, well, I'm actually quite impressed. Good for them ! It will make a fabulous made-for-3V daytime docudrama."
"Of course, we still have to find them and get the cash back. Have we had a reply yet from the Imperial Halls of Information ?"
Yalandri handed over a message slip, and Alexandra thought her blue skin made a fetching contrast to the beige plastic of the slip. It bore the seal of none other than Imperial Infomancer Dranton himself, causing Alexandra's eyebrows to lift in surprise. It wasn't often that the great man got personally involved in a case !
Breaking open the seal, she waited a couple of seconds as the message unfolded itself, then began reading. It was relatively brief.
My Dearest Alexandra, I have entered your query into our data processors. My priests have come back with an answer. It questions whether the operatives have the knowledge or ability to perpetrate such a crime, and notes that their personal profiles indicate they would be unlikely to have the desire or imagination to do so.
Nevertheless, we have worked to find their movements subsequent to their resignation. All trace of Vred ceases some three months post-resignation. He may be dead. Fedric is more interesting. After resigning, he left the planet of Scardas IV and found work as a minor bureaucrat on Tarnyu III. Having done that for nearly a year, a month ago he resigned again and took another ship offworld. He is believed to have changed his name to Dedric and taken himself off to Debris.
I trust this information is of help. Please do let me know of the outcome, so I can add it to our databases.
Lieutenant Yalandri whistled softly. "Debris. That's going to be tough. Getting there will be almost impossible for a ship our size. Even if we can somehow navigate our way there, it's kind of a neutral place. At the least, it would make huge waves, at worst we'd end up in a full-on shooting battle."
Alexandra grinned. "I know. If we go there, we make an instant war zone. But I think I know how we can do this. Get me Captain Greville of the Tarnished Phoenix. Tell her I've got a job which is just up her alley, and I'll pay well if she delivers what we need. Oh, but don't say anything about missing tax chips, just tell her we want to have a polite chat with someone who has been avoiding trouble...."
Image created by AI inWombo.art
If you're following this setting, this post draws together a number of threads from previous posts;
Imperial Infomancer Dranton turned up in Worldbuilding Prompt #467 - The Imperial Halls of Information, and Greville and the Tarnished Phoenix first appeared in Worldbuilding Prompt #432 - Debris
I reckon there'll be a part 3 of this tale.... the fun part will be using a Worldbuilding prompt as the seed for it, to see where it goes 😀