The Cloak and the Dagger
© 2022 by Walter Reimer

The five black stars on each shoulder seemed to weigh more than his previous rank, Gromov Feranq thought as he sat at his new desk in his new office.  The Admiral-General had been sworn in by the head of the government a few days earlier, and he had met with the young Emperor just that morning before Vladmir had left to go back to his family estate on Maratha.
The tiger’s first impression of the young leopard was that he was still scared, but was slowly becoming comfortable in his role.  Hopefully the benefit of good advice, Gromov thought.  Now that he was the leader of all of Terra’s armed forces, it was partly his responsibility to give his sovereign the best advice he could.
“Sir?”  The tiger glanced at his desktop and the image of his adjutant appeared.  “The Director is here.”  The lynx glanced aside nervously.
“Good.  Send him in please,” and Gromov sat back as the door opened and the roebuck known only as ‘M’ walked in, pausing as the door closed.  The buck’s ears swiveled, and the tiger smiled.
He was certain that the Intelligence fur was equipped with more sense organs than Deus had endowed him with at birth, and he was just discovering that the office was devoid of any surveillance devices or sensors.  There weren’t even guards or secretaries in the room.
Gromov let the unsettling evidence sink in before he smiled and gestured at the chair across the desk from his.  “Please, have a seat, ‘M.’”
“Thank you.”  The roebuck sat.  “You asked to see me.”
“Yes, I did.”  The tiger’s fingers moved across his desktop, and a star map appeared over the desk accompanied by several lines of text in Terran.  “I’m sure you’ve seen this.”
“I have, yes.”  One cervine ear dipped.  “How did you come by it?”
Gromov twitched his whiskers.  “The Kashlanin military liaison at Lalande sent it directly to us.  A sensor contact, seemingly Kashlanin, but so obviously not,” he said quietly before the recording vanished and the tiger gazed across the expanse of desk at the roebuck.  “I am charged with the defense of the Terran Sphere – “
“As am I,” ‘M’ said, his smile never wavering.  “We swore the same oath.”
“Yes.”  Gromov tapped a fingertip on the arm of his chair.  “However, until our plans come to fruition we don’t have a hope of defeating, or even holding off, the Kashlani.  So we cannot afford provoking them.”
‘M’ said, “I agree wholeheartedly, Admiral-General.  Have you said this to your own department heads and subordinate commanders?”
“I will.  I wanted to speak to Military Intelligence first, Mikhraj.”
‘M’ nodded.  “You can be forgiven for assuming that we are up to no good,” the roebuck said, “but the fact of the matter is that all parts of the military have projects that are, shall we say, not funded where the civilian government can have any oversight or control.”  He reached up – slowly – and scratched at the base of one antler.  “Have you ever heard the expression ‘koti he jambia?’”
The tiger raised one eyebrow.  “’Cloak and dagger?’  I’ve heard it here and there, but never really gave it much thought.  It’s just a way of describing secrecy, isn’t it?”
“Quite a bit more than that.  It’s a very ancient phrase,” ‘M’ said, clasping his paws together loosely in his lap.  “People would wear cloaks, large voluminous garments that made it difficult or impossible to determine if there was a knife or similar weapon under it.”
“Ah.  I see.”  Gromov’s ears flicked forward.  “Which are you then?  The cloak, or the dagger?”
‘M’s’ muzzle split in a broad smile.  “Admiral-General, Intelligence must, of necessity, work in the shadows.  The gray areas where honest furs never go, and dishonest furs thrive.  So, I guess you’d call us the cloak.”  He leaned forward.  “But I understand you.  You want to know which paw holds the dagger.  All I can tell you is to look in dark corners within your own ambit.”
The two gazed at each other for a long moment.
Gromov broke the spell.  “Always good advice.  Thank you for your time, Director.”
‘M’ smiled as he stood up and walked to the door.  “Admiral-General?”
“Yes?”
“You’re better at this than I’d hoped.”  The roebuck left the room.
Gromov Feranq sat back and glanced at his desktop.  “You heard, of course.”
Part of the office wall opened, and Rikki Schalke stepped out.  “Hard not to.”  Electronic countersurveillance devices were not designed to detect actual ears listening in.  The red panda stretched and said, “I think he’s right.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.  We need to start a review of all the off-the-book projects.”

***

Back in his own office, ‘M’ indulged in an amused smile.  It had been unsettling that there had been no devices to hear or record his conversation with Admiral-General Gromov, but despite an extensive redecorating operation the old liquor alcove behind the tiger’s chair was very likely still present.
And it was just large enough to fit one fur.
He smiled again, bringing his paws up before him in a steepled pose, tapping the fingertips together.  “Very clever of him,” he mused quietly.  “Cloak and dagger indeed.”