[ CW ] write a story where the degree of sucess per decision is decided by a dice roll

The Admiral had to meet the man personally. He wanted to say that he had spoken to such a clever and devious man before his ass was shipped in a third-class crate back to the Soviet Union. 
 
 The interrogation room looked like it came straight out of the movies. Naked lightbulb over a steel chair bolted to the floor. Cameras in each ceiling corner. A spook from the Company smoking in the corner, naturally in shadow, and Boris in the hotseat as the Admiral walked in. 
 
 `` I demand to see a lawyer,'' Boris said. 
 
 `` No lawyers here,'' the Admiral said, his voice even and his tone measured, as he cupped his hands around the end of a cigar. `` Sam already told you that.'' 
 
 Sam's cigarette lit up on its end as he took a drag, silent. 
 
 `` I demand to speak with the Soviet consulate.'' Boris took a different tactic. 
 
 `` You admit,'' the Admiral said, `` you're a Soviet citizen.'' 
 
 `` I am. My government will demand my return; any mistreatment of me would damage our relations with your government.'' 
 
 `` Let's cut the bullcrap.'' The Admiral reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of dice. 
 
 `` You worked at the Star Card and Games store in Norfolk. It's a matter of record, do n't argue with me. The submariners, they liked to visit your shop before deployment, you treated them right, gave them things to help pass those long loney hours underwater. And, you would sell the helmsmen packs of dice.'' 
 
 At the conn of every American nuclear submarine was a pair of dice. The Navy liked dice as they allowed for truly random choices: do you check your sonar deaf spot to the left, or to the right? Roll the dice. Having trouble breaking between a few equally good options? Roll the dice. Predictable submarines would be dead submarines in a war, so dice were a simple solution. 
 
 `` Funny thing about these dice you sold MY MEN,'' the Admiral allowing his voice to rise for the first time. `` is that they're not honest, these dice. It took us a long goddamn time, Boris, to figure out why our'random decisions' seemed to favor certain outcomes, until someone decided to throw our dice from our boats for a whole goddamn day to figure that they were rigged.'' 
 
 Boris was silent. 
 
 `` In the interest of avoiding **another** underwater collision between my submarines and your submarines, which would damage relations between our governments,'' the Admiral continued, `` we're going to send your red ass back home with a message: please tell your submarine drivers that they can no longer count on certain predictable behaviors from our submarines.'' 
 
 The Admiral's voice lowered, deep and raspy from a lifetime of smoking: `` Keep your distance.'' 
 
 The Admiral looked into the shadows. `` Sam, can we please put him in a shipping crate instead of on an airplane?'' 
 
 The lit end of the cigarette shook back and forth, a silent no. 
 
 The Admiral turned around and left. 
 
 * * * 
 
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