by Chris Hechtl
"He had a lot of legends surrounding him. You can look them up yourself. Some of the ones I took from his teachings involve studying an opponent, finding his weaknesses, and turning his anger inward. Musashi was adept at what we now call psychological warfare, using being late, insults, and other means to throw his opponent mentally off balance and thus giving himself the advantage."
He paused. "Some of these lessons were applied in war for ages afterward. Drawing out an enemy, making them wait is considered both good and bad. Many in the simple school believe it is bad in that it gives them time to prepare. Others see it as a way to undermine the enemy, to make those who think they are prepared grow complacent or impatient."
He smiled ever so briefly. "And, when you do show up, it can lead to rash anger and decisions that will cost them dearly."
There was a long pause.
"And, when you borrow some lessons from Sun Tzu's art of war, specifically know your enemy and know yourself. You can pick and choose the battleground. Knowing your enemy through intelligence gathering and reconnaissance means that any psychological tactics we employ will be devastating, especially when any surprise the enemy thought he had as an advantage is negated."
"Most of you know I am a martial artist. I spend entirely too much time shining a seat with my ass these days …," he paused to smile at the chuckle that ran through his audience. "But I do try to keep in practice from time to time. You lose skills if you don't keep them up-to-date. I didn't spend a lot of time learning edged weapons like the sword though, just how to defend against them."
An image of a sword appeared. "This is a Nodachi, a Japanese long sword or great sword." He turned to examine it. After a moment he sent a signal and a wooden sword appeared next to it.
"According to historical texts, Musashi dueled “the demon of the western providences” with a wooden sword called a Bokken. The “demon” was a fiendish warrior who wielded the Nodachi. Legend has it that Musashi fashioned a Bokken out of an oar just slightly longer than his opponent's sword. He coupled psychological warfare with his greater reach to beat his opponent."
A brief simulation of a fight appeared with one opponent arriving on a boat and then fighting on the beach. "Arriving late to anger and unnerve his opponent. Making them underestimate you or think of you with contempt. Arriving with a weapon that seemed worthless in comparison to your opponent’s so again, they would underestimate them. And then, that weapon being more effective because it was underestimated. And lastly, being ruthless, shocking his opponent and his opponent's supporters."
"Applying that to our current situation, some believe we need to have a massive battle fleet to beat the Horathians. I believe that to be untrue. We need a weapon just good enough to do the job. We shall see who is right."
-~~~///^\~~~-
Gwildor scratched his head as he checked on the last ship to attempt what he wanted done. He knew it wasn't easy, but he needed to go as high as possible. He needed a solid sample set. In order to get the samples and data he needed, they'd need extensive probes of hyperspace, time in hyper, and not just in any one band but all of them. As high as a ship could go too. That meant a crack crew for the upper bands. The ship had to be the same to keep the data the same too.
The problem was the last ship to do what he needed done was Endurance. Endurance had been an EEC ship named for Endurance Shackleton, a famous Terran explorer of Terra's Antarctic. The explorer's ship had been frozen overnight in 1915, eventually getting crushed by the ice.
The exploration, evaluation, and colonization ship bearing the same name had also been crushed, but upon exit from hyperspace when she had returned from a dangerous mission. The return had been witnessed and recorded. Unfortunately, all data with the ship had been lost.
Not to mention the crew.
He shook his head. In order to get to the upper strata where he needed data, he'd need a more capable ship than the two they were going to be given. The two were old. They'd serve their purpose, but he needed a specialty-purpose built ship. A ship on the cutting edge, which meant something from the Lemnos files.
He scrubbed his jaw. Lemnos had only touched on exploring the upper bands of hyperspace. He'd already identified that he needed an antimatter powered ship with at least a Ssilli and A.I. on board. He tugged on one ear. Should he write up his request? He didn't want to seem ungrateful since they were being given two ships. Should he wait? Building such a ship would most likely take years. The wrangling over the cost alone could take a decade!
He frowned as he scrubbed his face and then shrugged. They could always say no he thought as he began to type and lay his thoughts out.
Chapter 48
SNHH
To Captain Cartwright's immense relief Kachin Dao and Scissori arrived in SNHH space without incident. Of course, the enemy could be lurking under stealth, which was why her people had taken their time thoroughly scanning the star system. But no betraying ion trails were found, at least none recent.
Contact with Count Gordon, the acting governor, took time too. He was bitter over being abandoned to die on the vine and harped incessantly about the visits from Federation destroyers who were insisting he surrender.
“They bombed every military instillation we've got! I can barely keep the people in check!” He was practically frantic in his anger. Iesha just listened idly to the recording, letting the man vent and get it off his chest. He had a lot to vent about though, including how the destroyer captain had warned him that a Federation force was coming soon.
That didn't bode well for her or future visits. That meant they needed to squeeze everything she could out of the asshole and then get the hell out of the star system before she became trapped.
“So, what are you doing?” she asked when he finally wound down. “We're going to need supplies; I'm having my people send it on a side channel. We're very low on food, and any spare parts you can arrange would be nice,” she added.
A few hours later he replied with a shake of his head. “What am I doing? What can I do?!? I'm shit up a creek without a paddle! It wasn't like this shithole had a large military force to begin with! Most are scattered to the wind when they bombed the bases!” He grimaced. “I had to stop the cleansing program. Purely to maintain order you understand,” he said hastily. “It's not like there are many left. I've had to stop the hunting parties too. Beyond that I'm unsure of what to do. It's not like I can’t mount much of a defense against a determined invasion. I barely have two hundred soldiers and three times that in militia! They aren't worth spit, stealing from the bases and going AWOL!” He shook his head.
She mentally dropped the request for parts. That was obviously out. She'd have to let Tao know.
“Look, the empire will bounce back from this. We're here,” she stated. Eventually, a new offense will be mounted. SNHH is on the sidelines, yes, but you can play a pivotal role as a supply base so don't underestimate your value. And there are pirate lords who own lands on the planet. They'll want to ensure their holdings,” she stated. She noted that her own voice lacked conviction though.
He snorted a few hours later when she received his response. “Yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it.”
“Of course you'll see it! The question is what side do you want to be on when the Empire does come?”
“The Feds are here or will be at any time. The empire isn't. Until we see the empire's return, we're remaining neutral. I'm going to clean things up and then keep a low profile.”
“We're here now, aren't we?” she reminded him. She put enough teeth in her tone to let him know she was not to be trifled with. The last thing he wanted was to continue to be at the bottom of a gravity well that she could drop rocks into.
“True. And we'll resupply you out of duty but don't get pushy,” the count grumbled.
“No problem. Please assemble what you can in port. We'll be there in another five days. Any fuel you can spare would be nice and recruits.”
“I'll see what I can do,”
he replied dryly.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Horath
Much to Malwin's relief, the last of the four wounded ships arrived from Finagle. She was late, so late that she came in only a few hours ahead of a new convoy from Sigma. But she was there.
Unfortunately, the freighter wasn't a priority so BUSHIPS had plans to strip her crew off and lay her up until they had the spare time and yard space to do a proper repair job.
The twenty-five freighters and two cruisers signified something else to him that they were still in possession of Finagle, which was a relief. He made certain BuLogistics was planning a rapid turnaround. It would suck for the crew, but they could draw some recruits from the dispossessed crew for replacements or even from the planet.
He snorted softly. There would be no end of recruits from the planet. Just about everyone wanted out of Horath these days.
He was tempted to send a pair of cruisers to scout H002. Tempted, but he'd kept that temptation firmly in check for the moment. He didn't want the enemy to know they were ready for a counter punch.
He was aware that the enemy was scouting H001 from Admiral Zhen's reports. He hadn't scared up further reinforcements for the admiral though; instead, he had been busy laboring to forge a new offensive fleet, one four times larger than Cyrano's Retribution Fleet. The emperor wanted to label it the Vengeance Fleet. He was considering signing off on it if only to appease his prickly sovereign and get things moving.
He was a bit sick with dread though, wondering if it would work out.
They were being pushed and hemmed in from all sides. The emperor was correct in that they needed to go back on the offense. If the Vengeance Fleet, he paused to examine the title in his mind briefly before continuing, worked out and turned the tide, it would allow him to move Zhen's force in behind the offense to sweep up and secure Garth or Dead Drop once more.
He just hoped it wouldn't turn out like Hitler's last offense in the Battle of the Bulge.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Elvira noted the new convoy with mixed feelings. The ship that had come in the day before had gotten her hopes up only to be dashed when she'd found out that it was just one of the ships from the Finagle attack. Her cargo had already arrived and had been processed months prior.
It vexed her a bit to see at least half of the incoming cargo going to the new offense, while a third was going to the orbital fortresses and other things. Just 16 percent was going to new construction or to infrastructure expansion.
Half of the production run of Cutlass fighters that had been built in the past two years had been transferred to what some were calling the Vengeance Fleet. She'd been lightly involved in building a two-seater version, and she'd peripherally seen the new bomber being rammed through but that was it. She didn't like how things were shaping up.
Six of her CEVs were to go with the fleet. Six, something she hadn't expected. Her CEV design had been a last-ditch attempt to get a carrier platform into production. From history she knew that they weren't suited for frontline service. By rights they should be guarding convoys or playing a more defensive roll. But the Admiralty needed every carrier it could get its hands on. They still couldn't match the Fed fighters, so numbers and crude weapons were their only recourse to even the odds or tip them in their favor.
She was well aware that her grav lance torpedoes and her layered defensive doctrine had been field tested and were being implemented with the fleet. She was a bit nervous to see how they worked out in actual combat though.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Catherine listened to the reports with half an ear. She knew it already. Sometimes she thought the physical meetings were just a way to get everyone face time to actually absorb the reports and get stroked for doing something right or pounded for letting something slip.
She was of two minds about Vice Admiral Thomas Knowles. She knew from scuttlebutt that a more capable female flag officer had been in line but her father had put his foot down. Patriarchy had won out … as usual with her father as of late. He seemed to be developing a mental block about women being able to hold command for some reason.
She kept her face from smiling. Boy was he in for a surprise.
The good thing was that the fleet was made up of some very ardent supporters of her father. The bad was that they had questionable skills. Thomas for instance seemed capable, but she knew from experience as Cyrano's op office back in the day that Thomas wasn't very imaginative.
Which was probably a good thing in a way. He talked a good game but lacked enough initiative to seek counsel before moving forward. Most likely he'd keep in regular contact with Horath, appraising them of his progress.
She shuddered to think of what would happen to his command if Admiral White pulled out a new weapon to clean his clock with. Would Thomas be smart enough to pull out and save his command despite any personal cost? Or would he try to fight it out anyway and die?
She didn't like it. Nor did she like that he was taking two-thirds of their hyper capable capital ships with him. But that was the only way the Admiralty had been able to convince her father to go on the offense.
It had to work out. It just had to. But, if it didn’t, they had just handed the Feds a bunch of targets.
She frowned thoughtfully but then schooled her expression when she noted the countess's sidelong look. She needed a little more time to arrange things. The offense would have her father's attention for some time.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Ivan Drakov turned his head slightly to see a pair of space orc cyborgs walk by. They were headed to outfitting he knew.
The Necrons were keeping a low profile. So far, they had managed to contact three of the six other Necron mausoleums. While they were working on that, he was working with the other commanders to check their logistics and gather as much intelligence as they could.
They would need as much knowledge and surprise as they could to achieve any sort of military mission. They were still arguing over the mission itself. While they did that, small groups were being detailed for snatch missions to gather more resources.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Count Jason McAllen couldn't help but wonder what the hell had happened to Frost and his people. Frost he could see going dark and playing games but not Sydney. Sydney owed him too much to play games.
Besides, Sydney was supposed to go out on the convoy when it departed. If he didn't show up soon, he was going to miss his ride. That alone told him something was wrong.
The problem was he didn't know what was going on or where to look. He'd carefully insulated himself from the group so as to not get himself in trouble if they got caught. But that was turning into a two-edged sword and inquiring about what had happened to them in the wrong ear could get back to him as well.
He just had to sit and wait and hope for the best.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Admiral Theo Rico listened to the Academy class he was auditing while scanning paperwork on the tablet on his computer. The class was on the battle of Midway, one of several carrier battles he had decided he needed brushing up on. It was not to be confused with the battle of Midway station or Midway the planet.
He was interested in the instructor's take away lessons. Like how the Americans had needed to launch aircraft with lighter loads since they'd done a magnum launch of all aircraft. The short runways and crowded deck, not to mention the loiter time, had burned precious fuel and time.
And then there was the tidbit about a torpedo bomber's golden rule—attack an enemy ship by having the leader of the squadron strike the ship that was the furthest away as their target. The rear of the squadron or flotilla got the ship closest to them. It gave the enemy less time to react and respond.
The application was emphasized with references to more modern space carrier combat and how to defend against an anti-shipping strike. Usually that meant the defender stacked layers of defensive units in shells in the path of the enemy force.
Of course that only worked if you knew
where they were coming from. Modern bombers used the extreme range and their own stealth to come at a fleet from different directions, usually exiting the battlespace along the least-line course to a refueling point or their carriers. They also could and did use decoys to draw off the defenders.
He nodded. The interesting thing was that he'd picked up on a lot of what they were saying with Elvira's briefing on her defense doctrine. She'd obviously done her homework. He made a note to test her doctrine again in the Academy simulators some time. He wanted to see another exercise of it, and more importantly, he wanted the fresh minds in the class see it so they could react, learn from it, and perhaps improve upon it.
He was still considering how to arrange that when an alert sounded. He frowned and accessed his implants as he turned his head. "Yes?" he murmured.
"Sir, the H001 picket has returned."
"Returned?"
"All of them. The enemy has moved in force into H001 and now have possession."
The minister of war scowled as he rose. All eyes fell to him, but he ignored it as he motioned to his security detail for them to move out. "I'm on my way," he said, cutting the channel.
-~~~///^\~~~-
Rear Admiral Zhen stood at attention with his cover tucked under one arm. He was in the Admiralty house and just a bit perturbed and nervous about the two wraith-like beings who were also standing outside the door.
He'd already transmitted his report. He turned at a soft sound and noted several friends and family members near. His mother hesitated and then came over to his side. "Bad?" she asked softly as she embraced him.
He hugged her back slightly. "Bad enough. I didn't lose anyone but I had to fall back. I just had to, Mom; they came in with their full carrier force."
