The Ties that Bind

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  “I see, I see.” Cfadiss had gained a grasp of her strategy — it seemed she’d make this the trample-blitz she wanted, by any means necessary.

  “The flagship space-time bubble’s forward march will be the signal to advance. Got all that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will relay your words to our sub-fleets at once.” Cfadiss saluted, and Sporr nodded slightly in reply.

  From the space-time bubble of Fleet 1’s flagship, the Lachcaü, emerged a number of conveyance ships, taking off to transmit her orders.

  “It’s almost time.” Sporr folded her arms, having just heard tell of how the flagship of the Saidauc, the sub-fleet that was furthest out, had merged space-times with its conveyance ship once again. Her eyes were now glued to the planar space map.

  “Tell all captains — shift space-time bubbles to complete mobile-state, course: 010.” Then she looked off to the side and let out a small little sigh. “My heart’s still not in it, though.”

  Just as the bubble composed of the flagship Lachcaü and two other ships began moving forward, so too did Fleet 1 start flying into activity.

  “Allied ships have commenced mine battle,” reported the Exploration Staff Officer.

  All at once, the battle-line ships of Fleet 3 hurled their mines at the enemy.

  “We can’t expect much from that,” muttered Sporr.

  “Groups of bubbles thought to be defense ship units are starting to flee.”

  The bubbles deployed at the front of the enemy military’s oval formation veered to the sides to allow Fleet 1 passage. Allied mines used that opening to hurtle through.

  Enemy patrol ships had space-time bubbles to themselves, but since Fleet 1 had three ships to a bubble, the enemy underwent space-time fusion amongst themselves to match up. As a result, the mass of the bubbles on both sides became more or less equal as they closed the gap.

  “Reaching enemy fleet vanguard in 10, 9, 8...” counted the exploration officer. “...2, 1, contact!”

  On the planar map, the small oval representing Fleet 1 kissed the bigger oval, and merged into one another as though they were themselves enormous space-time bubbles.

  “This is the worst. I can almost hear the dreadful scraping,” said Sporr, her blazing blue eyebrows knitted in consternation. “It’s the sound of my adorable ships getting hurt. Of my precious subordinates dying. I don’t think I’ll ever take a liking for it.”

  “I suppose we have no choice but to get used to it...” said Cfadiss, intending to soothe her.

  “Yes. Yes, you’re quite on point, Chief of Staff,” she said, eyes still set on the map.

  An enemy bubble was drawing closer to the bubble wrapping the Lachcaü. The allied vessel to the flagship’s rear left split off into a single-ship bubble, and rushed in between, standing in the enemy’s way. The enemy, never veering, fused space-times with that bubble, which meant it wasn’t attacking the flagship.

  Immediately after the command squadron, the recon sub-fleet that was protecting the flagship was none other than Sporr’s old haunt, the Ftunéc.

  Meanwhile, the bubbles placed at the outer edge of Fleet 1 fused with enemy bubbles, thereby shedding their speed, and one by one fell away from the main formation. Thus, Fleet 1 was thinning, not unlike a melting block of ice. Yet they were steadily cutting their way into the enemy’s nucleus, all while mini-battles raged within the bubbles that had drifted from the main engagement. The units that successfully won the intra-bubble skirmishes then left both the ruins of the enemy ships and wounded allied ships to form temporary single-ship bubbles. Then, following the orders of upper command, the single-ship bubbles merged into three-ship bubbles once more, and returned to the primary line of battle.

  To infiltrate the center from the oval’s rear — that was the mission. That was when the melting ice block would regain some of its former thickness. Of course, there were also bubbles where allied ships had been routed. Furthermore, those enemy ships that had triumphed in their mini-battles were also aiming to return to the warfront proper, but a concentrated attack from Fleet 3’s battle-line and assault ships made that ambition a distant dream for most.

  In order to gain the advantage, the enemy tried to drag in bubbles that were mid-combat, but because Fleet 1 was forcibly infiltrating, that plan was going poorly. Such was the gap between the Three Nations Alliance, using their patrol ships defensively, and the Star Forces, using them offensively.

  “We’ve broken through an enemy patrol ship unit!” shouted the exploration staff officer.”

  “Tell the command squadron, the Ftunéc, and the Scnic.” For the first time this engagement, Sporr drew out her command baton. “All ships prepare for mine battle. Then, after all launched mines clear their time-space of origin, shift to single-ship bubbles.”

  She seems positively giddy, thought Cfadiss. Her earlier sullenness vanished, like it was only ever a facade.

  All at once, the command squadron and both recon sub-fleets unleashed their mine payloads. And the enemy was in visible disarray.

  “Single-ship bubbles, assume complete mobile-state,” said Sporr, pointing toward the center of the enemy fleet using her baton. “Time for some trampling!”

  “How very like Ms. Penezh,” said Dusanh, astonished. “She turned the battle into a trample-blitz by force. And her clan has the gall to call mine ‘crude.’ Other things aside, they’re rather intemperate when it comes to the art of war. In matters of combat, we Abliars are more subtle, more discerning.”

  “But you can’t argue it’s not extremely effective,” said Kenesh.

  “I ask that from now on, you refrain from singing the praises of the head of the Sporr clan anywhere within the ambit of my frocragh. It’d be less of a crime to decry a pet cat as a heinous villain than to praise a Sporr.”

  “I’m not ‘singing her praises.’ I’m stating a fact. As we speak, the enemy is in disarray.”

  “And so are allied ships,” Dusanh grumbled back at her, chastened.

  Already, almost an hour had passed since Fleet 1 made contact with the enemy. Sporr’s forces had successfully wrenched open the hard shell that was the enemy’s patrol ship units. And, supported by the “wing” flank to each side, the central recon sub-fleets were disrupting the enemy fleet’s center. The enemy, for their part, were less than thrilled by the prospect of doing nothing while getting trampled to oblivion; the outermost patrol ship units descended to the center, and set about trying to snap the spear now thrust into the heart of them — the spear called Fleet 1. However, in so doing, they served Fleet 3 an opening to take advantage of.

  This was not to say the Star Forces were in a particularly advantageous position. Smaller-scale tussles had broken out all over, and dozens of sectors saw both armies totally blending together into chaotic free-for-alls.

  “How I thank the enemy for using up all of their mines earlier,” said Dusanh. Ever since Aptic’s encirclement, there had been a communications stoppage with the defensive fleet, but the sheer amount of mines the enemy had flung the fleet’s way had been observed from afar.

  “Perhaps they were that confident they could take Aptic,” replied Kenesh.

  Dusanh understood what Kenesh meant. After all, if the Aptic Star System fell to the enemy, and their forces became trapped there, whether or not they had any mines would be immaterial. Despite having seized Wimber and Aptic, the Star Forces would be forced to flee in dejection. And while the Abh were out planning their comeback, the enemy would enjoy plenty of time to replenish both mines and ships alike.

  “And that’s not all,” said Dusanh. “They must have placed confidence in their new, patrol ship-heavy formations as well, likely under the impression that battle-line ships wouldn’t be a concern.”

  “I could see that being the case,” agreed Kenesh. But he assumed she was thinking that they could analyze these things at their leisure later.

  As they conversed, Dusanh’s line of sight danced and darted around the top section of the tide-of-battle di
agram.

  “I order the assault sub-fleet Mudautec to break away from the warfront post haste. They’ve taken too much damage,” Dusanh told the Communications Officer. “Tell that to the Caunasairh and the Garicochec as well.”

  “This makes eleven sub-fleets we’ve had retreat, I believe,” said Kenesh, grimacing. “I was prepared for the eventuality, but I can’t help but note how dire things have gotten.”

  “It is dire,” he replied perfunctorily, but inwardly, he was displeased — it was as though she was criticizing his leadership.

  “I must say, Your Highness,” said Kenesh, with an expression of glee the diametric opposite of Dusanh’s chagrined mood, “you’re doing a splendid job. Look how long we’ve held out despite inferior numbers.”

  “Thank you,” said Dusanh, though he’d grown all the more disheartened by her pointed consolation. “Though once the two other fleets join the action, the situation will improve appreciably. What are those two doing, anyway?”

  “Those two” referred to Grand Commodore Lulaimh of Fleet 2, and Grand Commodore Cotponic of Fleet 4. Due to distance issues, their fleets would arrive at the field of combat a little late. Fleet 2 was estimated to reach the battle fifty minutes from now, with Fleet 4 encountering the enemy a half hour after that. Both fleets were smaller in scale, and the both of them combined fell short of the size of Fleet 3, the fleet under Dusanh’s direct command. Yet in this current jumbled state of affairs, where allied and enemy ships were operating in near-complete confusion, the introduction of fleets with orderly formations would yield results to be reckoned with.

  “What are they doing, you ask?” chided Kenesh. “I should think they’re advancing with all the speed the laws of physics allow them.”

  “Sometimes I rather loathe those laws of physics,” he said candidly.

  “Your Highness,” she chuckled, uncharacteristically. “As a loyal Chief of Staff, shall I do you the service of pretending I never heard those words escape your lips?”

  “By all means,” he replied, with a disgruntled look. “I don’t know to whom, exactly, you are loyal, but if you could ignore my silly grousing, I’d be grateful.”

  “Yes, sir,” she nodded, elated with her “triumph.”

  Dusanh pretended not to notice her gloating grin, and pointed at the tide-of-war diagram with his command baton. “Let’s put Byrec Ceutegona (Fleet 14) over here. The ranks have seriously thinned in the area.”

  “Roger that. I will deploy the conveyance ships at once.”

  “Then, I want you to reorganize the sub-fleets that have fallen back toward the rear into formations with sufficient firepower.”

  “We can’t make very many that way. All of those sub-fleets have sustained heavy losses.”

  “I know, but even just one more sub-fleet makes a difference.”

  “Yes, sir. No objections.”

  “Now then, I’d like for you to waste no time — ...... Ah, that’s not good.”

  On a local level, the enemy was rallying, their sights set on extirpating a handful of sub-fleets. Dusanh took a deep breath, so he could rattle off the names of all of the sub-fleets he’d have flee back to the rear.

  “Have we gotten a bit ahead of ourselves?”

  As Cfadiss watched the Commander-in-Chief gazing at the tide-of-war diagram, her head slightly tilted to the side, he was struck by a facet of Sporr he never thought he’d witness.

  So the Commodore is capable of self-reflection.

  At present, Fleet 1’s command center could keep tabs on the command squadron, the two recon sub-fleets (the Ftunéc and the Scnic), and a ragtag assortment of squadrons. Within planar space, inter-vessel communications linkage was limited at best. Their options were to send out communications vessels as messengers, or to use space-time particles for inter-bubble communication. However, this “inter-bubble communication” method was short-range, and couldn’t convey very much information. As such, if the ships under one’s direction ever spread out too far, unified command would become impossible. Regardless, they could read the situation through all of the mass-waves.

  Fleet 1 had entered the core of the enemy fleet, and was slowly passing through toward its rear. As for the units outside the command center’s range of contact, they were either in single-ship bubbles treading all over enemy assault ships, or dodging fire trying to regroup with the command squadron.

  “Maybe we should take a break...?” Sporr was sitting cozily in her Commander’s Seat, and her upward glance at her Chief of Staff pleaded for his opinion.

  “I believe that would be a wise decision, ma’am,” he replied.

  “It would, wouldn’t it. Then let’s not hesitate.” Sporr leaned and rested her chin against the back of one hand. “Tell the captains to shift their bubbles to the stationary-state. But I’m granting each captain permission to flip back to the mobile-state if and when they deem it necessary due to incoming fire or whatever else.”

  “Roger.”

  As viewed through the planar space map, Fleet 1 was reminiscent of a bacterial nidus eating at the enemy fleet from the inside. And as Sporr’s patrol ships gathered back together, that focus of infection was swelling to greater and greater size. Sporr sat there silently, busy observing the current conditions. Naturally, Cfadiss’s eyes were pulled to the direction she was looking at: another mass was approaching by the second. Phantom Flame Fleet 2.

  “Fleet 2 has made contact with the enemy,” announced the communications officer.

  “And that’s the end of our break,” Sporr declared. “Tell all captains — single-ship bubbles, complete mobile-state. Course: 270. Also, I want you continually signaling the message, ‘FOLLOW ME.’”Then she flashed the Chief of Staff a devilish smile. “Now we can have some fun picking on the weak!”

  I won’t be having much fun, thought Cfadiss, but, with some effort, he swallowed those words down.

  When Sporr lifted her chin, Cfadiss could tell she was about to say something, but he couldn’t stop the words from leaving her mouth; he could only endure it (which was the Abh way) by clenching his fists.

  “Let’s finish those land swine and mud turtles off!”

  “I suppose they’re finished now,” said Dusanh, stroking his chin.

  “Most likely,” Kenesh concurred.

  Not long after Fleet 2, Fleet 4 locked horns with the enemy as well. The enemy fleet’s formation was no longer a solid oval, but more like a microbial blob wriggling in distress. The small-scale units breaking off the enemy fleet were pounced upon by Task Force Units 11 through 17, and many a bloodbath ensued.

  At first, both sides’ forces had been roughly equal in might, with the enemy edging them out. But now, the Star Forces boasted the absolute advantage. Yet the enemy, who had seemingly been flying totally aimlessly, must have some sort of driving impetus behind it, for all of the enemy ships that had squeezed past the Star Forces siege were aiming for a specific direction.

  “Is the enemy planning to flee toward Wimber?” observed Kenesh. “Maybe they’re headed for the sector past Wimber.”

  “If they do flee to Wimber, they’ll have my gratitude. And even if they retreat farther out than Wimber, that is still only good news. They would have to give up on a not inconsiderable number of ships.”

  When the enemy misjudged the correct time to retreat was when our victory was decided, thought Dusanh.

  Putting aside the unthinkable possibility of losing Aptic before the main forces arrived, if the enemy had instead fallen back to Wimber or some other place before the decisive battle, the Star Forces would still have had a bitter fight awaiting them.

  Which is not to say, thought Dusanh with more than a hint of self-deprecation, that this battle has not been bitter.

  “What do we do from here? If you could give us even just a rough course of action, it would help us immensely.”

  “The second the enemy hides away in Wimber, we blockade them with battle-line ships. As such, please choose the strike sub-fleets for th
e task beforehand. Then, we’ll take Ne’oporr and Marskty, and add them to the list of securements alongside Aptic, Miskehrr, and Darmap.”

  “So we’re to totally encircle the remaining enemy ships,” confirmed Kenesh, who looked very much in favor of this plan. Ne’oporr and Marskty were portals closer to the center of the Milky Way’s portal-belts, so if they took control of them, the enemy would become trapped in by five separate portals.

  “Let’s have Fleet 5 take over this task as soon as possible. That way the new ships can get in some familiarization training while also blockading the Wimber Portal.”

  The one inhabited planet of the Wimber Star System, Wimber IV, was an agricultural planet. They had virtually no infrastructure for mending ships. Of course, the enemy fleet also contained repair ships, so it should come as no surprise that they could conduct temporary repairs, but they’d have no choice but to let the more heavily damaged ships lie. Furthermore, they had no way to restock the ammunition they’d consumed, such as the mobile space-time mines, to say nothing of the antimatter fuel. So, sooner rather than later, they would need to choose between three unsavory options: surrender, disintegration, or suicide by one last sortie. In Dusanh’s eyes, if the men and women of the enemy fleet turned in their swords for plowshares on that farm-filled landworld, that would be the best for everyone.

  “If Fleet 5 proves able to carry out this mission, then we will resume our strategy of barreling through the next star systems in our path. If we allot a whole month, will it be enough?”

  “We would have to look into it, but it will probably take around that much time.”

  The remaining enemy ships were succeeding more and more in escaping.

  “Kindly use only mines to attack the fleeing ships. It won’t make much of a difference, but it’s better than doing nothing. At this stage, the lives of our soldiers are no longer at stake.