“Can we catch up?”
“I’m having the Strategy Staff Officer look into it. By the looks of it, it’ll take a while before a conclusion is reached.”
“Forget about it. The main forces will just intercept them at any rate. The enemy fleet is aware they’re pulling a do-or-die escape; if we gave chase now, we’d just be bullies.”
“The enemy isn’t helpless enough for us to be called bullies,” the Chief of Staff pointed out.
“Well, that only proves my point — that pursuing them would be pointless,” said Neleth. “What would happen if, in a fight like that, I ended up with some casualties? It’d come across to the reader like I was desperately trying to smooth over my own blunders.”
“For goodness’ sake, forget the memoir,” said Nefeh, but it seemed he didn’t wish to retort beyond that. “Then we’re not responding?”
“We might as well inform the command center over at Darmap. They’ll probably see it for themselves faster than the message will reach them, but I don’t want to hear them complaining to us later. Then I want you to instruct the units at the rear to take refuge, not to fire, if they encounter the enemy fleet. We’re speeding on ahead. All the more so, without any notable forces in front to block us. The other fleets will know soon enough, and it’ll make the race that much more exciting.”
“I assume you’re aiming to ‘finish first’ in the ‘race’?”
“Of course! And what a tremendous honor it’ll be,” Neleth said, with a profound sense of satisfaction. “See, Nefeh? I am thinking about Fleet 4, too.”
Aboard the Lachcaü, the flagship of Hunter Fleet 1, which was currently in the Ciïoth Atoriar (Atoriac Star System), the Chief of Staff, Kilo-Commander Cfadiss, had finished up meetings on various small odds and ends, and returned to the Commander’s Bridge. There, the Commander-in-Chief had her chin on the back of her right hand while she gazed at the planar space map listlessly.
Cfadiss’s eyes were drawn to the map, too. On it, the enemy fleet’s path was marked by a broken line. Fleet 1 had consolidated the reports of the patrol ships now on all sides. They could hardly be called completely accurate, given how long communications took in a sector this vast, but this was the most accurate information on hand.
The Star Forces were concentrated across two separate battle fronts. One was heading toward the Milky Way Portal-Belts’ center to square off against the Three Nations Alliance’s principal forces, while the other was headed toward the outer belt in order to expand the Empire’s territory. As for the space between those two fronts, it was mostly deserted, with just a handful of defense corps guarding the portals which constituted the strategic points of the supply lines. The fleeing enemy fleet was aiming to slip away from the outer-ring battlefront and make it to the central sector, popping out into 3-space at points to resupply. They were going at speeds slow enough to bely the word “escape,” probably because the supply corps they were taking was slowing them down. At present, they made no sign of attacking the antimatter fuel factories that the Star Forces had deemed important enough to guard. They did, however, opt to snatch civilian-use antimatter fuel on their way. Granted, those factories were originally set up by the UH. From their point of view, they were taking back fuel that was rightfully theirs.
“The enemy fleet is trying to join up with their main forces, I take it,” muttered Sporr.
“A valid move,” offered Cfadiss.
“Is it?” She shifted in her chaise. “I thought for sure they’d abandon their military altogether.”
“Abandon their military? And do what?”
“They could just touch down on any landworld and do as they please. Unlike us, they have no reason to cling to space.”
“They certainly think they do.”
If they were to place surviving above all other ideals, then the enemy soldiers’ best option would indeed be to abandon the fleet and turn a new leaf on some hospitable landworld. The Empire hadn’t made a custom of pursuing defeated soldiers over that far a distance. In fact, that would be the best outcome for the Star Forces as well. The Abh seldom ever minded if a landworld became oddly anti-imperial due to receiving large amounts of former soldiers. They rarely even noticed to begin with.
Yet the enemy military was fighting to protect what they believed needed defending. And as long as hope was alive, it was only natural they would keep fighting. Cfadiss understood full well; he was also a soldier.
“Could our work here be over?” she pondered aloud.
“Our orders are to simultaneously observe retreating fleets while conducting recon on the entire battlefront.”
“I know that.” Sporr waved her hand with some irritation. “But there probably isn’t anything left to actually do. The fighting over the Hunters’ Battlefield is over.”
That may be true, thought Cfadiss. The enemy forces attempting to flee were estimated to contain around forty sub-fleets at their core. Based on various bits of circumstantial evidence, they equated to the entirety of the enemy fleets stranded by Operation Hunter. They had taken control over all of the Hunters’ Battlefield, and there most likely wouldn’t be much of a fight before they finally recovered the parts of the Ileesh Monarchy that were under enemy occupation.
In any case, Cfadiss was relieved. The Commander-in-Chief was more than prone to fly into combat by all means, but at the moment, she seemed content to stay behind the scenes.
“You look happy, Chief of Staff.” Her sharp-sighted red eyes scrutinized Cfadiss’s expression.
“Because of the lull in the mission,” he lied.
“’Lull’ is right. At least, to me it is. I’ll be bored to tears soon enough. I’m jealous of you lot.” She let out an elegant yawn. “I’m making the observance of the fleeing enemy fleets your highest imperative. When can you hand me an operation plan?”
It certainly was the case that the staff officers would have their hands full. The patrol ships under Fleet 1 would take turns to come close to enemy fleets and accumulate data. They would have to notify each sub-fleet of the plan beforehand. Put like that, it sounded easy enough, but it was in fact a terribly complicated mission. Conveyance ships were the fastest way to transmit information across planar space, and that fact made everything harder. The situation was in constant flux, but the information they had on hand was far from fresh. The patrol ships that were so widely dispersed were to wait near the enemy’s projected path, with designated sectors set, and supply and communications routes established. Or rather, the enemy’s projected paths, in the plural. They had to predict every action the enemy could reasonably take. They also had to plan for the possibility of losing the patrol ships that were doing the observing. Actually, for all they knew, the information that they’d already fallen was making its way to the flagship now. And they needed to come up with a plan for that possibility, too. With how intricate it all was, they were constructing an endless labyrinth of contingencies.
It was impossible to pound out an operation plan by human faculties alone, and most of the heavy lifting was done by compucrystals. Despite that, it was impossible to implement the perfect plan — after all, the theoretically perfect plan had need of limitless troops for every possible contingency. They were always forced to go forward with a plan that had holes somewhere or other. And it was humans who decided where the holes would be, not compucrystals. The staff officers’ job was to agonize in the interstice between theoretical perfection and limited troops.
“Ma’am, permission to move the flagship toward the enemy fleet’s direction of travel?” asked Cfadiss.
It was standard practice to position the information center — in this case, the Lachcaü, the flagship of Fleet 1 — in front of the enemy, so as to at least somewhat mitigate the harsh restrictions imposed by planar space. That way, even if the enemy thrust a spear into the hole in their plan, they’d be able to respond swiftly. Needless to say, the information center had to maintain its distance to avoid direct contact.
“Of
course, Chief of Staff,” Sporr nodded.
“I will have the first draft for you in six hours’ time,” said Cfadiss.
“Also, make sure as many ships as possible take action alongside the flagship,” she added.
So she DOES want to enter combat, thought Cfadiss, dejected.
As long as they flew in advance of the enemy fleet, then this observation operation’s final stage was set to have them encounter Grand Commodore Tlife’s corps. Of course, as a recon corps, they could just pass them by and continue toward the rear, but concentrating their forces into the main body of troops meant they could take part in eliminating the enemy. Cfadiss was a fellow soldier of the Star Forces; he did not shrink before combat. But allocating patrol ships for surveillance, while concentrating their force of arms at the same time, was bound to be a headache and a half.
“Is that clear?” said Sporr.
“Roger that,” answered Cfadiss, for lack of options.
Aboard the flagship of Byrec Blaigr Matloceutena (Hunter Fleet 21), the Sulbiruch, currently in the Üéch Sauder Lylymata Melmir (Portal-Sea 552 of Melmic)—
“What do you mean, we just let them pass through!?” barked Tlife.
The report, detailing how Commodore Biboth had allowed the remaining enemy fleets to pass without any obstruction whatsoever, had just reached Tlife’s ears.
“I’m sure they just couldn’t respond in time,” said his Chief of Staff, Associate Commodore Cahyoor.
“Oh. Then it couldn’t be helped.” But soon enough, his irritation returned. “Wait, they didn’t even try to pursue, from what I could see. What’s that Commodore Biboth even thinking!?”
“He probably came to the conclusion that if he gave chase, they’d sustain great losses for little gain. I think it was the right call.”
“It may have been the right call, but even so, I can’t condone it.”
Tlife’s mission was to wrap Operation Hunter in a neat little bow. If they’d annihilated all the remaining fleets, then Operation Hunter would draw to a definitive close. All they’d need to do in the aftermath would be a final sweep to mop up.
And yet, all he’d been handed to wage this battle — this battle that should, by all rights, be a glorious one — was troops equivalent to a mere forty-three sub-fleets.
He’d been briefed on the whys. The worst case scenario would be the Three Nations Alliance’s main forces going on the offensive in response to the remaining fleets’ retreat. Even if the troops the enemy deployed were scant, it would still have the Abh ships in the area trapped in a pincer attack. As such, they couldn’t afford to let the core of the enemy forces catch wind of the fact that the remaining fleets were presently escaping. Moreover, extracting a large number of troops from the battle zone facing off against the central area of the Milky Way Portal-Belts would be akin to flat out advertising how the remaining fleets were taking grand-scale action.
He understood the rationale. It was perfectly logical. But it didn’t go down well with him.
“The enemy’s at forty sub-fleets, huh. Can’t exactly call our position overwhelmingly advantageous,” grumbled Tlife.
“But the enemy must be bringing many supply corps with them,” said Cahyoor. “There might be civilians aboard, so there’s a high probability that their strength is lower than it looks.”
“We’ve also got supply corps flying with us.”
“They’re different animals, though. Our supply corps are engaged in short-distance transport. But theirs have access to much more. Probably even mobile antimatter fuel factories.”
“I know that! I know that, but still, it’s all just probabilities.”
“That is correct. We await Commodore Sporr’s follow-up report.”
“I wonder which’ll come first, her follow-up, or our collision with the enemy.”
“Quantifying the enemy’s force of arms is our highest priority reconnaissance target. We can never be too informed, and we won’t have to worry about entering combat without enough intelligence.”
“Never mind that; it’s too unreliable. It’s a tradition among Star Forces commanders to be uncooperative.”
“I don’t think it’s a ‘tradition,’ sir.”
“Ugh. Who cares if the enemy’s at-home troops glean some info, dammit! I ought to just crush the opposing ships through overwhelming numbers! If only I had at least twice as many fleets...”
“Now I see.”
“Hm?” Tlife turned to look at his Chief of Staff. “You see? See what?”
“Now I see, sir, that it really is a tradition among the commanders of our proud military to be uncooperative.”
“Ah, good. So you understand.” Tlife felt as though his Chief of Staff had been about to voice another calm rebuttal, but he decided not to dwell on it.
“Yes, sir. Unmistakably clearly.”
“Excellent.” What occupied Tlife’s mind now was the problem of how to intercept the enemy with such insufficient numbers. “That aside, let’s craft a strategy on the assumption that the enemy has nothing but elite troops. Rushing in recklessly would be inadvisable.”
The always expressionless Chief of Staff knitted his brows nigh imperceptibly. “Might you be feeling ill, sir?”
“No, I’ve never felt healthier. Why do you ask?”
“I never thought I’d hear such passive measures come from out of Your Excellency’s mouth...”
“Then how about we ditch the passivity and attack allied fleets to take their ships for our own?”
The one thing that never ceased to puzzle Tlife was how, whenever he cracked a joke, it was almost always taken seriously. And this time was no exception.
“I believe it would be best not to go through with that, sir. It would be with a heavy heart that I’d indict my superior officer with the crime of treason,” said Cahyoor.
“You wouldn’t even wait for somebody else to accuse me for you?”
“What for, sir?”
“Never mind,” said Tlife, waving a hand. “Let’s just focus on mobile defense. We move out of the way while dealing damage at the same time. Now make me a battle plan to underpin that strategy.”
“Roger.” Cahyoor saluted.
In the conference room of the administrative building of Lohbnahss II of the Countdom of Lohbnahss, Maydeen raised an eyebrow. “So you’ll be temporarily withdrawing?”
Shungarr glared at Jint while Dohkfoo smiled from ear to ear. Anguson hadn’t shown up today, either.
“Yes,” nodded Jint. “There is a chance that fleeing enemy forces will pass through the sector. We can’t be sure they’ll come to this territory-nation, but we figure there’s no need to risk facing such danger.”
“Will the asylum seekers be able to board a ship before you withdraw?”
Jint blinked. “No, we think we’ll have to cancel the relocation plan for the time being...”
“You feckless...!” Maydeen slammed the table. “You conquer the planet, and then you abandon it just as quickly. You could hardly be more irresponsible.”
“He’s right!” said Shungarr. “And here I thought we could actually make it out of here.”
“Hold on...”
“Listen here. The workers’ families have already left. By telling us to stay, you’re telling us to cast aside our families. The Abh may not bear families in mind, but we do. And to normal people, being pulled away from one’s family is a fate worse than death.”
“It’s temporary!” said Jint. “We’ll be back in no time. We’re scheduled to withdraw in seventeen standard days, and return in sixty. Unfortunately, due to a confluence of factors, we can’t say for sure when we’ll be able to forge ahead.”
“So you say. But any information on goings-on in space is being fed to us by you and you alone. You could be hiding inconvenient truths. And given this situation, you could be taking the easy route, telling us you’ll be gone temporarily, then leaving us in the lurch forever. I can only assume this place will be recovered by the United Human
kind. After which my employees and their respective families will be stranded in mutually hostile interstellar nations. Do you understand how tragic that would be, boy?”
“I do, I think,” replied Jint, recalling his days on Martin and Delktu.
“If that does come to pass, then perhaps we should have you relocate us, too,” said Dohkfoo, his grin faint. “After all, if the UH returns, we’ll be treated like criminals again.”
“Like criminals? Watch your mouth. Your crimes have been proven without room for doubt,” said Maydeen.
“That’s what the court records would have you believe,” said Dohkfoo detachedly.
“Oh, I’ve read them. You committed murder in broad daylight, with plenty of witnesses. How could you be innocent?”
“Must have been a shared hallucination. I’m a proud swindler. I’d never stoop so low as to stain my hands committing such a shallow, simplistic crime as murder.”
“A proud swindler, but a bad one,” said Shungarr. “I heard that you tried to pull a fast one on somebody, but then, when you realized they’d outwitted you, you flew into a rage and ended up a murderer.”
“Such distasteful hearsay.”
“That’s what it said in the court records I read,” said Maydeen.
Jint cleared his throat. “Ahem.”
“But never mind that,” said Maydeen, who had evidently recalled the reason they were gathered here. “If you must retreat, then you must. But I demand the relocation plan be accelerated. I want you to get us out of here before you retreat.”
“And don’t forget us, either,” said Shungarr.
“Look, long story short, you want us to pledge that we’ll come back for the planet, right?”
“As if we could take your ‘pledge’ as proof!”
An idea ran through Jint’s mind: What if I stay here while the Star Forces withdraw? Would they believe us then? But the very next moment, he concluded that was a stupid idea. He didn’t want to be a pompous ass, but at the same time, he saw no need to be obsequious, either.
What Needs Defending Page 9
