REPUBLIC NAVY RADIO
“Just how bad is it out there?”
“You know, there was an old joke they used to tell here. A victim of the Navy anti-Resistance campaign says, a squad of people in military uniform broke into my residential unit. They ransacked my apartment, stole all my valuables, murdered my dog, and beat my husband unconscious. Then, one of them turned to the other, and they said, we have to get out of here now. The Reps are coming.”
“Heh. I’ve heard that one.”
“They don’t tell that one out here anymore.”
“Nope.”
“Nope. Now, it’s Tuesday. Just total breakdown of order in the pro-Resistance colonies on Titan. I’ll tell you, I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years reporting out here. The hotel units in Cassini: all booked full. Every single one. And not a tourist in sight.”
“Refugees?”
“All refugees. And the flights out, we’re seeing a reverse exodus, back to inner planets, in front of our very eyes. You ever seen those videos of the aliens fleeing from the frontlines from the—”
“Jeez. And these are humans. I mean…”
“I know what you meant.”
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OUTPOST MCMURDO, MCMURDO SYSTEM (600 LS)
POV: Zwena Tanith, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Commander)
Station Commander Zwena Tanith looked worryingly at the galactic strategic map on the screen of the command center. A disturbing number of systems in the middle were now blinking red, showing warning from their jammed reconnaissance drones that they were no longer getting command signals.
“Looks like the sixth one this week, Commander,” Bert commented, sipping his morning coffee. “They’re getting liberal with their use of the new FTL jamming equipment.”
“I’m more worried about the fact that we’ve now lost control over all our monitoring assets in the entire territory of the former Granti Alliance,” they replied.
Bert thought for a moment. “Yeah, they’re planning something big soon. The jamming signals are raw. That means they can’t get any signals through either. They must be using FTL relay ships to communicate: inefficient in both cost and time delay.”
Zwena nodded in agreement. “They can’t keep this jamming up forever. So what do they think they’re hiding from us?”
“I think the consensus back in Atlas is a renewed offensive: either Stoers or Gruccud.”
“Either one makes sense. The two junction systems they need for a breakthrough.”
“Gruccud just recently got their new mine production facilities up and running, so unless the Buns have something else up their sleeves, Sixth Fleet will make them pay if they try anything over there,” Bert speculated. “Stoers seems shakier to me, but I know much less about what’s going on over there. The Puppers have a couple numbered fleets over there, but they’re saying those are just on paper?”
“I’ve heard similar,” Zwena said. “But it depends on the enemy’s numbers. With enough ships, the Buns can break through anywhere they want. It’ll just cost them more one way than the other. And we know they have enough ships.”
“It’s too bad our Navy is all still stuck taking the SRN apart in the Red Zone,” Bert sighed.
“You were stationed there before this too, right? You ever miss it?” they asked him, a twinkle in their eyes.
“Patrols on two hours of sleep, worrying about getting shot in the back by some disgruntled nutjob. And that’s just Titan-side, before we get into the fun stuff the locals try to pull on you in orbit when we got to go up. Worst deployment of my life,” Bert said, sighing. “Hell yeah, I miss it. You?”
“Me too.”
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FEDERATION SHIPYARD 4, STOERS (5,800 LS)
POV: Kiara Agarwal, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Commander)
Fleet Commander Moescei let her eyes wander over the black alien shuttle as the tall Terran captain skipped down the final few steps of the ramp into her hangar.
“Commander Kiara Agarwal!” she greeted.
The Terran snapped her a crisp salute. “Third Fleet Commander.”
Hastily, Moescei returned the gesture best she could without spilling the cup of stimulant drink in her left paw.
Moescei escorted Kiara to her office, where she offered the Terran a chair fitted to her physiology. “Welcome back to Stoers, commander. How was your hunt?”
“Fruitless,” the Terran replied bluntly. “But at least we’ve cleared the Pomniot south cluster. Any signs of the enemy here?”
“Only a few minor intrusions, here and there,” Moescei said casually. “But we chased their spy ships away.”
Kiara looked at her sharply. “Minor— I… see. What about Second Fleet? Did they appoint a new admiral— fleet commander for it yet?”
Moescei shook her ears. “No, they are still deliberating in Malgeiru. Our politics is very complicated; don’t worry, I don’t expect you to understand. In the interim, I am in charge of the ships in both fleets.”
“I see,” Kiara nodded. “What about your defenses here? I was told that our first supply ships to Stoers arrived a few months ago, and they handed over to the shipyard the designs for our Mark 160 stealth mines. I didn’t see any of them on our way in. They are supposed to be hidden, but our sensors—”
Moescei sniffed. “We haven’t started deploying them yet.”
“What?!”
“The shipyard hasn’t started making them yet.”
“May— may I ask why not?”
“Other priorities in the shipyard queue,” Moescei replied, shrugging. “A completely new munition design takes a long time to get started—”
Kiara tilted her head. “I was told that the facilities at Gruccud have begun manufacturing them to our specifications just fine, and they don’t have a Federation shipyard over there. Is there a supply bottleneck or issue?”
“Stoers is responsible for ship and munition production for the entire Federation, Commander. Unlike Gruccud, we can’t just focus on one thing,” Moescei argued. “We have to replace our lost materiel from past campaigns. We have to replace the Cliunc. And Sixth Fleet siphoned away all our munitions in their last campaign up in Gruccud. We have to replace those too. Our yards have civilian orders to fill too; if their ships don’t get made, we don’t have cargo ships, our economy doesn’t run, and we won’t have the credits to run the war.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Kiara sighed and shook her head. “Is there some kind of timeline for when they can get the stealth mines into production and deployed?”
“Our engineers here are trying their best,” Moescei said. She counted for a few seconds on her paws. “Maybe next year?”
“Next year?” Kiara exclaimed. “But what if the Buns mount an attack on Stoers before that?”
Moescei shrugged. “So what if they attack? We have two numbered battle fleets here. I’m sure we will hold this system.”
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TRNS CRETE, SATURN (4 LS)
POV: Baedarsust, Malgeir Federation Marine Infantry (Rank: Head Pack Leader)
“Gather around, gather around!” Aida called out, climbing onto a cargo crate as a makeshift stool. The Malgeir troops in the hangar slowly made their way around, forming a circle around her.
“Are we in trouble, LT?” someone shouted out.
She smiled at the rowdy Marine. “What did you do this time, Criouib?”
“Nothing, ma’am.”
Aida rolled her eyes dramatically. “As usual. What are we even paying you for… Alright everyone, settle down… Atlas has also sent over some new intelligence, including a decrypted portion of the Resistance’s internal messaging system. Anyone want to know what the enemy thinks of us?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
She pulled up the message on her tablet, cleared her throat, and began to read in a louder voice, “The Reps from the Crete are not ordinary jackboots. They are not even Terran. Bred from birth to crave the taste of human flesh, these alien troops undergo—”
“They got that right!”
“Arrrrrrrrrrrr!”
Aida smiled and continued. “These alien troops undergo a grueling training regime that makes them especially adaptable in space combat. They are capable and cruel; do not expect them to show mercy to the good people of the Free Zone. They even feed on regular Rep Marines unfortunate—”
The Malgeir troops let out another cheer.
“Only when I’m hungry!”
“Watch out, LT! He’s always hungry!”
“They even feed on regular Rep Marines unfortunate enough to be caught alone in the hallways of their nightmare ship… Alright, alright, calm down guys I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet… Bred in illegal biolabs on Mars, they are more bioweapon than creature. Cretan Marines have an inhuman sense of smell and hearing. Without the assistance of any technology, they can hear you coming from a kilometer away in open atmosphere, and—”
“That’s just Frumers!” Spommu shouted out to more cheers.
“And their mutant noses can smell and trace the scent of blood and sweat, even days after you have passed the location. Their claws are sharp enough to slice through steel, and their thick hides protect their internal organs from metal blades and possibly even smaller caliber bullets.” Aida added, “I would not try that one at home folks, though some of your thick skulls… Avoid combat and capture from these monsters at all costs!”
The crowd yipped and barked in a frenzy as she finished.
When they quieted down, Aida beamed at them. “And that’s not all! I’ve got some more good news. It looks like some of you have caught the attention of the folks in Atlas with expensive haircuts. The higher ups have decided to finally get around to some of those commendations they’ve been dragging their feet on.”
More cheers in the hangar.
Aida cleared her throat again. “Badger Squad, congratulations. You’ve been awarded the Meritorious Unit Commendation!”
She smiled and waited for the crowd’s whooping to die down before she continued. “For that, Badger Squad, you have re-earned the privilege of lining up at the ice cream machine before meals.”
The four Marines in Badger Squad clapped each other on the backs and howled in elation as the others stared at them in jealousy.
“What?”
“Wait a second. Before meals?”
“That’s not fair! What about the rest of us?!”
“Alright, alright, settle down. We got a few more of these to go,” Aida reassured them. She took a glance at her tablet as she continued, “Next up. Waldo Squad. Where’s Waldo Squad?”
A couple of them gave her a dry “haha”, the rest groaning as they raised their paws.
“Congratulations, Waldo. Your squad has also received a Meritorious Unit Commendation!”
The Malgeir in Waldo Squad jumped for joy as they received warm congratulations from their fellow Marines. One of them ran over to bear hug a Badger, sharing their excitement.
“Next up,” Aida stared at Baedarsust, a smile on her face. “Lemming Squad… For your recent action at Roland, you have earned yourselves a Navy Unit Commendation medal!”
After they got their cheers and pats on the back, Spommu looked up at Aida with a sly grin. “Wait. That’s a harder award to get, right? We should get to be first in line for ice cream before lunch. And an extra scoop on Strawberry Saturdays.”
Aida seemed to give it a thought for a moment. “Hm… you make a good point—”
She was interrupted by a cacophony of boos and jeers from the other squads.
Spommu niftily dodged someone’s thrown boot from the crowd.
Aida smiled. “In addition to the shiny medal, you are each entitled to a special parking spot, points for promotion for your own Navy, and you’re allowed to change your squad name if you want to. Someone on Atlas suggested the name Jaeger Squad — it means hunter — that’s if you want to.”
Baedarsust looked at his squadmates and shook his ears. “Can we keep our old name? I think we’ll keep Lemming.”
“You sure?” Aida asked, looking not surprised at all.
Baedarsust nodded.
“Alright, Lemming Squad it is. Congratulations on the award, Lemmings.”
Someone in the crowd shouted, “If they don’t want it, can we take the Jaeger name?”
Aida looked severely at her. “No, but if you keep complaining, you’re going to get a lot worse than Crumbles.”
That shut the cheeky Crumbles squad leader up.
“Many of you have also received individual awards. Those will be handed out in more formal ceremonies,” Aida explained. “Good job, Cretan Marines. Oorah?”
“Oorah!”
“Close enough. Dismissed, except for you, Baedarsust. Come with me.”
The crowd dispersed and Baedarsust ignored his fellow Marines’ stares to follow Aida out of the cargo module. After a few minutes, he realized they were headed to a slightly less familiar section of the ship, into the upper decks. Aida gestured towards one of the empty conference rooms usually used by the higher ranked Navy officers.
“What is this about?” Baedarsust asked curiously as the two of them filed in.
Aida was about to answer as the room’s door opened again to admit more people.
One he recognized. Everyone knew who that was: the face of the Malgeir people in Sol.
“Beta Leader Speinfoent!” Baedarsust gasped, then quickly covered his snout with a paw.
Speinfoent didn’t reply or acknowledge him, instead standing at attention next to the door and announced, “Captain on deck!”
Captain Carla Bauernschmidt, he also recognized as she stepped in.
He’d spoken to the captain thrice. The first time when she was introduced to every member of the Marine contingent. The second time when she was receiving a resupply shipment in the hangar deck; she asked him about his family back on Malgeirgam. And the third time when she came to visit the Resistance courier they captured on that cargo craft raid. This would be the fourth time.
He stood up as straight as his spine would allow.
She entered the room and looked directly at him. “Congratulations, Marine. You are being promoted.”
“Ma’am?”
She didn’t blink. “For your leadership, professionalism, and commitment to the mission, I’m promoting you to the next higher rank from Head Pack Leader uh—”
“That would be High Pack Leader, ma’am,” Speinfoent pointed out.
It was not a surprise she’d forgotten. There were only a few High Pack Leaders in the Federation and none on the ship. It was an honorary title, usually bestowed upon those who had lots of credits to burn and considered themselves too cool to be actual, “trained” officers.
“High Pack Leader Baedarsust,” Carla continued without missing a beat. She frowned slightly. “We’ve reached out to your Federation Ministry of Defense for approval of the promotion, but they haven’t gotten back to us yet for some reason. You should get the message from them in— how long does that normally take, XO?”
Speinfoent coughed lightly, looking embarrassed, “It depends on how much he pays.”
She looked at him sharply. “Excuse me?”
“Expedited processing of confirmation of a battlefield promotion usually requires a fee forwarded to the Defense Ministry processors—”
“Like a bribe?” she interrupted.
“Well…” Speinfoent looked thoughtful for a moment and sighed, “Yes. It is effectively a bribe.”
“And if he doesn’t pay anything?”
“They probably won’t get to it before the end of the war.”
“How much— nevermind!” She balked at him for a second, then declared, “That is completely unacceptable. I am now instituting a new policy. From now on, none of my spacers or Marines will be paying extorted bribes just to accept promotions they have already earned. Is that clear, XO?”
Speinfoent lowered his head, “Yes, Captain.”
Carla looked back at Baedarsust. “Your full citation and promotion have been documented for the record in the Crete’s systems and thus the Republic Navy and Marines. Your new pay will take effect immediately. And as a battlefield promotion, you will be treated with the respect your new rank commands. Is that clear, High Pack Leader?”
“Yes, Captain!”
“And if you experience any issues with your pay from Malgeirgam, you are authorized to— no, you are ordered to immediately report it to the ship’s legal intelligence, and it will sort out the issue for you. Understood?”
The fee for a position like High Pack Leader would have been equivalent to at least the raises he’d get for the first four or five months…
“Thank you, Captain,” he said gratefully.
“Congratulations, High Pack Leader. Lieutenant?” Carla looked towards Aida.
Aida stepped forward and raised her right hand. “Marine, raise your right paw and repeat after me.”
Baedarsust did as she gestured, raising his paw to head height.
“I, High Pack Leader Baedarsust, do solemnly swear…” she read.
He took a deep breath. “I, High Pack Leader Baedarsust, do solemnly swear…”
“… that I will support and defend…”
“… that I will support and defend…”