ZNS 1006, GRUCCUD (20,000 LS)
POV: Stsinkt, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Ten Whiskers)
“All four of our battleships, Ten Whiskers. And one of our orbital transport ships. Their lives were forfeited to the Prophecy the day they left the hatchling pool.”
Stsinkt nodded. She bowed her head in recognition of their sacrifice. “That must have been the Great Predators’ rare blinking missiles in their arsenal. Was the destruction of the orbital transport ship a mistake?”
“Yes, Ten Whiskers. Ours. They somehow took it out with one of the battleships with a single missile. The Digital Guide does not see how that could have been deliberately possible, but it contends with high certainty this was not an accident. Orbital Transport Squadron 18’s eight whiskers has taken responsibility for the positioning error. We have loosened our formation back to blink formation.”
“Good. Does the combat computer think we can still sweep the Lesser Predators guarding this system away before the might of our fleet, even without our battleships?”
“Yes, Ten Whiskers. Very easily.”
Stsinkt looked at her battlemap in satisfaction. “Good, send in Squadrons 1 to 30. That should be more than enough for these lesser forms of predator life.”
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MNS OENGRO, GRUCCUD-4 (3,000 KM)
POV: Grionc, Malgeir Federation Navy (Rank: High Fleet Commander)
“Two of their squadrons are on track to intercept our mine volumes in the outer system,” Vastae reported with some satisfaction. “Or they were… four hours ago.”
“Just two squadrons?” Grionc asked.
“They are only sending thirty squadrons in the first wave. And as they get closer to the planet, there will be more interceptions with our mine volumes.”
“How long will that take?” Grionc asked out of idle curiosity.
Vastae’s eyes flickered upwards as he quickly did the math in his head. “Without our FTL radios, and with the light speed delay — this was four hours ago. So I think about a day minus four hours? I wish Speinfoent were here to do this math.”
“No, you don’t,” Grionc said quietly.
Vastae thought about it for a second, then nodded his head in agreement more somberly. “No, I don’t.”
“I wonder what he’s doing now,” she said.
“Last time he called us, killing the bad Terrans and getting shiny medals for it, right?” Vastae recalled.
“And eating chocolate ice cream.”
He cracked a smile. “And eating lots of chocolate ice cream.”
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ZNS 1006, GRUCCUD (20,000 LS)
POV: Stsinkt, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Ten Whiskers)
“What’s going on with the first wave?” Stsinkt asked in irritation.
“We sent the request for a status update two hours ago. They’re getting the message about now and the reply will reach us in two more hours, Ten Whiskers.”
“I should have anticipated that the speed of light delay would be more of an annoyance,” she fumed. “In the simulations done with the combat computers, we could speed up time artificially, but I am realizing I might not have the patience for this. I take full responsibility for that.”
Her subordinates said nothing.
“Would it be possible — no, advisable — to open up our jammer for a quick back and forth message to the squadrons?” she asked.
Her computer officer shook his head. “The Digital Guide says if we cease our jamming for even a short time, we will risk the computers of the Great Predators using that time to get through all the messages they need to deliver to the local fleet, faster than we can close it.”
“Yes, but right now the jamming affects us more than they do them, right?” Stsinkt asked. “Because we are on the attack, and they are merely sitting and waiting as they have done for hours.”
The computer officer queried his console. “Hm… the Digital Guide is unsure. That is possible.”
“What do you think?” Stsinkt asked him directly.
“What do I think?” he asked, confused.
“Six Whiskers, what is your opinion?”
The computer officer thought for a moment, then replied, “I think your logic is motivated by impatience but nonetheless sound.”
Stsinkt thought for a moment. “I think you’re right. I have decided. Coordinate this action with the jammer captains and the combat computer: we will shut down the jammer net for a short time, send a request for update to the advance squadrons, and turn the jammer net on again. Then, at a future time communicated with the advance squadrons with the first request, we will shut down the jammer net again for a short time, they will send us their updates, and the net will go back up again.”
“Yes, Ten Whiskers.”
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MNS OENGRO, GRUCCUD-4 (3,000 KM)
POV: Grionc, Malgeir Federation Navy (Rank: High Fleet Commander)
“High Fleet Commander! Their jammer went down for a second!” Vastae reported from his console.
“A second?”
“A few milliseconds,” he said, double-checking the numbers on his computer.
“Was this some kind of software bug from the enemy?”
“I’m not sure. And in that time, a bunch of data flowed into our computers… from the forward observation platforms!”
“Good. What’s going on in the outer system?”
“There were many detonations, but impossible to tell by sight what’s going on. The thinking machine is analyzing them now, but it seems uncertain as well.”
“Hmm that’s too bad. Do we know who is blowing up or if—”
“And there was an FTL message burst from the Mississippi!” Vastae shouted as he went down the list.
“The admiral? They reacted that quickly?! What did she say?”
“No, not her. It was their ship computer. An automated message, it looks like.”
“Pull it up on screen.”
TRNS Mississippi (AI):
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
That was unexpectedly incompetent. The Buns just deliberately opened up their net for half a second. They transmitted a request for update to their ship captains in their forward advance team with a time to report back. We broke their encryption from the messages received through your FTL radio before this message was finished. Their update timer is helpful, but unnecessary for us to break through. They are falling into an old electronic warfare pitfall, probably because they are using new equipment and haven’t fully developed their doctrine for it yet. Silly Buns.
Here is the summary of our last relay ship update to you:
As you likely have gathered, your first missile strike was highly successful. Four enemy Thorn-class battleships dead. One orbital transport collateral. Admiral Waters commends excellent selection of targets and recommends you ignore the missiles’ whining. I mildly resent her casual bigotry against non-biological intelligence.
We have gotten additional intelligence from the enemy, but not sure if high confidence. There is general shock and skepticism in Atlas: enemy fleet primary objective may be Sol. Some circumstantial evidence seems to support the hypothesis. Strategic computers leaning towards that possibility over scorched Malgeiru attack. Confidence trending increasing.
Either way, your primary objective is mostly unchanged for now. Hold that fleet there as long as possible.
Tactics and targeting for secondary objective may change. If possible, target enemy fuel ships.
Hold one loadout for each of Amazon and Mississippi, previous request unchanged: 12 Kestrels each for 24 total. Expend all other munitions as needed.
Hold for additional information when they open the net up again.
Mississippi out.
Grionc’s eyes widened as she read the message. “They’re going for the Terran home system!”
“They say it’s a possibility?” Vastae said. “But how do the Grass Eaters even know about their home?!”
“Maybe— Maybe they found the information they needed in the Cliunc’s computers and crew?” Grionc whispered, feeling dirty for casting dishonor on the dead.
“If that is true, then what we do here matters even more!”
“They want us to take out the fuel ships,” Grionc said, thinking quickly and aloud. “That makes it so the Grass Eaters can’t refuel from them on the way to Sol.”
“But wouldn’t the Grass Eaters just fuel up their ships at any of the gas giants they see on the way?” Vastae asked.
“Yes, but that takes longer. Maybe they are setting up their defenses and need additional time?” Grionc speculated.
Vastae nodded. “Whatever it is, we need to find a way to get to those fuel ships somehow— wait a second! The jammer net opened back up again!”
“What did we get?”
“The same detonation images from the forward observation platforms, I think, and— ah, there’s another update from the Mississippi. It’s a video message!”
Amelia appeared on their main screen. “Three minutes? Screw it. Roll the tape, I’ll do it live… Nice work with the battleships, Grionc. Unfortunately, I don’t think their command was on those battleships, but we don’t have time to look for them now. We need you to take out as many of those fuel ships as possible. Once you start working on them, they’ll probably figure it out and bail. We suspect most of them will leave once they realize what you’re doing. Which is a good thing for you. Because then Gruccud is safe. So… wait until the Buns throw themselves against those Mark 160 mines, then when they get close enough, shoot out as many of their big fuel ships as possible with your surplus Thunderbirds. And once they leave to come for us, seal off the system behind them. No supplies, nothing gets through. The same trick we pulled with Datsot. We will try to deal with their invasion fleet on our end. Happy hunting. That good? Ok, send that to her when the Buns make a hole again.”
Grionc nodded in understanding as the video feed closed. “So they want us to delay and fight the enemy fleet as long as possible. And shoot our remaining Thunderbirds at the enemy fuel ships when we can’t hold them any longer. That makes sense. Put in a message to the Gruccud Ground Command: send the signal to launch our Thunderbird missiles near the system blink limit at the enemy fuel ships after they detect the last ship in Sixth Fleet has been destroyed.”
“Understood, ma’am. The more time we buy for them, the more the Terrans can do what they do best. Every hour we last here, we could be saving an uncountable number of—” Then, Vastae frowned as he looked into his screen. “Oh wait, there’s another message from the Mississippi.”
“Another message?”
“Yeah, it was in the same burst. I wonder why they put two different messages in the same packet—”
“Let’s find out.”
Amelia’s face appeared on the screen again. She touched her left index finger to her temple. “Hehe, so… one more thing, Grionc. I have this instinct that I’ve developed when dealing with you Puppers… Anyway, I realized that I said: kill their fuel ships when the enemy fleet gets close enough. And I think… you’ll take that to mean… fighting until the last combat-capable ship in Sixth Fleet before you pull the trigger. Which is not what I meant. In fact, I mean the very opposite. You’ll need all your ships to cut their lines later. So, to be more specific, kill those fuel ships before any of your combat ships start taking any fire from their main fleet. I hope that makes things clearer. That’s it. Alright. Quick, get this into the packet…”
Grionc held up a claw in amusement as the bridge crew turned to look at her. “To be fair to my incorrect assumptions… her first instructions were unclear.”
Vastae nodded, completely in agreement. “They all have that weird tendency to do this. Like they expect us to figure out our part of their plan and come to the least intuitive conclusion, all by ourselves!”
“Alright, call Loenda. Pull her squadrons further in. We’ll want to just stay in medium Gruccud orbit. And, oh yeah — I’ve seen this one before in an exercise — pull all our critical orbital infrastructure to the other side of the planet. We don’t want to give the Grass Eaters a chance to take potshots at them for free.”
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ZNS 1006, GRUCCUD (20,000 LS)
POV: Stsinkt, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Ten Whiskers)
“What happened?” Stsinkt demanded.
“According to their response in the jammer gap, the squadron leaders are uncertain. We’ve taken some casualties among our advance group, some squadrons more seriously than others. Digital Guide is evaluating the enemy’s new weapon.”
She sighed. “Another new weapon? How many tricks do they have in their bottomless bag?”
The computer officer replied, “Ten Whiskers, preliminary signs are… these were mines, in some ways similar to ours.”
“Mines? And we didn’t detect any of their incoming projectiles?”
“No, Ten Whiskers. The status update said there was no radar warning at all, just explosions. The ships that got hit simply disappeared, and they were all instantly destroyed.”
“I see,” Stsinkt said. “I think this was one of their special radar types that doesn’t warn their targets. With their rare blinking missiles, I think it means that one of the Great Predator ships is in the system. Direct the radar ships to maximize—”
“Wait, there’s something else… The Digital Guide is flagging an anomaly. These were highly radioactive explosions, some kind of low weight atoms according to the sensors.”
“Low… weight atoms? What in the Prophecy is that supposed to mean?!”
“Helium, it appears. Mass spectrometry confirms the anomaly.”
“Helium fuel? Isn’t helium non-incombustible?”
“Unlikely to be fuel. Engineering section claims— hold on… Digital Guide has a match in the database.”
“What is it?”
His voice turned hush. “It has a near-match with one of our orbit-to-surface airburst doomsday warheads.”
Doomsday warheads?
“Thermo— thermonuclear warheads?” she asked with a suddenly dry mouth.
“It appears so.”
Stsinkt sat down heavily in her command chair. “Thermonuclear space mines?”
“That… appears to be the case, Ten Whiskers. Digital Guide speculates they are entirely passive and use infrared sensors only. And because of that potential for inaccuracy, they were deployed in large clusters blanketing our ships. So when one of them detonates, the target ship can’t detect the remaining warheads coming because of all the radiation temporarily overloading their infrared sensors and by the time their sensors have reset and recovered—”
“No, I think I’ve got it, Six Whiskers. Let me think… Does the combat computer have any recommendations?”
“It’s unsure if the predators have deployed many more of these mines the further we go into the system. But if they have, we will suffer many casualties before we reach the predator planet here, Ten Whiskers. Up to three hundred combat ships, possibly, if we want to deploy enough squadrons to defeat the defending Lesser Predator fleet here.”
She shook her head. “That’s what I thought.”
“What should I tell them, Ten Whiskers?”
“Pull all our ships back. This system is not our ultimate target, and we do not waste. We will go around the system — around the whole perimeter. They can’t have mined the whole volume. Too much space. We’ll just skip this system for now.”
“What about our supply lines, Ten Whiskers?”
Stsinkt sighed. “We are switching to the contingency where we can’t secure the path to the Great Predator Nest: we go straight for it, skipping any system defenses and smaller fleets on the way unless they engage us directly.”
“We will lose the ability to hold any territory we gain,” he cautioned, listing out the drawbacks they’d discovered in the many simulations they’d done for this invasion. “That delays our timeline further for our other campaigns, after this one is complete.”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, we will have to settle for merely accomplishing our mission, rather than waste many ships trying to figure out what other traps the Great Predators have set, waiting for us in this system. That is simply logical.”
“And their nest system, they will also have—”
“Undoubtedly, their nest system will have many of these mines as well. Instruct the combat computer and other captains to use our long journey there to figure out a way— to devise some countermeasures to them. But if they are not successful… our lives were forfeited to the Prophecy the day we left the hatchling pools.”