MNS OENGRO, GRUCCUD-4 (3,000 KM)
POV: Grionc, Malgeir Federation Navy (Rank: High Fleet Commander)
“Another jammer gap, High Fleet Commander,” Vastae reported. “Only fifteen milliseconds this time. It appears the Grass Eaters are getting more efficient at this operation, despite the foolishness of its premise.”
Grionc grinned. “Excellent. They can keep getting better at it for all I care. Did the admiral give us anything this time?”
“No, but the Mississippi had an automated update.”
TRNS Mississippi (AI):
From the last two jammer gaps, it appears the Buns are getting more efficient at this jammer gap trick, but we need less time than they do to send a message, so they are just wasting their own time practicing it.
Here is the summary of our last relay ship update to you:
Our last intercept of enemy communications indicates that they are giving up on Gruccud for now. They are either afraid of the Mark 160s or they do not want to reveal their countermeasures before they enter Sol. Unfortunately for us, they seem to have picked an appropriately cautious fleet commander this time.
Despite their usage of proxies for communications, we have been able to gather some more intelligence on the enemy fleet based on intercepts. We believe their direct commander is not Eleven Whiskers Sprabr. Instead, Sprabr appears to be with the secondary fleet at Grantor.
We speculate the secondary fleet’s purpose to be to back up the Grand Fleet if it needs additional assistance. There is a remote possibility that it is intended to break through via Stoers. We assess that to be unlikely. More likely, they will come through Gruccud. We are preparing for all possibilities.
There is an additional request we are working on. We think you should start thinking about it, but not execute it yet. We may need you to send a fast ship to follow the enemy into the next systems as they blink through. We need to keep an eye on the enemy for a possible Sphinx interception opportunity. Waiting for updates on this.
You should fire on the enemy fuel ships now. Prioritize targeting fuel ships in the following order, allow the missiles on site to adjust contingent upon…
“Well, you heard them,” Grionc ordered. “Let all the remaining Thunderbirds out.”
“All remaining Thunderbirds launched.”
“Did those whiners get them?”
“Give them a second, Grionc. And they have delicate feelings, you know?”
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ZNS 1006, GRUCCUD (20,000 LS)
POV: Stsinkt, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Ten Whiskers)
“They just crippled half our heavy fuel fleet,” the computer officer said quietly as the klaxons on the bridge were silenced.
“How many?” Stsinkt asked hatefully.
“Twenty. All heavies. It’s those blinking missiles again.”
“There’s nothing we can do about those since we don’t want to hop into the system limit. But… at least there is some good— some good news.”
“Good news, Ten Whiskers?” the computer officer asked, clearly wondering what the upside to losing half the heavy fuel fleet was.
Stsinkt sighed. “That was the last of the blinking missiles they had. Because… if they had more, they would have killed more of our heavy fuel ships.”
“That is— good news is indeed one way to put it, Ten Whiskers.”
“Now, this means one of two things. Either they saw us moving towards the next system from the perimeter and guessed our intention to bypass Gruccud. Or they knew we were never going for Gruccud in the first place. But it doesn’t matter. Now they know. And we must operate under the assumption they know we are going for the Great Predator Nest.”
“Yes, Ten Whiskers.”
Stsinkt sighed again. “Unfortunately, we will need to refuel more often — at least once more, perhaps twice — on our way to the Great Predator Nest. This will give their hiding ships more chances to attack us, the closer we get to them. Will we still have enough ships, Computer Officer?”
“Digital Guide says yes. Our margins are closing, but we should still have a little more than quadruple the combat ships we need to get the job done, even without the secondary fleet.”
“Just more than quadruple, huh? It still thinks we can take the enemy system with six hundred combat ships?”
“Yes, Ten Whiskers. We do not necessarily need to take it. Just escort enough Great Exterminator Marines there to burn it down.”
“Well, hold onto those margins dearly, Six Whiskers, because I have an odd feeling that these predators will find a way to cut that down even more.”
“An odd feeling, Ten Whiskers?”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t get it.”
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ZNS 1233, GRANTOR-3 (1,200 KM)
POV: Sprabr, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Eleven Whiskers)
“Eleven Whiskers Sprabr, the nine whiskers’ trail ended in a loop. We found one of the underground dens used by the infiltrators on Grantor, but they’ve already abandoned it. The explosive traps they left took out one of our squads. I take full responsibility for this failure to find her.”
“It’s not your fault, Seven Whiskers. Nor the search team’s. The full responsibility is on the base’s perimeter and internal security for allowing the infiltration in the first place,” Sprabr gritted his buck teeth in frustration. “Their failure may have been far greater than I initially assigned to them. Their full responsibility has already been reported to State Security.”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers. Thank you.”
“When they left the den, Nine Whiskers Srutnu was still alive?”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers. Most likely. Our searchers detected traces of her blood at the den, but there was also medicine — our medicine, a captured supply. We believe they intend to keep her alive.”
“Very unfortunate,” Sprabr sighed. “I am still struggling to understand how they knew to kidnap her. We did everything else right: going around systems with their spy drones, never discussing our plans except in person, even our supply fleet was drawn from a far sector… Only a few dozen or so key commanders were told the full picture, and they went ahead and got one of them— Was it really just dumb luck?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
His computer officer had no answer.
He continued his musing. “Perhaps the nine whiskers will not break under questioning. After all, she is a loyal Servant of the Prophecy. But… these Great Predators have their ways. Somehow, they got Zero Whiskers Ditvish in the first place…”
The computer officer looked down to the floor at the mention of the traitor’s name. She knew her commander Sprabr was close to Ditvish, which was non-regulation but not criminally so… However, excommunicated apostates to the Prophecy should never be rehabilitated! She comforted herself knowing that it was unlikely that State Security would go after Sprabr — not until the end of this war anyway.
She noticed a notification on her console. “Ah, Eleven Whiskers, another relay ship has reported in from the Gruccud front.”
“What is it?”
“There has been a shift in plans. The predators have deployed a new volume denial weapon. Ten Whiskers Stsinkt has decided not to take Gruccud because it would be too costly. Instead, they plan to go straight for the enemy’s home nest. She takes full responsibility for her failure to quickly take Gruccud. Five of her squadron leaders were also implicated—”
Sprabr nodded reluctantly, going over the details on his console. “Perhaps she should have kept her heavy fuel ships out of the system before the fight… but they’ll need to get through there sooner or later anyway. Bah! There is no point second-guessing now. Would she need the assistance of the secondary fleet?”
“No, Eleven Whiskers. She specifically mentions that they should still have more than quadruple the ships they need to cleanse the enemy nest.”
“Good. As long as that objective is achieved, all else is secondary. Seven Whiskers, here is an exercise for you: come up with a good plan for our secondary fleet to break through Gruccud.”
“Eleven Whiskers?” she looked at him quizzically.
“Consult the combat computer if necessary. Use the Grand Prophecy Fleet’s updated projections of the density and range of these new weapons. I want a separate backup plan in case we need to break through Gruccud ourselves.”
“Don’t we outnumber the Lesser Predators in Gruccud by multiple times, Eleven Whiskers?”
“We do, but if they call on us to break through, we would need as many ships as possible remaining to assist the Grand Fleet, would we not? We need a good plan, not just rush in and trade blows one for one with the Lesser Predators,” Sprabr reminded his computer officer.
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers. I will consult the Digital Guide and come up with a suitable plan.”
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MNS COPPROE, GRUCCUD-4 (3,200 KM)
POV: Speunirtio, Malgeir Federation Navy (Rank: Gamma Leader)
Captain Speunirtio smiled and sat back as the crew cheered at the imagery flowing in of the destruction of not one, not two, not three, but four massive Znosian battleships in under a minute. Then… the images turned into ones of the destruction of enemy fuel ships, strategic targets designated by the high fleet commander, no doubt. The enemy had suffered their hardest blow since the Gruccud liberation campaign. His crew deserved this moment of celebration.
His executive officer, Plecta, watched on the side as well. He gave her a nod, which she returned before returning to focus on her consoles.
She sat up in her chair, querying the consoles. Then, she shouted into the bridge, “Alright, that’s enough. Quiet down. Quiet down.”
“What’s going on, XO?” Speunirtio asked as the cheers slowly subsided.
“We’ve got an incoming transmission… it’s from the high fleet commander herself,” she half-whispered to him.
Speunirtio sat up himself, accepting the call onto the main screen on his console. The entire bridge crew went respectfully silent as the call connected.
He could see the mild fatigue in High Fleet Commander Grionc’s image. It mirrored his own expression. “Captain Speunirtio and the Copproe, first I want to congratulate you all on your successful reconnaissance mission. The early warning sensors data you gathered for the fleet were vital for our strategic planning. Your contributions are directly linked to the successful destruction of Grass Eater battleships, logistics, and more to come. Your improvisations and calculated risk-taking paid off, and… if I survive this battle, I will personally see to it that you are all appropriately rewarded for your efforts.”
Speunirtio bowed his head. “Thank you, High Fleet Commander. We did our jobs.”
“I have more news. As you know, the enemy has taken to sporadically opening their FTL jamming net for short windows to communicate with each other. We have been exploiting these openings and getting information through as well. I know the captain and XO of the Copproe were briefed on these Federation secrets, and some of you may have suspected this as well, but I have now been authorized to reveal it to everyone under my command: for the last few years, we — top commanders in Sixth Fleet — have been working with a friendly alien civilization called the Terran Republic to fend off the Grass Eater threat.”
There were no gasps on the bridge. No one looked shocked. Speunirtio noted that some officers did breathe a sigh of relief, presumably because they now no longer needed to pretend to be ignorant of what everyone already knew.
“The Terrans have provided us with technical assistance, training, reconnaissance, and occasionally even participate in direct combat. As agreed upon, the original condition for this assistance was secrecy, because they did not want to come under direct threat from the enemy themselves. However, the Terran ambassador in Malgeirgam has just informed the Federation High Council that this condition is no longer in effect. They have determined that the Grass Eaters have uncovered their home system, and what was secret no longer is. This invasion fleet we are fighting — they believe that it will be directed towards their home planet. They believe the Grass Eaters intend to bypass our territory to totally destroy their home system.”
Now, there were gasps. Speunirtio stared at the screen in disbelief. It quickly turned into anger.
Grionc continued, “That cannot be allowed to happen. We will not allow that to happen. The Terrans have assisted in our liberation of Datsot and Gruccud, and their future assistance is necessary for the liberation of all Federation and Alliance territories. And they are our allies. They cannot fall. Sixth Fleet will do everything it can do, to the last spacer and Marine if necessary. Is what I am saying clear?”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander!”
“Good, Captain Speunirtio. What is the status of the Copproe?”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander. We are combat ready and ready for tasking.”
“Excellent. How are your blink fuel tanks?”
“We are at—” he hurriedly checked his consoles. Plecta flashed two numbers at him with her claws. “We are at eighty-five percent.”
Grionc peered at him. “Are you sure?”
Speunirtio stared unblinkingly at the screen for a couple seconds, his growing sense of duty conflicting with his upbringing in a culture where errors were misplaced and weakness hidden.
In the spirit of transparency, he relented, “It is… closer to seventy.”
“Not enough,” Grionc said, shaking her ears. “Link up with the closest ship to you and refuel until you are full. Not a drop less, and if they ask you for payment, send me their names.”
Blink fuel was not liquid, nor measured in drops, but he declined to correct his superior. “Yes, High Fleet Commander.”
Speunirtio then turned to Plecta, who nodded and ordered the ship to intercept the closest ship, a missile destroyer from Squadron 3.
He turned back to the screen. “What is to be our mission?”
“Reconnaissance. The enemy fleet is about to blink out of here towards the direction of Datsot. You are our fastest ship. Tail them as far as you can without being destroyed. There is just one thing you care about: the position and vector of the enemy fleet every time it blinks. When you get that data, immediately find a way to transmit it through your FTL radio.”
Speunirtio absorbed the order for a moment. “High Fleet Commander, we will likely be jammed, and as we saw before, they can cut off our communications—”
“Correct. Your transmitter is nowhere as powerful as the Oengro’s. You will not be able to be heard under jamming, not even by the Terrans. However, there are three things you can do. One, the enemy is opening holes in the jammer net. You can wait and rely on your thinking machine advisor to send out your messages when they do. That is your first option. Two, you have anti-radiation missiles that target FTL jammers on board. You can destroy the jamming ship. The Terrans caution us that they likely have many of these jammer ships they can bring up when they need to, so you should time your message-sending to the destruction of the enemy jammer. Again, your onboard advisor can help you with that. Three, you can blink away from the enemy jamming radius. It is about half a light year in diameter. All of these options have advantages and drawbacks. I trust you to pick the right ones at the right time.”
Speunirtio thought about the parameters for a minute. “Understood, High Fleet Commander.”
Grionc looked back up, addressing the remainder of the crew. “The Grass Eaters— they think they’ve already won. We intercepted one of their messages earlier today between two squadron leaders. This is what they said: The Lesser Predators are irrelevant. Once we stomp out the Great Predator Nest, the rest of their civilizations are like a rotting den: a swift kick through the front entrance, and the whole tunnel system will cave in.”
The bridge of the Copproe growled low at the insult.
“Let’s show the Grass Eaters how wrong they are. Copproe, the Terrans need that data to set up ambushes and intercept the Znosian fleet. They specifically asked for you. For your ship.”
Humbled, Speunirtio bowed his head again. “You can tell them we won’t let them down.”
“You can tell them that yourself. From now on, your orders will come directly from them. Make us proud, and good hunting, Copproe.”