“It’s not a duty to the dead. It’s a duty to the living.”
“I see.” Much like he was wont to do, he tried to see if he could make sense of it... and failed. When all was said and done, if he was any amount of dead, he was too dead to take note of the people remembering him. They can treat me any way they like, Jint thought to himself.
As they wove their way between the various ships revolving in orbit around Aptic III, they sighted the Basrogrh. Following the guidance of Sobash, who was still aboard, Lafier piloted the smallcraft back into the assault ship.
On the way to his personal quarters, he encountered Samson. “Heya. How was the meal out?”
“The food was all right,” said Jint, deliberately veering from what he didn’t feel like talking about. “It’s just so bland-tasting.”
“Too true, kid. Abh food’s not only bland, it’s also monotonous.”
“Monotonous?” Jint blinked.
Abh cuisine had its faults, but it was just as varied as any other. In fact, the food on his home planet of Martin was more monotonous. For one, they’d given him white-fleshed fish to eat nigh on every day when he was a child. The fish was grown in cultures, too, and invariably paired with potatoes.
“Yeah, monotonous. They rule the galaxy, but you wouldn’t guess it from their food,” said Samson. “I’m no chef, but I can make a thousand, maybe two thousand dishes off the top of my head. Everybody on my planet can. Granted, there are a lot of ingredients that can’t be found elsewhere.”
“Question,” said Jint. “Which do you like better, cats or dogs?”
“I love both, but if I was forced to choose, I’d have to go with cats.”
Jint mustered his courage. “Is that your planet’s unusual diet? Cats?”
“Cats are just a small part of a larger whole,” he smirked meaningfully, before slapping Jint on the back.
“There’s nothing to worry about; you won’t ever find me famished enough to lay a hand on my friends’ pets. Your cat’s safe. From me, anyway. That said, don’t let it enter the bridge too often. There’s too much delicate machinery it could ruin. So if your little kitty cat sheds some fur on my gizmos, and they start going on the fritz, I might just get a hankering for a nice plate of lutimond.”
“‘Lutimond’?” Apart from the name of a recipe, he couldn’t guess what else that word might mean.
“It’s a stew that makes use of the meat of a certain animal. Haven’t had any in twenty whole years.”
“Twelve sub-fleets, huh...” muttered Neleth as he scanned the ship formation diagram. Seven assault sub-fleets, two recon sub-fleets, two supply sub-fleets, and one strike sub-fleet: the forces that comprised the Raicporiac Apticer (Aptic Defensive Fleet) under his command.
“That’s just the right number, Neleth,” said Nefeh. “Look.”
The two were on the Commander’s Bridge of the Scacaü, which was currently sailing through planar space toward the Aptic Portal. As Chief of Staff, Nefeh had taken responsibility for on-duty staff officers, so it was only the Biboth brothers.
Another table rose up next to the ship formation diagram currently hovering at the center of the bridge. Two polygonal lines were intersecting.
“More than twelve sub-fleets, and the pre-stocked supplies won’t suffice to cover all ships, which in turn limits their options. Besides, we can’t afford to let them deploy in large numbers anyway,” said Nefeh.
“That’s only if we stick to the portal to hold it down, isn’t it?”
“Is that not your plan?”
“No, it is,” Neleth unwittingly admitted. “Still, I hate it when you assume what moves I’ll make.”
“Let’s go over the potential strategy of engaging them in planar space, then. We’d be contending with at least fifteen sub-fleets’ worth of enemy ships. Without much hope of enough reinforcements to be able to hold out, either, Neleth.”
“I know.”
“If you know, then...”
“I’m telling you, I know, Nefeh.”
“I’m used to it so I don’t mind, but that attitude is unbecoming, Neleth.”
“Oh, you’re the only one I take this attitude with, Nefeh.”
“Should I take it as a mark of honor?”
“Maybe.”
Nefeh shook his head, as if to say good grief, before a transmission from the ship commander came in from within the ship, informing them they’d soon be passing through the Aptic Portal.
“Pull up video of the outside, Nefeh.”
“You can do that yourself. It takes nothing.”
“Rank is absolute in the world of the military.”
“I know, Neleth.” Nefeh moved his arm a tiny amount, and the walls and ceiling of the bridge became see-through. More accurately, they were displaying live video of the outside, making it seem as though they’d turned transparent.
The “skies” were an ashen grey: the color of the inner surface of the space-time bubble they were using to locomote through planar space.
“Attention, all hands. E-minus one minute until we pass through Aptic Portal.”
At last, it came time for the countdown. “...Five, four, three, two, one, passing through.”
The grey dispelled, and they were greeted once again by the shining array of the stars which shrouded the heavens. In front lay the planet of Aptic III. Behind it, the sun of Aptic could be seen, albeit barely, as it radiated its vivid rays of light. Also visible were the near countless Star Forces ships making circuits around the planet.
“Look, there’s our battlefield,” said Nefeh, in enraptured tones.
“A battle in 3-space, huh... Even after obtaining the power to dart around a different dimension? Talk about backsliding.”
“What are you talking about, Neleth? It’s during battles in 3-space that we, the Kin of the Stars, can exhibit our true mettle. And think of the size of the battlefield, the canvas. Don’t you think there’s artistry to be had here?”
“Weren’t you the one who said victory is everything?” teased Neleth.
“Yes, but if it happens to be artistic in the end, then who’s to complain? Just don’t make it your objective, my beloved brother. Unlike you, I am a man of good sense.”
“If you’re a man of good sense, then I don’t want anything to do with ‘good sense’ for the rest of my days, Nefeh.”
Chapter 6: The Goïc Raïchacarr (Eve of the Showdown)
The principal force of the Phantom Flame Fleet was in the process of amassing in the Darmap Star System. From here, it was possible to flexibly respond to an enemy incursion into either Miskehrr or Aptic.
“Has the main force of the enemy entered Wimber?” said Dusanh, gazing at the planar space map on the Commander’s Bridge of the top flagship, the Sancaü. Having just awoken, the man was still drowsy.
Wimber had been under Star Forces occupation, but owing to the enemy’s full-fledged counterattack, they had their forces retreat. As such, the enemy had recaptured the area bloodlessly. And because they knew it would happen, Command was hardly shocked by the news.
“That they’ve come to Wimber means they have their eyes on Aptic.” Dusanh turned to face the Chief of Staff while stifling a yawn.
“Most likely,” said Kenesh.
“How goes the concentration of ships?”
At Dusanh’s query, symbols denoting sub-fleets appeared on the planar space map.
“Mostly smoothly. Some sub-fleets are experiencing delays getting there, but nothing too unreasonable.” Groups of ships that were taking longer than scheduled were color-coded yellow. And just as she’d told him, there wasn’t much yellow to speak of.
“Then we don’t need to change the scheduled assembly time.” Dusanh looked down at the wristgear on his left wrist. “That’s 54 hours from now, I see.”
“Yes.”
“Now tell me, what of the enemy’s forces?”
The closer both sides of the war were drawing to each other, the more clearly the other side’s scop
e of power could be ascertained. Consequently, more detailed information must have trickled in while he was asleep.
“They have roughly 170 sub-fleets’ worth, with a margin of error of fifteen sub-fleets’ worth,” Kenesh replied promptly.
“That’s fewer than was estimated, if I recall,” he said.
“The ratio of patrol ships exceeded the values we predicted. That’s why.”
“Hum...” Dusanh stroked his pointy chin and fixed his eyes on the speculative formation diagram of the enemy fleet. He saw her point; the ratio of patrol ships was far larger than the standard. “Perhaps they’ve learned a thing or two from before.”
The Imperial Star Forces and the Three Nations Alliance had done battle three years prior. The Abh had fulfilled their objective of defending Lacmhacarh, and so it could be called a Star Forces victory, but in reality it was a draw that resulted in both sides retreating to lick their wounds. Following that, both sides poured their blood, sweat, and souls into reconstructing their respective fleets. And from the looks of things, the enemy may just have prioritized outfitting patrol ships.
“They may be thinking it more effective to put resources into making patrol ships that would otherwise be going toward scads of assault ships,” wondered the Chief of Staff aloud.
“That is the conclusion they may have drawn, yes. And all the many patrol ship devotees in our own ranks may be right to take heart.”
“And yet...” Kenesh paused to think. “The technology of war hasn’t evolved much over the past 200 years. So it’s not as though things have gotten less favorable for assault ships recently.”
“It’s also been two hundred years since the Empire last battled against a worthy adversary. Before now, the largest real war was the Shashyne Campaign. Even then, Shashyne’s heft as a nation was less than a fourth of the Empire’s. Moreover, their political power didn’t necessarily equate to military power, as they had a fatal weakness somewhere. This war is different, though. We’re not fighting a lesser power.”
“Are you saying the enemy learned a lesson from the previous battle that the Star Forces haven’t?”
“I can’t know for sure,” said Dusanh readily. “It’s not clear whether the enemy actually drew the correct conclusion, after all. But as one might conclude from when we intercepted their reconnaissance-in-force days ago, it might indeed be cruel of us to have assault ships face off against patrol ships. Against that many patrol ships, assault ships may well be useless.”
“If that’s the case, then the forces we’ve been given become inapplicable.”
“Yes,” Dusanh laughed lightly. “But let’s save the complaining for after we make it back to the imperial capital Lacmhacarh. For now, all we can do is try to manage with the forces we have.”
“But it’s uncertain whether victory is ours.”
“I’ve known that from the beginning. We’ll be needing Mr. Biboth and his men and women to do their very best.”
“Shall we send ships from Miskehrr?” advised Kenesh.
“We have made no call for reinforcements,” said Dusanh, waving his hand no. “As such, that won’t be necessary. There’s no guarantee the enemy won’t take us by surprise by invading Miskehrr instead. And even in the event that the main battlefield is Aptic as predicted, we can’t afford to leave Miskehrr too undefended. And most importantly, it’s too dangerous to haphazardly relocate troops at this late hour.”
“I understand all of that, but...” Kenesh persisted.
Dusanh smirked. “I suppose you’re less worried about ship relocation, and more about leaving things to Commodore Biboth? Allow me to say that while it’s true that clan is prone to becoming wrapped up in eccentric ideas, they are largely sound and reliable on the battlefield. Well, at least Mr. Neleth is. Besides, he has an outstanding Chief of Staff by his side.”
“That ‘outstanding Chief of Staff’ is another Biboth!”
“I see you truly have no faith in the Biboth clan,” said Dusanh, slightly nonplussed. “Could it be that some personal experience is what’s making you say so?”
“I plead my right to remain silent,” said Kenesh.
“I understand. However... Tell me, at least, that it wasn’t an experience with one or both of the Biboth twins?”
“I’m telling you I don’t wish to answer that question.”
“I see.” Dusanh blinked. “Then, which of them was it? The Commander-in-Chief, or the Chief of Staff?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t. Wish. To answer.”
“I see, I see.” Dusanh nodded emphatically. “Now then, I shall be in the living room. I have much to mull over. If something should happen, please summon me.”
“Your Highness,” said Kenesh, her tone exceedingly sharp. “What is it you need to ‘mull over’?”
“That, I will not say.”
And so Dusanh savored the taste of victory.
“There’s a shortage of propellant?” asked Neleth.
Upon learning that the enemy had advanced to Wimber, a command meeting was being held in the strategy room of the Glagac Raicporiar Apticer (Aptic Defensive Fleet Flagship), the Scacaü.
“Yes. The sufficiency rate is at 70%,” reported the casariac sobér (supply staff officer), “given that our fleet must do battle in 3-space.”
“Right, right.” Neleth leaned his upper body against the back of his seat.
Unlike with planar space navigation, dadhoth (3-space navigation) expended large amounts of propellant. And since water was used the most as propellant, it was water that they lacked. They had a supply chain of water from Aptic IV, but due to issues with carrying capacity, they hadn’t stockpiled enough of it. And that was the biggest problem gnawing at the Aptic Defensive Fleet. It was limiting what they could do strategically, and might even cause their defeat.
Neleth gave it some thought, and arrived at a conclusion he thought brilliant. “We have more water than we know what to do with!”
“Where?” Nefeh’s gaze was dubious, to say the least.
“There.” Neleth pointed toward Aptic III, which was being displayed on the walls of the strategy room, with his command baton.
“Tell me that isn’t a planet with great big gobs of the stuff! And we’ll pay proper attention to changes in the weather, too. Surely they won’t mind us pumping out a tad bit of their water. Let’s negotiate with the landworld administration this instant and—”
“We can’t,” Nefeh pointed out quietly.
“We can’t? We can’t what?” Neleth looked blankly.
“We can’t negotiate with the landworld administration, because the administration of the Aptic Star System hasn’t surrendered. It hasn’t become a ‘landworld administration’ yet; it’s still technically an enemy planet. Or at least, that’s what they’re claiming.”
“They haven’t surrendered?” Neleth stared unblinkingly at the footage of the blue orb. “They haven’t surrendered!?”
“That is correct,” said Nefeh, and the staff officers nodded in unison.
“Wasn’t expecting that...”
“I wasn’t expecting a Commander-in-Chief such as yourself to not know that, Neleth.”
“It’d never normally cross your mind, would it? That the landworld’s political situation would have any bearing on our battle? Wait... Then what are we even defending, exactly? We’re to defend an enemy planet from the enemy?”
“This is why they call you barmy, Neleth. We’re defending the Aptic Portal. Isn’t that obvious?”
“I suppose so.” Unfortunately, his brother’s opinion did contain a kernel of truth, and he was forced to admit it.
“In any case, pumping water out of that landworld would be tantamount to pillaging it.”
To the Abh, anything that was floating in space was theirs, no matter who constructed it. But on the other side of that coin, they recognized landworld resources as belonging to landworld peoples, and cared not for taking them by force.
“‘Pillaging,’ you say...” That
sounded like sweet music to his ears. “How many years has it been since the Star Forces engaged in any pillaging?”
“Do you intend to start pillaging the place, Neleth?” Nefeh frowned.
“I do. Don’t you think there’s artistry to be had there?”
“I don’t,” Nefeh answered instantly.
“Come on, Nefeh, our propellant shortage is a practical problem, and in order to win, we can’t be choosy about our methods.”
“You may be right about that,” said the Chief of Staff, who crossed his arms and sank into deep thought. “War is a duel, after all...”
“It is at that,” Neleth nodded vigorously. “Which is why we should be pillaging aplenty!”
“All right, if it’s necessary for victory, then let’s pillage their water,” Nefeh acceded at last.
That moment, somebody coughed. It was the starpilot in charge of resolving technical issues, the Casariac Sair (Engine Staff Officer).
“What?” said Neleth, thinking it noisome.
“How in heavens would we pull it off?” asked the officer.
“How, you say...” The Commander-in-Chief was at a loss for words; this was a sucker punch.
“Aptic III’s oceans lie at the bottom of a thick atmosphere and gravity well. Getting water pumped from there would be the height of inefficiency. It’d even be more efficient to have water supplied from our base regions through planar space.”
“But if we do that, we’ll be left with a shortage!” Neleth fired back.
“And the same would be true for taking it from that planet.”
“I agree,” said the Supply Staff Officer.
Abh ships weren’t made for atmosphere entry, with small-scale traffic ships and airship fleet lussomiac (amphibious assault ships) as the only real exceptions. Even then, water was bulky and unwieldy to transport, so there was a limit to how much could be carried by a transport ship, and there were no amphibious assault ships on Aptic. “If you order me to, we can compare the outcomes of sending for amphibious assault ships and of getting it supplied from home?” added the supply officer.
The Ties that Bind Page 10