“Yes, exactly. That’s what’s got my interest piqued.” On that note, Sporr went silent and stared at the map of planar space. The gears were working, underneath that marvelously artistic hairdo.
Cfadiss joined her in scanning the map. If they let a single solitary ship enter the portal, it would spell defeat. The standard tactic would be to extend the flanks and intercept, but the defensive battle formation that would allow them to do so was just too full of holes. It would get blown through without a sweat.
If, however, they could aim all of their attacks at the supply corps, the enemy would no longer be able to afford to focus on entering through the Lohbnahss Portal, and would instead come right at them, guns blazing.
What they needed was to make this a rough-and-tumble melee as far from the Lohbnahss Portal as they could manage. That was what they could hope for. They’d fulfill their objective with the fewest casualties on their end.
“The enemy vanguard has entered within range of the mobile space-time mines.”
But Sporr remained silent.
Do we try skirting around? pondered Cfadiss. They could circle around their left or their right and attack the troops at the rear... But Cfadiss soon reached a conclusion: No, that won’t do. After all, the enemy vanguard would just wedge themselves between in response, and the Abh forces hadn’t the maneuverability to evade that. And while the vanguard was thwarting them, the rear troops would swiftly make their way through the portal. If that happened, both sides would lose any reason to keep fighting, and the small ships still within the countdom would be easy pickings for the enemy.
“They’re not firing at us...” Sporr muttered to herself.
“The enemy probably can’t afford to waste their mines.”
They’d be able to resupply fuel and food in any old star system on the map, but the same didn’t hold true for weapons.
“I’ve made up my mind.”
“You have?”
“Squadrons 4 and 5 are to stay in their current positions and intercept the enemy there. They may not let a single ship pass through the portal. The rest will join me in breaking past the enemy vanguard to attack the rear troops.”
“Please, hold on!” shouted Cfadiss, horrified. “We’re already at a disadvantage! If we split out forces even more, it’ll be suicide! If we can’t break past them, we’ll get surrounded and wiped out in one fell swoop!”
“Let me tell you something, Chief of Staff — Artists from twenty-eight territory-nations are currently working together to construct the coffin of the Archduchess of Laitpanh. Once the coffin is complete, we plan to display it in a grand and magnificent feast in the star-fief. That’s our family tradition.”
That’s a questionable tradition, he thought, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.
“What does your coffin have to do with this, Commander!?”
“I can hold the feast in about twelve years. I will be inviting you, too.”
“It’s an honor, ma’am, and I thank you, but I can’t make plans twelve years in advance. Right now, I think we should focus on surviving—”
“Caü-class patrol ships are good ships. But at the end of the day, they’re still mass-produced products — not nearly beautiful enough to be my coffin. They’re positively sorry-looking. So don’t worry; we won’t get wiped out. I won’t let that happen. I’m confident we’ll succeed. All ships, make single-ship bubbles, and assume Cluster Formation 8!”
“Please, at least have them make half-squadron bubbles!” Cfadiss all but shrieked.
A half-squadron was three ships, and a single space-time bubble holding three ships was like an iron wall, capable of brushing aside most attacks. Naturally, they weren’t impregnable, but even if one ship within the bubble fell to pieces, they could still rescue its former passengers. In this situation, fighting in half-squadron bubbles was, by Cfadiss’s thinking, the minimum requirement if they wanted more ships than not surviving this.
“Overruled, Chief of Staff. There’s no time to explain. Just do as I say.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cfadiss nodded reluctantly. I’ve followed her orders up until now, and it’s always been the right choice, he consoled himself. Yet at the same time, all the disagreeable things that resulted from following her orders came flooding to mind.
Okay, sure, that was less than pleasant, but nobody died. And actually, when it comes to war tactics, Commodore Sporr has always been an outstanding commander, hasn’t she?
And yet... This scenario was a first for her. Commanding in such a disadvantageous position was a first for her. His misgivings refused to abate.
You know what? It’s fine, Cfadiss Üémh Ésepir Séspic. All humans will one day die. And if I die in battle on this day, then I won’t have to worry about how to turn down the invitation to the coffin feast. Thus did he force himself to accept.
Twenty-one patrol ships assumed a tight wedge formation. They would attempt to smash through the overwhelming enemy onslaught. In other words, they were getting up close and personal.
“Only the ships at the very front, unleash your mines,” ordered Sporr. “Target the lead ships.”
The eleven ships that made up the edge of the wedge fired their mines simultaneously. After traveling a negligible distance, they promptly fused with the space-time of the enemy ships. Some of the bubbles popped like fleeting dreams.
Despite that, the enemy did not fire back. They probably didn’t think mines were necessary against such a feeble resistance.
The tip of the wedge formation was near to making contact with the sturdy wall that was the enemy, when the enemy rear made their move — they were in the process of splitting into two (left and right) contingents.
“Release the conveyance ships,” said Sporr. “Have 4 and 5 shoot the right rear flank. We will assume half-squadron bubbles. Hurry.”
The twenty-one bubbles combined into seven.
“Change course. The target is the left rear flank. Cut across the enemy ships now!”
Cfadiss was now beyond surprise. Among the other orders she’d laid down during this battle, this fell under the heading of valid and proper.
The second they changed course, the nearby enemy corps came attacking like a raging avalanche.
“Launch mines in all directions!” As per her command, the ten ships that hadn’t fired their mines earlier shot them now. Yet the enemy showed no sign of flinching. They slipped into the post maintained by the trio of three patrol ships.
“The Lymbiruch has taken heavy damage! It has lost any and all ability to engage; they request permission to abandon ship.”
“Granted,” Sporr nodded, her crimson eyes pointed at Cfadiss. “Chief of Staff, you do know your job, I trust.”
“Yes,” he said, blinking. He didn’t know about other command centers, but in this one, the tasks on the plate of the Chief of Staff were without exception mentally taxing.
“If I must guess... we are to reorganize the ships’ formations and bubbles on the fly, such that they are always half-squadron bubbles.”
“Exactly. Now get to it, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The Raumcaü has exploded!” While they were briefly exchanging words, more bad news.
Cfadiss devoted himself to his mission without delay. He was grateful to have something to focus on, but soon he realized what a rocky task it was. They were surrounded on all sides, and some enemy ships were even inside allied bubbles. If, in the process of making three-ship bubbles, some ships ended up in single-ship bubbles, they’d get ganged up on. On the other hand, if too many ships gathered inside a single bubble, it would exceed the mass limit allowed by planar space, leading to uncontrolled space-time splitting.
“The bridge of the Slyzbiruch has been destroyed, and they’ve lost space-time bubble generation capabilities. All starpilots, including the commander, likely dead. Ah, it exploded!”
“The Bhzaitcaü has lost propulsion capabilities.”
“The on
ly intact ship of Squadron 2 Platoon 1 is the Sumbiruch. They are urgently seeking to join another corps.”
One after the other, they were pelted by tragic news. Meanwhile, a dense, hot clump of gas shook the flagship Lachcaü. Something must have exploded nearby.
Please be an enemy ship, Cfadiss hoped.
“It’s the Clecucaü!”
Upon hearing the name, Cfadiss cast his eyes down. One of the two ships under the flagship’s direct command, gone.
“Have the Sumbiruch join the command center bubble,” ordered Cfadiss.
As yet, they had only reached the halfway point. The enemy was building an ever-thicker stronghold at the front, while groups of bubbles thought to be supply ship corps were moving at high speed toward the Lohbnahss Portal, with the long-stretching lines of the rear units as proof. They were stampeding toward the portal in order of arrival, starting with the head of the line.
“Oh no, the Sumbiruch has exploded!”
“Have the ships on Lohbnahss still not escaped?” screamed Cfadiss, succumbing to sheer frustration.
“Don’t raise a fuss on my bridge, Chief of Staff,” chided Sporr. “That’s what everyone is waiting for, so that news will be the first to come.”
“Right, of course.” Cfadiss bit his lip.
“The enemy bubbles have begun disintegrating!”
At least one or two enemy ships were coming to the end of their ropes energy-wise, their space-time bubbles dissipating as the laws of nature demanded. Cfadiss hoped the other enemy bubbles would follow suit in short order, but the UH command center was not so incompetent. They must have been paying attention to which ships were low on fuel. There was no string of dissipating bubbles to be seen. The bubbles that did fade away must have had unfortunate circumstances of their own.
While Cfadiss was embracing convenient pipe dreams, the enemy continued their merciless assault. The Commander’s Bridge rumbled; it was finally the Lachcaü’s turn to take some hits.
“For a ship with the golden crow flag to take damage... what humiliation...” said Sporr, chagrined to her core.
Cfadiss looked at the map of planar space. The detached contingent was doing its job admirably. The enemy right rear flank must not have much of any presence of defense ships to speak of. A small number of patrol ships were chasing down the bubble flock. However, things looked bleak indeed for the main contingent. Only six ships remained, and not one of them was undamaged. If they were to surrender here and now, it would already break records for crushing defeats.
“Now’s the time,” murmured Sporr. “Pressing our luck any more really would be suicide. We’re retreating!”
Retreating? But how? Cfadiss despaired as he kept his eyes on the map. The other contingent was doing fine, but they had found themselves besieged closely. No matter what direction they fled, they’d have to open a path first, and each of the ship’s battle capabilities had tanked massively to boot.
“It’s okay, Chief of Staff. This whole fight is futile. At least, it is to us, since we weren’t able to buy enough time for supply ships on Lohbnahss to escape.” Sporr frowned ruefully. “But the moment we begin retreating, it will clearly be a pointless fight in the enemy’s eyes, too. They won’t give chase, not unless they’re idiots, and I don’t think they are.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, though he was a little skeptical.
“Change course! We’re headed toward the center of the Milky Way Portal-Belts!” she ordered. “Retreat is fair play.”
“How do we tell the detached contingent?”
“Don’t bother. They’ll come following,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Roger that.”
The main contingent (if a mere two bubbles could be called that) shifted direction. Cfadiss fixed his eyes on the map, his dread redoubled. The concentration of enemy ships right in front of them was growing thicker.
“The enemy are idiots!” Cfadiss yelped despite himself.
“Maybe they resent us,” said Sporr, cocking her head in puzzlement. “Well, just break through!”
“The Doübiruch has exploded!” The Communications Officer reported the death of one of their six precious remnants.
“Dammit, did I, of all people, choose the wrong time to call it quits?” Sporr bit the joint of her pinky.
“Enemy ships are entering the Lohbnahss Portal.”
But Cfadiss couldn’t bring himself to care about that anymore.
“The detached contingent is headed towards us.”
“Maybe they’re aiming to open up a path for us,” said Cfadiss.
“So it seems.” Sporr clasped her fingers together and hung her head.
Could it be? Is she expressing gratitude? Cfadiss wondered.
The Lohbnahss Portal was roiling, with countless ripples appearing over its phosphorescent surface. At the center of the ripples, a spaceship’s nose.
“Enemy fleet is entering 3-space!”
“Have we run out of time?” Unit Commander Gabautec bit his lip.
Lafier grasped her command baton with both hands and glared at the screen. Until they passed through that portal, she was in command.
“What do we do?” asked the Unit Commander.
“What other choice do we have, apart from proceeding? All ships, generate space-time bubbles!”
Every one of the ships (“every one” being two amphibious ships and one assault ship) did as ordered, activating their space-time bubble generators. They were already cruising at the maximum speed of an amphibious ship. The Basrogrh was flying alongside them, at speeds relatively slow for an assault ship. The three Abh vessels and the vanguard of the enemy fleet were rapidly drawing closer.
“They won’t attack, will they?” Unit Commander Gabautec’s voice was as parched as a desert from the stress.
The moment anyone crossed through a portal, there was no telling where they’d appear. If they were crossing into 3-space, they would appear at some point on the surface of the gaseous orb, but they couldn’t know in advance where that would be. Consequently, a ship usually had to exercise caution when passing through a portal, especially when there were enemies on the other side. Otherwise, their formations and chain of command would turn anarchic, leaving open a window for their enemies to crush them while they were left reeling without shepherds.
Yet from what they could see, the enemy fleet had not prepared very meticulously for the crossing. This could be a stroke of good luck. They had no orders for how to deal with the enemy before their eyes.
At last, the sphere’s faintly shining skin was full of ships. There was nothing but enemy ships all around it. Perfect. Lafier knew they were safe then. If the enemy attacked now, they’d not be able to avoid friendly fire.
“Passing through the Lohbnahss Portal!”
At that moment, elation washed over the bridge.
“Quiet!” said the Unit Commander, bidding the command center personnel not to let their guards down. “This is where things get dicey.”
The enemy ships that had passed through the portal had lost their bearing temporarily, yes, but chances were high that over on the planar space side, their command line remained rigorous.
“I agree,” said Lafier, offering her command baton. A lady separated from her territory-nation was powerless. At the moment, she was a mere Deca-Commander.
“Now then, I hope you don’t mind if I take command,” said Gabautec, as respectful as ever, as he took the baton in hand.
The Royal Princess, divested of her baton, looked at the planar space map as a humble passenger. The Lohbnahss Portal looked like a gently distorted spiral on the planar space side, with a proverbial galaxy of flocks of space-time bubbles surrounding it in a whirl. They were almost all — no, they were all enemy ships, each and every one.
“Single-ship bubbles, at maximum battle speed. Break free from the bowels of the enemy, and do not let them fuse with our space-times!” Commander Gabautec ordered hoarsely. “Where are the remaining three shi
ps?”
“We can’t tell yet,” said the Communications Officer. “Should we signal to assemble?”
“It’s too early for that. It’d have no effect,” he said, shaking his head. “In fact, it’d only serve to attract the enemy’s attention.”
The enemy bubbles made no sign of coming to attack them. Not yet, anyway.
He never returned, in the end, thought Aicryac Üémh Tlyzr Naurh, lost in her reverie. Quartermaster Rearguard Starpilot Lynn was the first Lander she’d ever had a conversation with. The Ecryua clan had been a poor soldier clan for generations (for whatever reason, she’d never heard of a single ancestor of theirs who had succeeded in trade). Without any servant vassals, and with people without froch spatiosensory organs unable to attend the starpilot academy that she did...
...In any case, she didn’t like cats. That was because cats aged. They didn’t change that much in appearance, but before she knew it, they would become reluctant to play with her. She’d downplay it — the cat just wasn’t in the mood. But the number of times they would play together would decrease over time. And then, one day, even if the cat came to her to play, she’d realize: this cat is old.
Back before she’d enrolled in the academy, she’d once discovered a cat who seldom felt like playing with her deceased by her bedside. There were many cats in her household, but that was the only one she’d regarded as hers. While stroking its cold fur, she resolved never to raise a cat again.
The way the Abh grew old was much different. Even as the end of one’s lifespan approached, the only thing that would change was that they’d sleep for longer at night.
Ecryua had once bidden her great-great-great-grandfather farewell. He’d still looked young, but his waking hours grew shorter and shorter as sleep overtook his life. When he was awake, he was as active as ever. In the Ecryua clan, it was a matter of etiquette paid toward the dying to spend some time playing with them. Her great-great-great-grandfather liked bairhoth (microgravity games). They were easy to learn but hard to master, and they were traditional sport among the Abh. His opponents were children, his descendants, and Ecryua herself was one of them. She’d been fifteen at the time. As children, their experience levels paled in comparison, and their physical strength was still inferior to his. Some of the male children picked up wins against him here and there, but she couldn’t rack a single victory in her corner until the very end.
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