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Grass Eaters 2 | 45 | Eyes Open I
🕑 Added 2024-08-28 16:47:01 +0000 UTCNaval Station Europa, Europa (100 km)
POV: Amelia Waters, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Admiral)
A few decades ago, Europa was one of the most popular destinations outside the asteroid belt. Its xenobiology research facilities were the most prestigious in the Republic. Its scientists fawned over the strains of alien microbes and signs of life below its frozen ocean surface. Then came the discovery of sapient aliens: the Malgeir; most of the xenobiologists found themselves a more interesting subject of study and left.
Its colonies had easy access to water. But as Ganymede and Titan’s subsurface ocean mines developed and water became affordable all throughout the system, Europa’s civilian colonists abandoned the moon for slightly greener pastures.
It seems like the only suckers who stuck around, Amelia thought, was the Navy.
Europa now boasted the largest Republic Navy base between Charon and the asteroid belt. It was far away enough from the influence of the Red Zone to be relatively safe for the Navy there, and depending on the orbital position of the planets, it was often close enough that it could facilitate operations.
In the future, with those new Iris engines coming out of Ceres, we’ll probably tow the moon around like a massive mobile base. Like a Death Star. How cool would that be?
The prize hulls of over two hundred captured Znosian ships hung above the icy world. Their systems had been thoroughly demilitarized, defanged. Their hundred thousand former crew were now prisoners of war, living in pressurized underground caves and former colonies on the hostile planet.
But that was not why Amelia was here, watching over the moon from its orbit next to a docking bay.
She felt a smile creep onto her face as the airlock opened to reveal a brown-haired woman in her mid-forties, wearing an expensively tailored EVA suit.
“Martina!”
“Amelia! Good to see you here. You haven’t aged a day since the last time we met.”
Amelia resisted the urge to preen. “We Ganymedeans are a tough bunch.”
Martina chuckled lightly. “How’s the war going?”
“Which one?”
“Whichever one pays me more, of course,” Martina smirked.
Amelia burst out into laughter. “You shameless Martian degenerate! That would be the Red Zone campaign… for now. And what is with that ugly box you flew in from?” She pointed at the orange-painted assault shuttle docked to the orbital station.
“Actually, that’s the latest model of assault shuttles we’re building in cooperation with the Puppers over in Datsot. The color scheme is just… a little non-standard. Their procurement people like things a little flashy, a little tacky at the sales stage. The real one they’re going to receive delivery is Republic-black, of course. We call it the Next Generation Low Observable Assault Shuttles.”
Amelia whistled. “Jeez, did that new Pup shipyard company poach your entire branding department too?”
“No,” Martina’s eyes twinkled. “And we don’t need to brand. Their Defense Ministry is buying every single one the new Datsot shipyard can pump out for the next few decades. Why bother selling to the Republic when we don’t even use our Marines in our own backyard war anymore?”
“I see. Your company gets in bed with the cute furry aliens, and now you’ve forgotten where you come from,” Amelia joked.
“Hey, it’s nothing personal. We’re just doing it for the money.”
Amelia wiped a hand on her brow in mock relief. “Whew ok, that makes it all okay then.”
“And… we delivered a dozen of the planetary tugs you guys wanted last month free of charge. Who else gives the Navy free superweapons like we do?”
“The Iris engine shuttles are free because they’re barely tested experimental prototypes for evaluation use only. And I wonder if your people now going to work in Malgeir shipyards are going to reveal that particular secret to them.”
“Nah, they can’t have that one yet; Atlas put an export ban on it almost immediately, and our lawyers haven’t gotten around to it. And speaking of poaching, didn’t they offer top credit to draw some of your officers away too?”
Amelia nodded reluctantly. “We’ve got reservists doing advisory security work in the former occupied areas in the second-tier information quarantine. Datsot and Gruccud, mostly.”
“Better than being stuck on patrol in the Red Zone, no? And you can’t fault them for getting paid.”
“Yeah, not a bad gig,” Amelia admitted. “And that’s why I’m here checking in on you. The Navy gave your company a few billion credits for this project, and we’d like to see what you’ve got.”
“What we’ve got,” Martina said, pointing a finger out the window towards the surface of Europa, “is the largest computational infrastructure project in the history of the Republic.”
“I know what you sold the Senate, but seriously, we’re going to need results from Project Panoptes sooner or never,” Amelia insisted. “Do you know how many new destroyer squadrons we could have bought—”
“Soon? How about now?”
Amelia raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Now? You’re ready for a demonstration?”
“Sure. A preliminary one. We’re just working out a few resource allocation problems with it. It’s not a bomb or a ship. We can turn it on and off. You want to see it?” Martina asked, pulling out her tablet and clicking a few buttons on it. “Here you go: the Panoptes tablet.”
Amelia accepted the tablet cautiously. “What— how do I use it?”
“It’s all just software. Go on… ask it anything,” Martina encouraged.
“Panoptes,” Amelia hesitated before speaking into the tablet. “I need the locations of the most significant Resistance cells you can find.”
“Talk about cutting to the chase—”
Calculating…
She turned to Martina after a few seconds of waiting, “What’s going on? Did it crash? Is it supposed to be stuck on this screen like—”
The Raytech executive rolled her eyes. “Give it a few minutes, you impatient cynic. It’s going through every sensor and resource available to the entire Republic, all their recorded history, every incident report ever written, and deciphering the experience of billions of people, sensors, and computers just to answer one idle curiosity from you.”
Amelia sputtered, “Idle curiosity—”
Martina pointed at the surface of the moon out the window again. “When it’s on, its intelligence links up to every machine we have access to in the system, on multiple planets, moons, and even some stations. When operating at full capacity, our facility on Europa actually uses so much cooling that it begins to slowly melt the surface ice where it is.”
“Woah, melt the surface ice on Europa?” Amelia asked innocently. “Are you going to run out?”
“Are we going to run out of— ah, I see. You jest, Amelia, but some of the people I explain these things to do really ask questions like that seriously.”
“Unlike my job in the Navy, where I only deal with competent people, every one of whom deserves to be exactly where they are.”
“Ah… I know that look. You just came out of a Senate briefing, didn’t you?”
After a couple minutes, the tablet finally beeped to indicate its completion.
List of several previously unknown Resistance cell locations found and compiled.
“Woah, it actually worked,” Martina said, half in a mocking tone, and half probably in surprise that the machine didn’t crash on her during the demonstration.
“Well, maybe. Panoptes: on that list, do you have any idea where the wanted fugitive known as the Ace of Clubs is?”
Affirmative. We have located her cell above 99% confidence to six-nines, based on a deep analysis of concealed traffic patterns, sensor recordings, and communication intercepts et cetera going back fifty years.
“Wait, really? Where?” Amelia asked with growing excitement.
She is on Titan.
“My Pupper Marines could have told you that. Where on Titan?”
That information is only available with the purchase of a 19,999,999 credit Premium Answers package.
Amelia looked up at Martina and swore, “You’re fucking kidding me. You guys gave this thing the sense of humor from your stupid eye implants?”
Yes, they did. The “Ace of Clubs” is hiding beneath the surface of Titan at the former unregistered ice mine known as Lima Mine in the northwestern hemisphere. My offensive assets have hacked into several of their emergency EVA suits. Based on the high-fidelity audio and echo analysis, she is currently likely sitting in her office at her chair. Would you like an exact Titan coordinate for an underground missile strike? Based on the depth and last known structure of the base, I would recommend a kinetic bunker buster from Fire Support Squadron 4 in orbit at—
Amelia brought up her own tablet. “Hold onto that list for a sec, thermostat. I need to make a call.”
I have connected your call to your analyst, Commander Samantha Lee, at Atlas Naval Command.
You’re welcome, Admiral. Have a good day.
Martina smirked at her. “As I’ve said, at Raytech, customer satisfaction is one of our core values. Right next to safety, quality, and making lots of money.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
MNS Copproe, Criorbaungre (20,000 Ls)
POV: Speunirtio, Malgeir Federation Navy (Rank: Gamma Leader)
“We’re out of blink and clear of FTL jamming!” Plecta announced to the bridge. “We just got a response from Gruccud!”
“Immediately transmit all we have to them, starting with the latest and most urgent packet!” Speunirtio ordered.
It only took a few seconds for the data to transfer. The response from Gruccud was immediate.
The face of the High Fleet Commander herself appeared on the main screen. “Captain Speunirtio, confirm your confidence in the latest assessment.”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander. The onboard software of our reconnaissance drone crashed before it could finish identifying all the enemies. By our manual count, it’s over a thousand. Our… onboard advisor came to an independent and similar conclusion as well.”
Grionc’s voice was quiet. “A thousand enemy space combat ships.”
“Yes. The drone only saw nine hundred, but we suspect more were occluded by the enemy planet. Possibly many more.”
“I see,” the High Fleet Commander said after a while. “I want you to go back into the Quistqueu system and get a better picture.”
“Go back, High Fleet Commander?” Speunirtio could barely believe his ears. “Many of them started burning toward us as we left the system.”
Grionc hesitated on the screen, but she nodded after a second. “Yes, Captain. We need to understand their full strength to formulate an accurate battle plan. We’ve calculated a course that should get you in and out of—”
Her video and voice cut out.
Speunirtio looked at Plecta. “What’s going on?”
“Captain, blink emergence behind us!”
Speunirtio blinked in surprise. “How many?”
“Hundreds. More still blinking in and resolving!”
“Hundreds?”
“Our radar computer is straining under load. I think it’s going to crash, Captain!”
“Offload the sensor resolution work to our advisor,” he ordered. “Are these ships jamming us? Is that why we lost the fleet commander?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Thinking machine, I want you to analyze the ships chasing us immediately.”
The computer came back almost immediately with the result this time. Apparently it was faster at counting than planning. That was good to know.
Enemy ships tallied. Data packet prepared. Be advised, it is unlikely that these ships are only chasing us.
“Unlikely to be chasing us?” Speunirtio repeated. “Oh crap! They don’t need hundreds of ships to catch us. This is it! They’re not chasing us. They’re coming with us… to attack Gruccud!”
Enemy ship count, preliminary: 2,184 Forager-class missile destroyers, 32 Thumper-class battlecruisers, 4 Thorn-class Battleships, and enough support and transport ships to invade the entire Federation twice.
New recommendation: prioritize re-establishing communications with Gruccud. (Critical.)
“Executive officer, tell the batteries to ready those LARMs!”
“They’re ready, Captain.”
“Thinking machine, are those in effective range of the enemy?”
Calculating…
Affirmative. The enemy is chasing in a more-or-less straight-line course. If launched now, your special package should be able to reach them with a long initial ballistic course. Fire plan calculated.
“Launch ballistic.”
“Firing.”
Four anti-radiation missiles released from the external pylons of the Copproe, floating off into the vacuum. They didn’t light off their engines, instead waiting quietly for the enemies to close.
An hour later, they detected an enemy radiation source, matching its signature heuristic module, finally entering its effective range. A single inconspicuous Znosian missile destroyer mounting an internal FTL jamming device, hidden among a squadron of identical-looking missile destroyers. But the sensor packages mounted on the missiles’ noses didn’t discriminate by appearances. They didn’t stop to ask the Znosian fleet which of its ships contained the secret cargo.
No, the loud noise of the FTL jammer was broadcast for everyone listening to hear, half a light year in every direction.
The missiles had no trouble understanding their purpose. They waited another forty minutes, mildly confused why the enemy fleet was still continuing on a predictable, straight-line course towards them. And when they finally could wait no longer, they burnt their engines, and their noses homed in on the ship carrying the enemy FTL jammer.
These missiles were designed with large payloads to kill surface targets in atmosphere, large facilities made of layered concrete and steel that may even be burrowed underground.
One would have been overkill.
“We have confirmation of detonation from the missile, Captain! And we just got a response from Gruccud again!” Plecta announced.
“Transmit the data packet now!”
“Done.”
Grionc’s face appeared on the main screen again. “Good work, Copproe, and excellent improvisation—”
“High Fleet Commander, they’re coming! They’re coming for Gruccud! Get the fleet ready!”
She didn’t waste any time. “Understood, Captain. You got us the new data we needed. Now get out of there and come home as soon as you possibly—”
Her communication link cut out again.
“Damn, they must have another ship with a jammer. They’re jamming us again,” Plecta swore. “Should we launch another volley of those missiles?”
Speunirtio was tempted but shook his head. “No, we got the message out. Let’s just get back to Gruccud. Do we have enough fuel to make the three blinks without refueling?”
“Barely, Captain, but we should be able to get to Gruccud.”
“Good.”
Speunirtio stared back at the massive fleet on his tail. They weren’t here for him. He only hoped the rest of Sixth Fleet were ready for them in Gruccud.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
TRNS Amazon, Stoers (6,000 Ls)
POV: Kiara Agarwal, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Commander)
“Captain! Take a look at the data the Pupper reconnaissance ship just transmitted from the Granti border!”
Kiara stared at the images and the reported numbers for two seconds.
Even through the low-resolution alien optics, she knew exactly what she was looking at. Her heart sank. “How did we miss this? Get us to Gruccud immediately.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And call Sixth Fleet on the comms.”
Grionc’s face appeared on her screen.
Kiara spoke first. “High Fleet Commander, we are making our way to your system as fast as we can from Stoers.”
Grionc didn’t even bother to look at her battlemap. “You won’t make it in time, Captain. Seven blinks. By the time you get here—”
“Listen carefully, Grionc. This isn’t just about Gruccud. If they break through, they will get to Datsot again in weeks. And from what we’re looking at, this time they have enough ships they may be able to punch straight back to Datsot and then Malgeiru from there.”
Grionc straightened up, her heckles uneven. “Sixth Fleet will hold them here in Gruccud, at any cost. We will not take one step back.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. Don’t forget what we taught you. Keep your ships within range of the Datsot planetary defense. Make them pay with your outer system perimeter. With our mines and missiles, you have the range advantage, even if you are holding close to stationary. Just delay them as long as possible. The Amazon will get there about a week after they do. But even if we do, our help will be limited. Our ship is designed for reconnaissance, not taking on an entire Znosian battle fleet. Not to mention… whatever this is.”
“I understand, Captain. I’m sure your people will do their best. Anything else?”
“Yes. Until we get there, you will likely be FTL jammed. You’ll need to rely on relay ships. But if your flagship transmits out, its signal is strong enough that we can still hear you in real time, even if you won’t hear us when we talk back.”
“I see. Whatever I send out to you will be helpful for our next line of defense at Datsot when we fall.”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander. Happy hunting.”
Comments
AnAbsoluteVillain
Oh yeah. Europa's oceans churning like the most savage of seas is such a vision. Super intelligent AI emitting so much heat to deice the moon would be epic. Ironically as cool as Europa might be, NASA thinks Callisto is a better bet for exploring Europa xenobio remotely since Jupiter emits an ungodly amount of radiation. 500+ rems per day, a lethal amount, on the surface of Europa would make colonizing it a bitch. Ganymede also would be preferable over Europa at 8 rems. Callisto having .1 rem means you can walk the surface no problem other than how cold and spacy it is, and can house the scientists on the surface. I imagine Europa for that reason would remain extremely isolated, almost like sending someone to Alaska. Nice place to park some prisoners.
Valdis Trautmanis
Aaand it's on! I just hope the Buns don't launch multiple invasions simultaneously 🤞
