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Grass Eaters | 26 | Inevitable IV
🕑 Added 2024-03-18 16:47:01 +0000 UTCDatsot (Simulated)
Grionc spun on her rear paws, her eyes blazing as she confronted the Terrans. “What happened?” she demanded.
Carla briskly stepped up to the holographic console, her voice commanding the simulation computer, “Show us the final results, computer.”
The screen flickered, then displayed the somber results of the battle simulation.
Carla ran through the details, shaking her head as she went. “You died. Opfor Battlegroup Bravo targeted the Oengro first. It was hit by… ouch, sixteen anti-ship missiles that got through. Four hit the magazine. Two in the reactor. All critical hits… Yeah, there’s no coming back from that. After your death, Sixth Fleet was sandwiched between the Znosian Battlegroups Bravo and Alpha with no leadership remaining. Half of your squadrons tried to attack each battlegroup. Without coordination from the Oengro, it was… ineffective.”
Carla sighed and shrugged. “Looks like the rest of it played out pretty much like the one we showed you earlier. Your fleet did get the six ammunition carriers, though, so that’s an improvement. The bad news is they weren’t actually carrying ammo; they were just decoys the Znosians rigged to draw you in.”
Grionc’s face flushed a deep shade of crimson. “This is absurd! The computer must have cheated! How did they get their second group of ships behind the gas giant without us noticing? They’ve never displayed an ability to cloak their ships like yours!”
“They didn’t use any stealth at all. They were just communicating with Battlegroup Alpha, which you were tangled with the whole battle. When they were close to you, they relayed your real-time position to the other battlegroup via FTL radio. As they passed you the second time, they took out your planetary-based sensors. Then, when your fleet was busy trying to help you fight off the enemy missile volleys, Battlegroup Bravo just blinked in undetected and kept the gas giant between them and your fleet as they moved into position,” Carla explained calmly.
“That requires a level of insane coordination that you would only be able to pull off in a fake computer simulation!” Grionc sputtered, face still flushed.
“Not at all.” Amelia, who had been silently observing the whole exchange, finally chimed in. “This trick is almost play-for-play exactly what the Znosians did to your Third Fleet four years ago.”
“What? No!” Grionc retorted. “Third Fleet unluckily got zapped by a rogue solar flare, frying all their propulsion systems. They had no choice but to stand their ground and fight like heroes until the bitter end—”
“Is that what they told you guys? Solar flares?” Amelia snorted. “Trust me, I was there. The only difference was, instead of six fake ammunition ships, they got fixated on an old garbage barge that the Znosians dressed up as a command ship, and they didn’t even manage to get close enough to destroy the barge. I’ll pull up our files for that if you want to see.”
And she did without waiting for a response. The room dimmed, and the battlemap sprang back to life. They watched, transfixed, as Third Fleet blundered into a near-identical trap. Except, this time, seeing it from a detached starmap perspective, Grionc could see exactly how the Znosians moved their ambush group into position behind the gas giant before both collapsing on Third Fleet and destroying it to the last ship.
“Think we fabricated this recording?” Amelia asked.
“No, I believe you, Admiral. The ship names are authentic,” Grionc admitted, deflating. “Third Fleet weren’t exactly the best of the best either. When the Defense Ministry told us the falsified story of how they got routed, I guess we all just believed it because we wanted to.”
Amelia nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “I understand. Like I tried to tell you, your people have been grinding through a war for a solid decade, but you’ve got gaps… big ones. And like the Third Fleet example, there’s just too many lessons you couldn’t learn from because the failures got swept under the rug or excused by one thing or another.”
Grionc sighed deeply. “I understand now.”
“Now, do you see why your fleets have to leave Datsot?” Amelia pressed, her eyes hopeful.
“Yes. Sure. Unfortunately, I don’t see what I can do,” Grionc said, squinting at the starmap as if it could offer some solution. “As you probably know, I am no longer in command of Sixth Fleet, and I don’t have the ear of the Malgeir in the leadership of the Defense Ministry and the Navy.”
“Let’s not worry too much about that for now,” Amelia reassured smoothly. “We will cross that bridge when we get there. For now, let’s discuss what we can do right now to help. For after Datsot. As I mentioned before, it will take a while for our production lines to get up to speed to start producing new ships and weapons, so your Navy will have to fight on the defensive for a bit longer.”
“Defensive? That should not be a problem. We have been defending Federation space for several years now,” Speinfoent asserted, puffing out his chest a little.
“No, not quite,” Amelia said.
Speinfoent began to protest. “We may not be as adept at war as you, but many Malgeir spacers fight to the death rather than—”
Carla jumped in before he could finish. “That is not what the admiral meant. And fighting to the death is part of the problem. Your commanders don’t seem to understand the value of a tactical withdrawal.”
“Indeed, and that’s not all,” Amelia picked up the thread. “As far as we know, the Bunnies only have one upcoming major offensive against the Malgeir: the second invasion of Datsot. It takes them a while to… process a newly conquered planet, which is the only reason they haven’t defeated your entire Federation yet. Apart from that, they just send out these hit-and-run raiding squadrons. These raiders are nimble, tactical, and unpredictable. Most times, we only get a week or two heads-up before they swoop in.”
Grionc raised an eyebrow. “A week of warning sounds like plenty. If you establish a communication backchannel with us and warn our stations or convoys before these raids occur, many stations can be saved. Our main problem is knowing when they are going to come.”
“Yes, and that is what we plan to do,” Amelia agreed. “But we are not stopping there. We want a say in how you actually handle the situation: total oversight on your strategy.”
Grionc shrugged, visibly skeptical. “Good luck selling that one to our Defense Ministry. Seems a bit overkill, don’t you think? If we know when and where they’re coming, we can handle our own defenses just fine.”
“It will be easier for me to give you an example. Computer, pull up the shipyard raid scenario.”
The holographic scene morphed into another familiar scene that sent a chill down Grionc’s back. She consciously lowered her hackles. “Uidquu.”
“Yes. I understand this is where you were wounded in action,” Amelia said, trying her best not to stare at Grionc’s facial scar.
“Yes, as well as many brave Malgeir on our shipyard and its defending ships. We lost a lot of good people that day.”
“My condolences, Fleet Commander.”
Grionc looked at the screen and its many annotations in the alien Terran script. She remarked, “This seems like… a training lesson.”
“It is,” Carla confirmed. “We use this scenario to teach officers at the Naval Staff College about strategic thinking.”
“Let’s see if we can learn something here,” Amelia said. “Computer, begin.”
Two dozen Znosian ships blinked into the system, and immediately dumped four volleys of missiles at the stationary Malgeir shipyard in the inner system.
“Computer, pause,” Amelia said. “What was the strategic mistake your fleet has already made here?”
Grionc racked her brain for answers. “Our ships were not ready for combat. The Second Fleet was dispersed throughout the system, and many of its ships around the shipyard were kept in standby mode.”
“That is a tactical issue. Relevant, but not for the purpose of this lesson,” Amelia said. “This is about strategy. Guess again.”
“Some of our ships should always be kept combat ready?”
Amelia shook her head vigorously. “No, we keep many of our ships in standby or mothballed in the Republic Navy to save on maintenance too. If you keep them on highest alert level all the time, your spacers will get tired, and your repair budget will bankrupt you before the enemy does. Try again.”
“We should have seen this attack coming.”
“Closer, but still not the answer I was looking for. The correct answer is: this attack would not have happened if you had done nothing.”
“Done nothing? What do you mean?” Grionc asked, puzzled.
“Computer, zoom out to the starmap.” The hologram now revealed the starmap of the neighborhood around the Uidquu system.
Amelia pointed at one of the systems close, but not within direct blink range of Uidquu. “What happened at Plorve?”
Grionc tilted her head. “Plorve? We won at Plorve. The enemy launched a raid there two days before the raid on Uidquu, and we soundly crushed their inadequate raiding force.”
“How?”
“What do you mean?”
“I asked, how did you defeat the Znosian raid at Plorve?”
Grionc recalled, “We waited until they fully engaged our system defense fleet in Plorve, and then we blinked in a rapid response fleet behind them from— oh.”
“You see it now? When you used your quick reaction force from Priplae to flank Plorve,” Amelia said, pointing at the reaction force’s location in the system well within blink range of Uidquu. “You uncovered your most valuable assets in the theater. Computer, continue the scenario automatically, but blink the QRF behind the Znosian raiders two hours after they begin the assault. Fast forward it.”
On the holographic scene, the Znosian raiders stayed near the system blink limit and pumped volley after volley of missiles at will towards the shipyard. The ships at it, mostly stationary, used their countermeasures and counter-missiles to try to defend it as long as possible. Then, a small force of twenty Malgeir ships appeared behind them. Instantly, the map changed: at close range, it became a knife fight which the raiders were outnumbered and not prepared for.
Two yellow-marked enemy ships instantly detonated. The Malgeir defenders near the shipyard charged, knowing the cavalry was coming and no longer worrying about the withering missile volleys from the enemies.
Realizing the hopelessness of the battle, the Znosian fleet boosted towards the system limit, losing another four ships in mere minutes, with another two disabled. By the time they were able to flee the system with their blink drives, they had lost three quarters of their raiding fleet.
“That would have been the greatest naval victory in living Malgeir memory. Which… is why the Znosians sensibly didn’t launch this raid until after they drew the reaction force out of Priplae with a sacrificial raiding force at Plorve.”
“I see your point,” Grionc conceded. “But these things are difficult to see, except in hindsight… unless you have one of these simulators. It was… a well-planned attack on the Grass— Znosians’ part.”
Amelia nodded. “We teach our cadets to see these connections. This is a lesson on variants of what we call a hammer and anvil tactic. But yes, a few of them might still have missed this chain of events if not for the simulators. Which is why we need direct control over your Navy’s movements… so they don’t repeat a similar error.”
Grionc tilted her head thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. “I see now. I will explain this to them and ask them to seriously consider your request.”
A warm smile spread across Amelia’s face. “Thank you, that is all we ask.”
Intrigued, Grionc stared at the command console. “Can you show me how to operate this simulator and give me access, so I can come back here later? There are some things I want to figure out, and it would be helpful for me to understand its capabilities if I am going to tell our Navy to give up control of our strategy to yours.”
Amelia grinned enthusiastically. “Of course! In fact, that’s what the Naval Staff College program is supposed to be about. We have similar simulators there, and we’ve invited your Navy to send cadets there. Carla, go get Mark to make her a badge and set her up for this room later. But before that, let me show you folks the Outpost dining hall. I’m sure you must be starving because I am.”
---
“I can’t believe that Third Fleet hid how they lost from the Defense Ministry,” Speinfoent said angrily once they were in private. “When I dug through the Archives reports, I knew that every other fleet was lying about their battle reports, but I thought it was just exaggerating enemy losses or a bunch of small things adding up.”
Grionc sighed, leaning against the wall. “Well, you have to remember, Third Fleet had a reputation. They were notorious for being corrupt and incompetent, especially in the early days of the war. That was before the Grass Eaters trimmed the fat, if you know what I mean,” Grionc replied. “And to be fair to them, I fell for the same sneaky prey trick they did in that simulator.”
Speinfoent raised an eyebrow. “Their simulator seems… interesting. Do you really think Datsot is a lost cause like they say?”
Grionc took a deep breath before answering. “Not a chance. Why do you think I requested access to the simulators? I am going back there tonight, and I am not leaving that room until I find a way to win us that battle, whatever these Terrans say. Then, I am going to get myself back to Sixth Fleet, and we will save Datsot.”
---
“Carla, is this your third shower today or what?”
“Ugh, yes! I can’t shake off that subtle Malgeir wet dog stench. Seriously, Amelia, how do you even put up with this?”
“Eh, you get used to it. Take your time, scrub away. I’ll meet you in the Outpost mess.”
“Hold up. Do you really think we got through to Pupper admiral? She seemed way more determined than—”
“Hell no. Would you? Some asshole tells you the enemy are about to take out… Mars and you should just pull up stakes and leave. You’ll just do it? Once you get her that badge, she’s going to go straight back into that simulator room tonight and repeatedly lose to the easy difficulty Znosian AI until we physically go pull her out of there. I’d do the same if I were in her shoes.”
“Do you… want me to stop her?”
“Nah, give her the room and let her try. We are asking her to convince her people to abandon one of their core planets and its billions of people. It’s temporary, but still a major taboo, one that a reeling Navy like theirs will not be inclined to break. The least we can do is help her understand why. She may not sleep tonight or tomorrow, but if she doesn’t at least try… she may never get a good night’s sleep ever again.”
