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Grass Eaters | 25 | Inevitable III
🕑 Added 2024-03-15 16:47:01 +0000 UTCDatsot (Simulated)
“Firing now!”
The simulation made the correct sounds for missiles being ejected out of their launchers towards the enemy, and Grionc almost felt the floor rumble beneath her walking paws.
“Prepare for the second volley,” she commanded.
“Enemy countermeasures are out now!”
“Enemies are passing us soon.”
“All ships fire at will when they enter railgun range.”
“Firing 3… 2… 1…”
On one paw, the Znosians had better missiles and countermeasures. They were fired in perfect, inorganic precision and calculated to minimize point defense response time.
On the other hand, their numbers were a quarter of the Sixth Fleet.
“Report! How many did we get?”
Speinfoent looked at his consoles. “Looks like we disabled one with a missile and destroyed him when he drifted past. Three were hit, but nothing catastrophic on their end yet.”
“How many of ours did they get?”
“Two Delta-class lost. Two more were hit, and one is disabled.”
Grionc gritted her teeth slightly. “Not too bad. Those are good exchange odds.”
The communications officer spoke up. “The captain of the disabled ship reports that her ship is falling apart. The crew is abandoning ship and needs search and rescue. Can we spare a ship to help them out?”
Grionc resisted the instinct to glance at the Terran spectators.
If this were a real situation, there was no chance she would deny permission for search and rescue. The enemy was speeding away too fast to pose an immediate threat.
But this is a simulation… it is a game, she reminded herself, and a disabled ship can’t help her win. And she was fighting for the honor of the Malgeir Navy and its people. A few digital avatars didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. If the Terrans thought her heartless for it, so be it. She’d rather they consider her a heartless commander than an incompetent one.
She made up her mind. “Permission denied. We’ll pick them up after the battle. Get ready to fire the second volley at the fleeing cowards.”
---
“Ready, High Fleet Commander,” Speinfoent reported, his hand hovering over the yellow launch button.
“Fire.”
Another volley of missiles burst out of Sixth Fleet’s tubes crisscrossing through the void to match the Znosians’ parting salvo. This time, owing to the close distance between the two fleets, the missiles reached their targets almost instantly.
“How many did we get?” Grionc’s eyes were fixed on the tactical hologram, watching the Znosian icons pull distance from her fleet.
Speinfoent quickly scanned the incoming data. “They dropped countermeasures as well. We hit two, but nothing stuck. They took out another one of ours.”
“Four to one. Not the greatest ratio, but they’re running now. Where are they running off to.”
“Looks like they’re making a beeline towards the star,” Speinfoent said, his brow furrowed.
“The white dwarf? Are they trying to get us to chase them into it?” Grionc almost laughed. Surely, the computer can’t be dumb enough to think they’d fall for that.
“Not sure,” Speinfoent said uncertainly. The fidelity of the simulation was playing with his head.
“Fine. Put us back in defensive orbit of the planet. Let’s see what they’re doing next.”
Over the next few real-time minutes, the enemy fleet did not in fact plunge into the star. Instead, their sensor officer announced, “Looks like the Grass Eaters are skimming the star for a powered gravity slingshot maneuver. They’re accelerating like mad!”
“Plot their trajectory post-maneuver and tell me if they’re coming back for seconds.”
Speinfoent’s ears flattened. “They are, High Fleet Commander. They’re swinging back around, headed right for us. And fast. Really fast.”
“They must have carried enough missiles for another few volleys, instead of opting for a load of counter missiles,” Grionc speculated. “Can we answer back with two salvos of our own again?”
Speinfoent shook his ears. “No can do, they were already going fast. With the gravity slingshot around the star, they’re going even faster now. If we fire back, we’ll only get one volley in our effective range with our reload times.”
“Guess we’ll just have to take it then. Fleet, tell the supply guys at Datsot Orbital to hurry and load our counter-missiles.”
“We’re armed and ready,” the supply officer avatar signaled.
“We won’t trade blows with them this time. Just wait for them to come and try to absorb their volley. Speinfoent, direct the countermeasures.”
Speinfoent nodded. “Yes, High Fleet Commander.”
The enemy ships came in again, all twenty-seven of them. With the Znosians’ absurd reload speeds, they should get be able to get at least a couple volleys into vacuum before they pass, even at such high speeds—
“They’re not firing yet,” Speinfoent noted, his eyes narrowed. Then, a moment of clarity hit him. “Ah, right, they’re only carrying another volley in their tubes. They’ll wait to fire when they’re closer.”
Sure enough, a tense few minutes later, a volley of menacing missiles blasted off toward the Malgeir fleet. Timing it perfectly, Speinfoent waited until it was halfway to them before barking out, “Unleash counter-missiles and activate all countermeasures!”
Decoys burst out of the fleet, and a wave of defensive missiles reached out and plucked many of the incoming missiles out of space. But there were many of them, in multiple volleys.
They blinked off the sensors.
Grionc — claws extending into the Terrans’ wooden desk in front of her — demanded, “Status report.”
Quickly scanning his console, Speinfoent tallied. “We got lucky. No major losses. A couple Delta-classes took minor damage from proximity hits, but they should be able to get repaired at— oh no.” His eyes widened as he scrolled further.
“What? What’s wrong?” Grionc spun toward him, alarmed.
“They savaged our orbital supply stations on the pass through,” Speinfoent said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “The six on this side of the planet got trashed. We still have plenty of ammunition we can bring up from the planet, but we’ll be anchored to this planet while we reload our ammunition.”
“Those sneaky Grass—” Grionc clenched her paws, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I see. At least now they’re out of missiles. Are they just going to go home?”
“High Fleet Commander, their ships are now decelerating towards Flonce, in orbit above the gas giant at the fuel site.”
Grionc smacked her forehead with a paw. “Of course. That’s what those transport ships were from earlier: ammo resupply ships.”
Speinfoent nodded in agreement. “Must be. Thus far, our attrition rate is slightly suboptimal at four ships to one destroyed, but it’s not so bad that they’re guaranteed to win if we keep this up, especially since we still have so many ships. Should we just let them try again? Now that we know what their plan is, we should be slightly more prepared the next time they come around.”
Grionc pondered for a moment and shook her head. “No. Our orbital supply stations are gone. We’ve got a few supply transports in the fleet, but I’m sure they’re going for those next. If we keep this up, we’re going to be stuck entirely defensively to this planet, then they can just use sling around and around, pounding us to dust with their longer range.”
“What do we do then?”
Grionc’s lips curled into a determined smile. “I’ve got a plan for when they come again. We’re not going to just take this like target practice.”
---
As expected, the Znosians decided they liked what they had been doing and started accelerating towards the fleet again to set up for an identical run.
“Counter-missiles this time,” Grionc declared, determined not to let the enemy put them in the same position again.
“Counter-missiles?” Speinfoent raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a shot at them on the way in before they gain too much speed?”
Grionc shook her ears. “Counter missiles. Let’s shake it up a little.”
“What are you planning, Commander?” he asked, curious enough to break Malgeir Navy protocol to ask the commander for her sacred plan.
Grionc explained with a hungry glint in her eyes. “We’ll let them think they’re pulling the same trick. But this time, when they head to the star to come around for another pass, we’ll burn straight for Flonce and beat them there to kill their supply ships. Then, when they arrive, they’ll be chasing us this time. And once we destroy their supply ships, they’ll be stuck outnumbered with no missiles…”
Speinfoent thought for a moment and replied cautiously, “That… sounds like it could work. But when they see us burning towards their supply ships, wouldn’t they just run off and hightail it outta here?”
“Maybe. But that works for me too,” Grionc just shrugged. “Four Delta-class ships and a few orbital supply stations are a miniscule price to pay for a successful defense of Datsot.”
“What about their other ships? This formation only had fewer than thirty ships,” Speinfoent said skeptically, resisting the urge to look at the Terrans to see what they are thinking. “What if their second formation comes in when we try to chase down their supply ships?”
Grionc scoffed, clearly unfazed. “Bah. We’re too far inside the system limit for them to catch us. Even if they come into the system at the right time, it will take them a while to reach us. If this is indeed a trap like last time, we can always just disengage when we see them blink in.”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander.” Speinfoent nodded. And before he could even exhale, the warning came blaring through. “Enemy missiles approaching our formation!”
Grionc attentively watched as he masterfully synchronized their defensive measures, sending counter-missiles streaking through space to intercept and thin out the barrage of enemy missiles racing toward them. “So, how’d we fare this round?”
“Much better with the counter-missiles. One of our ships has lost engine power, but they should be fine. Should we reserve one ship to conduct search and rescue operations—”
She shook her ears again. “No. We’ll sweep them up after the battle. Are the Grass Eaters heading towards the star as I predicted?”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander. Should we start burning for Flonce? Now seems to be a good time if we want to beat them there,” the sensor officer avatar suggested.
Grionc stared at him— it— for a moment. She’d never had a sensor officer say something like that.
Recommendations from a subordinate? What a weird thing to program into a digital avatar. For a species that seems to value discipline so much, surely lower ranked Terran naval officers don’t give their superiors suggestions in the middle of battle.
Nonetheless… it aligned with her plan anyway. “Yes. Let’s get back there before their fleet does. And let me know if they change their directions.”
A few simulated hours later, the Znosian ships completed their gravity slingshot maneuver behind the star and began a pursuit course after Sixth Fleet, which was already over halfway to the gas giant.
“Can they make it there before we do, Navigation?”
“Negative, Fleet Commander. We’re ahead of them.”
Speinfoent abruptly asked, “What about another gravity slingshot? Can they do a slingshot around Datsot-2 or another planetary body?”
The navigation officer avatar did some calculations and replied, “Still negative. We’ll get there before they do even with another slingshot. No amount of gravity pinball will give them the lead.”
Speinfoent looked puzzled. “They’re sticking to the route to Flonce?”
“Affirmative. They’ll get there about half an hour after we do at their current burn.”
Grionc shot a sly smirk at Speinfoent. “See? These thinking machines do make mistakes. That’s more than enough time for us to destroy their supply ships and turn around to blow them to bits after they run out of ammo.”
Speinfoent turned his gaze to the two Terran observers. Amelia was engrossed in her datapad, seemingly detached from the situation. Meanwhile, Carla’s eyes met his, her expression tinged with worry.
The Malgeir fleet quickly closed with the gas giant.
The navigation officer avatar piped up, “High Fleet Commander. We’re coming within range of the transport ships in a minute.”
Right on cue, the sensor officer avatar jumped in. “I’ve resolved the ships’ radar signatures. You were right, Fleet Commander. They must be ammunition resupply ships, all six of them.”
“That’s a lot of firepower they won’t have for their next campaign,” Grionc said with a wink at Speinfoent, making it clear how seriously she was taking the battle simulation. “Navigation, reverse our burns and slow us down. I don’t want to miss a single one of their ammo supply ships, and I want to make sure we’ll get the Grass Eaters behind us as they come in nice and slow.”
The sensor officer frowned at his console and replied, “Looks like the supply ships are trying to run. They’ve lit their engines and are heading for the system limit.”
“They’re fleeing now?” Grionc questioned, her eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Navigation, are they going to get there before we get in range?”
The navigation officer scarcely glanced at her consoles. “No chance. They’re way too slow. We’ll have good shots in thirty seconds, and we’re an hour out from the systems limit.”
“They must be getting desperate,” Grionc chuckled, surveying her own swarm of ships as they soared past the swirling gas giant, closing in on the enemy’s big, lumbering targets in the open. “Speinfoent, you can do the honors.”
“Yes, High Fleet Commander. Sixth Fleet, missiles on my go, four for each ship, let’s not waste—”
Out of the blue, the sensor officer’s avatar leapt to its walking paws, his voice scaling octaves, “New targets! Sixteen, twenty, twenty-four, twenty-eight, thirty of them! Behind the gas giant! How did they get there?”
It seemed like all the ship’s warning alerts went off at once. A deafening screech filled the air as the alarms switched on. Red lights began flashing all around them, and the simulated crew went into a realistically appropriate state of panic. Visible fear spread across each face like wildfire at the new development.
Speinfoent’s eyes widened as he stared at the new yellow blips that had just popped up on his console. Abandoning all protocol in a desperate bid to save the fleet, he blurted, “Missiles incoming! They’re firing! All ships, deploy all countermeasures. Deploy now! Deploy, deploy, deploy.”
Grionc pivoted as fast as she could think. “All ships, face the enemies from Flonce and—”
A cacophonous crash interrupted her, and the room’s holograms fizzled out, plunging them back into reality as the lights flickered back on.
Then, silence filled the room.
Comments
Mari
Another great chapter
