Spooker
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Grass Eaters | 15 | Alien Politics
🕑 Added 2024-03-05 00:17:54 +0000 UTCMalgeiru (Simulated)
(Medium fidelity simulation)
“A completely hopeless situation for us, would you say?” Grionc asked with truly machine-like brevity.
Fake Speinfoent replied, shaking his ears in the simulator’s best imitation of a Malgeir rejection, “Negative, Admiral, our ships are far more combat ready. Our crews are exclusively experienced veterans. Morale is high. The rest of the fleet is ready to follow you into battle—”
---
“Wait. Make it not say that,” Kara ordered John. “Malgeir politics is on Hersh and his team. We are not evaluating the loyalty of her combat crew. If the Senators or their staffers ask, defer them to the other teams.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
---
The simulated Speinfoent corrected himself, “Morale is high, and if our crews remain loyal, Sixth Fleet represents a serious offensive force. Home Fleet, on the other hand, is made of the dregs even the rest of the Navy doesn’t want. None of its ships meet even their already lax standards for combat readiness, which they only pass by rigging their exercises. They are crewed by inexperienced spacers. The entire combined Home Fleet — with its hundreds of ships — has fewer actual combat hours logged than our single flagship, Oengro.”
“Excellent analysis, SWO,” Grionc agreed. “Additionally, we will have the advantage of surprise. Continue.”
Mock Speinfoent pointed at the battlemap on his console filled with alien symbiology. “Home Fleet is made up of three major battlegroups. Battlegroup X-ray is deployed in the outer system near the blink limit. And two battlegroups, Yankee and Zulu, are stationed on opposite sides of their home planet in low planetary orbit: this saves fuel when commuting from the planet, but it is actually a major weakness in their deployment stance, which we will be able to exploit later.
“Our own Sixth Fleet is anchored in high orbit of the home planet as a single unit. Theoretically, we are not in a particularly advantageous position, but practically, none of the Home Fleet battlegroups can approach us first even if they’re fully aware of our intentions: most of Home Fleet’s ships have been shut down to save fuel. They need precious hours to bring their engines up to even move, not to mention burn for combat, so the only thing these battlegroups can really do at this point is wait for us to come to them.”
In anticipation of a basic question by the spectators, the simulation’s Grionc, almost winking at the screen, asked, “What if they ditch their slow ships and just engage early?”
“At the start, none of the hostile battlegroups can muster enough mobile ships to pose a real threat to our fleet. Any ship formation that approaches us before they’re fully readied and warmed up will simply be outnumbered and destroyed in detail.
“Therefore, we get to move first. We should probably ignore Battlegroup X-ray in the outer system. X-ray can’t move the whole battlegroup to the planet in time anyway. There is a small possibility that they discover the plot and rush their combat-ready ships to reinforce Battlegroups Yankee or Zulu, but frankly, that would require a spectacular display of initiative we’ve never observed in Home Fleet command.”
Speinfoent’s character broke the fourth wall, looking straight at the spectators. “Or Sixth Fleet command for that matter. Nonetheless, we have simulated those moves, and we are confident they will not make a noticeable impact on the outcome anyway.”
Replica Grionc cleared her throat. “Move us into orbit. Get ready to engage Battlegroup Yankee.”
It was Speinfoent’s turn to cosplay as the Terran politicians’ avatar in the simulation to preempt potential questions. “Why Yankee and not Zulu? Is there a difference?”
Grionc replied, “None whatsoever. Both battlegroups in orbit of Malgeiru are about equally sized and equally unprepared for battle.”
The simulation fast forwarded in time until Sixth Fleet was nearly in low Malgeiru orbit.
Grionc commanded, “Get ready to fire. How many volleys can we pull off before they respond, SWO?”
“We are cruising in at high acceleration. Yankee is filled with immobile and slow ships barely warming up their engines. We should be able to fire off about sixteen effective volleys before we come into their effective range, and if that is not enough, we can maintain position outside their range indefinitely. Until they warm up their engines. And we are fairly certain that even given a few weeks, a sizable number of those ships still won’t actually be able to move on their own power.”
“Excellent, SWO. Move in. Engage at will when we have a firing solution.”
The simulation dutifully displayed a colorful fireworks show as Sixth Fleet fired off a dozen waves of Malgeir missiles that decimated the entire Battlegroup Yankee before any of Sixth Fleet’s ships could come into their effective range.
“Battlegroup Yankee of Loyalist forces have been neutralized, Admiral. What next?” Speinfoent asked patiently.
“Transfer Sixth Fleet into medium orbit. Let’s wait for Zulu to come over the horizon and take them out. Target the planetary sensors with our ground support ships. And send Squadron 6 to high orbit to scout the enemy and destroy any possible enemy reconnaissance force, which they would deploy if their spacers had any initiative or experience. But they probably will not, because they are the incompetent Home Fleet.”
“Yes, Fleet Commander.”
From the display, it became obvious what the critical flaw of the Home Fleet disposition was: at low orbit deployments, the two separate battlegroups couldn’t see each other.
Sure, they could transmit data to each other… until Battlegroup Yankee was annihilated to the last ship or surrendered in the first skirmish.
The planet itself had sensors, but stationary planetary sensors under the atmosphere were far inferior in quality to ship sensors, and they were further degraded by the precision planetary bombardment being carried out by orbital support ships in Sixth Fleet —the same experienced ones that had just come from a lengthy liberation campaign in Datsot.
Because of all these factors, for several critical hours, Battlegroup Zulu became essentially blind to the movements and disposition of Sixth Fleet as they sped around the planet towards them, with their scouts in high orbit keeping perfect track of their location… Not that they needed the scouts; much of Zulu were still immobile and Sixth Fleet knew exactly where they were.
The first sign of Grionc’s ships that Battlegroup Zulu’s ships noticed were its missiles and railgun munitions racing towards them over the horizon. A small number of their ships had finally gotten mobile at this point, but the static ones with predictable positions and orbits were utterly defenseless to the salvos and instantly disappeared off the simulated Oengro’s radar sensors.
A simulated cheer went out in the bridge of the Oengro, which sounded oddly like it came from a Terran child’s birthday party, and Grionc—
---
“No, no, no, no. Cut that sound effect out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you kidding me? The jokers at the Navy Sim Team…”
----
“Admiral, most of the enemy battlegroup has been destroyed, but a few squadrons remain combat effective. What is our next move?”
“Two options. Stay at maximum range and rely on our crew’s superior experience to fight a drawn-out space battle. We now outnumber them, and we are combat ready. They may be able to move now, but half of their ships probably don’t even have full munitions loads. We are sure to win,” Grionc replied.
“What’s option two?”
“Option two is we rush in and try to finish them quickly. Slightly higher risk as we don’t have as big an advantage in a close-range knife fight, but they will have fewer ships ready if we go right now,” she elaborated.
“Which would you choose?” Speinfoent’s avatar asked, winking at the fourth wall again.
“It doesn’t matter. We will win either way, but we should take fewer ship casualties with the first approach. The ground invasion Marines will suffer later though, because we’re going to give the loyalist forces time to prepare their ground troops to repel our Marines.”
---
John summarized the simulated insurrection by Grionc’s Sixth Fleet. “Realistically, the battle will not fully play out like this. Home Fleet’s morale and willingness to fight are abysmal. There is just no chance they retain a coherent command by this point in time: Yankee is destroyed, and Zulu is mostly-destroyed. They will probably surrender after the destruction of Battlegroup Yankee. We think they may even surrender without a serious fight at all when they see Grionc’s ships bearing down on the planet and firing on them six times outside their maximum missile range with their full acceleration. That would be the logical thing for them to do.
“And once she controls the orbits, Grionc can easily shred the planetary defenses with her orbital fire support and send her Marines into the capital city to take control. Her fleet is carrying the same experienced Marine force that retook most of Datsot, so they are well-equipped for a planetary invasion scenario. Far more ready than the surprised and suppressed defenders will be. With effective orbital support, this process should take twelve hours to a few weeks, depending on how fast they can force submission of Malgeirgam. Battlegroup X-ray may arrive afterwards, but they will either accept the fait-accompli, or be defeated by Grionc’s prepared fleet supported by the fully reactivated planetary defenses.”
Kara raised her hand like a schoolchild and asked, “Will the local police forces resist her authority?”
John pointed his finger and accused, “They might— wait, that’s a trick question.”
“Correct,” Kara said, motioning with her hands for John to elaborate.
“We have not evaluated how the civilian authorities will respond. We will redirect your questions to the Alien Politics Team under Operator Hersh.”
“Correct again. Don’t guess. We don’t get paid extra to look smart or look good. If they have a political question, they ask the Politics Team. The last thing I want to see on The Atlas Times tomorrow is the headline Intelligence Community Disagree on Malgeir Coup. When any of us guess, we all look like idiots,” Kara said. “We’re only there to tell them what will happen militarily if a coup gets launched. Not the civilian response. Not the palace intrigue. And definitely not whether Grionc will pull the trigger in the first place.”
Mark asked curiously, “Ok, but do we actually think she’ll do it?”
Kara shot a severe look at the director. “What did I just say?”
“You have not evaluated whether Grionc will launch a coup. You will redirect your questions to the Malgeir Politics Team under Operator Hersh,” Mark parroted. “Ok, but what do you recommend I say if they call me in before Hersh gives me a briefing. I am the director in charge of this whole office after all. I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of the committee.”
Kara thought for a second. “Hersh’s analysis says it really is a tossup. Grionc is about to be put into a position where she could feel compelled to do this, and the military possibilities will become crystal clear to her. Psychologically, a coup has not even been attempted over there for a few centuries despite the lack of controls to prevent it. But we know that she has displayed a relatively high level of initiative in her other operations; we don’t think this lack of precedent will be much of a barrier. And it’s her hide on the line. You should really read his full report before we go up there—”
“So, it really just comes down to her desire to wear the metaphorical crown?”
“That, and…” Kara gestured at the simulation results scrolling on the display:
Sixth Fleet ships lost: 26x Shepherd-class missile destroyers and 16x smaller vessels.
Home Fleet ships lost: 12x Husky-class battleships, 150x Shepherd-class missile destroyers, and 400x smaller vessels.
Sixth Fleet crew losses: 15,543.
Home Fleet crew losses: 184,390.
Sixth Fleet Marine casualties: 1,000 to 64,000.
Malgeiru Terrestrial Defense casualties: 3,000 to 232,000.
Malgeir defensive posture crippled for sixteen months. Malgeir offensive formations irreversibly disrupted.
Primary mission objective successful.
Would you like to try again, Admiral Grionc?
---
MNS Oengro
The nasally voice continued over the radio, “—and ready for boarding. I say again, we expect the former Fleet Commander Grionc to be restrained in the brig by the time we get there. She is under arrest by the enforcement authority vested in Home Fleet by the Malgeir High Council. If you do not comply, lethal force is authorized. If any co-conspirators assist her in any way, their charges will also be obstruction of justice, treason, and—”
Vastae looked at the communications officer and ordered, “Turn that down.”
“Yes, Alpha Leader.”
Then he directed his attention at the sensor station. “How many other vessels are we reading?”
“Just one other light Omega-class cutter on sensor, sir. They sent two boarding crews from Home Fleet,” came the tense reply.
Vastae took a deep breath and looked over at the empty tactical station where Speinfoent normally would be sitting.
The nav officer saw his head turn and piped up, “We’re all with you, sir. You are the captain of the Oengro. We are loyal to you and the Fleet Commander.”
“Anyone want off this ship? This may be your last chance,” Vastae asked steadily, looking around the bridge. “A shuttle will take you down to Malgeiru. I will permit no future retaliation or harassment if any crew member needs to leave now.”
He looked around and waited.
No one moved. Everyone on the bridge looked forward at their consoles in grim determination. They would not abandon their fleet nor its commander.
His heart bolstered, Vastae made up his mind. “Weapons, passively target the cutters with our point defense guns. Hold fire until I get some orders.”
He turned to his console and activated the Sixth Fleet’s internal communication network. “To all squadrons in Sixth Fleet, this is Alpha Leader Vastae. We suspect that Znosian saboteurs may have infiltrated Home Fleet and may be preparing to launch a full-scale invasion on Malgeiru. We intend to stop them. If anyone is not comfortable with this mission, you are authorized to leave this formation. Otherwise, go to yellow alert and prepare for battle at the fleet commander’s orders only. Out.”
To his relief, no ship in the formation moved, not even the loaner ships that had been transferred to Sixth Fleet to backfill the lost ships at Datsot. There was a reason “Sixth Fleet culture” was legendary throughout the Malgeir Navy. Some called it a disciplined machine; others called it a cult. At the moment, Vastae didn’t care which it was. Perhaps they could even use that reputation to convince some of the spacers of Home Fleet or the soldiers in the Terrestrial Defense to surrender or sit back…
“Now,” he said, looking around for an aide. “Someone go wake the fleet commander. The decision is hers.”
