The Flicaubh, commanded by Vice Hecto-Commander Abliar, belonged to Trample-Blitz Squadron 1, which in turn belonged to the Byrec Matlogona Borperr Ïadbyrer Acharr (Twin Thorns Fleet 24 Assault Sub-Fleet) named the Bosurec.
It was right after they and the Marscaubh had buried the enemy ship.
“Ship Commander, it’s the signal to retreat,” reported Yatesh.
The retreat signal was issued from the flagship of the Twin Thorns Fleet 24, the Elcaü. All ships that received it beamed it out as well, and so the signal to retreat resonated throughout the fleet and caused a stir within planar space.
“Relay it,” ordered Lafier, but the Flicaubh was likely one of the last ships to receive the signal. “Conduct space-time splitting, and fast.”
The Flicaubh was now alone in its bubble once more.
“What are our orders from the squadron flagship?” Lafier asked the Communications Officer.
“None yet, ma’am — ah, here they come.” Yatesh deciphered the code:
“‘FROM: TRAMPLE-BLITZ SQUADRON 1 COMMAND
TO: ALL SHIPS UNDER COMMAND
RETREAT FOR SQUADRON BASE.’ That’s all.”
Was the message so short because they had that much trust placed in them?
“Space-time bubble in stationary-state,” ordered Lafier, but Ecryua didn’t carry out those orders right away. Instead she gave Lafier a dubious look. “We’re going to let the flow of space-time particles take us, and survey the situation,” explained Lafier.
“Roger,” her Vice Captain nodded. “Space-time bubble in stationary-state.”
Lafier peered at the planar space map.
The front lines were still in disarray. There were still space-time bubbles locked in battle here and there, as well as enemy ships in hot pursuit of fleeing allied ships. But the confusion settled down after a while.
“We have intercepted what appears to be the enemy’s signal to retreat,” announced Yatesh, during the tail end of the turmoil.
Enemy units left the action zone one after the other. Needless to say, no allied ships gave chase.
Lafier waited until she deemed the enemy far enough away to issue her next command: “Space-time bubble in total mobile-state. Course: 180 degrees. Ride the space-time particle flow and retreat for the Socrates Star System. Relax all battle arrangements. Inspector...”
Grinshia raised her head.
“...Are we in need of any urgent repairs?” asked Lafier.
“No, Ship Commander,” she responded. “We’re in terrible shape, but the ship will hold out until anchorage.”
“Then you had best let the NCCs rest.”
“They will be overjoyed,” said Grinshia, standing up. “But I would like to create a list of points to repair. Please permit me to exit the bridge, ma’am.”
“By all means.” Lafier then looked Jint’s way.
Jint didn’t need to hear the question before answering. “No injuries, and no environmental abnormalities, Ship Commander.”
“Good,” she said with sincere relief, before she leaned her body against the back of the captain’s seat. She now understood just how exhausted she was.
The Abh often called Abliars lovers of war, and she wasn’t denying that. Yet she could hardly remain calm while her life and the lives of her subordinates were hanging so precariously. Were it not for this sense of tension, battle would be boring. A portion of Landers mistook this as bloodthirst on the part of the Abh, but that was an absurd misunderstanding. The Abh simply liked the idea of surviving to see another day, and nothing more.
“How many times will we have to repeat this same fight?” Arbohf muttered.
“It would be easier on us if they could just surrender,” said Gnomboch shyly.
“If they were going to surrender that easily, they would have never picked the fight to begin with.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
Arbohf looked amused by this. “How can you be so sure we’re not the ones making that mistake?”
“Huh...” Gnomboch pulled a puzzled expression.
“If they up and surrendered on us, wouldn’t you be left unsatisfied with how little you got to fight?”
“No. I know there will be many more opportunities in the future.”
“You talking about this star system? I thought we were talking bigger.”
“What about you, Vanguard Starpilot? Would you be left unsatisfied?”
“No, not me. I’ve had my fill.”
“Is that so?” Lafier butted in. “I hadn’t noticed. I suggest you submit a transfer request sooner rather than later. Would you care to be an instructor at an academy, perhaps?”
“Please don’t mind me, Ship Commander. Forget I said anything. I’m going to spend the rest of my days as a gunner.”
Lafier was joking, of course. Arbohf was a skilled gunner, and he would have been difficult to replace. Also, as Ship Commander she had read their personnel records, so she was already aware of Arbohf’s wishes, which, in a way, were very Abh-like.
“That doesn’t seem feasible,” said Gnomboch. “You’ll get promoted, too, Vanguard. You’ll be an assault ship captain, or thereabouts, won’t you?”
Arbohf just grinned in response.
“Just so you know, Linewing,” said Yatesh, “This guy has turned down a promotion to Deca-Commander twice now.”
Visibly astounded, Gnomboch looked at the Gunner. “But why, sir?”
“I told you. I’m fine being a gunner. Or more accurately, I’m happy as long as I get to pilot. If I get promoted, any and all opportunity to do so will slip from my grasp. And I’d hate to be stuck piloting some supply ship or battle-line ship.”
“But an assault ship captain can pilot, too,” Gnomboch pointed out. “And aren’t assault ship pilots even freer?”
“I don’t think so,” said Arbohf. “Captaining a ship is a heavy burden. I want as little responsibility on my shoulders as possible.”
“I think gunners have quite a bit of responsibility, too,” said Lafier.
“You’re right, Ship Commander. But a gunner’s responsibility is nothing compared to a ship commander’s. I put up with what responsibility I need to in order to have my fun, but that has its limits.”
“And the rank of Gunner is your responsibility limit?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded vigorously. “Figuring out where you’re most comfortable and making that the ceiling of your career is a privilege that Imperials don’t enjoy. Aren’t you jealous, ma’am?”
Lafier nearly found herself affirming that automatically.
It was a duty of an Imperial to earn promotion. Lafier’s father, Dubeus the King of Clybh, told her he gave up on vying for the emperorship very early on, but even so, he had risen to the rank of Commodore. And now that war had broken out, he had been promoted to Grand Commodore, and was commanding a fleet. While he wasn’t going to be Imperial Fleet Commander-in-Chief, all Imperials were obligated to obtain a rank of sufficient importance to be able to play a role during a time of crisis.
And this was wartime. There really was no choice — Lafier was forced to aim for the highest throne. She had taken that as a fact of life since she was born, and to this day she harbored no misgivings as to that way of life. Yet it was also true that at times, she thought it disagreeable.
“What about you, Gnomboch?” Lafier asked the young Linewing.
“My dream is to make it to Commodore rank, ma’am,” he answered unhesitatingly.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard a dream that straightforward,” Yatesh teased.
“You’re just tainted by cynicism,” said Arbohf. “What about you?”
“Who, me?” Yatesh dithered. “Hmm, well... Oh, right. I’d be happy if I could get myself a small little star somewhere.”
“Heh. So your dream is to be a baron, huh?”
“And a dream it will remain.”
Happily for its crew, the atmosphere aboard the Flicaubh was convivial. It was Lafier’s responsibility to make sure they returned from the next battle alive, too.
The Saudec Cemarer (Kemar Portal) was the stronghold.
The PSSU had ultra-long-range mobile space-time mines. As the name suggested, they were mines with giant range, comparable to the cruising capacity of a small vessel. But since they were unmanned, they lacked flexibility, and they were even slower than normal mines when in 3-space, so they were overall difficult to use effectively.
The Abh considered the PSSU to be an especially tiresome opponent from among the Lander nations, but they did appreciate the PSSU’s sole point of eccentricity — their emphasis on employing these hard-to-use mines. It was these rare weapons that were defending the Kemar Portal, and to great and menacing effect.
There seemed to be a factory manufacturing ultra-long-range mines in the Kemar System, and it appeared the materials needed for them could also be procured within the system itself. In other words, they never had to worry about running out of ammunition.
The Star Forces intended to counteract this with a concentration of escort squadrons. But defense ships were weak to assault ships and patrol ships. When the space-time bubbles of mines combined with the bubbles of enemy ships, it always spelled trouble.
Before getting to engage in a battle the likes of which history had never seen, they needed to shave away as much of the enemy’s forces as possible. Of course, the enemy was of the same mind. To the PSSU, this counterattack was likely a preliminary test of sorts. Upon reflection, this was the first time they were fighting in earnest. Up until now, there was a distinct impression the PSSU was simply tagging along after the UH like a gaggle of children afraid they’d be ostracized otherwise.
Even after the launch of Operation Twin Thorns had started besetting the star system, the enemy’s fighting spirit seemed low. Perhaps they aimed to drag the Star Forces deeper into their territory. Yet the rear guard unit, the Byrec Matloghuta Borperr (Twin Thorns Fleet 25), was doing its best to maintain contact with the imperial mainland, rendering that strategy worthless. The more time passed, the more one thorn grew in size, isolating the PSSU from its allies.
At last, the battle front reached the Kemar Portal, and the PSSU finally hunkered down. The majority of soldiers on the front lines took this fact as quite favorable indeed. But by the same token, this meant they had some furious clashes on their hands.
Lafier cast a sidelong glance at Ecryua. What are her dreams like? But that’s not what she said: “I’m going to rest. Give the crew breaks in sequential order.”
“Roger,” Ecryua replied.