“What am I looking at, here?” demanded Admiral Trife, pointing at a cluster of blinking lights on his map of Plane Space (Ja Fad).
“There’s a ninety-nine point nine seven percent chance that’s an enemy fleet,” answered Kilo-Commander (Shewas) Kahyuul.
“I’m not an Onyu!” scolded Trife. “Looks like we’re spread out enough to give them a good idea of our troop strength.”
“More than adequate, sir,” agreed the Chief of Staff (Was Kasaler). “Then they should know they have absolutely zero chance of winning.”
“Maybe that’s giving their commander too much credit?” suggested Kahyuul.
“He can’t be that big an imbecile… Why would they loiter there, between our Byr and Sord Sufagnaum?” It made Trife a bit uneasy. “Hmm. You said there’s a ninety-nine point nine seven percent chance it’s the enemy, right?”
“Yes.”
“So that means there’s a point zero three percent chance it’s not the enemy.”
“There could be counterintelligence, a simultaneous breakdown of all our sensor equipment, or some unknown natural phenomenon. So, it could.”
“Do you really think any of that is possible?” “The probabilities are extremely small.” “Forget I asked.” The Commander-in-Chief (Glaharerl) firmly gripped his chin and paced around the bridge’s command seat (Gahorl Graw).
“I take it Lonyu wants to battle,” Kahyuul guessed. “Darn straight,” acknowledged Trife, “but it’s not very exciting when victory is assured. What’s your guess as to why they’re stopped there, Kahyuul?”
“I can think of three possible explanations,” Kahyuul said instantly. “One, the enemy might think they could win.” “Preposterous!”
“For one thing, their individual warships might have abilities far greater than we think.”
“You’re suggesting they’ve got technology we don’t?” Trife didn’t like to think of the Empire lagging behind in anything.
Shrugging, Kahyuul smirked. “Hard to say. Remember — our information comes from Spaude Rirrag.”
Trife struck his palm with his fist. “Of course. I’d forgotten.
Communications Staff Officer (Kasalia Drokia) Nasotoryua said nothing, his expression resigned.
“In all seriousness, Spaude Rirrag is doing a good job,” clarified Kahyuul. “The chances are close to zero that we underestimated the enemy that significantly. Therefore, if they think they can defeat us, they are either ignorant, arrogant, or crazy.”
“Yes.” Trife scratched his chin. “It’s a shame — there’s no glory in fighting a madman.”
“Back to my reasons for their being there. Number two: it could be a trap of some kind.”
“What kind of trap?”
“They could have a large fleet lurking on the Dath side of a nearby Sord. They just wait there, like bait, until they lead us into the jaws of a waiting shark.”
“What?” Trife half shouted. “Do they think I’m an Onyu? There is not a single Lodairl with a Putorahedesorf who would charge that foolishly into a Sord.”
“In their defense, sir, the enemy wouldn’t have any way of knowing that you are the Glaharerl of this Byr. They can only act on their general impressions of the Rue Labule. They might just be acting on old stereotypes.”
“Oh yes, the arrogant, ruthless, and reckless Abh,” recalled Trife. “Well, they might have gotten two out of three, but we’re certainly not reckless.”
“Exactly. If they did any research, they wouldn’t plan a campaign like that.”
“If this turns out to be a trap, we’ll have to take the enemy commander alive, and give him a history lesson.”
“Regardless, we won’t fall into a trap like that, so there’s no real danger there. Now, the third, most likely reason the enemy — “
“Why would you save the most likely for last? You already bored us to death before we’ve heard the real explanation!”
“Sorry,” Kahyuul apologized, unfazed. “The main fleet there is United Mankind. Their commanders are notoriously obdurate. It is highly probable the enemy commander received orders to protect Loebehynu Sufagnaum to the death. Now, if we assume this is the case, it would be most reasonable for us…”
“That’s the most likely scenario?” interrupted Trife.
“Yes.”
With a harrumph, Trife walked off. The more he mulled it over, the more he was sure of what they had to do. The enemy was not up to something; they were merely responding to an incoming threat with all the troops at their disposal, the same way Trife traveled with all the troops at his disposal. The only difference between the two was that Trife had permission to walk away from this battle, if he chose.
It still didn’t make sense that the enemy had used such a small fleet for the full-scale invasion of a Frybar territory. He wondered if the whole occupation of planet Clasbul could be a diversion from a larger attack. Regardless, that was not Trife’s concern; the headquarters (Ryuazornyu) at the Imperial Capital (Arosh) would deal with that situation if it arose.
“Yes, that’s it,” Trife raised one of his fists in the air. “I’m sure of it. My mind is free from the web of doubt! Victory is certain. Thank you, Shewas Kahyuul!”
“I’m honored,” Kahyuul said in the same emotionless way he said everything.
Staring at the Ja Fad, the Glaharerl clucked. “It’s sort of a shame, don’t you think?”
“Do not feel sorry for them,” replied the Chief of Staff.
“You’re right. We warned them. No holding back now.” Waving his command rod (Greu) excitedly in the air, he announced, “We’ll do the turning pincers!”
“We’re too close to the enemy now,” argued Kahyuul. “They can see every move we make. If we split up to execute a turning pincers movement, we’ll be subjected to individual attacks and increase their odds of winning. There will be a lot of unnecessary casualties, even if we win.”
“What do you think, Shuriil?” the Glaharerl asked his Operations Staff Officer (Kasalia Yokusurot).
“Sadly,” said Bomowas Shuriil, unable to meet Trife’s eyes, “I agree with the Was Kasaler.”
“I see.” It was definitely a disappointment to Trife, but he had to respect the opinions of his Staff Officers. Their whole jobs consisted of calculating the odds of every possible battle situation. If they said that a turning pincers movement would cause needless loss, then indeed it would.
“I suppose we’ll attack head-on, then?” The commander slumped.
“That is the most appropriate strategy.”
“Okay, display the battle formation plan.”
The Ja Fad disappeared, and a hypothetical battle formation quickly took its place.
Normal Labule assault half fleets (Jadbyr Ashal) consisted of three assault squadrons (Sov Ashal), one escort squadron (Sov Methgeil), one strike squadron (Sov Vortout), one support squadron (Sov Dikporlei), three patrol ships (Resii), and a handful of communications ships (Longia).
On the display screen, the four Jadbyr under Trife’s command fanned out.
The front line of each half fleet was its escort squadron, the main purpose of which was to do its best impression of a shield and stave off enemy mines (Hoksath).
Directly behind the Sov Methgeil were the strike squadrons, which comprised battleships (Alek). These ships carried and fired mines. The Jadbyr Vortout Bask Gamryuuf stretched across the three assault squadrons, augmenting their combative abilities.
There was an assault squadron trailing each HQ Squadron (Sov Gurarl), and the infamous recon half fleet (Jadbyr Usem) Futune spread itself into three groups laid in between the Sov Gurarl.
Each half fleet (Jadbyr) had a support squadron, which combined forces in the very rear of the battle formation to make up the Jadbyr Dikporleil Ashumatoshu.
All in all, it was a very orthodox, no-nonsense battle formation.
“Looks good,” praised Trife. “Have everyone fall into this formation at once.”
Kahyuul saluted.
Shortly, several communications ships disembarked from the flagship, relaying the orders to each Jadbyr’s headquarters (Glagaf).
This set off a reactionary flurry of activity among the enemy Flasath, most likely their communication ships as well.
“The enemy Flasath are separating!” shouted the Reconnaissance Staff Officer (Kasalia Ragurot).
Countless smaller time-space bubbles emerged from the enemy ships, flying straight toward Trife’s fleet.
“Ninety-nine point nine nine six percent…” reminded Kahyuul.
“You can quit crunching numbers now! ” roared Trife.
“Those are Hoksath,” Kahyuul noted, ignoring Trite’s outburst.
After a moment of grinding his teeth, the Glahareri smiled. “It’s started.”
And just like that, the curtain came up on the first real battle of an epic war, the Battle of Safugnoff Gate (Raishakal Sordal Sufagnaum).
“Initiate Hoksatjocs Mejiyot!” ordered Trife.
He knew that the enemy was out of range (the enemy was in an area of high density, which was the “high ground” of Dath), but he thought they might at least be able to blow up most of the enemy Hoksath. As soon as the flagship let loose a volley of mines, all the battleships followed its lead.
The two sets of mines charged toward each other.
“Flash group contact. Direction three-oh-five. Distance sixty-five. Contact range widening,” the Kasalia Ragurot commented.
When the clusters met, the Labule Hoksath attempted time-space fusion (Gor Putarloth) with the enemy mines. Rather than suffer the indignity of fusing with Labule mines, the enemy mines exploded.
Some of the enemy Hoksath were coerced into reluctant Gor Putarloth. When the time-space bubbles fused, the mines exploded, throwing out large quantities of time-space particles (Supflasath). Plane Space (Fath) rippled like the surface of a pond, as large waves of Supflasath spread outward in rings, shaking nearby Flasath.
The enemy mines that broke through the initial resistance closed in on Trife’s fleet. The Leit squadron came forward to intercept them, forming one Flasath with a half dozen (Syuuf) ships armed with innumerable small-bore mobile cannons.
The escort squadron marched boldly forward and fused with the enemy Hoksath. The mines did not resist, as their initial mission was to make Gor Putarloth with ships in order to blow them to smithereens.
However, the mines that achieved time-space fusion received overly warm laser beam (Klanraj) and anti-proton beam welcomes.
While the escort squadron destroyed the mines, the fleet marched through Dath, closer and closer to the enemy.
“Distance from the enemy, one forty-two. Their front line is within firing range,” announced the Kasalia Ragurot.
“Excellent. Commence firing offensive Hoksath.” The defensive mines ceased, and a new gaggle of Hoksath charged full-speed at the enemy. While this was primarily a good thing, it also meant an increase in the number of enemy Hoksath that made it through to the escort squadron.
Inevitably, there came reports of escort vessel destruction.
Doggedly, enemy mines approached the battleships. “Distance from the enemy ships: one hundred.” “Good,” assessed Trife. “Let’s set Futune loose on them.”