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Grass Eaters 3 | 63 | Restraint I
🕑 Added 2025-03-19 15:47:01 +0000 UTCDominion Navy Central Command, Znos-4-C
POV: Sprabr, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Eleven Whiskers)
Now in full, uncontested control of the orbits over the central command of the Dominion Navy, the rest of the predator fleet made their way over Znos-4-C. What concerned Sprabr most was that they didn’t seem to be in any specific hurry.
The many sensors of the Znosian home system were having trouble tracking all of the enemy hiding ships at once, but their smooth, black predator ships made their appearances on their screens sporadically. After they launched the missiles that killed his entire mobile fleet, some of them were spotted burning for their munition ships, for rearming, no doubt.
Dvibof tapped his shoulder. “Eleven Whiskers?”
“What is it?”
“Based on our intelligence, we’ve successfully determined the purpose of some of the ships in their fleet.”
“Our speculation, that is?”
Dvibof bowed his head. “Yes, Eleven Whiskers. The four of the same class. Those are likely troop carriers.”
“Troop carriers?” he repeated.
“Yes. Their purpose is likely boarding our ships or…”
“Or for invasion,” Sprabr finished for him. He wrinkled his nose. “How many predator troops can they possibly fit into those?”
“Not enough— it should not be enough to invade any one of our real planetary possessions. Not nearly. Their numbers must be several orders of magnitude short. They have at most two battalions of Marines. Across all of them combined.”
Sprabr performed a quick sanity check. “And… we’re sure they can’t invade one of our planets with two battalions, right?”
“Two battalions to take one of our worlds? It’s… very unlikely. They’ve expended far more to retake— to invade our other planets near the front, though those were mostly Lesser Predator troops as far as we can tell.”
“What about our asteroid bases in the outer system? That seems… enough for them to take them?”
“Yes, but it would be odd for them to come all the way here to Znos for a few mining facilities.”
Sprabr shook his head. “They could use them as ammunition, land on them with planetary tugs and launch them at our inner planets.”
“I— I did not consider that, Eleven Whiskers. If that is the case… we would have to warm up our planetary engines and begin preparations to dodge incoming.”
“Can we out-burn them?”
“Unlikely,” Dvibof admitted. “But we have to do something. And even if they hit, our people are well dug-in. Most of our people should be able to survive a few hits, even if our infrastructure does not.”
Sprabr knew that none of his Marines were actually dug in enough for a few asteroid collisions, but he nodded to give the order anyway. His people needed something to do, even in the face of certain death.
Dvibof worked on it for a few minutes, delegating the task. It was an unexpected mission, but the Dominion was prepared for many worst-case possibilities. In particular, it had excellent modeling and simulation data on what happened when big rocks touched down on planets with live inhabitants; that was not something that the Dominion often had to do, but in this case, it was something they’d planned for the enemy’s home system just a few months ago.
How the tables turn.
Sprabr scratched his whiskers. “Hm… that might be it, but I don’t think so. They likely would have done this to our other planets on their way here if that was what they’re after. And look at those ships. They must have brought all those ships here for a reason. A good one. What do we know about the other vessels?”
“The big ones — we can confirm with near certainty that these are munitions carriers, given how they are operating with the other ships. And the circular ones, those are their minesweepers with some kind of particle accelerator design — we’ve seen those before too. They have already taken out most of our mining volumes that are relevant. The predators must have excellent data on our mines.”
“That seems logical to assume,” Sprabr nodded. “And the last two ships?”
“We can’t deduce the purpose of the two white ships yet. That they are painted a different color scheme suggests a wildly different purpose.”
Sprabr squinted at the image, trying to figure it out himself, but nothing came up. He sighed. “I’m sure we’re about to find out anyway. In the worst way possible.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
TRNS Linebacker, Znos-4-C (150,000 km)
POV: Uintrei, Malgeir Federation Navy (Rank: Delta Leader)
Delta Leader Uintrei felt a shiver of apprehension as she stared at the familiar layout of her console as the new executive officer of the Terran ship. Her captain, Bert Williams, gave her a short wink.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yup, order came through,” Bert said, handing her the matching physical order sheet and the sealed authentication envelope from the ship’s safe. “Standby to authenticate… I have a valid message.”
She grabbed both, entered the codes into her console, and it spat out the exact order and its confirmation. “I agree with the authentication, sir. Wow, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Hey, XO,” Bert said, looking at her more seriously. “If you aren’t sure… would you like to read the Steel Man Dissent Report from the ship’s legal intelligence?”
“I already have,” she replied dryly. “And somehow its arguments around one of your superseded 160-year-old treaties isn’t entirely convincing.”
“Well, the ship does her best with what she’s got. So… would you like to file an objection—”
“No, that’s fine. The reality of it just hit me all at once,” Uintrei replied. She took a deep breath. “Just needed both of us to be sure, right?”
“Of course. You remember what to do, right?” he asked.
She nodded a little more confidently as she fished her key out of her utility pocket and inserted it into the receptacle in front of her, giving it a quarter turn. She watched the indicators light up menacingly in front of her.
“Linebacker, ready for strategic weapon release.”
“Targets programmed. Track one through eight."
“Confirmed, kill track one through eight.”
“Launch.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
10 months earlier
The Terran symbol of extreme radiological danger adorned the console. The launch console itself didn’t carry any danger, but the weapons it directed…
Uintrei looked between her captain and the devices covered by the thin, transparent plastic cover on her console. “You say this nuclear— all these nuclear weapons are guarded by— this lock looks really flimsy.”
Bert shrugged. “Yeah it’s pretty much just to stop spacers from accidentally bumping into the button. As long as the ship’s captain — which would be me — and its XO — that’s you — give the authorization, the weapons fire.”
“But… these are— these are nuclear weapons!” she protested.
How could the launch controls of their most dangerous doomsday weapons be protected by… simple plexiglass?
“Yeah. Ah, but there’s no need for that worried look, XO. We do security checks and psychological profiles on officers in your position who are given command responsibility,” Bert asserted confidently.
“Hundreds of nuclear weapons! They can destroy a planet. They can destroy your home planet!”
“The checks are stringent.”
She crossed her arms skeptically. “How stringent?”
“Very. There are multiple layers of tests. Lots of forms to fill out, friends and family to interview. Very invasive.”
“Has any candidate ever failed those tests?”
“I’m sure they have…”
Uintrei crossed her arms. “Really? Name one.”
“Well, none that I know of personally—” Looking at her expression, he hurried to explain, “Relax! Our checks and balances work. After all, our home planet hasn’t been destroyed yet.”
“That’s got to be some kind of—”
“Our tiger repellent rock has never failed us, and it seems unlikely to start now,” Bert replied with a hint of amusement.
“Tiger repellent rock?”
“A tiger is a large mammalian predator with sharp teeth and claws. It can tear apart a piece of prey twice its size in seconds. It’s probably the second most dangerous animal on the Terran savannah for humans in the wild.”
“I know what a tiger is. But what’s the most dangerous— oh, of course, it’s another Terran.”
Bert nodded. “And I have a small piece of rock in my pocket — more a pebble, really — that keeps me safe from tigers.”
“Really?! How does it work? Are they afraid of its smell?”
“I don’t know how it works. But I know that I haven’t been attacked by a tiger yet.”
“Ok? What does that have to do with—”
“And Terra hasn’t been destroyed by a rogue warship captain with nuclear weapons yet.”
“I see… so it’s a correlation-causation fallacy. You’re implying it’s a false causality.”
Bert beamed back at her. “Got it in one!”
“So does the Republic Navy plan on changing the measures to—”
“Not at all.”
“But— but why?”
“Because the tiger repellent rock has worked so far. And what are the odds that it suddenly stops working?”
“I— I don’t understand—”
“There’s nothing difficult to understand. This is just the way things are done. Also, in times of war, creating additional barriers to fire support extends the kill chain, which is bad for our people down there.”
“But… where’s your people’s signature paranoia? Isn’t this the most logical thing to worry about? Of all the things?!”
Bert waved the concern off. “Bah. Paranoia? We only worry about real problems.”
“This seems like a very real problem!” she gestured at her console.
“Not at all.”
“What? Why?”
“Because the tiger repellent rock has worked so far.”
“But…”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it,” Bert said. “You’ve read the dry launch— the test procedures, right?”
Horror dawned on Uintrei’s expression. “Wait, we’re going to test it? Its… functionality? Now?”
“Yeah, sure. Of course we have to test it. But don’t worry, we’ve put the instruments in test and training mode so we can practice launching hundreds of nuclear weapons and we can press the button as many times as we want without accidentally destroying everything I love.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And you’re sure we’ve put it in… this test mode?”
“Huh? Yeah, probably.”
“Probably?!”
“Yeah, and if we screw up real bad, there won’t be many people left to yell at us.” Bert grinned at her. “Don’t you love this job?”
“More and more, I’m wondering if I’ve gone crazy.”
“That’s the spirit! Welcome to the Terran Way of War, XO. Stay a while. You’ll never want to go back to losing again.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dominion Navy Central Command, Znos-4-C
POV: Sprabr, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Eleven Whiskers)
A low hum filled the command center as monitors flickered with data streams. A sudden alarm pierced the room, sharp and urgent. Four signals lit up the sensors boards, swiftly followed by another four.
“The predators… they’ve launched missiles. Orbit-to-surface, eight of them.”
Sprabr’s whiskers quivered with tension. “Are any of them at us?”
“No, Eleven Whiskers. We don’t have an exact target, but based on the current trajectory, they seem to be going for the other side of 4-C.”
“The dark side ocean?” he frowned, eyes narrowing in skepticism.
It was called the dark side ocean, not because it was literally permanently dark, but because from the perspective of Znos-4, it was the side that always faced away from the home planet. Nonetheless, it was the less populated side of the moon due to an ocean that dominated that hemisphere. There was a smaller continent on that ocean, but that wasn’t a particularly important area.
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers.”
“What assets do we have over there worth them destroying?”
“Just a few outlying training areas and reserve bases mostly. A couple industrial areas; nothing irreplaceable. A few anti-orbital defenses, but they’re much sparser there than near us in central command or any of our mass hatching pool areas.”
Confused, he tracked the incoming missiles on the sensors as their signals burned towards the moon.
What are you doing, predators?
“Can we intercept them?” Sprabr asked, still staring at them.
“Not without our… mobile fleet. When they get closer to the planet, we might be able to knock some of them out with our surface-to-orbit batteries,” Dvibof replied. “Around the time when they enter the upper atmosphere in… about two hours.”
“We’re tracking them accurately?” Sprabr asked, startled. “Their missiles?”
“These missiles are different from the other kinds they use. They aren’t hiding at all.”
“What?!”
Dvibof repeated a little more loudly, “These missiles are different from the other kinds they use. They—”
“No, I heard you. I am merely expressing shock,” Sprabr said, shaking his head.
“Ah.”
“Why in the Prophecy would their orbit-to-surface weapons not be hiding like their ships?”
“No idea, but the Marine chief in charge of the dark side says that they will soon have a solid launch solution on the enemy incoming.”
“Tell them to launch when ready,” Sprabr ordered. “I don’t like this. Whatever this is. The Great Predators are never this easy.”
“They have their orders. Our anti-orbital facilities are ready. They launch in just under two hours.”
“I want every orbital launch facility active and ready to hit them as soon as they come into range.”
Over an hour passed, Sprabr’s confusion growing greater as the enemy missiles approached. Without warning and right as the defense missiles were about to launch, the enemy munitions detonated.
In the near vacuum of the upper atmosphere, with very little atmospheric medium to propagate a spherical shockwave, the nuclear detonations manifested as a bright flash. They each lasted for no more than twenty microseconds, followed by an intense thermal flash. The satellites in high orbit near the epicenter went up in smoke, incinerated by the intense heat.
The high energy beta particles of the explosion collided with the thin atmosphere, creating a disk of ionized air ten kilometers thick and several hundred kilometers across, refracting lower frequency waves. In other words, an opaque sensor shadow that affected ground radar systems that operated below UHF. Which, for the Znosians on the ground sensor stations, was most of them.
As a result, Sprabr could only deduce what happened from the observations of the other Znosian reconnaissance assets in the outer system with direct line-of-sight communication routes to his command bunker. Unfortunately for him, just as a tree that fell in the forest created soundwaves whether the event was observed, the simultaneous nuclear explosions in the upper Znos-4-C atmosphere created electromagnetic waves, even if Sprabr wasn’t able to watch them form in real time. The free electrons from the explosion collided with the planetoid’s weak magnetic field, producing a coherent one-millisecond nuclear EMP.
The outer system Znosian reconnaissance assets saw the eight simultaneous flashes. Then, the night lights from the surface cities below the explosions began to turn off, the blackout spreading out from epicenters in an expanding circle like a wave. In seconds, the entire hemisphere was dark.
Some of those lights belonged to early warning stations, orbital defense batteries, command bunkers…
Sprabr seethed, knowing that while his people were stumbling around their dark bunkers and tunnels trying to find a manual light source or troubleshooting a way to restart their machines… if the Great Predator ships launched a massive attack on the dark side at that moment, none of their incoming missiles would be detected, tracked, or intercepted by his batteries on the ground. Not a single one.
But that didn’t happen. No massed missile attack came.
Instead, four dozen re-entry assault shuttles — launched from the TRNS Crete and its sister assault carriers — entered the atmosphere. Despite their stealth black coating, and despite all the secret, advanced technology designed to hide them from hostile sensors in outer space, the shuttles were very much visible to infrared sensors in those outer system reconnaissance assets as they burnt a bright trail through the 4-C atmosphere. There was no attempt to mask their entry with other falling orbital debris, not this time.
The shuttles moved glacially on his battle map, as if sending a deliberate message to him:
There is nothing you can do.
All Sprabr could do was watch.
Watch on his screens, deep in his commander bunker, half a world away.
Watch as — for the first time in recorded Znosian history — a hostile alien force landed troops on a core Znosian planet. Right in the home system of the Znosian people.
Then, he realized, that was likely the only reason he still had access to those reconnaissance platforms. The predators knew he was watching. They were allowing him to.
Because it didn’t matter. There was not a single, damn thing he could do, except watch.
Comments
Valdis Trautmanis
Strategic Munitions Carriers, i.e. space equivalent to the ballistic missile submarine or strategic bomber, the TRNS Linebacker being one of them. Reflective white paint is for protection from the radiation.
Ndreda
I wonder... Are the white ships hospital ships by any chance?
xxm1rvxx
I’m really loving the story, keep them coming, I literally can’t wait
M
Svatken must be raging like never before! Wonderful :)
Ark
Sprabr going full General Shepard there lol
