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Grass Eaters 3 | 41 | Total War I
🕑 Added 2025-01-27 16:47:00 +0000 UTCZNS 1687, Znos-4-C (40,000 km)
POV: Plodvi, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Six Whiskers)
Plodvi identified two distinct, hushed voices coming from the vents. One was a female, the other male.
“That’s why they say: the brutality of combat is a product of incompetence,” the male said.
The female voice snorted. “Spoken like someone who isn’t very good at it.”
“That can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Because the examples in here, look, their most effective armies and fleets were the ones with the most rules, operating with the most constraints against what they called unnecessary brutality,” the male insisted.
They are talking about the predator transmissions. Like my books.
Her voice was incredulous. “The most constraints? How can that be?!”
“I don’t know.”
There were a few seconds of silence from the vents.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence?” she asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe not. It is an odd coincidence… how— how restraint is loosely correlated with their success in war.”
“But they still lost sometimes.”
“Yes, but not the big ones,” he countered. “When it comes down to the wire, they always win the important ones.”
“Maybe that’s just the way their history is written.”
“Maybe.”
“Didn’t one of them say: It is cruelty. There is no use trying to sanitize it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over,” the female quoted.
“You are ignoring the context around that! That was a predator war chief justifying horrific actions he took in war,” the male argued. “Of course he would say that! But even he recognized that there are supposed to be rules in war. That is what it means to be civilized beings.”
“Now that’s just the predator propaganda talking. You can’t trust everything they tell you on the FTL radio.”
“Is there something wrong with the logic behind the argument?”
“Aquinas and his righteous war theory? He’s an apostate, and his reliance on their own version of the Prophecy undermines his own point.”
The male sighed. “No, I was talking about the more practical reason. There is no purpose in unnecessary cruelty. And whatever you inflict on the enemy, they may respond to you with the same. Fighting with rules is more efficient for both sides.”
“That only matters if they can actually inflict equivalent horror,” she said. “And the predators… they can’t do anything about what we do to them anyway.”
“Until the Great Predators came along…”
She sighed and agreed, “Until the Great Predators came along.”
Plodvi heard nothing for a moment, thinking perhaps they’d moved their argument elsewhere.
The female spoke up again a few seconds later. “Well, whatever the efficient thing is… we’re not in charge of this war.”
The male scoffed. “Yeah. Maybe a few generations down my bloodline, I’ll produce someone with enough whiskers to make the right decisions, instead of being stuck here for life as low-ranked computer maintenance technicians.”
Ah. They must be accessing the FTL radio transcripts to listen to predator propaganda with their role as Digital Guide maintenance technicians.
“I heard they recalled Eleven Whiskers Sprabr from the Grand Fleet,” she said. “Awaiting a big assignment of responsibility hearing back on Znos.”
“Yeah, everyone knows that. They need someone to blame for the ongoing disaster in Grantor.”
The relief was evident in her voice. “Thank the Prophecy we’re not trapped all the way over there in infested predator territory with the Grand Fleet.”
“Or what? I hear the predators treat surrendered prisoners well—” he began.
“You do know that they’re likely lying about that too, right?”
“You think the Great Predators manufactured all these philosophies around restraint in war as a ruse of war? That seems like a lot of—”
“Of course!” she hissed back. “Those arguments are for pure entertainment. They probably eat the prisoners for dinner!”
“What about the broadcasts from captured prisoners from Radio Free Znos?” he countered. “Those seem real to me.”
“Well… maybe they eat most of them and force a few to make the broadcasts…” she speculated with a little less conviction.
The male seemed to be thinking for a moment as the vents were quiet but for the sound of the airflow. He replied after a moment, “It just seems like a lot of work to put up such an elaborate façade. And most of the people listening won’t understand it. The five whiskers who operates the FTL radio doesn’t even—”
She snorted in derision. “Five Whiskers Gipoch? If he didn’t transcribe all of these transmissions for the record, I’d swear that idiot was bred-illiterate.”
“The other day I asked him if he ever heard anything interesting on the FTL radio, and he just gave me a blank stare.”
“Well you can’t blame him for centuries of bloodlines optimized for poor nutrition and—”
There were sounds of commotion from the vents for a few seconds, and a third voice yelled out, “We just got a new calculation request from Eight Whiskers— Hey, what’s going on here? Are you two slacking off again?!”
Oh no. Who is that?
The male replied in a crisp practiced voice, “No, Seven Whiskers. I noticed the cooling system was activating off-schedule, so we went to check out the vents for physical blockages. I take full responsibility for not informing you of it before I did.”
The seven whiskers huffed. “Your responsibility is accepted… And you’re not the central air maintenance team. You should worry about your own tasks. Like that new calculation request!”
“Yes, Seven Whiskers. Combat— Digital Guide analysis coming right up.”
Plodvi’s heart pounded as the sounds of pawsteps receded from the vents. And he realized that this was the first time he’d felt excitement since he’d gotten onto the ship weeks ago.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
System State Security HQ, Zhulnu-4
POV: Vrazmist, Znosian Dominion State Security (Position: Governor)
State Security Governor Vrazmist was supposed to be in charge of the entire system of Zhulnu and its twelve billion residents.
More than two hundred light-years behind the frontlines of the closest Dominion war, his people hadn’t had to worry about threats posed by enemies of the Prophecy for centuries. After all, the “intelligent” predator species that had formerly called Zhulnu its homeworld had been efficiently cleansed — all traces of their existence wiped out or replaced — many decades ago. There were a few dumb predators in the less populated areas of the planet, but extermination teams did their jobs and generally took care of those creatures before they became a threat to the growing underground Znosian cities. Few in Zhulnu had even seen one of those in their lives.
Hence Vrazmist’s surprise when the system perimeter sensors reported a small predator fleet blinking in.
Sure, they’d been briefed that it could happen by the authorities in Znos — many other systems near Zhulnu had been hit recently, and it was a big target as any other.
The predators tore apart the planet’s meager orbital defenses in hours; the Servants of the Prophecy on the stations forfeited their lives as they desperately tried their best to hang on for as long as they could, knowing that there would be no reinforcements nor relief. Their relatively immobile stations proved to be hopelessly inadequate against the salvos of incoming enemy missiles launched from outside the range of any of its weapons.
As had been predicted by his Digital Guide.
That the defense stations lasted for hours spoke more to the cautiousness of the enemy than anything else. Vrazmist had known the orbits would fall if the predators came. But to see the face of the snarling abomination on his communication screen was a personal and visceral shock.
Vrazmist bared his buck teeth at the despicable Great Predator in hostility to disguise the gnawing fear in his heart. “What do you want, barbarian?” he spat out.
“Attention, planetary authorities on Zhulnu-4. This is Rear Admiral Carla Bauernschmidt of the Republic Navy,” she replied. “My ships have placed your industrial habitats in orbit under fire control. I intend to capture and scuttle them. You have twenty-four hours to evacuate your stations. Beyond that, any loss of life incurred from the execution of this operation will be your responsibility.”
The way she misused that word… it almost sounded like a taunt.
“Our people will fight to the last, from the oldest elder to the youngest hatchling before we give up our orbits!” Vrazmist roared back. “Your attempt to bait us into abandoning our stations is worthless.”
“There is no reason to fight,” the enemy continued calmly. “You have lost your orbits and all your mobile assets. We have your hab reactor modules target-locked. One gun volley and they are a trillion pieces of debris. It would be — as your people like to put it — an irrational and an inefficient waste of resources.”
“Predator scum!” Vrazmist cried. “Those stations are decades of valuable Dominion investment! You have no right!”
He didn’t even think to mention that most of those orbital facilities were originally built by the precursor predator species that inhabited Zhulnu; he doubted that the predator in front of him would know or care either way.
Carla replied, “You may take that up with your superiors on Znos who started this war. We are merely giving you this warning so you can evacuate your people off of them before we begin our operation. Whatever happens after that is on you.”
“Your twenty-four-hour deadline is insufficient. There are millions of our people and expensive Dominion property up there. We need time to decommission our equipment and organize a full evacuation,” Vrazmist whined, gnashing his teeth in frustration. “We would need at least—”
The predator snorted. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen one of you run through three of the five stages of grief in twenty seconds. Cut the bullshit. We know you have adequate hibernation pods and shuttles. And this isn’t my first orbital demolition. I don’t care about your expensive equipment. Twenty-four hours is more than enough for you to get all your people out of there.”
“Abomination, you—”
“Clock’s ticking, Governor. Tick tock.”
“You can’t—”
“Tick tock.”
“We won’t fall—”
“Tick tock. Twenty-four hours. Better hurry.”
The transmission cut out from the other end.
Vrazmist keyed a call button on his console. “Attendant, do we have any viable weapons on those industrial habs?”
His attendant showed up immediately, replying, “None, Governor. We have six munition assembly modules among them, but the missiles for the latest shipment are not yet completed. We can’t fire them at the predator fleet, and even if we could, it wouldn’t do much anyway.”
“What are our options?”
She busied herself querying her console for a moment. “If we transfer all the shuttles from our residential habs over to assist in evacuation, we can get at most a tenth of our most expensive manufacturing and computer equipment out by the deadline.”
“What about if we don’t evacuate any of our people?” Vrazmist pressed.
“That estimate is if we don’t evacuate any of our people except the most senior and experienced we need for eventual reconstruction.”
Vrazmist sighed. He felt lucky that he had an attendant who could understand his intentions without him asking. “Only a tenth?”
“Yes. This is by value, Governor.”
“I see.” Vrazmist thought for a moment. From what it sounded like on the communication, this was not the first time the predators had tried something like this. And he knew all about the orbital infrastructure they’d capture in other systems: the Great Predators would strip them for parts and intelligence before blowing them to pieces. “We need to do something— something they don’t expect. Something— These predators have been rolling over us for far too long. We should— we should scuttle the stations ourselves to prevent capture.”
“Sir?” the attendant asked, her face scrunching up in alarm.
“We should blow them up before the Great Predators could try to board or capture them,” Vrazmist said, slowly as he allowed his speech to catch up to his thinking. “And we need to show them that they can’t keep jerking us around like this. Demonstrate our strength, our full resolve. Let them know how little we think of their threats. We can blow them up ourselves to prevent capture.”
“The residential stations— we have 10.4 million Servants of the Prophecy on those orbital stations, Governor,” his attendant warned as her voice rose in concern. “Perhaps if we send the evacuation order simultaneously, some of them—”
“We can’t alert the predators. They might speed up their operations. Our people’s lives were forfeited to the Prophecy the day they left their hatchling pools. All of them.”
“Yes, Governor.”
His decision solidified, Vrazmist ordered more confidently, “Now, connect me to the Navy eight whiskers in charge of system defenses.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
TRNS Crete, Zhulnu-4 (2 Ls)
POV: Carla Bauernschmidt, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Rear Admiral)
“Admiral, Squadron Nine is reporting they’ve detected a rocket launch from the surface of Zhulnu-4! High acceleration, delta-V analysis indicates likely surface-to-orbit missile,” Speinfoent said, stepping up onto the bridge. “Two— three— no, sixteen launches. More. Likely many more. Trajectory is— projected to be low Zhulnu-4 orbit.”
“That’s not at us.” Carla furrowed her brow as she observed the signatures. “Did one of our captains deploy observation assets that far down there?”
“Not at the moment,” he replied after a few seconds. “Maybe this is a ruse… But I don’t see how.”
Carla nodded. “Track those missiles. Let’s see what they’re up to.”
It took less than ten minutes for the missiles to reach low Zhulnu-4 orbit… and another three to find their targets.
Most of them hit what they were aiming for: the fusion reactor modules of the Znosians’ own industrial habitats. A few failed to detonate their targets, biting massive chunks out of the undefended habitats. Several stations tumbled or broke apart. For an unplanned and improvised attack on targets they were not meant for, it wasn’t the worst showing… tactically. On the Crete’s visual sensors, its crew watched quietly as atmosphere, debris, and unfortunate occupants spill out into the vacuum like the lifeblood of a wounded prey.
Speinfoent noted another urgent warning from the reconnaissance sensors aimed at the planet, “Admiral, we’re detecting another dozen fresh launches from the surface. The ship intelligence thinks they’re— they’re finishing the ones they didn’t kill in the first volley… Should— should we intercept?”
Carla inspected the new signals on the screen. She hardened her eyes. “Negative, XO. This one is on them. They’re doing half our jobs for us. We’re under no legal or moral obligation to stop them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Call the head honcho down there again when they’re done with… whatever this tantrum is.”
Comments
Krzychu0304
I know I'm a grump, a destroyer of good fun but; An effective army is one that is able to effectively implement tactical and strategic goals. That is, one whose reconnaissance effectively locates targets, the command is well organized and efficiently issues orders, the soldiers are well equipped and disciplined, and the logistics effectively deliver ammunition and equipment. Basically, they operate like a well-oiled machine, effectively focusing on their goals, which limits collateral damage. However, when an army that is unable to effectively implement goals, it is usually due to such things as poor reconnaissance, poor command, poorly trained and undisciplined soldiers, and leaky logistics. Which leads to the fact that they often shell positions where the enemy could potentially be, the command gets tangled in chaos and tries to save the situation with desperate measures, the soldiers scatter, persecuting civilians, and the logistics grab everything they can get their hands on, trying to fill the gaps. However, this walking mess is a misfortune for everything that is nearby. What I am trying to say is that the army is not good because it does not murder civilians, but that it is good so it has a limited number of accidents at work during which civilians die. Additionally, I would like to point out that achieving tactical/strategic goals is not necessarily contrary to war crimes, in fact, often even effective achievement of goals is associated with war crimes. And historically, no one had a problem with committing war crimes if it could bring them closer to victory (e.g. carpet bombing of German cities/industrial centers during World War II).
M
Man, those pre-Znosian stations would have been amazing study!
