Winning Peace - Chapter 35 (Patreon)

I watched the battle.

The turians might be the pinnacle of military discipline and strategy among the wider races, but while they desperately tried to maintain strict intelligence measures, they just didn't have the institutional knowledge to rival a species like the salarians. While the frog-like aliens weren't playing at my level either, a plague of paranoia running rampant through all of their echelons of society for the last hundred generations or so actually made some of their systems challenging to get into.

Challenging, not impossible.

The most annoying part of the whole endeavor were the numerous black-site air-gapped servers with multi-level filters for incoming data. Again, they weren't quite on my level, but I'd give them a solid A+ for effort in this one instance.

Turians, though?

I owned their systems, lock stock, and barrel.

“So, how's it going?” Sasha asked, setting the table.

I hummed thoughtfully. “There's a seventy-nine percent chance they'll open the relay either later today or tomorrow.”

“I thought the turians were supposed to be the most militant species?” Sasha asked with a frown. “I can't believe they're losing a battle like this to a species with a population of only a few hundred million.”

I chuckled, listening in on Admiral Septiria Gratus as he ordered a flanking maneuver to relieve trapped forces behind one of the gas giant's moons. “What's happening right now is pretty emblematic of why the turians are fighting a prolonged war of attrition rather than winning outright. They might be tactically brilliant and strategically excellent with unparalleled logistical support, but... they're also ideologically hidebound, lagging technologically, and diplomatically isolated.”

“Whereas the protheans have the drell, the hanar, the yahg, and a few minor races from the Terminus systems.” While their 'empire' was captained by a ruling class of members of the prothean species, the rest of the species were incorporated into the polity as prothean citizens. “It's kind of a mess, honestly, but between the prothean's near-mythical status and their ability to access prothean beacons and technology caches, they're managing to hold it together pretty well.”

“So the turians are actually fighting against ships largely crewed by drell and hanar with yahg army units?” Sasha asked as I picked up Casey while simultaneously directing a thread of my attention towards a prothean raiding force's rather innovative tactics.

 “That's more or less the structure. The yahg have 'advisory officers' that roughly translate to the position of a more militarily-adept commissar, and the engineering and medical divisions of their army are made of a more equal mix. But the subordinate species have a much looser chain of command with an emphasis on unit-led initiatives directing tactics and strategy rather than doctrinal obedience. It makes the empire more difficult to predict, especially when they have competing admirals trying different strategies across different theaters.”

I considered the problem for a split-second, then continued. “And they've managed to pin the turian fleet and take the space around their home-ward relay, cutting them off from reinforcements. The Hierarchy's struggling to put together a relief fleet given the pressure the batarians are applying with their raiders, too. So the turians have a choice between opening their side of the relay pair that leads here or choosing death ground.”

“And you think they'll take the chance?” Sasha asked, frowning. “I thought the Citadel and the Empire had laws about opening unexplored relays.”

“They do, but the turians are signatories to them and don't have the negative stigma attached to the process. Both of the previous have discovered rachni-held worlds behind closed relays. Due to the rather unique biological technology they use, though, they don't usually figure out how to replicate the signals to open them up, if they even understand that they're alien artifacts on their own.” I paused and sighed, following the course of the fight again.

“Give me a fighter screen! I don't care if they're out of munitions, it's either them or our dreadnought!”

“Keep up the pressure! We need to push them out of the planet's shadow, then we can surround and destroy them!”

It was a fascinating and deadly ballet consisting of hundreds of ships, a true fleet action the likes of which humanity's doctrine didn't really allow for. Part of me was sorry I wouldn't get to see this kind of application of force, but I'd poured all the needless complexity and waste I could tolerate in operational capacity into the gundams. All of humanity's largest ships were either convertible cargo freight vessels or dedicated carriers.

“I thought the Citadel's sources said the rachni evolved on Suen?” Sasha asked.

“That's a common misconception by the... hmm, let's call them 'questionable institutional academic ethics' that the asari have implemented. I don't want to get too far into it from the topic at hand, but the rachni have managed to survive for quite a few cycles by loading up slower-than-light craft with hibernating queens and embryonic soldiers and workers before sending them off into the void. The asari wanted a simpler and... well, admittedly less terrifying answer that would indicate it was possible to completely eradicate the swarms, so they forced the academics to accept Suen was the species' homeworld even if there was no fossil evidence to suggest such.”

My wife frowned and I could feel her moving somewhat clumsily through the network and accessing files. “It would be hard, wouldn't it? With Suen being under military control and forbidden to civilian research groups. That's nothing more than willful ignorance, isn't it?”

Casey made an energetic sound in my arms and I smiled down at him. “That's right. Willful ignorance is bad, isn't it?”

The infant gurgled happily in response.

“Please don't teach our son strange phrases, Ezekiel,” Sasha reprimanded me mildly, then frowned thoughtfully as I felt her use the augmented interface to sift through more files. “This is why you have the First Alliance Fleet doing exercises in this system, isn't it?”

I chuckled. “You know I don't make policy decisions like that, honey.”

“I also know that you're not above putting your finger on the scale discreetly if you feel something is important enough,” Sasha stated with a sidelong glance my way as she picked up the first of the completed dishes and began bringing them to the table.

Moving towards the dining room myself, I set Casey in his highchair between us at the small nook we used for casual meals. Raising my voice slightly as I fastened the young child in, I replied. “Fine, fine. I'm guilty as charged. But it's not like our budding little Systems Alliance couldn't use an opportunity to justify itself to all its naysayers.”

In a lot of ways, the 'Systems Alliance' was still a pipe dream.

Speaking realistically, it was more like three separate offices which handled interfacing their respective governments with each other that all happened to be located in a single large space station complex in a Lagrange point above Shanxi. The idea behind it was more like NATO than anything else, but some vocal parties were pushing for a more unified command and control structure of military assets for policing, search and rescue duties, coordinating exploration and resource extraction efforts, and a host of other things. At the moment, it was just some common sense initiatives that would be easier if everyone was on the same page about things.

That would change soon enough, though.

“And I'm sure you didn't have anything to do with its creation in the first place,” Sasha stated skeptically as she set down another plate. Casey babbled at her and her expression immediately flipped to a goofy exaggerated smile.

“Not that you'll probably believe me, but I actually didn't have much to do with it.” I weathered her suspicious look and fanned my hands up innocently. “A few of my alternate sleeves were assigned to write up feasibility studies and I did the best job I could do on them, but otherwise? I'm completely hands-off regarding the situation.”

Sasha gave me a vaguely unhappy frown at the mention of the 'other lives' I was living, but seeing as I'd let her wade into using Lazuli for her social affairs remotely, that argument wasn't something either of us felt was productive to bring up. As important as communication was, some problems were best solved by letting them lie.

“If you tell me it, I'll believe it,” she replied with a serious glint in her eyes as she nodded.

A reminder that my word was only as good as the first lie or painful secret she discovered I was keeping from her.

Thankfully, I wasn't keeping any from her anymore. But given my history, I couldn't blame her if she wanted to verify after extending that trust.

 Finally, dinner was ready and we both set down, the grave mood fading.

 “So, given you're so confident that in the eventuality of a breach and I've been out of the game for a fair few years now, walk me through what's going to happen. At least, your optimal path,” Sasha asked as she began feeding our son while I ate a few bites in thoughtful consideration. Regardless of whether or not I needed the food, the social experience was grounding.

It was something I'd forgone for over a decade, and I found I'd missed it.

“Well, I estimate that it's going to happen like this-”

…

“We're pinned, sir.” Captain Libusia Orolienus stated grimly as he looked over the screen before turning to his superior officer.

Admiral Septiria Gratus, his arms folded behind him at parade rest, stared ahead into the middle distance, his eyes occasionally tracing the larger displays as he stood at his own station. The battle had gone poorly, and he would accept full responsibility for the mess that had spilled out over the last week. What he wouldn't accept responsibility for was facing down an enemy fleet at three-to-one odds in their favor, but he didn't need to accept those facts for them to be true.

The Hierarchy was in a bad position in their ongoing war with the Empire and this was supposed to be a stalling action to delay the coming offensive into their outer colonies. Already the dissident worlds in the periphery of the Hierarchy had fallen, but those weren't Palaven's concern. Those colonists had wanted freedom beyond what even the outer colonies offered, and they got it.

Whether they were colonized by the protheans or enslaved by the batarians, Gratus cared not.

Freedom comes with the burden of defending it, and they'd failed to uphold that burden.

But a stalling action had turned into a trap as he'd over-committed to save a squadron of cruisers and frigates. A sudden reinforcement from prothean space had given the enemy enough force to push on the picket he'd left by the relay retreat into Hierarchy space.

Which had left them with three bad options and one unknown.

The bad options ranged from a death-charge towards the enemy picket that was blocking their retreat with the hope that some of their battered fleet would make it back home, to a charge directly into prothean or Citadel space with the hope to either lure the enemy away as they ravaged a few outer worlds or beg for sanctuary from the slavers. The numbers on the first said he'd perhaps retain a third to a fifth of his remaining ships, which meant he'd be reduced to between ten and twenty percent of the vessels he'd had under his command when this battle started.

Unacceptable.

The Citadel, on the other hand, would likely see a ravaged battle fleet intruding into their territory as an act of war or simply blockade them in the next system over. The batarian bastards might have piss-poor tactics, but they had ships and the logistical support of two other major races as well as technological expertise and reverse-engineered prothean tech from the slimy salarians. Even if they made it past the prothean fleets, it's likely they'd be forced to turn over their ships in exchange for claiming refugee status. It was even-odds whether that meant actual refugee status or a yoke on some batarian agri-world while they waited out negotiations for their return to turian space.

Not just unacceptable, but distasteful and an insult to his entire command's honor.

That left attempting to move into prothean space, nominally as a distraction to attempt to circle around to the other turian front with the Empire. In reality, it was even more of a death sentence than assaulting the relay in the direction of Palaven. The only true appeal was glassing a few prothean worlds on their way out. Gratus didn't hold out hope they would destroy anything too significant, but the idea of it had a spiteful appeal that forced him to entertain the notion.

The final option was the relay they were currently closest to.

A deactivated relay.

The Hierarchy did not, technically, have a standing law against activating unknown relays. It was a breach of protocol, however. By simple virtue of the fact that he would be taking an entire fleet into unknown space with no certainty of being able to refuel, repair, reinforce, or return to Hierarchy space.

“We have one-hundred and twenty-three vessels remaining,” Gratus heard himself say. “Out of one-hundred and fifty-seven. Our enemy numbers in excess of four-hundred vessels, outguns us by a factor of four, but only by a factor of two in tonnage. To stand our ground is certain death. To retreat is certain death. To drive for the Empire is certain death. To seek refuge in the Citadel is certain slavery. The deactivated relay is our only chance at living to fight another day.”

Gratus took a deep breath, feeling his flange part at the action. “Poll the captains.”

The Captain of his own vessel froze at the order, then saluted an affirmative and turned to relay the order. It was a now-ancient legacy of the cooperative code which had seen the Colonial Alliance triumphant over the government of Palaven, only implemented in truly desperate situations where no choice was acceptable by military doctrine. The only reason it remained was because of the famous Vote at Tarsis, when a single ballot had avoided a pincer trap by Palaven and saved the Alliance's battlegroup, allowing them time to reform and force the homeworld to the bargaining table.

Not, as most history holos would have the young believe, a true victory, but enough of a success to avoid defeat.

It was only fitting that it be invoked here and now.

Captain Orolienus turned back a moment later, “The vote is in favor of the deactivated relay, Admiral.”

The senior officer huffed an empty laugh, watching the imperial forces finish reordering their lines. Checking his own feed, he affirmed that his own vessels had affected what emergency repairs they were able to. “Plot a course for the dormant relay. Send a fast scout ahead at a short jump and have them activate it to make ready for our arrival.”

The captain relayed his orders, a flurry of activity in their wake.

“What was the margin?” Admiral Gratus asked, a trace of curiosity in his otherwise stony countenance.

“One vote, sir.” Captain Orolienus replied, his mandibles twitching. “Perhaps a sign from the spirits.”

He pondered that possibility as his fleet made for the relay, considering it as the ancient device was activated and he gave the order to follow the scout. The capital ships would go first, needing the most time to clear the path on the other side. The rest of the fleet would follow in good order. Even were the imperials to attempt a short jump, they had nowhere near enough training and coordination for that to end in anything but a reenactment of the Folly of Kallix III, where a particularly arrogant prothean admiral had demanded more of his crews and ships than they could give.

The result had been half the fleet cooked by the local star after miscalculating their vectors as they rushed to complete their orders.

No prothean admiral had ever attempted such an ambitious maneuver again in the fifty years following, up to the present day.

Those facts comforted the admiral as he left his fleet behind, secure in his assertion that the rest of the vessels would be able to make it through before the imperials caught up with them.

“We're through, system is-” The navigation officer's words were cut off by alarms echoing throughout the ship. “-target lock!”

“From what?!” Admiral Gratus demanded, looking desperately between his feed and-

“Target locks increasing! Our e-war systems are being pinged! Twenty-thirty-fifty-over a hundred target locks!”

The communication officer's voice rose up, ironclad will keeping it level even if traces of panic crept in. “Fire of Aephus, Shield of Digeris, and Sword of Invictus are all reporting similar numbers of locks!”

“We're in a minefield!”

Admiral Gratus stiffened in shock, his mind reeling at the assertion, but a sweeping gaze at the data coming in proved it correct, as impossible as it might seem. Mines simply weren't viable outside of very niche applications. Even with the natural choke points that relays created, the drift that even minimally-trained crews could apply made their exits from them unpredictable at best. To properly mine the area around a relay and actually have the attempt be meaningful…

It was an insane waste of resources.

“How many mines are we looking at?” Admiral Gratus asked as even more targets locked on from the small, cold field of objects orbiting his fleet. Even as he asked, he could see their number increasing, heat blooms popping up as whatever power source they used spun up to operational capacity instead of what was likely a power conservation mode.

Captain Orolienus choked on the number.

…

 “Stellar Council doctrine is to position eight clusters of five hundred mines each at a bare minimum,” I explained, putting another forkful of food in my mouth and watching as my wife fought our child to get more into him than onto his bib. “But those are just the picket fields that remain alert. Crews cycle those in and out of service every few months, activating sleeper cells in turn to replace them as they're taken in for maintenance and checks.”

“So four thousand mines on alert?” Sasha asked.

“If more than two thirds of the mines on alert lock on targets and spool up their payloads, the sleeper cells get activated. Each active cluster has two sleeper cells to support it,” calmly, I took a sip from my drink and watched as she tripled the number. “Twelve thousand, each consisting of a hundred-count of a space-based variation on the old MIRV model. Each of those sub-munitions stores a warhead containing one kilogram of antimatter.”

I paused thoughtfully. “Really, they’re less ‘mines’ and more ‘launch platforms,’ especially given what happens after they empty their racks, but due to doctrine they’re considered disposable and replaceable.”

 Sasha leaned back in her seat. “So that alien fleet is going to have over a million kilograms worth of antimatter pointed at it?”

I grinned slightly. “Not counting the ordinance the fleet is carrying, yes.”

My grin widened as I felt the alert go out that the relay had activated.

~~~

Alright, got this one in the can, next up for Ezekiel is the response to the sudden contact of turians and the human-led Systems Alliance. It'll be fun, for sure.

Until then, tough, I'm going to focus on getting the first part of the Code Geass Quest epilogue out, then I'm thinking the OG Industrious timeline.

I should have one more chapter of Winning Peace out next week either shortly before or after the shift to July.

Rock on, Stay awesome, and Thank You for all your support!