What Needs Defending Read online

  “No, sir. The Commodore Biboth that I loved disappeared long ago. Though he wasn’t a commodore back then, so I’m not ‘fond of a Commodore Bibo—’” That was when she realized she’d said too much.

  Dusanh grinned. “Finally, the year-long mystery is solved.”

  For a brief moment, Kenesh squared her shoulders, but they drooped back to normal in no time. “How in the starry heavens does it benefit Your Highness to pry into my past?”

  “Are you being serious, Chief of Staff?” The Commander-in-Chief raised an eyebrow. “If I really wanted to pry into your past, I could use any of a multitude of more surefire methods.”

  “Sir, I’ve always known that to you, the ‘mysteries’ of my past are just a way to kill time.”

  “You say that so bluntly,” smiled Dusanh, though his eyes remained on the protruding arm that was Fleet 4. “In your opinion, is he not advancing too far into their lines for comfort?”

  “You mean Commodore Biboth? The man I do NOT love?”

  “The very same. He and his fleet.”

  “They are certainly protruding,” she agreed. “But I don’t think there’s any real cause for alarm. Even if the enemy encircled them, we have enough reserve forces to come to their rescue. In fact, I hope the enemy is plotting to encircle them; it’d be the chance of a lifetime to pulverize them once and for all.”

  “How ghoulish. You’d use the commodore you loved as a decoy?”

  “Please don’t say things that will soil my reputation if overheard. You’re making it sound as though I’m formulating my strategies with a personal grudge in mind.”

  “Perish the thought. Making Mr. Neleth jut out into enemy territory is no strategy of yours,” he consoled her. “This is a road he chose himself. But I say, mightn’t it be a good idea, after all, to stop our forward march?”

  “If you want my opinion, I don’t think we should. I fail to see any cause for concern.”

  Dusanh put a hand to his chin. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Because communication with the command center took so much time, front line commanders were given ample discretion. They were assigned a path to advance down, but each individual commander had to determine for themselves the most prudent speed at which to advance based on the current conditions. Were they to order Commodore Biboth to desist, he might feel humiliated. Though naturally, Commodore Biboth’s feelings weighed little compared to the lives of the soldiers under them.

  “For the time being, allow me to ask as to the reasons regarding the pace of his forward march. What do you deduce might be his rationale?” Dusanh asked, steepling his fingers.

  “That is extremely simple.” With a swipe of her hand, Kenesh changed the modality of the tide-of-battle diagram. The circles representing portals leading to inhabited star systems grew bigger, but not uniformly so. Portals of many different sizes dotted the map. “Here you see the star systems ranked by importance, as evaluated by our forces. As must be apparent, there are almost no important star systems in the direction that Fleet 4 is headed.”

  “I don’t recall allocating them any such courses.” But as was common within the Star Forces, Dusanh trusted his staff officers with the little things. He issued broad commands, and listened whenever the smaller details were explained to him. As such, this was the first he was hearing of this particular tidbit surrounding Fleet 4’s course. Or at least, it was the first he was cognizant of it.

  “Fleet 4 isn’t alone in that, either. Byrec Gana and Byrec Loceutena (Fleets 8 and 11), among others, are also in charge of sectors where relatively little resistance is projected.”

  “But Ganonn (No. 8) and Loceutenonn (No. 11) aren’t jutting the same way,” muttered Dusanh to himself.

  “This is just conjecture on my part, but...” Kenesh glanced meaningfully at the Crown Prince. “You have a good head on your shoulders, Commander-in-Chief. That’s why you have the ability to make sound judgements based on the circumstances.”

  “You mean to say Mr. Biboth does NOT have a good head on his shoulders?”

  “I would be pleased if you never forget I was opposed to your appointing Commodore Biboth to a commander-in-chief position.”

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. What I don’t understand is why, if that commander you consider silly-brained is jutting out like that, you would then say there is no cause for concern.”

  “It’s a matter of perspective. At the end of the day, I am merely the overall Chief of Staff of the Hunter Fleet.

  “I see. So you’ve already looked into it?”

  “Correct,” she nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “We haven’t taken the very latest information into account yet, but according to the battle simulation carried out seventeen hours ago, if the remaining enemy forces were to launch a general offensive against the protruding portion of Fleet 4, then we could reduce the overall losses of the Hunter Fleet with a 0.89 probability.”

  He understood what Kenesh was getting at. The way Fleet 4 was sticking out was actually something the Hunter Fleet could be thankful for. Nevertheless, if Fleet 4 were attacked, then Fleet 4 would exhibit no such gratitude. Which was why the staff officers didn’t run that otherwise shrewd strategy by them.

  Dusanh rested his chin in his hands. “Very well then. Do not order him to stop. But we must enact this plan swiftly and efficiently. Organize as many reserve forces into formations as you can now, while there’s time.”

  “Understood. Whom will we have take command?”

  “Hmm...” For a moment, Dusanh considered taking command himself. If the clash surrounding the jutting arm did come to pass, then it would surely amount to the decisive battle of Cfazaitec Blaigr (Operation Hunter). A battle worthy of the Imperial Fleet Commander-in-Chief. But in the end, he thought better of it. For though it lacked in elegance, maintaining a battlefront capable of brushing aside pressure from the central zone of the United Humankind remained of the essence. Indeed, Operation Hunter could proceed apace even if Fleet 4 were to fall, but if the line holding Bisketh and Wereh were overtaken, then the entirety of the Hunter Fleet would come under jeopardy.

  “I shall have Grand Commodore Tlife take the reins,” Dusanh decided.

  Kenesh concurred. “Excellent. With him at the helm, the fleet will plunge headlong into danger for sure.”

  “Promptly select the star systems that Grand Commodore Tlife ought to foray into, and calculate troop concentration. Subsequently, I order Ms. Penezh to pay extra careful heed to the vicinity of the protruding arm of Fleet 4.”

  Sporh Aronn Saicsepatr Nimh Laitpanr Painaigh commanded Byrec Casna Blaigr (Hunter Fleet 1), which used to be Phantom Flame Fleet 1. However, since it was a precursory recon corps in nature, it was not particularly effective in the eyes of Operation Hunter. That being said, a combat phase requiring the services of a substantial gathering of recon corps was anticipated, so the formation was kept intact. And now was their time to shine.

  “Roger.” Kenesh lightly saluted, and turned heel in order to implement her orders.

  A single assault ship was attempting to leave Fleet 4. That ship’s name was the Basrogrh. In an exceedingly peculiar turn of events, it was being accompanied by three supply ships. Assault ships defending supply ships was hardly out of the ordinary, but flying side-by-side was certainly unusual. The Basrogrh did, however, have a good reason to be keeping those supply ships company.

  The little fleet, commanded by an assault ship, exited planar space and entered 3-space through the Saudec Lobnasr (Lohbnahss Portal). No matter how many times the Captain of the Basrogrh, Ablïarsec Néïc Dubreuscr Bœrh Parhynr Lamhirh, experienced the transition between dimensions, she always felt somewhat nervous. She could perceive the giant nearby globe through her frocragh, and her shoulders relaxed, the tension dissipated.

  Yet this was no time to be at ease. This just signaled the beginning of a new mission.

  The name of the planet she was sensing, which had only been incorporated as an imperial territory very rec
ently, was Lohbnahss II. And the Lady Agent of the newly-dubbed Dreuhynh Lobnasr (Countdom of Lohbnahss) was none other than Lafier. Yet again, her mission consisted of serving as the interim liege of a star system. And frankly, she was sick of it. The reason she was in the Star Forces to begin with was as an obligation owed to the Empire. But what service was she rendering the Empire taking up these perfunctory, makeshift positions at all of these scattered new territory-nations? Sadly, though the Star Forces didn’t exactly house an overabundance of assault ships, it certainly harbored more assault ships than it did personnel with societal status befitting a liege agent. On the other hand, she had no idea when any rule mandating a lord agent be a noble or Imperial had been put in place. Lafier brooded that Commodore Biboth could very well be laboring under a strange misconception.

  Alas, orders were orders. Lafier kept her expression stiff, so as not to make how she felt about this mission of hers plain for all to see.

  “You totally hate this, don’t you,” said the Clerk, Linn Ssynec Raucr Dreuc Haïder Ghintec, below his breath. He himself had been appointed as the “Adjunct to the Lady Agent,” an even more opaque job title.

  “What makes you think that?” huffed Lafier.

  “I can just tell, you know?” he deflected.

  “I don’t ‘hate’ it. I’m just...” She searched for the right word. “...unenthused.”

  “I see.” Jint nodded solemnly, thereby demonstrating he was not one to focus on the dubious and debatable gap between “hate” and “unenthused.”

  Up until days prior, the Lohbnahss Star System formed part of the United Humankind. Of the system’s twelve planets, only Lohbnahss II was inhabited. The planet had a rotation cycle of 11.8 cosmic-standard hours, and a solar revolution cycle of 417.8 cosmic-standard days. Its surface gravity stood at 1.87 times the standard Abh gravity level, and its population numbered 1,200,000. There was precious little other information to be had, and that was all she’d been notified of. Truth be told, the Imperial Star Forces bore no interest in the Lohbnahss Star System. After all, there were no signs of an important military institution anywhere in its borders, and its entire population was on par with the capital city of a podunk planet. And one good look at its commerce records revealed it contained no real industries to speak of, and was self-sufficient more or less only with regard to water and salt.

  Yet the Star Forces just happened to win a battle in a neighboring sector of planar space (though the incident was so low-key and unlosable that it could scarcely be called a “battle”), so the Lohbnahss Star System fell under the dominion of the Empire. And because of that, they had to monitor and manage it whether they liked it or not. So Commodore Biboth, who headed the Star Forces in the greater area, foisted the role of interim liege onto Lafier, all the while rushing off to the next conquest.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “Me? I’ve never found being in a warzone very enjoyable, so...”

  “Fair point.”

  “Captain,” said Deputy Starpilot, Rearguard Ecryua, looking over her shoulder. “The ship is undergoing exposure to a directed beam of electromagnetic waves coming from the landworld.”

  “Are they attacking us?” Lafier drew her control gauntlet.

  “No, it’s too weak to be an attack. It appears to be a transmission. Detecting conversion format... data confirmed receivable.”

  “Then put it through, right in front of me,” she ordered. How banal.

  “Yes, ma’a—ah.” Ecryua’s hand froze in the midst of implementing her orders. “Another transmission, this one originating from a moon.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” said Lafier, brow furrowed.

  “Yet another transmission incoming. Ah, and another. There are currently four signals calling for our attention.”

  “Prioritize the one from the landworld administration,” said Lafier.

  “Problem is,” she muttered, “they all claim to be landworld administration representatives.”

  Certain that this waffling was a pointless waste of time, Lafier exchanged glances with Jint.

  “Why don’t you put ‘em all through?” Jint shrugged.

  “I can’t hear out four people all at once,” pointed out Lafier.

  “Then I’ll preside over the discussion,” he suggested.

  “Please do.”

  Jint threw out his chest. “Rearguard Ecryua, if you could open all lines.”

  Ecryua stared at the Clerk. “You sound so... self-important.”

  Instantly, Jint rolled out an excuse. “C’mon, I’m going to be speaking to them as Adjunct to the Lady Agent here...”

  But Ecryua was barely paying attention as she briskly fulfilled her duty. Four window-screens appeared before Lafier and Jint’s eyes.

  The one on the far left belonged to a completely bald, elderly man. One wondered whether he had it shaved off on purpose. Meanwhile, the man to his right had something of a cunning air to him, and the third screen featured the sole woman, who was nearing middle age. The last contained a man with a fierce and stern look about the eyes. Since his body below his chest wasn’t on screen, they couldn’t discern his height, but his neck was thick and brawny, and his pectoral muscles so pronounced his shirt could tear at any moment.

  “This is the Adjunct to the Lady Agent, the Count of Hyde speaking,” said Jint, pointing at himself. “This is the Lady Agent, the Viscountess of Parhynh.”

  “This is the Chief Executive of the planet...”

  “Allow me to greet you on behalf of the planetary government...”

  “Our demands are extremely straightforward...”

  “I’m the only true representative...”

  The people inside the four windows were all talking over each other.

  “Please wait a moment,” said Jint, raising a hand. “While I’m sure you understand, we’re currently a little confused. We never expected a single landworld to have as many as four landworld administrations. As such...”

  At that, each of the four launched into their personal statements again.

  “Please, a moment,” Jint repeated. “As I believe you’ve already realized, given the other voices in the room, we have, at the moment, four separate lines of communication open simultaneously...”

  “Why do something like that?” said the rightmost man.

  “Because we figured this is the most effective means of sorting out the situation.”

  “It had better be,” muttered Lafier.

  Jint ignored that remark. “First of all, I’d like for all of you to make your positions clear to us. Let’s start with you.”

  The leftmost man gave a bow. “As I stated earlier, I am the Chief Executive of Lohbnahss II, Georr Maydeen. In light of the regrettable turn of events that is our system’s conquering by the Empire, I have to bear the burden of representing the best interests of the people.”

  “‘Chief Executive’? What has become of your Prime Minister, or Premier?”

  “This star system doesn’t have a prime minister or premier. Due to certain circumstances, the Chief Executive, as selected by the system’s central government, serves as the highest authority. And at the moment, that would be me.”

  “I see.” Jint saluted him with an inclination of the head. Then he shifted his gaze to the next in the line of window-screens. “Now your position, if you may be so kind.”

  “I am Yuri Dohkfoo, and I am the legitimate Premier of the Lohbnahss Star System.”

  “Say what?” Jint frowned. “That seems to fly in the face of what Mr., uhh, Maydeen just stated.”

  “That’s just due to a difference in legal interpretation. I was voted into office as the result of a free and fair election. I’m not on the same level as some government official the central government dispatched all of a year ago.”

  “Oh, that’s rich! You assumed the title of Star System Premier THREE HOURS AGO!” barked Maydeen. “And what ‘free and fair election’? More like a rally you and your backers put on.”


  “I can show you the voter name registry, if you like.”

  “No need. I know it’s just a list of your cronies,” said Maydeen, jumping to convenient conclusions.

  “An absurd accusation. Your name is also on there, Chief Executive. Why did you abstain from voting?”

  “Did you give it the proper public notice? Who’d recognize an election held by you people, anyway?”

  This is going nowhere, thought Lafier, glancing at the side of Jint’s also confused-looking face.

  Jint, for his part, decided to cross that bridge later. “If the, uhh, next individual could state their business?”

  “I’m also the Star System Premier, elected fair and square,” chuckled the woman. “My name is Lara Bay Shungarr. But I prefer to be called ‘Your Excellency.’”

  “All right, then.” With a look of resignation, he bade the last of them to speak.

  “Are you the Star System Premier, too?”

  “I don’t need a high-falutin’ title like that, and I wasn’t elected, either. Us taking over is just God’s will. We’re the strongest on this planet.”

  “And, uhh, your name?”

  “Meekeh Anguson.”

  “So if you weren’t chosen by way of election, how were you chosen?”

  “By our muscles, by our popularity with the people, and by the works of God,” declared Anguson expressionlessly.

  “I see.” Jint smiled feebly, and looked at Lafier, who proved no help as she turned away.

  “We take it this system’s predicament is rather complex,” said Jint, who was about ready to sigh. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to wait until conditions sort themselves out.”

  Agreed, thought Lafier. It wouldn’t take long for a magistrate more fit for the job to come, along with experienced public officials and bureaucrats.

  “What do you mean, ‘wait’?” asked Maydeen.

  “Oh, uhh, you see, our policy is actually not to interfere with the internal affairs of landworlds. Once you iron out among yourselves a rightful landworld citizen representative...”

  “It’s obvious I’M the rightful representative!” shouted Maydeen, which promptly sparked heated objections out of Shungarr and Dohkfoo. Anguson alone remained silent.