trans_9 | Battle of Lobnas Sord [Open]

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Battle of Lobnas Sord [Open]

Spaurh had found the sensoriums. At first she'd merely been curious, recreating a few places from memory, trying out the zero-gravity simulation. She'd even dabbled in the piloting program (and found that she was almost as good as she had been out of training). And then she'd recreated her flagship. It had been perfect - almost too perfect. The crew acted like the real crew. Her Chief-of-Staff was so real that she'd almost thought he'd materialized next to her. Of course, that's when that worming little thought had burrowed into her head - what if? Could the battle at the Sord have gone differently? Could she have saved more of her men, her ships?

Despite her rather smug exterior, she honestly had cared for those under her command, even if in some abstract way. And even though she'd achieved a "victory" of sorts at Lobnas, the defeat had still stung. She was supposed to be rebuilding her squadron. Instead she was here. So, at a loss, she'd replayed the battle in the Sensoriums. And then again. And then again. She lost less ships, she lost more ships. But every time the losses had been crippling to her little fleet. And now she was doing it again. The ship rocked from a nearby explosion, "Looks like the enemy is stupid..."

She had made it this far into the fight - the retreat from the Sord, breaking enemy contact. But just as the first time, they were following her. Her crew, her wonderfully trained crew were giving it there all. Reports continued to stream in from the fleet. Another ship had exploded. and then-

"Mine! Incoming!"

"Evasive-"

The ship shuddered for a moment from an impact and a frantic bridge officer begin yelling as information scrolled across his screen, "Impact! Our engines are disabled! Another-"

The ship shuddered underneath her again and then the deck plating seemed to rise to meet her as the entire room turned into blinding white light. It faded out a few moments later, leaving Spaurh standing on an empty bridge. The words "Ship destroyed" burned across the viewscreen. Spaurh bit back a curse and stalked back to her command chair and slumped, sulking. There had to be some way to get a better result out of the fight....

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I am going to relive this battle again and again... Lafiel thinks from her observer's position, floating in the void. The cushioned caress of zero gravity refuses to provide her any comfort. She zooms in to the ships, viewing them from above so they look like little toys...or insects...That's what Basroil means: angry hornet. She's pointedly not looking down at the dirty brown and green planet to her lower right.

The Abh forces fight with a cleverness and ferocity that would make the empress proud but are overwhelmed by the numbers difference. Spaurh's cherry red flagship winks out of existence and Lafiel is left amazed at how close the whole thing was.

Spaurh clambers back to her feet, command sword pointed dead on at the view screen. She lifts her shoulders, straightens her back - she hasn't noticed Lafiel yet, obviously (otherwise she wouldn't be showing this much frustration). She's into this.

"Start it again!"

And then her bridge crew is back, chattering as the ships flicker back into their starting positions. Once again she is shouting orders to her crew as the Lashkau and her fleet hurl itself into the fray once more.

Lafiel seizes an impulse. "Stacy, give me command of the United Mankind ships." Instantly she's on a dimly lit bridge. It's dark and cramped and she can smell the fear-sweat of the simulated officers under her. They buzz about in olive green uniforms, dozens of them at complex interfaces. There's none of the elegance of an Abh ship, the clean efficiency of the froce/almfac system where her kind hook their very bodies into the ship's controls. Everything is blocky and blinking.

She is disgusted to find herself wearing one of those uniforms too.

She's not really interested in beating Spauhr but in seeing what she will do. So she barks to her men: "Lure them backwards! Fighting retreat! The enemy favors blitzkrieg tactics and we are going to let them supply their own momentum to their deaths!" Spauhr's signature tight charges will be met with a false retreat then an englobement. Her Futuune fleet will be caught in the middle of that globe.

For a brief moment Spaurh hesitates, hearing her sensors' officer bark a report, watching the tactical display on her screen. This is different. The human commander never retreated. Where's his pincer movement? Where's...?

But this should prove entertaining enough.

"Follow them straight in! All squadrons form up and follow us in! We're going to punch right through the enemy fleet! Don't flag, don't falter! All mines! Fire!"

Lafiel's forces give a very convincing show of having to slowly retreat under the Futuune fleet's barrages. But as they do, the rest of the fleet spreads out.

The Abh ships are at the center of a globe composed of her ships. Fire pours into the center from all around.

Spaurh isn't about to give up. She focuses her ships into a tight formation, even as they start to drop one by one. This situation is horrifically familiar to the one she found herself in at the actual battle of Lobnas Sord. Instead, the remains of her ships form up and punch staright for the weakest part of the line, weapons blazing away, mines exploding.

"Ram them!" She barks. Unfortunately for her as a certain UMK military police inspector found out on Sufugnoff, most UMK ships won't obey such an order. A few are too slow to get away, however, and end up tangling their remains in Spauhr's ships, slowing them down.

"Melt away again here. Group A, the smaller group races them in front. Group B, the larger, recomposes here." She says, using the primitive holographic command table provided for her to demonstrate. This is a pincer movement, but it's one tailored to Spauhr's love of charging at the weakest parts of a formation. She's sacrificing ships for this, knowing that her greater numbers means she will win this war of attrition.

Spaurh knows why she's here. She's here to buy time and die. But at the same time this is a simulation. This has already happened and no matter what she does, the outcome has already been decided. She has to wonder how much longer the transports are going to take.

And then she orders one more pass on the enemy fleet. One more and then they will run.

"A group, stand your ground! B group, advance at full speed! Unload all mines at their engines!" She's trying to punch through... Lafiel thinks. I won't give her the opportunity.

From behind will come a barrage aimed to crippled the Abh ships' thrusters. She's unloading everything she has here.

She won't fail. She won't allow herself too, even as her ships start to die. One after another, temporary stars in the blackness of space. She's down to a handful of ships, but she keeps on pushing them. They're almost through now and even if she's suffered horrific losses, she's made the United Mankind pay in blood for this victory.

Even in a simulation, Lafiel finds she doesn't have the heart to finish off an Abh fleet. "Let them go." She orders her simulated men. The ships limp through the gate, the last being Spaurh's cherry red Lashkau.

The simulation winks out until they are left in the plain nondescriptness of the sensorium floor. "Your reputation is well deserved, admiral."

Spaurh had been order another repeat, when it all winks out of existence. She turns on her heel, blinking away her surprise. For a moment she frowns at Lafiel, "Deca-Commander... I didn't know you were here."

"My apologies, Admiral. I merely wanted to see how you would react to a change in the enemy's strategy." She's a little surprised Spauhr isn't snapping at her. She doesn't even appear all that angry. "

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