“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sara said after getting to her feet, to my left and addressing the gathered admirals and senior staff officers. “At this time, two weeks into our campaign, our expeditionary force has succeeded in securing twelve colonies with individual populations of less than one million each, along with two hundred industrial outposts with individual populations of less than ten thousand each. We’ve also engaged the local navies, of the self-proclaimed United Federation of Planets, a total of twenty-four times, and emerged victorious in each and every battle.”
The lieutenant paused to regard her audience, and then glancing back at her dataslate, continued her report. “Federal casualties stand at six hundred and eighty-nine ships,” she said. “Amounting to three hundred and seventy-six Excelsior Class Medium Cruisers, one hundred and forty-one Akira Class Medium Cruisers, ninety-four Miranda Class Frigates, seventy Nebula Class Medium Cruisers, and eight Galaxy Class Medium Cruisers.”
Again, the lieutenant paused to regard her audience. “Our own losses stand at two hundred and seventy-six ships,” she said. “Amounting to one hundred and thirty-eight CR90 Corvettes, sixty-six Vindicator Class Heavy Cruisers, fifty-five Nebulon-B Escort Frigates, and seventeen Dreadnought Class Heavy Cruisers. We’ve also lost 35 GR-35 Medium Transports to commerce raiders launching hit and run strikes during resupply and in-system transit operations.”
The lieutenant again paused before continuing. “Ground losses currently stand at one thousand, two hundred and thirty-two dead or missing,” she said. “And three thousand, seven hundred and eighty-five injured, from both the Imperial Army and the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps. We’ve also lost five hundred and one ground vehicles of various models, including one AT-AT. Interestingly, most ground casualties were not sustained from combat with formal members of the Federation ground forces, but with local militias and irregular units. In particular, Orion and Andorian units are of exceeding effectiveness.”
A murmur ran through the gathered officers, but it was wordless, and quickly stopped. Unsurprising: not one person here was non-Human. More than a few bought into COMPNOR’s Humanocentrist tripe, almost certainly resulting in disgust and offense that the local Humans were of…inferior, combat ability, to non-Humans, at least on the ground.
And even those that didn’t buy into that tripe were appalled that militias and irregulars were of greater effectiveness than proper soldiers.
Me?
Not really that surprised: Andorians were warriors on par with Klingons. And the Orions had conquered a great, star-spanning empire when the Vulcans were still figuring out how to make bronze, and while that empire had collapsed millennia before the Time of Awakening, there was a reason the Federation for all their…puritan, opinions on various topics, gave the Orions a great deal of leeway.
A lesson I did not intend to forget.
“…primary combat forces now number an estimated total of two thousand ships,” Sara continued. “Including a core force of over three hundred Star Destroyers of various classes.”
“Thank you, lieutenant.” I smoothly interrupted. “I believe the point has been carried across.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sara said with a nod, and returned to her seat.
Pressing a button in front of me, I had the holoprojector display a map of the surrounding space. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “Between data recovered from captured colonial databases, salvaged computers from destroyed or captured enemy vessels, interrogations of and defections from our prisoners of war, and of course, the contributions of no less than 3000 probe droids over the past few weeks, we now have a map of the surrounding oversector that will be become the New Territories. More than that, we also have the hyperspace routes through which our fleet can bring the Federation crashing down, and its worlds into the fold of the Emperor’s New Order.”
I paused, and adjusted the holographic projection. “At present,” she said. “Our holdings are primarily here, in the Orion Sector. We also have also extended feelers into the surrounding Antares, Omega, Archanis, Melona, Rigellian, Andorian, and Vulcan sectors. But as things stand, our holdings are spread thin. Our forces largely-uncommitted. And the damage we have inflicted on the Federation’s military-industrial complex, to say nothing of its core territories, effectively amount to nothing.”
Again, I paused, and swept my gaze across the gathering. The other officers gazed back with stoic discipline, though I noticed more than a few among the younger ones with hints of judging expressions on their faces. One, Rear Admiral Natasi Daala – yes, that Daala, and damn, I am so in deep shit if I get Grand Moff Tarkin’s protégé and mistress killed – had the opposite, a faint hint of anticipation on her face.
“But!” I said, raising my voice before pausing for effect. “Though it might seem to be otherwise, Operation Green has achieved all of its operational goals. We have secured our beachhead into this galaxy. We have acquired comprehensive data on the local astrography. We have charted hyperspace routes for our fleet’s use. Our limited strikes and gains thus far, as per intelligence’s psychological assessment of the Federation lacking understanding of and experience in total war, have lulled our enemies into a false sense of security. Finally, we have consolidated our logistics train, and we have concentrated our battlefleet. What can this be called if not the conditions for victory?”
There were plenty of nods this time, especially from older, more experienced men, who like me had had experience in the Clone Wars. It might only have involved organizing supply convoys and dispatching reinforcement personnel to one theater or another, but like General Clausewitz once said, only amateurs discuss tactics.
Strategists discuss logistics.
I rose to my feet, pacing around the table with a remote held in my hand. “But,” I said. “Victory is quite a fickle thing. One of the oldest and most important lessons to be learned in war, is that the victor is not the one whose plan works the most, but one whose plan fails the least. Therefore, it is necessary to ensure the collapse of the enemy’s position if we are to claim victory. Such is the thrust of our upcoming operations, conducted in part simultaneously.”
There was a chorus of confusion at that, and I triggered the remote to adjust the hologram once again. “First among those will be Operation Yellow,” I said. “The naval assault on the Federation capital: planet Earth, in the Sol System.”
There was thunderstruck silence at that, and then a grizzled and grey-haired Imperial Army general narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Naval assault,” he echoed. “Not invasion?”
“An invasion at this time is premature.” I said. “It would only serve to stiffen enemy resistance, and given the distance between our beachhead here and the Earth, our logistics would be nigh-impossible to sustain.”
“I see.” The general said with a slow nod. “So that’s how it is.”
“Hmm…what do you mean, general?”
“You mean to attack their capital, and inflict sufficiently-heavy losses on its defense and reinforcement forces,” the general elaborated. “And in so doing, shock them into a brief period of panicked confusion.”
“As should be expected from a veteran such as yourself.” I said with a curt nod. “Well done, general. You have deduced the goal of Operation Yellow.”
“…the enemy will recover quickly.” Vice Admiral Volo Orunitia of the Third Battlegroup mused. “We must move quickly, and decisively, to take advantage of their momentary weakness. Otherwise, such an attack would only serve to stiffen if not inflame the enemy’s determination to resist.”
“And that will be the point of the second operation,” I said, continuing to pace and again adjusting the hologram. “Operation Typhoon: once the attack on Earth is complete and our fleet has made a full withdrawal from enemy capital system, it will begin a two-week campaign aimed at destroying the enemy’s logistical and military infrastructure.”
Orunitia chuckled in amused approval. “I see.” He said. “So we basically land a solid blow on the enemy’s chin, and cause them to see stars. Then, while they’re still seeing stars, we land a fast-paced series of blows all over his body to keep him from recovering, and force him on the ropes. I like it.”
A titter of agreeing emotion ran through the gathering, then silenced as I flapped a hand to one side. “Typhoon will almost certainly achieve that end,” she said. “But we must not leave anything to chance. For that reason, Operation White will launch before Operation Yellow, and will continue until the end of the campaign.”
Again, the hologram adjusted, and a murmur arose from the gathered officers. “Continuing with Admiral Orunitia’s comparison,” Vice Admiral Baku Tucker of the Sixth Battlegroup remarked. “Operation White will be like spiking the enemy’s water during the fight. Not enough to make him keel over, but enough to keep him from fighting at his fullest.”
I shrugged. “We’re at war.” I said. “And the whole point behind strategy is to win before a battle even begins.”
Again, a titter of agreement ran through the gathering. “Once Operation Typhoon has run its course,” I said. “Then we will launch Operation Blue: the invasion of the Federation capital and other key worlds, including Vulcan and Andoria.”
I paused and smiled disarmingly, before spreading my arms while standing next to my chair at the head of the table. “Simple and easy, yes?” I asked, and a murmur of laughter echoed across the gathering. I briefly closed my eyes and chuckled, before pulling back my seat and sitting down. “Well, that’s the overview. Now, we go into the details. All battlegroup, flotilla, and task force commanders may now unlock their dataslates, and review their assigned orders for the next fifteen minutes. Afterwards, we will openly discuss the details of the operational plan, in which case I actively welcome any and all reasonable critiques and suggestions.”
Again, I smiled disarmingly, and taking off the edge that came with the word I emphasized. The other officers murmured and nodded their agreement, and then picking up their dataslates, began reviewing their orders.
As for myself…I braced myself. From personal experience, the following meeting would be a long one.
And I would not be disappointed.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Admiral Daala,” I called, and gesturing for the younger woman to follow. “Please, speak with me for a few moments. I understand you need to prepare your forces for your assigned role in Operation Yellow, but I’m sure you can spare a few moments.”
“I believe I can, admiral.” Daala said with a nod, and I led the way to one side of the conference room, where transparisteel windows looked into the depths of the void.
For several long moments, we stood silent, staring into space…
…or at least, I did. Daala just stood to attention to one side. Noticing, I smiled and gave her a vague wave. “At ease, admiral.” I said. “There’s no need to be so formal.”
“I…yes, ma’am.” She said, with a hint of confusion, but relaxing ever so slightly, regardless.
I chuckled at the sight. “I’ll be frank, admiral.” I began. “It’s refreshing to see I’m not the only ranking officer of the female sex present. While there are plenty enough women in the military, few ever climb higher than junior officer rank.”
“Unfortunately true, ma’am.”
I hummed in thought and regarded the younger woman before me. Perhaps a bit of shock will be enough to get some emotion out of this one.
“I am aware about the rumors between you and Grand Moff Tarkin,” I said, and noted with internal satisfaction the way Daala’s jaw tightened and her green eyes all but flashed with anger. “But let me say here and now that I care nothing for that. Even if it’s true, I’m not exactly one to judge, as I had to ask my father to pull strings for me to avoid getting sidelined to some backwater post.”
Daala now blinked in confusion, and hesitated for a couple of moments. “…I had heard of that, ma’am.” She said. “Your father is a nobleman, I believe? And with a place at the Imperial Court?”
“He is and does.” I confirmed with a nod, before narrowing my eyes. “But I did not truly need his influence to get where I am now, if not for a certain…idiosyncrasy, quite common these days. His Excellency would not have entrusted such an important task to me had that been the case.”
Daala sighed, and finally seemed to relax halfway through. “I do see your point, admiral.” She said. “Despite the rumors about me and Grand Moff Tarkin, he would not have supported my career to the extent he has if I did not meet his standards.”
“I would think not.” I agreed. “Considering the state of the Outer Rim as a result of the Clone Wars, if not centuries of mismanagement even long before the Clone Wars began, bringing order and stability to the region requires both ruthlessness and talent in both military and civic affairs. And Grand Moff Tarkin has long proven he has them all.”
Daala nodded in agreement. “I will say here and now that I did not assign you as commander of Operation Yellow’s Special Attack Force to curry favor with Grand Moff Tarkin’s protégé.” I continued. “But I will admit it I did it out of sympathy for your position, and wanting to give a fellow woman a chance to prove she’s more than capable of getting the job done. Especially when said fellow woman has all the qualifications for the role.”
Daala smiled and gave a curt nod. “My apologies,” she said. “A part of me wants to be offended at the notion I deserve sympathy. But I suppose that’s just my long-wounded pride talking. Thank you for the opportunity, ma’am. I won’t let you down.”
The younger woman saluted, and I smiled and saluted back. “Carry on, admiral.” I said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Daala said, before smartly turning and leaving.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Sovereign Class Starship Enterprise-E broke Earth orbit, and quickly building up to three-quarters impulse, headed out into space. Finishing with a report, Captain Jean-Luc Picard put the dataslate down before looking out his ready room’s windows, regarding the gigantic fleet assembling over the planet with distaste.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” a familiar and most unwelcome voice asked, and Picard glanced in its direction so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.
“Q.” he said.
“The one and only.” Q said with a flamboyant gesture, sitting on a chair and wearing a Starfleet Admiral’s uniform.
“What do you want, Q?” Picard asked. “I have no time for your games. If you haven’t noticed, we are currently facing a crisis. One that could eclipse the Borg in terms of the threat it poses to the future of Humanity!”
Q looked taken aback, even just a little bit hurt. “Captain, I’m shocked.” He said. “Is that really the way you address old friends?”
Picard didn’t bother to dignify that with a response, and Q shook his head in disappointment, before getting up and beginning to walk around the ready room. “Well,” he began. “If you really want to know, I did notice. In fact, that’s why I said what I said earlier.”
Q gestured out the windows, at the Federation assembling the biggest fleet it’s ever assembled in its history, to face the biggest threat it’s ever found facing. “The really amazing thing is that lessons do get through those thick skulls of yours.” he said. “Given the way you people floundered against the Borg, or those unruly little shapeshifters from the other side of the galaxy, I’d have imagined against the Empire you’d also keep trying to talk your mouths off, wasting time and effort with halfway measures, and somehow getting through it all by sheer luck, go back to being a bunch of lazy, entitled children playing around with toys and big words.”
The nigh-omnipotent being smirked as he saw Picard flush and seem to swell up ever so slightly with indignation. “Instead,” Q continued. “You people actually decided to pull your heads out of the sand, and go all the way.”
Q paused, and then narrowed his eyes. “Then again,” he concluded. “Considering the Empire is led and dominated by Humans, I wonder what it says about your kind, that you only finally decided to take things seriously when facing yourselves.”
“Enough games, Q.” Picard snapped. “What do you know about the Empire?”
Q waved dismissively. “I know enough.” He said, smirking at the increasingly-annoyed expression on Picard’s face. “Enough to know that they’ll be a perfect test for your kind. Who will rise and who will fall? Just what and how will the future of this galaxy turn out to be?”
Q paused again, and chuckled. “You shouldn’t feel so distasteful about your Starfleet’s response.” He said. “You’re actually making the right choice.”
“It’s barbaric!” Picard finally exploded. “It might be necessary to sink to the Empire’s level in order to survive against them, but the precedent it sets…the cost that must be paid…it will haunt the Federation for generations to come! It will cast a shadow over our children and our children’s children!”
“In that case, why not just surrender?” Q asked. There was a flash of light, and they were standing on a platform floating amidst the clouds, over a city that stretched as far as the eye could see. Hovercraft of all kinds flew in endless streams along set routes between skyscrapers, while in the skies above, Picard discerned the bright light of orbital construction on a degree he’d never thought possible. “If you value your pacifist ideals so much, that the prospect of survival and even success at their expense makes you feel so abhorrent, why not stick with those ideals to the very end, even if it means falling on your knees for their sake?”
“…it’s a Faustian Bargain either way.” Picard admitted after a long moment, walking along the edges of the platform. “Surrender, and our ideals become meaningless, as our society is crushed and rebuilt in the conquerors’ image. Fight, and gain the chance to preserve our ideals, but staining them with spilled blood, spilled blood which they stand against. But, one offers more hope than the other which offers none. And that is what you fail to understand, Q. For all your power and ‘cosmic perspective’, you don’t truly understand Humanity, what truly drives us all: hope. What we must do is barbaric, there’s no question about it. Its legacy will weigh succeeding generations down, a difficult hurdle they must face and overcome. But they will overcome it, and move past its shadow to a new day. That, is why we will fight. That is why I will fight. For the hope of that distant day in the future, even if I never see it in my lifetime.”
Q clapped his hands slowly, nodding his head in approval. “A pretty speech, captain.” He said, and then there was another flash of light. Once again, they were in a different place, but which Picard realized after a few moments was on Earth, centuries ago. He recognized that much from his historical studies, and the way people around him dressed and how the vehicles looked like.
“But despite what you might think,” Q said, watching as paramedics worked frantically to save a dark-haired woman’s life, her lightly-tanned skin turned pale from loss of blood, the same blood that soaked her clothes and pooled around her. “I understand hope quite well. Better than you know, in fact. And it’s not nearly as noble a thing as you say. I daresay it’s a double-edged sword, even.”
“…what are you saying Q?” Picard asked after a moment. “What you do you know? Did you have a hand in this, much like you had a hand in unleashing the Borg on the Federation?”
Q just smiled, and with another flash of light, they were back on the Enterprise-E. “Hope might be a double-edged sword,” he said. “But like you said, a new day will eventually come. The question is, what will that new day really bring?”
And before Picard could respond, Q snapped his fingers, and he was gone.
