General Naram-Sin walked around the encampment that had swiftly gone from segregated by race into a huddled mass of what the humans called “a few shattered divisions”. They were dug in, with hastily-fabricated netting thrown over the heavy equipment, and every soldier they could get stuffed under some sort of overhead covering. A day ago, Naram-Sin would’ve scoffed at such “pedantic” considerations.
Now he knew better. He could see their old LZ, a smoking ruin in the distance. The Vrosqil had bombed their ships from orbit after the Galactic Coalition’s ground forces retreated. Several of the human dropships and strategic transports were caught in the bombardment, Naran-Sin had lost all his big shuttles. There were a few ships from the other members of the Galactic Coalition, those small enough to maneuver rapidly, but not enough to evacuate all his troops. They were stuck.
He walked past a pit being dug by several of his troops. One of their Righteous Fury mecha was crouched down, preparing to move into the firing pit, in what the humans called “hull-down”.
“What good’s this gonna do?” One of the larger draconic soldiers demanded, “We’re just gonna surrender tomorrow, anyway!”
Naram-Sin sighed, and rubbed at his fringe. He tried to think of the strategic situation. The Galactic Coalition, despite their publiticity info, didn't only use infantry. They also used mecha, better suited to zero gravity environments and could maneuver in urban terrain. They also were loathe to affix them with heavy armor, it affected their agility. Attributes that did not help over vast semi-forested plains. He looked at the smoke in the distance again, then turned the corner around a few tents.
“What do we need food for a week for?” He heard a Coalition accent hiss, “They’ve got the orbitals! We’re fucked!”
“It’s the general’s orders, just go with it. We’ll be surrendering anyway, I guarantee it.”
Naram-Sin turned in time to find two of the serpent folk, some of his orderlies, look up in shock at him. They looked at each other, then quickly began to jabber away at each other about very important equipment. As he walked past, he could see into the tents. Exhausted and worn out Coalition soldiers filled the tents. Their weapons were uncleaned and they lounged about in despair.
The general didn’t even know what to say to that. He knew they couldn’t surrender, but looking at the troops, he didn’t know what else he could do. Naram-Sin’s staff stood about the camp, trying to take account of all their surviving equipment. Did they have enough food to last? Would their batteries hold out? Did they have the right materials? These were all considerations his military hadn’t normally considered. Engagements tended to be won or lost, there were no extensive campaigns like there were in ancient history!
Parade ground tactics worked fairly well in a space station, certainly what the humans called "O'Neill cylinders", and could be arguably useful in shock and awe. That was his experience, and how the wars of old had gone. When you could pound the enemy's ground forces into scrap from orbit, what did it matter if you lost infantry or not? Ground forces like his were not the ancient scrappy warriors of the Great War, the naval battles were what truly mattered.
As he walked, a helicopter buzzed in. The Terran aircraft were dedicated for the atmosphere, something he would have dismissed, were it not for the wounded Coalition troops being disgorged from the helicopter’s belly. Terran medics rushed to take the wounded to the triage center a few meters away, hidden under a collection of tents. Naram-Sin looked at the helicopter lifted off. His CASEVAC systems were all surface to space, far less useful tactically. The Coalition Expeditionary Force wasn't prepared for an extended stay. As he watched, another helicopter came roaring in to deposit a new load of wounded. The combat support hospital they used was far more sophisticated than his own field hospital. Naram-Sin’s forces were expected to be able to send CASEVAC shuttles to orbiting cruisers.
Fighter jets, honest to goodness air breathing combat aircraft, buzzed overhead. They looked like they had stealth surfaces and large missiles, but that was it. Naram-Sin could hear more jet engines in the distance; the planes didn’t use proper runways, they could land anywhere that was flat. From what he’d seen, they had deployable “air cushion landing systems”that enabled them to take off and land from snow, swamp, dirt roads, and even lakes. There was one just over the nearby trees. And it means they can operate hidden from orbital surveillance and our shuttles can’t even move, Naram-Sin thought angrily.
He found his way to the remains of the mobile command center. It was a small chamber with a few consoles, and one particular chair for him. It was mostly empty, the consoles dark. One of his subordinates, Major Eshk, was inside. She stood up wearily, “No, no,” Naram-Sin said, “Take a seat. You’ve earned it.” The officer, of an avian race, sat down thankfully. “Status?”
“Things aren’t going well upstairs, sir,” The young major said miserably, “The humans are helping tremendously, but there’s too many of them. Seems the enemy had all their eggs covered, and they’re curling in on us.”
“Any word from the Keshi?” asked the general.
“They’re in a complete panic. Seeing us… withdraw doesn’t give them any confidence. They’re trying to conduct orderly evacuations.” Eshk grimaced. “But with the spaceports seized, there isn’t much point.” The avian paused. “Sir, the humans are doing their best to help. They’re conducting disaster relief.”
“Yes,” Naram-Sin sighed, “I gave permission to use our troops as well.” He grimaced, “At least that’s something we know how to do.”
The avian tilted her head, “Sir? I thought…”
“Disaster relief is something we do on the regular, Major Eshk,” Naram-Sin sighed. “Is there any update on our vehicles?”
The major shook her head, “Same as it was before, sir. Our units don’t have the legs for this, literally and figuratively.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Naram-Sin hissed, “Damn it.” He rubbed his fringe again, “I thought we’d be maneuvering to the Primary Spaceport by now.” He checked their displays. He could see, through washes of static, unit trackers in orange to signify their own forces, failing to catch the rapidly-mobile purple forces of the enemy. Black squares of the humans harrassed the enemy, but they were so few compared to the enemy’s total forces. “This is synced to the human sensors?”
“Sensors and field reports,” The avian said, “Their drones, surveillance flights…” The major rolled her eyes, “Scouts. Who uses scouts in ground combat anymore?”
“Evidently we do now,” Naram-Sin sighed. “Instruct our forces not to waste time pursuing enemy light units. They’ll get caught out of position again.”
Their ground forces typically fought in space boarding actions, but landings were quite common. However, they rarely left major space ports in the pirate engagements they'd fought. Mecha and infantry could maneuver better in those areas, and the distances involved weren't very far. Military planners for years had warned that even a few small armored vehicles could help with response time, and a reduction in casualties, but were ignored. There had been numerous reports over the years of logistical snarls, with troops unable to get new batteries for their weapons, or get heavy support due to a lack of armored personnel carriers or armored fighting vehicles, but it was claimed the logistical demands of Great War-type equipment was too much and unnecessary. Damn number crunchers, Naram-Sin thought to himself.
As he thought, he heard the roar of an engine. Two APCs came into the encampment. He stuck his head out of the small command center to see them unload a few stretchers. The forms inside them were ill-fitted for the human litters, but it served its purpose. He could see them wearing the uniform of mecha crew.
“I’d give anything for those museum landships back home,” The major grunted.
“Eh?” Naram-Sin asked.
“The Great War had vehicles like that. Ours are a bunch of buses!” Eshk threw a gesture at some of their light hover vehicles nearby, out one of the windows. Two were being serviced, already short on support supplies. A human Marine was busy trying to understand the manual. “Oh hey look, some of our soldiers who haven’t fallen out of discipline…”
“They served us well for many years,” Naram-Sin murmured.
Eshk swore. “General, they’re incapable of defending themselves from the enemy. Their orders are to run and hide. At least the humans’ jeeps can shoot back!” One such hydrogen-fueled vehicle roared past as if to emphasize her statement. “We’ve lost ground in a dozen sectors because they couldn’t get a resupply, and our mecha were too slow!”
Naram-Sin’s hand hit one of the consoles, “I know!” He snapped. He rubbed at his fringe, “I know all that they said!” He gave a sneer, and a mocking tone, “‘Why would we care what happens on a planet? Once the orbitals are taken it’s all over’!” He rolled his eyes, and glared at Eshk, “You think I don’t realize that? Look at them!” He gestured outside. Main battle tanks sat nestled in firing pits, like beetles preparing for a long winter. “They don’t seem ready to know that! They don’t seem ready to roll over and die!”
Eshk stood up, “They seem ready for a campaign, sir. I think we’d better learn from them.” She looked at the hover vehicles. One of the engineers just slumped over and gave up. “And we’d better learn fast.”
Naram-Sin saw the engineer begin to squabble with the other. He swore. “I had better go consult with General Thomas then. And see what else we haven’t learned.” He stepped outside the command center.
He noticed a few Marine hover trucks off in the distance. More self propelled guns. Great black barrels folded down on their backs and the trucks sped off. They left the encampment in a cloud of dust. Naram-Sin kicked himself mentally. Galactic Coalition… perhaps I’d better try to* collate more.
He found his way to the Terran Marine command center. It was more mobile than his was, it was built into a truck. A guard stood by, and politely opened the door for him. Naram-Sin was surprised to see the room’s sophistication. There were consoles, officers chattering and giving out orders over the radio, and he could even feel air conditioning. He felt a touch of jealousy. His subordinates were nowhere near this organized. Half of his were about to collapse while these looked like they could keep going for a month.
“Tonic?” Colonel Sellers, the man who’d saved half his command, asked. He materialized at the general’s side with a steaming mug, “We brought some goodwill material with us.”
Naram-Sin looked at the cup and took it. “Thank you, Colonel.” He sipped it.
"It's not going good upstairs," Sellers said.
“I heard.” Naram-Sin grimaced. “Normally, when confronted with such a situation as this, we’d be advised to surrender. What brilliant Terran strategy will save us this time? I presume General Thomas has a plan?”
Sellers gestured, and the pair moved to a smart conference table at the rear of the command center. Major General Thomas sat at the back, going through the screen’s displays. The small woman didn’t seem quite like the type to command a fierce military force, more like a librarian, with a slight build and a pair of wide-lens glasses. “General Naram-Sin,” She said, standing up, “Good to see you.”
“Likewise, General,” Naram-Sin extended his hand to the smaller creature, “I must thank you again for your assistance in saving us.”
Thomas shook his hand, “I was wondering when you’d get your head out of your ass.” She pushed her glasses up on her face. “We’re in a tight spot, and I’d appreciate it if you’d get your rockheaded staff to–” She paused, “Ah, shit, you don’t have any of the rockheads on staff, do you?” She looked at Seller, “Hey, Sellout, do they have any?”
“I dunno, General,” Seller said sheepishly.
“Some good you are,” Thomas rolled her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Not a librarian. Or perhaps too much of a librarian. Naram-Sin didn’t know whether to be offended or to fall in line in respect. The general appeared to speak in profanity to anyone she knew. Yet as he glanced at Seller, he could see that he respected her like she was his personal deity. “No, though in their culture, that’s something of a compliment.”
“Well, tell those sludgeheads to get their anatomy to the point where they can actually pull a goddamn trigger. I’ve got a war on my hands, and it’s not helped by your jackass brigade insisting on the right way to do things. My division has enough on its plate without having to do your job and ours.”
Naram-Sin chuckled, then sucked air between his mandibles, “Many of my staff are under the impression that we’ve already lost the battle, General. Some of them believe that now that the orbitals have been compromised, we’re to surrender.”
“Is that what you think we should do?” Thomas asked.
“As we’ve seen today, my judgement is beyond worthless,” Naram-Sin said miserably.
Thomas frowned, “General, you got shaken up, I get it. Just take a breath, and let’s go over what we’ll do next.”
“What is there next?” He demanded, “My troops have lost their faith in me, our weapons are worthless, and we’ve lost the orbitals!” His hands were shaking. “I can’t command anything! I can’t do this!”
Thomas’s mouth shifted, “Naram-Sin, stop and take a breath.”
“What for?” He laughed hysterically, “So the troops can tear me apart?”
“You’re the boss. Tell them to cut that shit out!” Thomas snapped, “We’re going to need everybody we can get if we’re going to make it off this planet!”
“Off the planet–? Thomas, we’re doomed!” He nearly dropped the tonic, “We’re doomed, do you hear me?! The war’s already lost!”
Thomas scowled at him. She walked up to him, and pointed her finger at his chest. “Hey, you see this on your shirt?”
He looked down, “What–?”
Her finger flicked up into his mandibles, “Wake up,” She snapped, “I’d smack you if it wouldn’t be considered assault!” She glared at him, and pointed her finger in his face, “You’re a general of the Galactic Coalition, so act like it!”
Naram-Sin rubbed his mandibles, “How dare you–?!”
“Your pity party is over, General,” She growled. Her slight mammal frame was so much smaller than his, but in this moment she was like a giant, “I don’t have time for your bullshit. I can’t win this battle alone, and neither can you. So you got a bloody nose, big deal. Wipe the damn blood off, get whatever you call balls out of your mouth, and be the general your troops need! So you got knocked out, big deal! You get back up, you big tough metal bird dude!”
Sellers gently put a hand between the two, “Uh, general…?”
Naram-Sin took a breath. “How do you expect me to–? What do you expect me to–?”
Thomas shook her head. She turned, walked back, and leaned back against the table. “You’re the general, god damn it. They have to do what you say.”
“And if they refuse?”
“Don’t let them,” She snapped, “You got beaten up, and it’s on you to make sure it doesn’t happen again. It happens to the best of us, but you can’t fall apart like this.”
“We’ve never fought a war in–!”
Thomas shook her head, “Oh, cry me a river! We’ve been unprepared for wars all the goddamn time!”
Naram-Sin scoffed, “I hardly think our definitions of unprepared match!”
“One of my ancestors was in a war where the army was so small half of the officer’s corps was able to defect,” Thomas growled.
Naram-Sin blinked. “What?”
“We get unprepared all the time. Gettin’ caught with your pants down is normal.” She strode around the table, “So what are we gonna do about it, cry?” She started adjusting the holos on the smart table. “No.”
“So what am I to do?”
Thomas looked up and glared at him. “You’re going to tell them that you were unprepared, and you fucked up. Then you’re going to be the general. You’ve got the legal authority, hell, you’ve got the moral authority. Kick their asses and tell them to shape up! You’re going to tell them what they need to hear, that you’re going to keep fighting, and you’ll win!”
“You want me to lie to them?”
“The fight isn’t over till it’s over, metal bird,” Thomas said. The way she stood reminded him of old propaganda posters.
“You’ve got the authority, general,” Sellers said hopefully, “Remind them who they are.”
Naram-Sin stroked his mandibles and saw Sellers’ expression. That loyalty, that devotion to Thomas… the abuse could pass by because she’d earned his respect. He stood a little taller. “Alright. I’ll tell them.” And I’ll earn their respect again. He took a breath, “So what’s your plan, then?”
“Work with you to come up with a better one,” Thomas grunted.
“No, I mean…”
“If this is more whingeing I’m gonna scream.”
“How are you going to deal with the orbitals?” He asked, “Half the problem is my troops don’t know what to do.”
Thomas gestured to the table. A holo of the local area was on the display. Naram-Sin leaned over the table. To his surprise, an image of the jet fighters, and the trucks he’d seen depart, were on display.
“We’ve got surface-to-space munitions. I know you fuckers don’t have them, you idiots don’t even have proper supply chains…” Buzzers and alarms went off in the room behind them. “They’re preparing to fire now.”
Naram-Sin peered at the displays, “How can you have energy weapons with enough yield to hurt an enemy ship? It’s not missiles, those launch sites are too easy to see…”
“It’s railguns,” Sellers explained, “Railguns and air-launched missiles.”
“What?”
A voice said distantly, “Firing!"
An animation of the trucks played, unfolding, and firing their great black barrels. Naram-Sin frowned, “I don’t understand.”
“Railguns don’t leave the kind of signature a rocket does, and a shell doesn’t need to achieve orbit, it just needs to get there.” Thomas said with satisfaction. She gestured, “Our fighters are launching now too.”
As Naram-Sin watched, the fighter jets boosted into supersonic zoom climbs. Primitive aircraft, still using jet turbines and unable to even leave the atmosphere without rocket boosters(and even then only suborbit to be caught by a passing ship), launched a dozen missiles straight up into the sky.
“They’ll try shooting at us, but they’ll have to dodge,” Sellers said, “We can shoot down troop transports they send at us, and take pot shots at the big ships. It might not kill them, but it’ll sure make ‘em mad.”
“They must want something here,” Thomas said, “All the surface batteries in the world wouldn’t make a difference, any more than conventional forces did back in the Cold War. But the ability to annihilate something doesn’t mean a damn if you’re not in a war of annihilation. And these idiots want this world alive and unspoiled.”
Naram-Sin considered the implications. Orbital defense batteries mounted on the backs of a truck! Any human world with any sort of infrastructure could pose a threat to ships in orbit with these weapons! …wait. “What did you say? Cold War? Was that your Great War?”
Seller and Thomas looked at each other. “Excuse me?” Seller asked.
"Was this how you fought in your great war?"
"Huh?"
"Galactic standards are clear,” Naram-Sin said slowly, “A final great war, or even two, are fought when a civilization reaches the industrial age. Then they either annihilate themselves in the atomic era, or make peace and reach for space.”
The humans were silent. “I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones,” Seller murmured.
Naram-Sin heard the words. His mandibles fell open, and he took a step back. Thomas frowned, and looked at Sellers. “Great War… you don’t suppose he means…?”
Sellers scratched his head, “Ah, shit. No wonder they haven’t gone past Napoleon.”
“They used to have tanks, though.”
“Yeah, but if World War I was the only big war you fought, why would you make better tanks?”
“World War I…?” Naram-Sin echoed. He took another step back.
He looked at the drink in his hand. He looked back at the room of dedicated soldiers behind him.
He realized with horror it wasn’t that they were primitive. They had survived the Final Conflict… and fought several more.
The sound of the guns.