Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 – The Phoney War

I

It was known as the “Phoney War”. People began calling by that name the conflict between the Republic of Bargash and the Vardana Empire (that is, Tytania), which had commenced in December, SY 446, in February of the following year.

It was not due to the fact that not a single drop of blood had been shed, since tens of thousands had perished due to the fierce ground assaults on military outposts conducted by the Tytanian army prior to the occupation. Nevertheless, the fact that a decisive frontal engagement between the great fleets had been avoided gave onlookers the distinct impression that the situation was being handled in a half-hearted and haphazard manner.

Those who sought to curry favour with mighty Tytania argued that “Bargash must be thoroughly punished in order to protect the order of the entire universe, the honour of Tytania, and true peace.” However, since Bargash had refrained from armed resistance, Lord Ariabert, the commander-in-chief, had no intention of launching an attack against an opponent offering no opposition and instead focused his efforts on pursuing the whereabouts of the Blaze Flag Army.

While the term “Blaze Flag Army” was used as a collective with the Tytania faction, it was in reality a rather disordered composite force consisting of Fan Hyulick’s faction and the Bargash government forces under the command of Rear-Admiral Turbil. The missing forces were estimated at 84,400 men, 2,490 vessels, and over 12,600 pieces of anti-aircraft weaponry, anti-ship weaponry, and ground combat armoured vehicles, yet these figures remained nothing more than mere estimates.

“After all, your army’s ground assault caused immense damage, yes. We have received reports that our units were completely annihilated. As for our ships, we heard they were utterly destroyed. Our evidence? Well, there isn’t so much as a speck of dust left of them.”

To put it somewhat hyperbolically, that was Bargash’s response. Gritting their teeth, the Tytania forces had no choice but to conduct the search and investigation on their own.

Within the Tytania forces, the activities of Commander Granite, who had served as senior aide-de-camp to Duke Zarlisch Tytania, were nothing short of remarkable. He was a man who had repeatedly offered counsel to the late Zarlisch, only to be ignored, and had ultimately been forced to witness the untimely death of his superior; as such, he should have been held accountable for his failure to fulfil his duties as his adjutant. However, Ariabert felt rather sympathetic toward his situation and merely issued a formal reprimand and a six-month pay cut, while explicitly stating his intent to “allow him to atone for his faults through merit.”

Moved by this, Commander Granite acted immediately under Ariabert’s orders. Leading a platoon of high-speed patrol ships, he attacked a transport ship of the Blaze Flag Army, capturing the vessel and taking the captain and crew as prisoners of war. Through these captives, Ariabert was able to conduct negotiations with the Blaze Flag Army. According to third-party commentary:

“In other words, Lord Ariabert intimidated the original Blaze Flag Army. He demanded them to hunt down Fan Hyulick’s faction with your own hands, and if they failed to do so, he would hold them accountable for their crimes.”

That was precisely what had happened. However, the intimidated Blaze Flag Army did not submit easily. Their pride wounded, they resorted to threatening language against Ariabert. They questioned what he would do if their entire army chose to side with Fan Hyulick’s faction. They suggested that perhaps he ought not to adopt such an overbearing attitude.

“Very well, then. If you intend to join Fan Hyulick’s faction and fight against Tytania, then I shall simply annihilate all of you at once. No need to hold back; go and join him at once.”

Had anyone other than Ariabert said it, they would have thought of it as nothing more than a “hollow boast”. However, the executives of the Blaze Flag Army, who were by nature quite unruly, found themselves intimidated by his quiet confidence and the actual strength that supported it.

Ariabert had seen the truth with perfect insight. The Blaze Flag Army no longer possessed the rebellious spirit of its former days; they had dwindled into an existence that would merely kneel before overwhelming power. At the same time, Ariabert offered them a morsel of Tytania-style sweetness. He promised that, provided they did not become an obstacle to Tytania, he would grant the Blaze Flag Army honourable treatment, perhaps even a status equal to that of the regular army, or the rights to legal shipping routes.

The Blaze Flag Army surrendered.

In this manner, with the success of only a single, small-scale operation, Ariabert Tytania had achieved the neutralisation of the Blaze Flag Army’s mainstream faction.

Beside him, his diplomatic advisor, Count Elman Tytania, acknowledged that Ariabert was more than just a simple man of arms. During this expedition, Ariabert had achieved success in every theatre except for a decisive fleet battle. Should he be given the opportunity, in such a confrontation he would likely secure an overwhelming victory as well. If that were to happen, he would literally achieve the military feat of completely conquering a nation.

“It is a feat of too great a magnitude. For Lord Ariabert, it might instead become a calamity. If so, perhaps it would be better to remain without a final fleet battle…”

Count Elman pondered upon this. The other Tytania nobles could not remain indifferent to the question of which of the three dukes—Ariabert, Jouslain, or Idris—would ascend to the throne as the next Clanner.

Personally, Count Elman had hoped for a shared governance between Ariabert and Jouslain, but such expectations almost always end unfulfilled. He could have lived a life free of major incident had he merely been content to remain idle in the status quo, yet he had taken a step forward to secure a seat within the diplomatic and political manoeuvring divisions of the Tytania power structure. If he could envision a future configuration and succeed in making it a reality, his status and authority would be strengthened.

Should Idris seize control of the next administration and begin to wield dictatorial powers, Count Elman would have no choice but to return once more to the life of a middle-ranking noble, neither a boon nor a burden to anyone. That was not what Count Elman desired.

Count Elman had no intention of becoming the Clanner himself. He knew well enough that he lacked the necessary stature. However, he believed he could exert his influence to ensure a new Clanner was established, and he would find it gratifying to have his merits justly recognised.

There was another reason why the Blaze Flag Army had come to cooperate with Ariabert. It was because Lee Shanchen, known as Doctor Lee, who had once been their ally, had declared open hostility towards both Tytania and the main body of the Blaze Flag Army. They had endeavoured to punish the traitor under the pretext of doing so, but had seen no results.

“If the Blaze Flag Army has exerted such effort and still failed to locate him, should we not say that it isn’t Fan Hyulick’s clique’s escape that is skilful, but rather the Blaze Flag Army’s tracking and search capabilities that are lacking?”

When Rear-Admiral Paulsen made that remark, Ariabert gazed at his staff officer with a look that could not hide its sarcasm.

“A fitting description, Rear-Admiral Paulsen. Then, how do you think Tytania’s capabilities in that same field should be described?”

Rear-Admiral Paulsen flushed red, and Ariabert fell into a somewhat brooding silence. Even without third parties branding it a “Phoney War”, he himself found the futility of this conflict unbearable.

“Records remain that the fleet under the command of Rear-Admiral Turbil took off. There are even witnesses. But we simply do not know where they went.”

The records of the Navigation Bureau were blank. Under normal circumstances, false data would have been inserted, but it appeared they lacked sufficient time for such sabotage. In other words, the fugitives’ plan must have taken a long time to execute. Perhaps they had failed to obtain the approval of the Bargash government. Or perhaps, rather than ascending to the heavens, they had burrowed into the earth.

Consequently, acting upon the recommendation of Commander Granite, Ariabert launched an attack on the Tarhari Desert, which Zarlisch had chosen as his final destination. Had Fan Hyulick’s faction been hiding within the underground cave systems, they would undoubtedly have been buried under hundreds of millions of tons of rock and debris.

A total of five hundred thousand missiles were concentrated in a fifty-kilometre radius; the earth shuddered, heatwaves swirled, and debris turned to dust, rising as clouds to reach ten thousand metres above the ground. The desert was transformed into a highly active volcano. Ariabert had hoped for the effect of intimidation rather than the efficacy of the strike itself. Trillions of dust particles scattered the starlight, and for the following two months, the planet Bargash was forced to behold a setting sun that resembled a clot of blood.

It was the following day that Count Elman brought his report to Ariabert.

“It appears that Fan Hyulick’s faction has been discovered, Duke.”

Ariabert gazed silently at Count Elman’s earnest expression. Between him and Count Elman lay a fifteen-year age gap and a fundamental difference in their ways of thinking. Ariabert was not so narrow-minded as to reject the significance of others on those grounds, and he was well aware of his own youth. Yet, for some reason, he could not deny the faint sense of unease that stirred within him when facing this middle-aged nobleman.

II

Count Elman made maximum use of his own connections, Ariabert’s displays of power, and the financial strength of Tytania. Whether directed outwards or inwards, political manoeuvring relied upon the abundance and accuracy of information. Elman approached one of the executives of the Blaze Flag Army who had been struck with terror by Ariabert’s reprimands, and further brought key figures of the Bargash government into his fold, ensnaring them like strands of a spider’s web to wring out information.

“Your Grace, they are lurking on the seabed. Of course, the Bargash government is aware of it.”

With that report, Ariabert understood.

“No wonder we found nothing in outer space, no matter how much we searched. To think they were hiding in the ocean depths. So they were not rats but bottom-feeders?”

Had he possessed just a little more time, Ariabert would have located the enemy’s position without the assistance of Count Elman. Refraining from saying so aloud, Ariabert expressed his profound gratitude for the Count Elman’s efforts and immediately entered the count’s achievement into the official records. Elman was satisfied, his confidence in his own choice deepening.

Ariabert immediately summoned the Bargash government authorities. Corvin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs—a man who appeared as if fashioned from cotton—faced Ariabert with a darkened expression, but his facial muscles twitched upon hearing Ariabert’s demand. He managed, barely, to maintain a mask of concealment.

“Are you asking me to release the Navigation Bureau’s data? I believe all of that has already been provided to your army.”

“Not the Navigation Bureau; I am speaking of the Hydrographic Bureau’s data. I want it processed so that we may use it freely within fifteen minutes.”

Ariabert had not merely offered a polite greeting. His true purpose was to gauge the reaction to this demand. If the Bargash government showed any sign of agitation or refusal, it would, paradoxically, serve to reinforce the accuracy of the information brought by Count Elman.

“Fifteen minutes is impossible. We must take this to the cabinet, relay it to the Hydrographic Bureau, and obtain authorisation from the person in charge. Since our nation is a democracy, we must follow the proper procedures…”

“That leaves you with fourteen minutes and thirty seconds.”

Ariabert shattered Corvin’s defences with a merciless blow. “We are requesting the data necessary to determine the whereabouts of Fan Hyulick and his clique. We shall treat any refusal as an act of hostility and take appropriate measures; are you prepared for that?”

Corvin’s face turned pale, pierced by the sharpness of Ariabert’s gaze. It was the expression of a man who realised his doom was impending. For Ariabert, this confirmed the accuracy of the information provided by Count Elman.

“Do not forget, Minister. We are here to execute these rogue deserters on behalf of your Bargash government. You have every reason to be grateful to us and have no reason to find fault with us.”

Ariabert was a gentleman, but more than that, he was a man who represented the “military” might of Tytania. The high-ranking officials of the Bargash government had likely been reminded of that truth once again.

All was at a standstill. As the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Corvin, stood dazed before the communication screen in his office, his secretary posed a question that carried a hint of reproach:

“Are you truly going to hand over the data, Minister?”

“What choice do I have? What more can we possibly do? Even if I refuse, Tytania will find a way to obtain the Hydrographic Bureau’s data. Mustering a futile resistance would be utterly meaningless.”

“That may be true. But after this, no one will fight for Bargash anymore. We will lose both our credibility and our authority to vet locators, and we shall dwindle from a frontier capital into a lonely, destitute planet.”

“It is not yet a settled matter.”

Corvin shook his head, beads of sweat forming across his broad forehead.

“All is not yet decided. And even if it were, we must survive nevertheless. We have no need for elegies or dirges. I would rather live as a beggar than die a poet.”

Corvin repeated those words, this time, back towards himself.

“To survive and bear witness to the deaths of others.”

Ariabert was in no position to acknowledge Corvin’s philosophy. He was far too occupied with matters far removed from philosophy, such as having his staff officers analyse data from the Hydrographic Bureau, repositioning troops, and sending reports to Uraniborg.

Jouslain remained at Uraniborg. Because he assisted the Clanner with the practicalities of domestic administration and diplomacy, and acted as Ariabert’s voice, Ariabert was able to remain almost entirely free from the anxieties regarding his rear that generals on foreign campaigns so often harboured. While Ariabert did not believe he had been born solely to fight, it was certainly true that he found far more fulfilment in competing with military prowess against vast armies on the great battlefields of the cosmos than he did in engaging in political manoeuvring back at Uraniborg.

Unlike Zarlisch, he never took pleasure in grandiloquence. On the contrary, his voice was likely quiet in proportion to his achievements. He had always carried out his expeditionary duties with a dispassionate composure, and he had never sought to leverage them for political advantage. Yet, he too was of the Tytania clan. Should a situation arise where his military exploits became an object of resentment for the Clanner, or the next Clanner, leading to an unjust purge, he would openly and honourably raise his banner and establish his independence with the forces under his command.

The patience and obedience of those of Tytania were not those of a slave. Those with capability and will deserved to be evaluated fairly. And now, having rediscovered the target he was meant to strike, Ariabert was working vigorously, gathering his staff officers together.

It was a well-known fact that the environments of outer space and the deep sea shared many similarities, yet navigation and combat underwater still required specific equipment. Not every vessel was equipped with it. For example, the WG system generated a thin film of water currents to shroud the fleet, enabling high speeds under intense water pressure; the presence or absence of this equipment resulted in a speed difference of over forty kilometres per hour. Since those currents also served to shield against low and high frequencies, they were utilised in various weaponry, meaning that differences in equipment could decide life and death, victory and defeat.

Captain Lagusa, a staff officer well-versed in underwater warfare, explained while projecting topographical maps onto the wall.

“In this area, basins with depths of 5,000 to 6,000 metres extend across eight million square kilometres. To the north and west lie mid-ocean ridges, and to the south and east, oceanic trenches…”

The unit of measurement, metres, gave Ariabert and his staff officers a slight sense of incongruity. In their usual perception, distance was expressed in “light-seconds, light-hours, light-days, and light-years.” Whether one was a soldier or an elementary school student, a trivial difference in perception could sometimes lead to consequences that were far too grave.

“Every vessel equipped for underwater operations shall be engaged in this operational manoeuvre. The ocean of a single planet may be far too small for you gentlemen, but it might do you good to try walking instead of running for a change.”

A laugh almost broke out at Ariabert’s words, but the room fell silent at his very next remark, as if a wind had suddenly died down.

“However, should you stumble during this stroll, you shall face even greater ridicule. Do not underestimate this. You can laugh at it any time in the future.”

After tightening the discipline of his staff officers, Ariabert gave meticulous instructions for the deployment of the military forces.

The entire fleet did not plunge directly into the sea; instead, positioned one hundred metres above the ocean surface, two hundred and sixty cruisers, three hundred and thirty-eight destroyers, eight hundred and ninety fast patrol boats, and forty-one space carriers held station hovering, prepared for the enemy fleet’s ascent. Furthermore, a force five times that size was deployed in orbit, intending to bury the insolent anti-Tytania insurgents on the seabed of planet Bargash, ensuring they had no escape into space.

Ariabert seemed to possess the nature of a lion. Even when facing a minor foe, he ensured he was in a perfect position to strike. The reason Zarlisch had not held him in high regard during his lifetime was that his great stature relied too heavily on personal valour, which caused his military command to lack steadiness. That flaw had been compensated for by the very life of Zarlisch. As for what might reward Ariabert’s steadfastness, it remained a matter beyond the reach of human understanding. His headquarters continued to issue orders one after another.

“Very well. Eighth Fleet, proceed with the ocean currents to point N006, W072. Ninth Fleet, to point N006, W073…”

Ariabert himself boarded the flagship, leading a fleet of six thousand vessels, and successfully executed the descent into the ocean directly beneath the equator of planet Bargash.

Thus, the first act of the “Phoney War” drew to a long conclusion, and the second act was set to begin beneath the waves.

III

From the 1^st to the 3^rd of February, SY 447, the Tytania forces continued their reconnaissance operations both above and below the sea. A joke was whispered that if an army of such magnitude were to submerge, the entirety of Bargash’s oceans would expand in volume and transform into Archimedes’ bathtub. It was on the third day at 18:50 that a definitive report arrived.

“An enemy signature has been detected on radar.”

“What is the distance?”

“Just under 1,500 kilometres.”

“In outer space, that would be a mere instant.”

Under the sea, however, things did not work that way. Utilising WG, the cruising speed was 150 kilometres per hour, with a maximum of 190 kilometres per hour, and fleet manoeuvres required ten hours to complete.

“I was thinking about it too much in a roundabout way.”

Ariabert flashed a bitter smile for the umpteenth time that day. While navigating underwater required ten hours, once they emerged into the air and reached the airspace above the target, it would take less than one. He himself was well-versed in combat within the vacuum of space, yet when it came to matters within a planet’s atmosphere, he could not help but feel a subtle sense of unease.

Ariabert immediately ordered the ascent to the sea surface and the transition to aerial flight. However, he limited this to only half the fleet, leaving the remaining half to continue navigating underwater. The unit led by Ariabert himself would resurface to the east of the enemy, then dive to attack from the east while pursuing them towards the west. Should the enemy flee westward, their retreat would be blocked by the underwater unit, resulting in a pincer movement from both the east and the west. If they attempted to surface, they would be struck from above by the separate detachment waiting at low altitude. Furthermore, should they flee into the deep sea, they would only succeed in cutting off their own means of escape.

Ariabert muttered to himself:

“I shall make Mr Fan Hyulick a prisoner of Tytania for the fourth time. This time, I shall have to invite him to Uraniborg…”

It was not that he had sensed the murmur of Duke Ariabert Tytania, but Fan Hyulick, who was overhyped as a wandering hero, felt a sudden chill and pressed a hand to the nape of his neck. He had experienced this many times since he had unwittingly been branded an enemy of the Tytania Clan. He never grew accustomed to it, nor did it ever turn into pleasure.

The cruiser he was aboard, the Honest Old Man Junior, sat upon the seabed at a depth of 4,850 metres. It had been there for nearly a month. The sight of this vessel, with a displacement of some forty thousand tonnes, lying on the ocean floor alongside other ships, might have evoked the image of a remote fish market rather than a display of heroic grandeur.

After the Vardana Empire—that is, Tytania—had formally declared war, Doctor Lee said the following to Fan Hyulick:

“If we suffer a single defeat, it will be the end of us. In other words, we must not fight until a state of certain victory has been established, both tactically, politically, and economically.”

“And when will that be established?”

“The devil knows,” answered the disciple of the devil with solemnity, while the unfortunate fugitive cursed the Doctor’s master under his breath.

Having descended to the seabed without having thought of any other ingenious or effective plan, he wondered if this choice had truly been the right one.

“The Blaze Flag Army was intimidated because Lord Ariabert took such a militant stance. Is there any guarantee that the Bargash government will not be intimidated?”

“I cannot provide such an unscientific guarantee.”

“You say that with such confidence. In any case…”

Fan Hyulick intended to retort with biting sarcasm, but as nothing came to mind, he merely faltered. He finally regained his composure and gathered his thoughts. If the Bargash government were to succumb to Lord Ariabert, what would become of their position?

“Should that happen, the Bargash government would abandon us. It is only natural; they have no obligation to share in our destiny.”

“… Perhaps I made a mistake.”

“At what?”

“At everything.”

Fan Hyulick had become extremely sceptical of life and fate. He wondered if he was destined to continue playing an ill-fitting role in an ill-fitting costume until the day he died.

Even so, he felt that it was a strange thing. When the space surrounding the hull was a vacuum, one gained a sensation of flight and floating, yet when the surroundings were high-pressure seawater, a sense of confinement and compression rushed in. Although the ship was supposed to be protected by multiple layers of its own structural strength and tension-vibration fields, it felt more like a tangible and intangible coffin.

The reason was not particularly complex. Once the shell protecting a fragile human being was breached, in space, one was sucked out into the void, whereas in the deep sea, the intruding water would crush the person. It could be said that this difference strangely influenced the psychology of the crew. Whether that was true or not, Fan Hyulick somewhat believed that such was the case.

The Honest Old Man Junior had originally possessed a different name, but the new crew members ignored it. Instead, they almost exclusively used the phonetic English abbreviation “OOJ”. Not every new crew member was a soldier of the Bargash Regular Army. Including Fan Hyulick, Doctor Lee, Compton and Miranda Casimir, Alan Mahdi, Mikhail Walenkov, Louis Edmond Pagès, Salam Amzekar, Doctor Ibn Kasim, Seraphine Coopers, and others, their total number came to two hundred and twenty-nine.

Even if they were called Tytania’s greatest enemy, this was the reality of their strength. They lacked at least three zeroes to fight a grand, head-on war. One could only feel a sense of awe at Tytania’s methods, dispatching even Lord Ariabert to a matter that could have been settled by simply sending a single battalion of the Military Police.

“Who could ever hope to win a head-on battle against Ariabert Tytania? Even I only won by a stroke of luck,” declared Fan Hyulick.

It was not a mere expression of modesty but a sincere sentiment. He did not even want to contemplate how that stroke of luck had altered the fates of millions, himself included. He had simply found himself in this state, struggling to fulfil his responsibilities while trapped in circumstances thrust upon him, and felt a sudden urge to demand a responsible answer from someone as to why the situation had come to this.

With every victory, he found himself driven into a greater corner. He had been cornered by Zarlisch, and just when he thought he had finally defeated him through the desperate counterattack of a trapped rat, he now found himself thrust into a conflict with Ariabert. It was as if a fatal navigational error had been programmed into his life’s course from the very beginning.

While reserving his objections to fate, he had managed to resolve to fight and die—even if that was nothing more than self-deception. Yet, it would have been one thing if he were to scatter magnificently amidst the brilliance of the stars; instead, he was forced to hold his breath at the bottom of some wretched, impoverished ocean on a miserable planet, waiting for either an enemy attack or their retreat. The situation only added to his sense of suffocation. For someone like Fan Hyulick, who had not yet reached the age of thirty, it would have been far easier to simply explode all at once.

However, that disciple of the devil known as Doctor Lee would not permit it. It seemed he would not even allow him the mercy of death until he had completed the equation in which Fan Hyulick took Tytania down with him.

As Fan Hyulick brooded irritably upon the past, the present, and the future, a young woman wearing a sun visor, Seraphine Coopers, smiled at him. She knew that the mantle of a hero did not suit Fan Hyulick’s frame.

“You’re giving up, then? Your only redeeming quality was that you would never yield to Tytania.”

“As far as I’m concerned, if Tytania would forgive me, I wouldn’t mind handing over ten thousand written oaths.”

Of course, Fan Hyulick knew that this would never happen. His very existence was a necessity to the Tytania regime. He would be kept alive as long as he was needed, and once his utility had passed, he would be eliminated. If Doctor Lee was indeed preferable to Tytania, then it would simply mean that Fan Hyulick would be allowed to live even after he was no longer required. In exchange, however, they would undoubtedly force upon him the homework of contemplating what human society would look like after the collapse of the Tytania regime.

Fan Hyulick felt a significant surge of anger. Why on earth should he be the one to fret over something like a “New Cosmic Order after the fall of Tytania”? There was absolutely no reason why he should bear such responsibility. If the disappearance of Tytania was to bring disaster upon human society, then they should simply have ensured Tytania’s survival and continued to submit to its rule. Indeed, the majority of human society was already content to do so. Fan Hyulick himself had been quite happy to live a life of complacent ease. And yet…

“Fan Hyulick!”

The call pulled him back to reality. It was a woman’s voice, yet lower and more forceful than that of Seraphine Coopers. Miranda’s face approached him, taut with tension and excitement.

“It looks like things have taken a turn for the worse. Tytania is…”

An alarm overlaid her voice as Seraphine Coopers readjusted her sun visor. Her act of taking up the heat rifle belonged more to the realm of an expression of fighting spirit than to any practical effectiveness in the combat that was about to unfold.

Her comrades, who had begun to move with urgency, also took up their rifles and exchanged looks of hardened determination.

“They’ve found us…!”

A tremor raced through the neural network.

IV

Duke Ariabert Tytania stood upon the bridge of the flagship, the Golden Sheep, his tall frame enveloped in a grey military uniform. A pleasant tension rested upon his handsome features. His eyes cast sharp glares toward the main screen ahead, where images, numerical data, and diagrams were cycling rapidly.

“Duke, it appears we have found the princess we were seeking.”

Ignoring Rear-admiral Paulsen’s cheerful voice, Ariabert walked towards the captain’s seat. Captain Chen Ruofan did not bother with a salute. He was a man who had earned a fixed reputation among Tytania’s officers for both his competence and his brusqueness. He was thirty-nine years old, with twenty-five years of military service and dozens of medals to his name. It was he who provided the report in a somewhat clinical voice.

“There is certainly a thermal signature, but distinguishing friend from foe is impossible at the moment.”

“Very well, no need to rush. Proceed at a slow speed and continue the pursuit. Do not break formation.”

Ariabert rested a hand against his well-defined jaw and thought for a brief moment before reaching a decision. He ordered that the entire fleet be notified via standard communications that an enemy had been detected and was being pursued.

To put it bluntly, Tytania did not care even if their communications were intercepted. The content of the transmissions themselves could be used as a psychological weapon against the enemy. Furthermore, by analysing the enemy’s reaction, it should have become easier to formulate countermeasures at the tactical level in the future.

Communication waves darted through the high pressure of the deep sea. They travelled above the surface as well, and the detachment waiting at low altitude began to move, looking down upon the surging waves.

An enemy reaction appeared. It was so direct that even Ariabert was caught off guard. One of the reconnaissance officers raised his voice while pressing his headphones against his ears with both hands.

“Solid objects, rapid approach! Bearing one-zero-three-zero, number of targets: six!”

“Ascend, evade.”

Captain Chen issued his orders with an air of displeasure. In this instance, evasion was merely a means to buy the time necessary to prepare for interception; he had no intention of fleeing indefinitely. The fleet began a gradual ascent. It became clear that the rapidly approaching solid objects were self-propelled metallic bodies. The relative speed between the two parties shifted moment by moment in accordance with their manoeuvres. And their absolute positions changed as well. They appeared to be residual-energy-tracking missiles.

In a somewhat farcical turn of events, the fact that the Tytania forces were moving in a high-density formation caused the missiles’ guidance systems to falter. The systems hesitated, unable to decide which of the multiple released energy signatures to prioritise for tracking. While there is no luxury for hesitation in the vacuum of space, the three-magnitude difference in velocity within the ocean led to the ridiculous situation of machines experiencing indecision.

“Use ultra-low frequency missiles!”

Captain Chen’s instructions were pithy and laconic. There was a sense that this capable Tytania officer considered uttering superfluous dialogue to be a waste of energy.

His colleagues often remarked that “his dictionary contains nothing but subjects and objects.” The reason he had ordered an aggressive interception was the fear that, should the enemy missiles self-destruct after their moment of indecision, the resulting fragmentation pattern would cause damage to the fleet due to their dense formation.

By the standards of space combat, during the absurdly slow forty seconds that followed, the Tytania fleet increased the distance between its ships and launched an equal number of missiles against the six incoming enemy projectiles. Twenty seconds later, the two sides met, and explosions erupted.

Millions of tons of sediment erupted from the seabed. Struggling against the deep-sea pressure, it ascended towards the surface with a strange, sluggish momentum. As it rose, displacing the surrounding seawater, the trillions of tons of dark liquid swayed with a heavy, reluctant motion. Each ship drifted through the water, buffeted by this ponderous oscillation. The surrounding temperature rose, and the seawater pressed layers of mud and sand against the hulls of the vessels.

“It’s like an undersea volcanic eruption,” lamented a non-commissioned officer.

Another NCO raised his voice:

“Reminds me of my wife. When she’s angry, she stops speaking to me, but her breath alone can blow things away.”

Captain Chen ignored the conversation, which was clearly intended to bolster their own spirits. Some among the crew knew that his wife was also a Tytania officer, a commodore who had graduated from both the military academy and the graduate military college.

Ariabert clicked his tongue inwardly. It was a gloomy battle, at least up until this point. From the very start, this Bargash expedition had seemed to lack any elements of excitement. It felt less like the duty of a warrior and more like that of a hunter; less like combat and more like a peacekeeping operation. Nevertheless, Ariabert had located the enemy and was beginning to corner them.

“The moment they breach the surface, fire a volley with the charged particle beam cannons.”

Ariabert readjusted himself in his command seat and took a coffee cup from the tray presented by a female NCO.

“That might just be the end of it. I shouldn’t be too optimistic, but…”

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