May 20, 2277

Fleet Admiral Moser gazed at the computer screen in his office aboard the Hachiman, watching a recording sent to him of one of the many hastily assembled refit yards in Lunar Orbit. The UN Space Force's "Boneyard" was located on the dark side of the moon, close enough to be easy to guard, but still out of the public eye. Most of the ships there had been built by the various nations of Earth, before there was a united space force. They lay in various states of decommission, based on their age. A handful of them were positively ancient, little more than empty husks now, coming from well before humanity had discovered Dark Space, designed as little more than crude missile platforms intended more for area denial than proper combat. Their long-ago-gutted fission reactors and disassembled ion engines belied their age.

Most of them, however, were craft that had served in the Diln war. Their original purpose of killing other humans discarded in favor of the common good. They had faithfully served their creators through their darkest hour, and now they were being called upon once again. The youngest among them were already returning to service, needing only a reactor tune-up and rearmament. Those ships were being sent to the Diln border, freeing up the newer ships there for the vast armada the Admiral was assembling. The more elderly of the ships needed more work. Most of them had already been stripped of their reactors, which would have been repurposed for any number of tasks, and their most valuable systems would have been stripped away. A suggestion had made its way up to Moser's desk: rather than rushing to get the elderly ships out into the field as a stop gap, they could instead be refitted for newer, experimental tactics designed specifically to fight the Ivos, hopefully using the data from the coming battle to shape their design. Admiral Moser wished he knew the name of whichever junior officer had first made the suggestion, as that officer deserved a promotion. It was exactly the sort of long-term thinking that most of humanity's leadership had a dire lack of in this crisis.

The UN propaganda machine had taken to calling this armada the "Grand Fleet", and had even insisted on Moser referring to it as such in press releases, much to his annoyance. The fact-one that he had been doggedly trying to hammer into the thick skulls of his superiors-was that it was not only possible that this "Grand Fleet" would lose, it was likely. Worse still, even if it won, the best case scenario simulations projected a casualty rate well over 50%. Moser fully understood that outright telling the public that their gallant defenders would die horribly in fire and vacuum was a bad idea, but this new propaganda effort bordered on delusional. The government and military was setting itself up to fail. If the "Grand Fleet" lost, then the grief and horror that would naturally be felt from defeat at the hands of such a terrifying alien foe would be magnified into a despair that would surpass even the darkest moments of the Diln war. Alternatively, even if the "Grand Fleet" won, the illusion of safety it would give the public would make future defeats sting horribly.

Of course, such concerns had been dismissed by the more delusional-in his opinion-of Moser's superiors. Defeat was, of course, impossible (in their mind) and they were also fully convinced that routing the Ivos from the Vritra system would force them back to the negotiating table, where Humanity could make a deal from a position of strength.

The Admiral looked to his second monitor, where he kept a simple tactical display of the fleet up. Three hundred and fourteen ships, not including the support ships like tankers and fleet tenders, or the dozens of interceptors and their tenders. That was the total number of combat ships he had assembled. It amounted to almost every functioning warship at humanity's disposal. The fleet had been spending the past five hours maneuvering itself so that every ship could make the transition to Dark Space simultaneously, lest they risk being defeated in detail by an Ivo ambush. Organizing a formation for such a vast and diverse fleet took time.

The assembled fleet numbered 26 battleships, 53 cruisers, 87 destroyers, and 148 frigates. They had all been manufactured or funded by the various nation states of Earth over the years. The Battleships would be of mixed origin between the Great Powers: China, Russia, Japan, India, the United States, and the European Union, them being the only nations with the construction facilities capable of building the behemoths. The doctrines and design philosophies of the UN fleet were descended from the member nations which had built its ships. The cruisers would be mostly made by America and its Anglosphere allies. The US and her allies, unable to match the huge orbital industrial output of China and its client states, opted for a doctrine of "quality over quantity", emphasizing cruisers of exceptional build quality that could operate independently, allowing for individual ships to guard entire sectors, making them the ideal choice of manufacturer for UN cruisers.

The frigates and destroyers were divided mostly between the various minor powers of Earth, with China contributing the majority of frigates and Japan producing a significant proportion of Destroyers. During the first Interstellar War, when humanity was still new to the stars, China was able to force a peace deal with the Japanese-Korean-Indian Alliance by holding them off in a bloody war of attrition. The building of light ships was brought down to a science, and China filled the skies with their economical frigates, building them as fast as they could be destroyed. The descendants of those ultra-economical ships now served all of humanity, their inexpensive nature allowing humanity to hold a fairly large amount of space for a relatively young species. On the flip side, Japan lead the effort of the Alliance to find the most efficient combat ship possible, taking into account the lesser industrial capacity of the nations in the Alliance. They became experts in guided missiles and torpedo technology, and their destroyers are second to none.

So, it was a fleet made up of mixed Battleships, American cruisers, Japanese destroyers, and Chinese frigates. This variety of ships was a political and economic necessity, but it was a logistical quagmire that gave people like Admiral Moser headaches. It had taken years to finally get every major ship builder to commit to standardized munition measurements for all weapons, with arms manufacturers in the various nations fighting it tooth and nail every step of the way.

That was humanity's weakness in the end. Division and shortsightedness.

A claxon sounded. The fleet was in position. Moser got up, activating the electromagnets in his shoes, and made his way to the flag bridge. He was about to lead the largest military force in human history against the most powerful foe any human being had ever faced. The enormity of his task weighed upon him like an anvil. He looked out over the faces of his officers, who gazed back with a mixture of eagerness, desperate hope, and terror. He gave his order.

"All ships, make transition to Dark Space."

The Grand Fleet vanished in an instant.

---

Fleet Admiral Moser read the report of the scout with a furrowed brow. There was good news and bad news. The good news was that, astonishingly, there still appeared to be some survivor holdouts on New Kolkata. A very small amount of the weight on his conscience was lifted. He had left them to die, but their courage and tenacity had saved them from being wiped out. The bad news was that the number of estimated enemy ships in the system had climbed from around 60 to 80. Moser cursed to himself at that. The terrible beam weapons that were the primary armament of Ivo ships were by far their greatest advantage. Their range was enormous, and they were next to impossible to dodge. Their only "weakness" seemed to be that they had to take time between shots. Human analysts had debated the reason for it, and the two primary hypothesis were that it either used a finite ammunition that had to be loaded with each shot, or the massive amount of waste heat such a weapon would release had to be radiated away before it could be fired again. Or, possibly, it was some combination of the two.

Whatever the reason, the brief delay was what Moser had built his tactics around. The tactics were reminiscent of the Diln War: every ship of the fleet would charge headlong at the Ivos to get into close range, and from there use their superior numbers to overwhelm the enemy. It was a costly strategy, but it was the only one Moser had. Some of the cruisers and battleships in his fleet had been refitted as artillery vessels, possessing long range UV lasers that would be able to hit the Ivos from afar. They could provide a half decent amount of cover, but the awful truth of it was a cold equation: Almost every one of the Ivo ships would be able to get off at least one shot (though it would likely be more) before the human ships could close to their effective range, and almost every one of those shots would hit. This meant that he was guaranteed to lose almost a third of his ships before they even had a chance to fire a shot.

---

A full day had passed since the Grand Fleet had arrived at the Vritra system, or at least the corresponding Dark Space location. Moser's scouts scraped up all the intel they could. The Ivo fleet was resting on its laurels in orbit around New Kolkata. He'd hoped to find a way to defeat them in detail, but the Ivos had never sent more than a single ship away from the formation at a time since the humans had started monitoring them. Moser suspected they were anticipating a human counter attack. They likely hoped to win the war in a single battle, wiping out most of humanity's military capabilities in one fell swoop, forcing the younger species to acquiesce. Or at least, that's what a human would have done in their position. The Ivos were inscrutable, truth be told. Their goals and plans were completely unknown to Humanity.

The Grand Fleet was in formation. The navigational computer informed them that they would come out of Dark Space 50,000 kilometers away from New Kolkata. Right on top of the Ivos. Admiral Moser's suspicions about the Ivos' plans mean that he wasn't counting on the element of surprise, but he wouldn't turn it down if it fell into his lap. This was around the time when a commander was supposed to give a speech to his troops, though Moser loathed that sort of thing he couldn't deny the effect on morale it could have. He cleared his throat as the comms officer patched him through to a fleet wide channel.

"Astronauts and Rangers of the United Nations Space Force. Of all the warriors throughout all of human history, you are unique. You have sworn an oath before yourself and in the presence of whatever you might worship. An oath given not to a nation, or an individual, or an ideology, but rather to the entire human race. You have vowed to fight those who would deny us our place in the cosmos, to defend every last man, woman, and child of humanity from the horrors that lurk within the stars. On this day, you have been called to honor that oath. I have full confidence that each and every one of you will hold true to your word. You, the steadfast guardians of the human species. Thank you all, and please strap yourselves in and prep for transition." The beleaguered Admiral let out a ragged breath, barely hearing the quiet applause from his bridge officers. Funny, that giving a speech could get his heart pounding more than a battle.

"Tactical, is the fleet ready?" the Admiral called out to his comms officer.

"All ships are giving the green light." came the reply.

"To all ships: begin transition."

---

May 25, 2277

In orbit around New Kolkata, a patch of nothingness could be observed. One moment, it was as totally empty as the rest of the universe. The next, three hundred and fourteen warships were there, instantaneously appearing from nowhere. In the distance, roughly 80 Ivo ships fired their primary drives, appearing as eighty new stars in the sky to any observer on New Kolkata. They didn't bother with orbital mechanics, choosing simply to burn straight towards their prey.

Among the human fleet, interceptor tenders launched their charges. Reactors were warmed up to combat output. Weapons were charged and missile silos were primed. The Grand Fleet Adjusted itself, and turned to face its enemy head-on.

And just like that, it begins. thought Admiral Moser.

The two fleets burned for each other, the number of kilometers dividing them melting away. Moser was squashed into his acceleration couch by three gravities of acceleration, along with every other human in the fleet. At around 15,000 kilometers, Moser was thrown forward as the Hachiman and every other ship fired its reverse thrusters, per his orders. The fleet was still careening towards the Ivos, but their speed was bleeding rapidly. It was a delicate balance between going fast enough to close with the enemy quickly and slowing down enough so they didn't just zip past them.

At around 10,000 kilometers, the laser artillery extended their enormous radiators and opened up, concentrating their firepower on a single target. The unfortunate target was an Ivo frigate, and the concentrated laser beams destroyed its port radiator fin, switching to its other radiator as the ship fired its maneuvering thrusters into a desperate defensive spin. The laser artillery had fired their reverse thrusters the hardest, causing them to fall behind the other ships so they could give them cover. They continued to harass the Ivo ships.

At 7000 kilometers, the human ships all opened their silos, and launched every last one of their long range missiles. Some, destroyers and missile cruisers mostly, had far more of a showing than others , but all added to the swarm. Moser didn't have high hopes for the damage potential of the salvo, but at the very least the sheer volume of projectiles the kinetic warheads, or "K-Bombs", would unleash would cover their advance. The longest range lasers from the Ivo fleet began carving their invisible path through the incoming missiles, melting them away at demoralizingly rapid speeds.

At 5000 kilometers, both fleets had slowed considerably, and each side cut their reverse thrusters and allowed their momentum to carry them forward. The Ivos, their terrible main guns in range, opened fire. The lances of energy shot out. From the frigates, the beams shot out of a single spinal mounted cannon. From the enormous inverted crescent-shaped battleships, it shot out from two turrets, one on its ventral hull and one on its dorsal hull. At this, their maximum range, it was slightly less than one second until the beams would hit their targets. The onboard computers of the targeted ships seized emergency control, recognizing themselves as the targets and burning hard to dodge within a few fractions of a second. For most, it was too late. A scant few managed, through dumb luck more than anything, to be missed by a hair. All in all, it was still devastating. 100 beams went out, 60 from the frigates and 40 from the battleship turrets. 89 of the beams found their mark. Destroyers and frigates were completely vaporized, or split clean in two. Cruisers and battleships took slightly less structural damage, but the white hot lance of energy shooting through them cooked most of their crews alive anyway, and the handful that survived the beam itself were likely splattered against the walls as the stricken ships were sent into a horrible spin by the force of the beams.

Somewhat less than a third of the fleet, along with well over 20% of the Space Force's total personnel, had evaporated within less than five seconds.

At 3000 kilometers, the human ships began firing their spinal mounts. They were unlikely to score any hits at this range, but the volleys launched at this range could provide more cover and distraction, for both the fleet itself and the future volleys it would fire. The Ivos launched some torpedo's of their own, and they streaked towards the Grand Fleet at a sickeningly high acceleration.

"Vampire! Vampire! Vampire!" called out the tactical officer, and Moser's face took on a grim expression as he braced himself for what was to come. A vast array of laser and kinetic defenses opened up, destroying an impressive amount of the torpedoes considering their incredible speed. The Ivo torpedoes operated on a similar principle to human ones: they pierced the hull of their target with their kinetic energy, and then they detonated. While not nearly as effective as their beams, the torpedoes still did horrible damage. Nineteen warships in all were destroyed or crippled by the end of it.

As they approached 1000 kilometers, the human ships came under sporadic Ivo Beam fire. It was ragged and undisciplined, coming from individual ship commanders' directions rather than as a cohesive volley, due in large part to the torrent of projectiles keeping the Ivo fleet occupied. It still took out a handful of ships, but the Beam weapons wouldn't deter the Grand Fleet now.

As the Grand Fleet passed under the 1000 kilometer threshold, every gauss cannon, railgun, and recoilless rifle in the fleet opened up. The torrent of gunfire became a deluge. At this point, the surviving long range missiles burst open, launching their kinetic war heads out. As they drew within a few dozen kilometers of their target they burst again into a half dozen depleted uranium flechettes that joined the deluge of projectiles. The human fleet began earning its first kills, as perhaps a dozen of the Ivo frigates, their defensive lasers having their mirrors shot out by the human artillery at inopportune times, had their defenses buckle and were consumed by the hail of projectiles. Moser smiled, more in relief than anything. If nothing else, it proved the enemy was mortal. Even the Ivos couldn't resist the awesome power of kinetic energy, it seemed.

As the two fleets closed in, formations dissolved, and individual captains on both sides began using their initiative as the battle collapsed into a melee. Moser felt a grim sort of satisfaction. His battle plan afforded him little in the way of tactical control of his fleet, but his plans had still come to fruition. His goal had been to draw the enemy into a melee, and hope that attrition would win the day. He'd made his bed, and now he would lie in it.

Chaos reigned as the various squadron and section commanders took charge, each fighting their own miniature battles within the chaos. The two fleets were advancing on each other very slowly now, as individual ships burned off on their own vectors. Moser tried to find direction within the carnage. He watched as a flight of interceptors bared down on an Ivo battleship, opening their silos and emptying them of torpedoes. The Battleship's defenses faltered and half a dozen torpedoes pierced it, blowing it apart in a dozen pieces. Elsewhere, an Ivo frigate was bisected by the spinal mounted particle beam of the Papaleo, an experimental cruiser designed for close range engagements.

Mein Gott. We're actually winning. Moser could scarcely believe it. He watched on his monitor as the Ivo formation crumbled, the distant specs of their ships vanishing in flashes of light. Then, suddenly, every Ivo ship vanished off of the scopes.

They're retreating into Dark Space. We won. Moser sagged in relief. He called out, "To all ships: do not pursue! Let's dress our ranks and get the recovery ships and rescue tugs up." He didn't know the exact losses, but he knew he would want to weep when he saw them.

---

Kabo Mooketsi hurried over to the Mak Re embassy. He had to navigate his way through the crowds of jubilant people who had taken to the streets of the surface section of Mi Paa. The atmosphere was almost ecstatic. Kabo would have loved to join the celebrations of the victory, but the Mak Re ambassador had requested to speak with a human official, and humanity was all too eager to please the friendly-not to mention wealthy-species.

The Mak Re were an aquatic species, and the only one known to have achieved space travel on their own. The limitations of their physiology were such that it was difficult for them to find suitable places for colonies among the stars. Planets that had an ocean of acceptable chemical composition and temperature were few and far between. As such, they'd turned to diplomacy to grow their civilization. They managed to negotiate their way into the oceans of many a species home world, and Earth was the site of their most recent colony, with humanity having leased a section of the pacific ocean to them. There had been a few howls from the marine biology community about the potential dangers to the environment of allowing an underwater city full of alien life, but the Mak Re had proven to be greater caretakers of the seas than humanity could ever hope to be, and the Mak Re section of the pacific was positively flourishing with life, the biosphere being healthier than it had been in a thousand years.

The Mak Re paid a sort of "rent" to their hosts in the form of the wonderful contributions their cities made to the global economy. Mi Paa was still a new colony, but it was growing fast, and the surface section of the city had regular explosions of human immigration.

Kabo donned his helmet, having already put on his wetsuit, and pencil dived into the entrance of the Make Re embassy. He opened the strange, coral-like door at the entrance hall, and the receptionist immediately led him into a meeting room. Waiting inside was Nem Kee, the Mak Re ambassador.

Kabo put on his best smile and projected his voice through his helmet's speaker "Greetings Nem Kee, I am told you wish to discuss something with my government."

Nem Kee's eyes swiveled and locked onto Kabo. The alien was, for all intents and purposes, a giant octopus. Mak Re were larger than humans (and certainly larger than octopi) and possessed 10 tentacles. Eight of these were used for locomotion, while two-one on either side-were used as an analogue for arms and hands. Instead of a beak, the Mak Ree had a maw with a skeletal jaw and teeth, along with a complicated throat that could produce language. The Mak Re expressed emotion through changes in skin color, tentacle movement, and their surprisingly expressive eyes. Nem Kee was currently grey in appearance, which Kabo had been taught meant that he was sad, or dejected. Uh oh.

Nem Kee's eyes were utterly alien in appearance, and yet Kabo could still make out the sadness there. "I'm afraid its less of a discussion and more of a notice. The Mak Re are leaving the Earth." Kabo's helmet translated the clicks, groans, and whistles that were the alien's language. He would have needed to sit down at the words, had he not been underwater.

"But...why? You're just getting started! You told me Earth had some of the best oceans you'd ever seen!" Kabo finally exclaimed.

"And I meant what I said. For a continental world, this planet has such vast and diverse oceans. I had hoped to see all of them in my lifetime, but that is not to be. The recent...victory of your people has forced that to be the case."

"Why would us winning make you need to leave? We're finally safe again!"

Nem Kee turned somehow even more grey. "When the Ivos suddenly demanded your colony, I strongly recommended to your government to give it to them. When they launched their invasion, I suggested to your government that they surrender, and spare themselves needless bloodshed. I made these suggestions-which were refused-not because I am a defeatist, or because I believe Tau Ceti isn't rightfully yours, but because, more than anyone, my people understand the Ivos."

Kabo gave a snort at that. "That is not a high bar."

"No, it is not, but it is the basis for my opinion, and the basis for my government's decision to evacuate Mi Paa. What you humans, and most other species, fail to understand is that the Ivos are fiercely hierarchical."

"Why is that important?"

"Roles are strictly defined among the many castes of their society. Those who stray from it are punished severely, those who disregard it entirely are executed. This hierarchical culture extends not just within the confines of their own species, but far outside of it as well. As far as they are concerned, they, being the elder race, are your better. As such, they consider any demand they make of you should be answered immediately and without argument. Your refusal to bow to their demands, coupled with your-in their eyes-insubordinate demand to know their reasons resulted in them sending a fleet to "punish" you. Just as they would a disobedient member of one of their castes."

"Surely they must know that the rest of the galaxy doesn't see things that way!" Kabo exclaimed indignantly.

"Doubtful. They were, and are, fiercely isolationist. As every other species is younger than them, they consider us beneath their notice, for the most part, but they don't consider us as something that exists outside their hierarchy. Anyways, as I was saying, they sent a fleet to 'punish' you. They have killed thousands of humans, but, in their eyes, this is akin to a slap on the wrist. They expected you to fold immediately, but instead you resisted. You likely angered them by this, so they dedicated more ships to your punishment, and presumably devised a plan to lure you into battle, whereupon they would crush your fleet, forcing you to capitulate and delivering a suitable punishment in the same action."

"But...we didn't lose." Kabo's voice had lost its indignation. It was flat now.

"Yes. In their mind, humanity has blatantly discarded the rules of the hierarchy, and I believe you recall the punishment for that. That's why we are leaving. With this "victory" the human species has signed its death warrant."