Rest and Respite

Erich could not remember the last time he had been scolded so severely. After the battle was won, he was forced to meet up with his Wing Commander, who did not hesitate to rip him a new one over the damage he had caused.

Without a doubt, the interceptor which Erich had flown up until this point was completely mangled beyond repair. As a result, he would be tasked with flying a bomber for the rest of the war. Or until a resupply could happen.

However, that was unlikely to occur, at least not for the First Armada, who in order to push the pace of the conflict, had advanced so far beyond supply lines that they would literally need to flee from their current position by several dozen light years before being able to replace that which they had lost.

Despite the urgent need for pilots in the First Armada, the doctor on board the carrier had decided to put his foot down, and somehow managed to convince the Admiral to allow the men who operated the starfighters to get some proper rest. After all, Erich was not the first pilot among the ranks of the Imperial Navy who had been pushed to the point of overdosing on stimulants.

Thus, for the time being, Erich was grounded, and was required to get at least two weeks of rest before he was allowed anywhere near a cockpit. This was perhaps the slowest time had moved since the man had first entered military service, as a life revolving around nonstop action seemed to have permitted time to pass by quite rapidly.

Now that he was stuck on the carrier for 24 hours a day, Erich did not know how to spend his time, and had even begun to feel a sort of mental withdrawal towards the lack of action. Luckily, he had access to the grid, and thus, for the first time in eight months, he was able to see what was going on within the borders of the Empire.

The first thing that popped up on his display screen was the advertisement for Erika Krieger's new drama, which she would be starring in. Looking upon the face of the woman who had caused him so much grief filled Erich with disgust as he scoffed before voicing his disbelief aloud.

"For fuck's sake, she's acting now? Just kill me now!"

The pop up immediately shifted to a movie trailer, which, try as he might, Erich found himself unable to skip out of. Whether or not the girl actually had any talent as an actress, Erich did not know the answer, but one thing was certain, the Germanic Entertainment Industry was heavily pushing her on all of its citizens.

Finally, after enduring through nearly three minutes' worth of content he would rather not see, Erich was finally able to move on to the news. Where he found that the war had taken up much of the broadcast. Luckily, the previous controversies he had been instrumental in creating had died down, as the Empire seemed to forget that the silver haired mutant had even existed, and instead focused on cheering for their servicemen who fought against a horde of demons.

Interestingly enough, one of the videos which was being displayed on the news was from the Battle of the Bloody Gulch, which had occurred months ago. At first Erich thought he might be seeing things, but there was no mistake. The antimatter bomb which exploded on camera was the one he had dropped on the Dvrakian shield generators.

The craziest thing of all, was that this footage as being displayed with the banner "Live from the Frontlines," which only caused Erich to believe that the Empire was purposely throttling the coverage of the war, perhaps because of how much of a meat grinder it had become.

The Dvrakian Military, while technologically inferior to the Germanic Armed Forces, had one thing on their side that the Empire did not. And that was the time. Because the Germanic Star Empire was forced to advance so far beyond their supply lines, they had become severely limited in the number of troops and resources they could commit to the war.

In fact, the other nine Armadas, which the Empire had deployed to the region, were busying cleaning up the mess that the First Armada had left behind, while establishing a foothold over the war-torn worlds. And while the other nine armadas were practically fresh in terms of rest, resources, and manpower, the First Armada continued to plow forward through a storm of electromagnetic projectiles, as they attempted to end the war as quickly as possible.

Now that Erich thought about it, he did not understand why the Admiralty had forced the First Armada into such a desperate position, when any of the other nine Armadas could be used to relieve them. Had the Admiral in charge of the First Armada done something to anger his superiors?

Ultimately, the reason that the First Armada had become the spearhead of the Germanic Invasion was actually a policy of maintaining reserves. As the war with the Dvrakians continued to wage on, the Empire was vastly expanding its Armed Forces at the Home front.

One hundred fleets had become one hundred and fifty in a little over half a year. And despite the fact that these fifty fleets could be used to end the war quicker, it also meant that the Empire would be giving up many of the resources it had just managed to create.

Meanwhile, the First Armada might be pushed to the breaking point, but so far they had managed to claim over 80% of the Dvrakian Consortium without reinforcements or resupply. Thus, until they were operating as a skeleton crew, the Admiralty would continue to press forward the unit, which had already suffered the most losses, rather than incur more losses from other Armadas.

Of course, the more losses the First Armada suffered, the fewer men they had to support their campaign, and thus they would suffer even more casualties at a higher rate. But this was a risk the Admiralty was willing to take.

Naturally, Erich did not know any of this. He was just a simple lieutenant, and thus he was not privy to the machinations of High Command. Thus, he could only continue to watch the news and witness the battlefield on the ground from the perspective of the Star Marines' helmet cams.

---

Sitting in a rectangular room within the Naval Headquarters on the world of Germania was the Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy, and several members of the Admiralty, who had all gathered together in person to discuss the serious matters which they were facing.

Admiral Alaric au Emrys sat in silence with a stoic expression on his face as he listened to his subordinates speak about the ongoing improvements they had been making to the fleet.

"Thanks to the generosity of the Alfheim Dominion, we have been able to improve our energy shields by roughly 50%. These modifications are currently being made to the fifty fleets that are waiting within the borders of the Empire, and will be retrofitted onto the one hundred which are currently deployed abroad after the war with the Dvrakian Consortium has been won. It might not seem like much, but it does give us a slightly better chance at surviving the upcoming Naraku invasion…."

Alaric sighed heavily when he heard this, before responding in a way that immediately crumbled the confidence which had been built among his subordinates after hearing this statement.

"A measly 50% increase in power to our energy shields is not going to stop a Naraku Hive Fleet from tearing us apart. We need to invest in weapons like the AM-59 World Killer Torpedo. Weapons that are capable of one shotting the ships of our enemies. And unless we can develop more of such weapons, we have a very small chance of survival.

Now, enough about the Naraku. We will deal with them when the time comes. I want to know about the ongoing crisis which are soldiers are facing at the frontlines in the war with the Dvrakian Consortium. Is it true that we have lost 75% of our starfighter pilots amongst the First Armada? A quarter of which were from overdosing on stimulants? At this rate, the First Armada will have a difficult time defending the drop ships, let alone the capital ships!"

The Admiralty paled after hearing the figures that the Grand Admiral had just spoken. It was indeed true that the First Armada had suffered heavy losses over the past eight months. With 75% of the pilots having been either been killed in combat, or dying of drug overdoses.

Those who died were cloned back in the Empire with all their memories intact, but there was simply no way to transport them from the borders of the Empire back to the front lines of war, and even if they could, what ships would they fly? Knowing this, nobody dared to speak up, which only confirmed the figure to be true in.

With a fierce gaze in his eyes, Alaric gave the order, which the rest of the Admirals had been waiting to receive for months now.

"Withdraw the First Armada back to the Empire. I want it repaired, resupplied, and filled with reinforcements. As for those 25% of pilots who are still on the front lines, even as we speak, give them four months of leave, they have more than earned it.

We will replace the First Armada with the Second and Third Armadas, who will continue the assault on the remaining 20% of worlds that the Dvrakian Consortium still has a hold over. I do not want something this embarrassing to happen ever again. Am I understood?"

The other Admirals obediently nodded their heads like children being scolded by their parents. With this said, the First Armada would finally be given some reprieve after eight months of nonstop combat.