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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/shial3 on 2025-04-07 19:06:55+00:00.
The Tulaxsuin fleet had crossed into Terran space several weeks after the declaration of war. The Terrans were a relatively young race, emerging in a section of the galaxy long since divided by the elder races into their respective territories. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, the ancient elder races had risen and, to avoid costly wars, had partitioned the Milky Way into exclusion zones. Younger races, once discovered or having emerged on their own, were automatically subjected to vassalage under their designated elder.
There was usually some resistance at first, but that was swiftly dealt with. The newcomers’ pitiful fleets were no match for those of the elder races. Only the Hydroxians had posed a real challenge. As a hive species, they had grown their own fleet—nearly half a million spacefaring craft across their 14 worlds before their discovery. But even they were ultimately crushed: entire fleets wiped out, six worlds purged, and only then did they recognize the futility of resistance. They submitted to managed control under the far older and, in their eyes, wiser Tulaxsuin. Despite their prolific growth, the Hydroxians had never come close to matching the Tulaxsuin’s fleet, which numbered in the millions. Massive military spending was essential to avoid appearing weak before rival elder races, who would seize upon any sign of decline as justification for intervention.
Vassals were forbidden from maintaining combat fleets. Their populations underwent extensive reeducation to reshape their cultures in accordance with Tulaxsuin principles. Outmoded religions were dismantled, and population controls ensured proper societal management.
Fleet Admiral Vu’Shun’Tori reviewed the latest reports. The humans had emerged in a relatively isolated arm of the galaxy, in a region apparently unsurveyed for the past 4,000 years. Oversights like this were common in an empire over a hundred thousand of years old. It was often how upstarts like these Terrans managed to develop unnoticed. This particular group spanned over 26 worlds. Their fleet strength was unknown. Biologically, they were similar to the Tulaxsuin—though mammalian rather than reptilian—and likely had a faster reproductive cycle. Perhaps 25 billion in total population, at best. Respectable numbers. Securing them as a vassal would bring great honor to his family, though the fleet engagements would likely be underwhelming.
A call came from the sensor bays. An officer relayed the alert.
“Contact made. Appears to be a destroyer-class vessel.”
The Admiral nodded. “Most likely a long-range patrol. Let’s see how interesting this will be. Limited engagement protocols.”
“Aye, Sir.”
On the holo-projection screen, six Tulaxsuin ships were highlighted, selected to carry out the first strike. It was tradition to allow junior commanders and fresh officers the honor of first blood, especially if they lacked prior combat experience.
Three destroyers, two cruisers, and a smaller battlecruiser accelerated away from the fleet. The screen zoomed out to include the Terran ship, an oddly designed craft with a cylindrical midsection and weapon systems distributed along its periphery.
The symbols converged, and the view zoomed in again. Tulaxsuin ships followed perfect engagement protocols. The enemy was outnumbered and outgunned—by all logic, the engagement would be brief.
Except it wasn’t.
Minutes passed with no decisive outcome. Perplexed, the Admiral zoomed into the tactical view. Rapid flashes and lines represented the exchange of kinetic and energy weapons. It was a storm of fire. Damage indicators flared on the cruiser Golthain’s Mercy, while the destroyer Vultun Muri disengaged after catastrophic engine core damage. The condition of the Terran vessel remained uncertain; without internal sensors, only external data could be used. Still, its shields remained intact despite damage that should have crippled a battleship-class ship. The damaged cruiser also disengaged, and then, suddenly, the Terran ship detonated in a supercritical explosion.
“Get me a report from those ships—now!”
This was new. The Admiral hated new. New meant unknown. This one Terran ship, roughly destroyer-sized, had resisted far superior numbers for far longer than it should have.
⸻
Fleet Admiral Vu’Shun’Tori sat in his command chair, reading updated reports. The entire conflict with the Terrans had escalated beyond imagination. Twenty-six fleets had been redirected to the sector, and several worlds were now under siege.
The planetary shields had been the first shock. Most planetary defenses covered key installations or limited regions. You could always land somewhere else—or simply annihilate other areas to collapse the ecosystem. But the Terrans? They were shielding entire planets. Populations beneath the shields continued their lives as if nothing were happening. Bombardments had been ongoing. The Fourth Fleet had to return for resupply after exhausting both kinetic and nuclear arsenals, and this was on a relatively minor world.
Ground-based anti-ship weapons had taken a heavy toll. Fleet 65’s command ship had been crippled. Its admiral was confirmed dead. Vu’Shun’Tori dreaded what Terran inner-world defenses would look like. Scouts reported that the Terran home system was saturated with activity: colonized planets, moons, and orbital stations spread across the entire system. The race grew and moved fast.
“Fleet contact, sir!”
“Report.”
“Three ships, sir. Larger than anything we’ve seen. They… look odd?”
“On screen.”
The holo-display adjusted. The Admiral raised a brow.
The ship was massive. A central spine of cylindrical sections made up most of its bulk. Every surface bristled with weapons—mounted in seemingly every available space.
He turned to his staff. “What are we looking at?”
Tactical consulted their datapad, frowning. “We believe it’s a decoy, sir.”
“Why?”
“Here.” A section near the rear of the ship was highlighted. “Based on power plant size and engine requirements, they only have enough output to fire maybe fifteen percent of the weapons. If they focus on kinetic weapons, perhaps twenty. The layout is… haphazard. It doesn’t make any sense.”
The Admiral nodded slowly. “None of this war has made sense. We engage. Position the fleets and prepare to fire. Remind all ships to keep clear”
Terran ships had a habit of exploding violently upon destruction. Too frequently for it to be random. They were self-destructing—likely trying to take as many enemies as possible with them.
The fleets closed in. This was a staging area, and the Terrans were comically outnumbered. Five full fleet groups were present, preparing for an assault on the Terran world of New Tokyo.
The Admiral watched the combat unfold. The computer rendered the scene in vivid clarity—space was silent, and many weapons left only brief visual traces. Green beams and bolts smashed into the Terran ship. A pitiful number of red-tinged return shots fired back.
But as minutes passed, something became clear.
“Tactical.”
“Yes, Admiral?”
“You said fifteen to twenty percent of their weapons could fire. That looks like a lot more.”
“We noticed. Scans indicate they’re at twenty-five percent. Possibly approaching thirty.”
“Do not wait for full confirmation. Adjust your analysis immediately.”
Chastised, the officer bowed their head.
More of the fleet engaged. Each of the three Terran ships became the center of a growing sphere, with Tulaxsuin ships surrounding them on all sides. And yet, they held. They fought back. And they began to win.
Ninety percent of their weapons were now firing. Firepower poured in every direction. Hundreds of ships were being targeted simultaneously. The volume of fire crippled the surrounding fleets.
Once losses exceeded thirty-five percent, the Admiral gave the order.
“Disengage.”
It was a last-resort command, rarely used. The last time had been during a lopsided battle against the Hydroxians. But this? This was three ships against four fleet groups—and they were losing.
The Tulaxsuin retreated from Terran space. They had never encountered resistance like this. A young race had not only pushed back—they had won.
⸻
The video feed cut off. The professor turned to face his students: cadets of Earth’s Naval Academy. Human and non-human faces alike looked on with rapt attention. Some were from Terran Commonwealth member races, others from independent worlds allied with the Galactic Council.
“Hundreds of thousands of years old, and they became stagnant,” the professor said. “They relied on brute force to maintain control, preventing other races from rising while trapped in an endless cold war with rival elder powers.”
He paced, gesturing animatedly. “For most of history, the best defense was considered a good offense. If you’re pushing forward, everything behind you is safe. Makes sense, right? Gunpowder defeated knights. Artillery toppled castle walls. Given time, any offense breaks through a static defense.”
He smiled. “But that was before the development of null-point shielding. This isn’t a physics class, so I’ll leave the details to Dr. Fishbourne. But the concept is simple: everything is energy—plasma, railgun rounds, missiles. If you can absorb that energy and safely redirect it, almost all weapons become useless.”
“Early losses in the war were due to smaller ships—destroyers, cruisers—being unable to dump energy fast enough. When overwhelmed, they detonated. But the Onslaught-class v...
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