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The extent of the Mylar Star Navy was a flotilla of armed cargo haulers, Master Aure’s <span class="mu-i">Consular</span>-class cruiser, and the core ship of the <span class="mu-i">Globus</span> that was once a Lucrehulk. A ramshackle fleet that could easily put boots on the ground, but would struggle to hold the space above their soldiers’ heads.
Using the Teladi’s shipyards meant freeing up the colossal amount of manpower and work hours used to construct not only the ships themselves, but the equipment, machinery and locations that would be used to put them all together.
Old ships the Telaid were offering, but any additional tonnage into the navy would be a welcome addition. It was a sentiment shared with Mercantor, who was already jotting down notes as he fired off more questions.
“What about supply and munitions?” the Fleet Admiral asked.
“Both are included, but we will be given the means to manufacture them for future resupplying. We only need to provide enough manpower to fill out the crew complement.”
There wasn’t any shortage of experienced pilots, deckhands or seasoned starship crew among the former slaves, Keimann included. But the onus of training them how to operate these “new” ships would presumably fall on the Alliance. And much as the Supreme Archon subscribed to hands-on experience, he’d rather not have their nascent navy first cut their teeth on a fully-militarized Tof armada.
But those were concerns after they’d gotten the ships. He turned to Laurentius. “You’re the Fleet Admiral. Out of the assembled, your input carries the most weight for how we move forward in this manner.”
The Lupan steepled his fingers together as he adapted a pensive expression. “That entirely depends on several factors. For instance, what is the battle doctrine of the Tof? Their preferred tactics and strategies?”
Keimann grimaced as the memory of his own capture flickered to the surface of his mind. But he suppressed the tremor in his hands, directing it into an idle tapping before answering: “The slaver captains utilize hit-and-run tactics when they ply the trader lanes. They strike fast and hard, terrifying their prey into submission to make them more pliable for capture. Their proper military practice a doctrine of overwhelming firepower.”
Mercantor nodded. “How do their capital ships fight?”
“For some ungodly reason, the mad bastards also get up close to fight yardarm to yardarm. Not that they won’t shoot you as soon as you get in their sight. But what the Tof lack in morals, they more than compensate with reckless courage. They’ll get as close as possible just before their guns start scraping your hull, and even then, some actually carry out ramming or boarding actions.”
The admiral’s lips twitched in an expression of wry amusement. “Forgive me, I’d nearly forgotten about the cultural practices of the Tof. I was half-convinced that the report of wooden spaceships was someone’s idea of a joke in poor taste.”
(cont.)
