The Governorate's Predicament: Part 2
The banquet hosted by the Governor-General dragged on for days without end, and it wasn't until two full weeks after Kaldir and Grozny's first meeting that Baltic Union Washington finally received his initial report on the emergence of the new armored division led by Kaif Bayern.
No matter how vast the galaxy might be, at this point it was enough to make one question whether the Atlantis Governorate was truly the centralized governing body it claimed to be. Yet the man at its helm, the esteemed Governor-General Baltic himself, merely laughed endlessly upon hearing the report of an unstoppable armored division appearing out of nowhere—and the growing numbers of troops armed with identical weaponry.
"Puhahaha... So, to sum up your report, that madman Kaif has gotten himself a new toy? And our forces can't stop this new toy of his—they're just getting shredded in the process?"
"Y-yes, Your Excellency... We still haven't figured out how many of these weapons they have, but we must take action before things become irreversible..."
"Tsk tsk, take action? My dear fellow, it's easier if you just give up—like me. Give up, and it's all so much simpler. Why bother flailing around trying to stop that unblockable bastard Kaif?"
"G-give up and it's easier...? Your Excellency! What in the world are you saying...!"
One officer who still had a shred of sanity left pleaded for some kind of countermeasure right then and there, but Baltic simply shook his head and outright rejected the idea. A general who predicted defeat before even engaging the enemy and abandoned the fight outright—it was hard to believe this was the same man who had supposedly brought the Atlantis campaign to a successful conclusion.
Truth be told, there was a mountain of extenuating circumstances here. It was true that when the Lucid Empire decided to invade the Atlantis Empire, they had appointed him—a navy admiral at the time—as the expeditionary force's supreme commander, and after Atlantis's fall, they had even promoted him to Governor-General. But the victory in the Atlantis campaign wasn't something he had forged through his own skill.
The ironclad defensive line guarded by the elite troops of the "Lion of Defense," Grozny—known as the Grozny Line—had shown no signs of cracking even until the waning days of the Great War. Baltic hadn't dared to challenge it head-on; instead, he'd relied on the help of his internal collaborator, Billeneuve, to barely force the Atlantis Empire into surrender.
"Welcome to Earth, Admiral Baltic. The Atlantis government welcomes the 'guests' from the Lucid Empire."
"My thanks for the hospitality, Minister of Finance—or should I say, Prime Minister now? We've accomplished much together thus far. I look forward to your continued active cooperation in the Lucid Empire's rule going forward."
"Of course! Leave it to me!"
Hah, hah... Damn it all... There's no Atlantis emperor here, but that bastard Billeneuve stole the imperial seal for me, so at least we could sign the armistice. Once that stubborn Grozny hears his government has surrendered, he'll have no choice but to throw up his hands... right?
Baltic's "victory" in the Atlantis campaign had been touted domestically and abroad as a "monumental triumph for the ages," but the reality was far removed from that propaganda. It was a win he'd scraped together by foolishly throwing himself against Grozny's line until his homeland's young male population was decimated, conscripting anyone and everyone in sight. Yes, the truth was closer to a Pyrrhic victory.
The situation was eerily similar to how the Ming Dynasty government was getting thoroughly trounced by Li Zicheng's rebel forces, yet the Qing couldn't breach Shanhai Pass, defended steadfastly by Wu Sangui's elites. But unlike Wu Sangui, who eventually surrendered to the Qing and opened the gates, Grozny refused to acknowledge the "illegally signed armistice" even after it was finalized, vowing to fight to the last man, the last second.
"The Supreme Commander of the Atlantis National Defense Forces surrendering to the enemy? Unthinkable. As the representative of the honorable Defense Forces officer corps, I will fight until Earth is liberated and the Empire restored."
"Ah, fuck... fuck... fuck...! Surrender already! We've done enough... please..."
Rumor had it that upon hearing Grozny's resolute declaration, Baltic had holed up in his quarters, muttering the man's name obsessively in terror, never once considering pursuit even as Grozny withdrew his forces at the cost of some losses.
Had Baltic possessed even a sliver of courage, he might have crushed Grozny's line entirely alongside his collaborator Billeneuve, uprooting the threat once and for all. But he lacked that bravery, and in doing so, he gave Grozny time to pull his troops back and establish a new defensive line elsewhere.
True to his reputation, Grozny seized that fleeting opportunity, launching elaborate deception operations to retreat his elite forces unscathed to a safe haven—in Atlantis administrative terms, the regions known as Northland and Bestland—where he successfully built a fresh defensive line.
It was a tale from over a decade ago now. That new line Grozny had erected still stood firm today, and from it, his forces periodically sallied forth to smash Lucid troops and slowly reclaim territory. Reflecting on that, Baltic's blunder was arguably the worst mistake in galactic history.
And now, Kaldir's supply of atlanium weaponry had only given wings to Grozny's elites, who already boasted a 1:100 exchange ratio against Lucid forces. It was impossible to imagine how much greater the disaster Baltic had unleashed would grow.
He had sacrificed over a trillion men to the enemy's lines, then squandered the perfect chance to capture their leader amid the chaos in their rear—dooming hundreds of trillions more to death! The man who achieved this feat, Baltic Union Washington, was utterly deserving of his place as history's worst general.
"I can't even remember how many we dumped into this meat grinder... I think I gave up counting around 1,700 trillion. Definitely less than 2,000 trillion, though. Anyway, our situation's shit enough as it is—why spill more blood trying to stop Kaif? If you've got a reason, spit it out through that hole in your face, young friend."
His homeland had been forced to sustain that massive army by conscripting every young man in sight, then even long-discharged men in their forties and women with no military ties whatsoever, dragging them into combat. His responsibility for that crisis was immense, yet he shoved the blame onto others.
"B-but, Your Excellency...! The bigger Grozny's forces grow, the more unstable the sentiment among Atlantis natives in our governed territories will become! Right now, most are steeped in defeatism and wouldn't dream of resisting our empire... but in the worst case, mass riots could erupt and drive us out of Atlantis entirely!"
"Mass riots? Ah, you mean the reds. Those commie bastards are scum, sure, but they fight better than our troops. Unlike some who drop their guns after a few shots, they've got real esprit de corps. Heh heh heh..."
Even as the young officer desperately tried to deflect the blame being heaped on him and offered advice, Baltic—reeking of hangover like a man fresh from a bender—acted as if it was none of his concern. His entourage stared at their leering, useless superior in helpless frustration.
Yeah, it must be frustrating as hell for everyone. But we're just as stumped for solutions. Fine, whatever... but what the hell am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to catch those monstrous freaks from the Atlantis Defense Forces—these elusive innovators popping up everywhere?
And on top of fighting those monsters, where am I supposed to scrape together troops to smash the reds? Manpower and supplies don't grow on trees. Unless I make a pact with Satan and dredge them up from hell, there's no realistic fix—and you're asking me what to do?
"Uh... weren't our garrison listed at 200 trillion troops on paper? Of those, how many can actually be deployed for defensive lines or riot suppression?"
"...Even conservatively, only about a tenth of the recorded forces can move properly."
"Heh, military doctrine says you can't fight effectively after losing 30% of your troops. And we're down 90%? No wonder I say it's easier to give up."
Just like the Joseon army before the Imjin War, which boasted impressive numbers on paper but lost Hanyang in under a month, the Lucid garrison was in shambles. Of 200 trillion, 40 trillion were long dead, and 140 trillion more were too debilitated to count as combat power?
Kaldir hadn't arbitrarily limited her weapon production to supplies for 50 trillion soldiers while spending the rest on massive, glorious battleships for nothing. She had precisely pierced the weakness of the Lucid garrison: impressive on paper, hollow in reality.
The young officer's mentioned 20 trillion sounded huge in words alone, but it was woefully inadequate to cover half the galaxy-spanning Atlantis. And the scarier truth? The "usable" forces might be far fewer than even that.
That remaining 20 trillion was probably just an illusion padded with geezers, cripples, and women crammed into combat roles... Baltic may have been an incompetent general, but he knew his limits well enough to brush off the young officers' pleas and head back to the banquet hall. Enough shop talk—it's bumming me out!
Better to figure out how to enjoy the day than wrestle with unsolvable problems! Baltic's convictions were rock-solid, and the idealistic officers slunk out of the palace where the revelry continued, heads bowed in defeat before their useless superior.