And my first day at the academy starts at the beginning of next month... Some responsibility lay squarely on his shoulders, as he didn’t even take a peek at its contents before boarding, but he felt it a curse nonetheless.
Jinto set about committing the “Lunch Etiquette” section to memory. First, he looked at the end of the passage to see whether it hadn’t been altogether repealed, and then he began to memorize all 122 articles. He skimmed over the obvious, and pored over the items he deemed different enough from his own everyday intuitions.
Just as Jinto was getting absorbed in the task, the dunitic (DOONEET, alarm claxon) screeched. Distracted from his compuwatch’s screen, Jinto lifted his head.
What could this alarm be about? Thinking maybe the list of rules had the answer, he flipped to the Table of Contents screen. But there had been no need: the onboard announcement soon said it all.
“Attention. This is your captain speaking. All hands, continue working but listen well. At a distance of around 1,540 cédlairhdue 78 degrees ahead of the ship, an unidentified group of space-time bubbles has been spotted in transit. We think that its destination is the same as ours — the Marquessate of Sfagnoff.” The captain let that sink in for everybody listening.
“Now, listen up, boys and girls: At this rate, we know we’ll reach Sfagnoff quicker than they will. The thing is, they don’t seem to like that very much. So they sent ten assault ship bubbles our way. We don’t know what hole they crawled out of, but we’re fairly sure they’re a UH fleet. It looks like we’ve got a fight on our hands, everyone!”
Is this some kind of training? thought Jinto. No, that was tough to believe. It sounded too real.
“This is NOT a drill.” Lexshue’s voice genially confirmed it for him. “I repeat, this is NOT a drill. If they don’t back down, we’ll charge into battle at around 21:15 ship’s time. Prior to that, we’re planning to shift to Stage 1 War Preparations at 20:30 ship’s time. Personnel not currently on duty should rest up for the fight to come. I’ll say it one last time, so that it can really sink in, my dears. This is not a drill. This is not an exercise. This has been your captain. Over and out.”
Jinto stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. He tried to sort the information he’d just heard in his head.
We’re charging into battle!? He could scarcely believe it.
As far as Jinto knew, the Empire was not in a state of war, and this sector was in the Abh domain. Wasn’t this supposed to be the lap of safety?
Practically dizzy, Jinto stared at the coat-of-arms banner, but it could not save him. So, he trained his sight back on his screen. He had no idea what he should do, what actions he was supposed to take. All he knew was that this was no time to sit tight and study. He turned off his compuwatch.
What do I do...?
He hesitated to demand an explanation, to rush out onto the bridge or pounce on the phone. Even if he was totally informed, how would it help any?
“Jinto, are you in?” Lafier’s voice called through the coms.
Jinto jumped on it like a famished cat given fresh fish. “Of course! Come in, Lafier, come in!”
The door opened, but Lafier stayed outside the threshold. “What the heck is going on?”
“It’s just as they said. I don’t know any more than you do,” she told him. “It seems we just happen to be witnessing the beginnings of a war.”
“Just our luck,” grumbled Jinto. Life was truly a parade of happy accidents, and it was never very difficult to stumble over the next in line. “I’d just love it if it could be over by the time I’m assigned somewhere.”
“I don’t think there’s much hope of that,” she responded. “We aren’t the types to let wars end without our utter satisfaction, and our enemies are most likely the United Humankind. I can’t be sure the war will end within my lifetime...”
“Lafier, you are really bad at cheering people up,” sighed Jinto.
“Never mind that. I was ordered to escort you to the bridge. Will you be ready to come soon?”
“I shall be coming forthwith.” Jinto stood up and put on his circlet, that of the Hyde noble prince he was. “I wonder if they’ll arrange special seating for me to watch the battle.”
“I think you should try asking them,” replied Lafier coldly.
When they arrived at the bridge, Jinto could sense a strange mood in the air. It was so tense that it felt as though the air had turned to glass.
“I’m sorry to have troubled you to come here, Lonh,” said Lexshue. “I bid both you and Apprentice Starpilot Ablïar wait here.”
“Yes, Captain,” said Lafier. She was standing at attention, behind and to the side of Jinto.
“Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur. I’m afraid we have not prepared any seating for you.” The Hecto-commander gazed at Jinto from her captain’s seat.
“Please don’t worry about that. I’m fine standing.”
“I’m sure you grasped the onboard broadcast.”
“I did. I’m to understand there’ll be a battle.”
The captain nodded. “The probability we win is 0.37%. That is assuming the enemy ships are leading-edge, but even if they were a crew of nothing but novices piloting decrepit ships, our chances still wouldn’t reach the 50% mark.”
“Well, that’s not good.” Even though death was imminent, Jinto was bizarrely calm. None of it felt real. Perhaps he was mentally paralyzed with fear.
“No, it’s not. Getting away would be ideal, but unfortunately we’re not in any position to do so,” she smiled. “That is why we must have you evacuate the ship, Lonh.”
“I see,” Jinto nodded. It was a reasonable proposal. Ménh (MENYUH, interstellar ships) were assemblies of advanced technology. The crew who could get one traveling through space, even the lowest-ranked sach gona (SAHSH GOHNA, fourth-class NCCs), all had to undergo at least a year of technical training before being assigned. Even if some noble desire to be responsible or whatnot awakened within Jinto, his complete lack of technical know-how meant that even if he were to offer his aid, it would be an unwanted kindness. The greatest contribution he could make in the war effort would be to get out of the way and shiver in a corner of his room.
There was, however, a problem. How and where was he meant to disembark while the patrol ship was still sailing through flat space? He knew that the captain would continue, though, so he kept quiet.
“There is a pairriac (PEREEA, connecting vessel) aboard ship. It is furnished with ménragh (MENRAHZH, flat space navigation capabilities). Please take it and reach Sfagnoff before us. You will have to resupply on the way, but you should get there faster than that fleet of time-space bubbles regardless. Then, when you arrive, please catch another ship for yourself. Sfagnoff has a base for a byrec drocr (BYOOR DROHK, liaison fleet). Flights should be frequent enough that you won’t have to rely on luck,” she said, casting a fleeting glimpse at what was behind Jinto.
“I’m sure Apprentice Starpilot Ablïar will be willing to accompany you to the Marquessate of Sfagnoff.”
“Captain, you can’t be serious!” Lafier shouted in protest. “I don’t have a busespas (BOOSESPAHS, skipper’s insignia)!”
“You’re in the process of becoming one,” the Hecto-commander pointed out. “Once you’ve finished this voyage, you’ll earn the insignia automatically. It’s nothing more than a formality. I know you can steer it, Apprentice.”
“But I want to stay on this ship...”
“I have no intention of debating with an apprentice starpilot. Am I not the captain of this ship?” She pulled the captain card on her.
But she didn’t give an inch. “I cannot accept that. Please forgive me my impudence, but I cannot shame the Ablïar family name by fleeing from the enemy...”
The captain stood up and glared at Lafier with her golden eyes.
“You should save the braggadocio for after you’ve got an almfac matbrar (AHLFA MAHBRAR, twin-winged circlet) on your head, Ablïarsec Néïc-Dubreuscr Bœrh Parhynr Lamhirh. Fleeing from the en
emy? There is no battle station for you here. You are utterly superfluous. You are unfinished goods. Yet I have given you a mission. A mission of grave importance, for you are not only to take the civilian Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur away from the warzone, but also to warn the Empire of the approach of what is thought to be an enemy fleet. Would you not agree that shirking that mission would be the true act of desertion? If you do not feel any shame in your own incompetence, in not knowing what constitutes ‘fleeing from the enemy,’ then the Ablïar family does not deserve the fealty of the Abh. If you still have something to say to me, then I will have you restrained for insubordination. You may talk back to me when you can do so with impartiality at a luzœc fanigalacr meeting as an abdicant empress worthy of the name!”
Jinto, who was still between the two, could only stand there, shaken. He’d suddenly fallen from the main character of his story to a mere onlooker, spying goings-on from the sidelines.
Lafier turned pale, biting her lower lip. But, being Lafier, she didn’t hang her head in shame or break eye contact with the captain.
“I was mistaken, Captain,” said the princess.
“I’m glad you understand,” nodded Lexshue. “Now prepare the connecting vessel for takeoff. I have more to say to Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur.”
“Roger.” Lafier saluted her. “I will prepare the pairriac at once.”
“Once you’re finished, simply send me your report. There’s no need to come back here.”
“...Understood.” For a brief moment, Lafier and Lexshue’s lines of sight intertwined.
“Now then, please be off.” Lexshue’s tone had suddenly turned much softer. “We’ll see each other again at Lacmhacarh, far fïac cfaina (FAR FEEA CFENA, my dear Highness).”
“Yes, Captain. Without fail.” Lafier looked like she had more to say, too, yet she did another salute and turned back.
As soon as the Captain saw Lafier’s back disappear, she faced Jinto once more and said: “Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur, you won’t have much time or space. Please take the minimum number of personal belongings necessary.”
“I intend to,” said Jinto, “since I’m confident I’ll be able to retrieve whatever I leave behind at the capital.”
“I apologize that we couldn’t see through our duty to send you off at the capital.”
“Don’t worry; from living in Vorlash, I’m used to transportation disruptions.”
“Hearing you say that eases my stress. Incidentally...”
“What is it?”
“There’s something else we’d like you to carry in addition to your personal effects.”
“And that would be?”
Lexshue faced the space behind her captain’s seat. “Arms storage, open. Hecto-commander Laicch Üémh Laubér Placïac.”
The wall opened up. Within lay a veritable arsenal of individual-use weapons.
Starpilots of the Star Forces had long abandoned the practice of carrying weapons with them aboard ship. All that remained of that custom was the now-decorative sash-belts that they wore. However, those personal arms were stored onboard in case scenarios such as a hostile working environment or a crew mutiny were to transpire — although it should be mentioned, for the sake of the Star Forces’ honor, that such a thing had not happened in the past 200 years.
Lexshue chose two clanh (CLAHNYUH, phasers), and gave them to Jinto alongside ïapérh (YAHPEHRR, gun magazines) and a belt.
“One for you, Lonh, and one I must ask you hand to Apprentice Starpilot Ablïar. She should already know how to use them.”
“Why are weapons necessary?” Jinto had misgivings, but he took the guns.
“Think of them as a precaution.” She glanced at the map of flat space on the floor. “My guess is that they’re just the advance units of an enemy invasion fleet. Reason being, if that weren’t the case, there wouldn’t be much point to devoting manpower to stopping this ship. But in their heads, they can’t clear the subconscious doubt that they’re just being driven by an instinctual urge to kill.”
“So, in other words... by the time we reach Sfagnoff, you’ll have already fallen?”
“Though I’m hoping that doesn’t come to pass,” said the Hecto-commander, nodding ever so slightly.
Jinto thought he understood that Lexshue was truly driving at. “Captain... The real reason you’re doing this is to let Her Highness escape, isn’t it? But isn’t there somebody who’s far more suited to escorting her than the likes of me?”
Jinto shut his mouth, paralyzed by her piercing eyes of gold.
Even then, she remained polite in her speech toward him.
“Please do not misunderstand. We always aim to avoid combat when carrying civilians, and take measures to ensure their safety when combat is inevitable. That is a duty entrusted to all Star Forces commanders. It’s also no lie that Apprentice Starpilot Ablïar has no predetermined battle position. Even if she had been no-name gentry, I would have entrusted her with commanding the connecting vessel.”
Jinto cast his eyes down. “I’m sorry I said that. It was dumb.” He was not as strong as Lafier.
Her glare softened. “That being said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy that Her Highness happens to be an apprentice starpilot.”
“You are thinking about her wellbeing as well, Captain.”
“I am.” Her lips curled into a smile. “Her social standing may not technically matter within the military, but she could still someday be Empress. And, just maybe, a wiser and greater one then we might expect. Thus, I aspire to one day be able to say that I was instrumental to her education during her years as an apprentice. How could I let such a budding flower wither before its time?”
“You’re right.”
“Now, I think it would be best if you depart soon. I would be grateful if you could go back to your room to pack your belongings. I’m sorry I can’t escort you, but I understand you know your way to the take-off deck, correct?”
“I’ll be all right,” said Jinto. “Oh yeah, one thing — the coat-of-arms banner of my house that you had made for me. I’m going to leave it there, in anticipation of the day I can receive it again in commemoration of joining the ship.”
Her golden eyes flickered with intrigue. “That is thoughtfulness worthy of a noble, Lonh.”
“Really? Then I’m glad!” He’d interpreted her words as praise, and bowed.
“Please excuse me, Captain; I’ll be taking my leave.”
“Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur. I leave Fïac Lartnér in your hands.”
“I can’t think of a situation so hopeless that Her Highness would need to rely on me...” Jinto bowed deeply. “But I’ll do what I can if the time ever comes.”
Chapter 7: The Slachoth Goslautr (SLAHSHOHTH GOHSLOHT, Battle of the Goslauth)
“The connecting vessel is splitting off from our space-time.”
At the report of the drociac raugrhothasairr (DROHKEEA ROYRROTHAHSEHR, surveying communications officer), Hecto-commander Lexshue nodded silently. The great throng already gathered on the bridge, comprising all necessary personnel, was as on-edge as ever.
Not counting the campaign of little consequence that was the Conquest of Hyde, the last time the Star Forces had shown their superiority was during the Battle for Camintale, 47 years prior. The current Empress, Lamagh (LAMAHZH), had fought in that campaign as Crown Princess and Imperial Fleet Commander-in-Chief, a time that felt like a lifetime ago even to the long-lived Abh.
Of course, there was no one on the patrol ship Goslauth who had any actual combat experience. It was little wonder they were all bundles of nerves.
It was Vice Captain Reiria who was the first among them to recapture his usual composure.
“So the young ones have left,” he told his captain from behind her.
“I hope nothing happens to them.” Lexshue rested her chin in her hands as she stared at the blue blip getting farther and farther away from them.
“I hope so, too.” Then Reiria smiled. “They’ve both had very unique upb
ringings. In the future, they may just grow to be fascinating characters indeed. Though they’re probably fascinating enough as it is.”
“You’re not wrong,” Lexshue concurred.
The royal princess had been raised in a royal house, seen as the spring of all that is Abh. And she had been admitted into an academy at the young age of 13. She was the model Abh. Meanwhile, Ïarlucec Dreur was an imperial noble, but an idiosyncratic one that couldn’t help but drag his Lander-ness with him wherever he went. The two were almost polar opposites.
“I also hope they exert a positive influence on each other as well,” Reiria continued.
“My my, Reiria.” Surprised, Lexshue turned to look at him. “You’re thinking like a regular besaiga (BESEGA, instructor). Are you planning to switch careers and head to an academy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Reiria with a wave of his hand. “I don’t have the character necessary to be responsible for someone’s education. I’m far more comfortable on the front lines. Especially now that a war is brewing.”
“Come now, you don’t need to hold yourself back. I won’t think you a coward.”
“I wouldn’t blame you for calling me a coward if I should ever petition to be transferred to a behind-the-scenes post. But as of now, I have no desire to do so.”
“Aww. That’s too bad.”
“Am I that terrible a vice-captain?” Reiria smiled ironically.
“I’ll keep you in suspense until your performance review.” Lexshue returned the smile. Then she looked straight ahead once again. “What are your thoughts on Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur, Mr. Instructor?”
“I think he’s a fine young man. He’s always silently questioning whether what he does measures up to Abh standards. I’ve grown rather fond of the look in those eyes of his.”
Princess of the Empire (JNC Edition) Page 13
