It wasn’t, however, a universe that held the spark of new life. It could give rise only to unadulterated death. Bare hatred clashed against bare hatred, and burst into ever greater slaughter.
They tried to get part of the enemy ship to fall into firing range of their back EM cannons by directing it there through their mobile cannons’ firing line.
“Stern!” Lexshue alerted the senior gunner. They fired three volleys, almost as though they were venting their anger.
The heavy recoil kicked the patrol ship’s massive bulk away. Behind them, a fireball.
Just one left! There was no doubt the captain was thinking what every member of her crew was.
But the last ship peppered them from the side with antiproton cannon fire. That would be a fatal blow.
“EM shield, down...” Gymryac gasped. Despair cascaded over the bridge.
“Don’t give up now, my darlings!” she scolded them. “We’re going to knock them out of our pocket of space. Bow!”
The Goslauth slowly began to change the direction of its bow. The ship was almost sputtering now, as though indignant it still couldn’t catch a break.
“Focus mobile cannon fire on the enemy’s right side. Full throttle ahead!”
However, the enemy ship was also shooting fiercely forward, its antiproton cannon fire unrelenting.
A flood of antiprotons that vastly outstripped what they’d been bathed in before the destruction of the EM shield rocked the Goslauth. The mobile cannon fire chipped at the enemy’s outer hull, but they couldn’t impede its path.
At last, the streak of antiprotons penetrated through the Goslauth’s outer hull, and then through its inner hull like a hot knife through butter, striking the antimatter fuel aboard. Its magnetic cage demolished, the freed antiprotons attacked the very matter the patrol ship was composed of.
23:27.
The Goslauth was now so much dust.
Jinto and Lafier knew nothing of its demise.
Though it was true that mass-waves permeated all of space, the connecting vessel’s feeble equipment couldn’t pick them up while the signals of the gate were interfering. That might have been a kindness to them. Though they weren’t totally bereft of hope, the mood in that steerer’s room was already very dark.
Jinto was sitting uncomfortably in his assistant steerer’s seat.
Unlike the small docking vessel they’d ridden together before, a connecting vessel that sailed through flat space couldn’t be piloted through just a control glove. That was why there were the controls that Jinto pictured when he thought ‘spaceship’ in front of the chairs. That being said, there was not much need in this sector, where gates were few and far between, to work the controls very frequently.
A sullen Lafier didn’t speak a solitary word as she glowered at the screen displaying the map of flat space. Jinto stole a glance at the seat next to him and sighed surreptitiously.
Their space-time bubble was, as all others, a universe in itself. And its sole occupant, save for a modicum of floating particles, was the connecting vessel. Behind the seats of the steerer’s room lay a ïadbel (YAHDBEHL, air lock room), as well as a washroom and nap room. That was the entire living space entrusted to what, in their universe, amounted to all of humanity.
We’re the only ones in the universe...
And half of the universe’s intelligent life had sunk into a profound melancholy. The other half was not exactly feeling chipper, either, but he did feel like this universe could do with at least a little cheer.
“Uhh... Lafier...” Jinto tried to start a conversation.
Lafier raised her head. There was no way he could guess what she was thinking about from her expression.
“You’re the Viscountess of Parhynh, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I wanted to ask you about your fief. What’s the Bœrscorh Parhynr (BERSKOHR PARRYOON, Viscountdom of Parhynh) like? Given that ‘Parhynh’ means ‘Land of the Rose,’ I assume there are a lot of roses?”
“No.” While hardly enthusiastic, Lafier didn’t rebuff his efforts. “There aren’t even any lichens, let alone roses. There aren’t so much as microbes on any planet out there.”
“Then why’s it called the Land of the Rose?”
“The man in charge of surveying it had a soft spot for flowers, and basically just felt like going around naming them after various kinds. ‘Gyrhynh’ (GYIRYOONYUH, Land of the Lily), ‘Spaichynh’ (SPESHYOONYUH Land of the Camellia), all sorts. That’s all there is to it.”
“Huh. All right then, what’s it like?”
“There isn’t much to say. It’s a system with a yellow star and seven planets. The second planet could be human-habitable with some work. I think I’d like to fiddle around with that planet once I’m free of my duties as an imperial. I want to make the whole surface of Parhynh bloom with its namesake roses.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“I like to think so.”
And with that, the curtain of silence was drawn once again. Jinto racked his mind once again. How could he beat this acrid silence? But it was Lafier who broke it.
“Jinto.”
“Yeah?”
“You have my gratitude.”
“For what?”
“You’re thinking of me, aren’t you? I can’t say the way you’re doing so is terribly sophisticated, but it’s heartening nonetheless.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m so awkward.” Jinto was simultaneously miffed and relieved.
“Don’t be angry,” Lafier smiled. “I’m trying to thank you.”
“Me? Angry?”
“I...” Lafier stared at the screen again. “I hate it, Jinto. When the all-important time came, I was totally useless.”
“Way to hurt a guy’s feelings,” murmurred Jinto.
“Huh?” She cast a doubtful glance his way.
“You’re not ‘useless’ — you’re saving me. If you weren’t here, I’d be lost. But I guess my life in your hands isn’t enough to satisfy your lofty sense of obligation.”
“...You’re right. Forgive me.”
“Besides, I’m sure the ship’ll come out okay,” Jinto asserted groundlessly.
“...Yes... Yes, I’m sure, too,” she mumbled, but more to convince herself than anything else.
“Hey, Jinto.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember my birth-secret story?”
“‘Course.” Jinto was mystified as to why that, of all things, had been brought up again.
“Don’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you...”
“Nice, I love secrets,” he said as cheerily as possible so as to improve her mood.
“My gene donor is the captain.”
“What?” Jinto thought he might have misheard her.
“But that would make Hecto-commander Lexshue... your mother?”
“No, she’s not my ‘mother.’ She’s my gene donor.”
“Sorry, I’m still thinking like a Lander, forget I said that,” he said. “But... but she didn’t really feel like she was related to you.”
Or did she? The captain had called her, her “dear Highness.” He had felt something there that transcended the surface-level superior-subordinate relationship.
“What do you think the Star Forces are? It doesn’t matter that she’s an old acquaintance. It only matters when we’re alone together.”
“Yeesh, sounds so complicated. Like... Wow, though...”
“I felt proud to know Cya Placïac (KYOOA PLAHKEEA, Lady Plakia)... I’ve known the captain since I was little, so I’ve always respected her. I’m proud that half of me comes from her. I was a daughter of love. She was my father’s ïomh (YOHF, lover). I always suspected it... wanted it to be true...”
“If you’ve known her for so long, couldn’t you have just asked?” Jinto was almost dumbfounded, despite himself, at just how thoroughly blood and family were separate in Abh custom.
“I already told you. I wasn’t an adult ye
t, so without my father’s permission, I—”
“No, I mean, why didn’t you ask her? You know, directly?” Lafier opened her eyes wide and stared fixedly at Jinto, who suddenly felt uneasy. “Did I say something stupid?”
She nodded vigorously. “Incredibly.”
“Oh? All right, I’ll bite — is asking her directly really that unthinkable?”
“There’s such a thing as manners.”
“Uh huh... So it’s rude to ask a gene donor if they’re your gene donor?”
“It’s extremely embarrassing, Jinto.”
“I see.” Jinto crossed his arms and chewed it over... Nope. Don’t get it.
“Why’s it embarrassing?”
“It needs a reason to be embarrassing? Things that are embarrassing just are.”
Well, now that she mentions it, I guess that’s true... Jinto forced himself to go with it. After all, asking someone “Are you my mom?” would take quite some courage even according to his own non-Abh sensibilities.
“Even if I had asked, she wouldn’t have answered me. The only one who can tell a child about their dairlach (DEHRLAHSH, genetic information) is their parent.”
“And that’s good manners, too?”
“Yes, that’s good manners.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“I’d love it if I could take you to my home planet one day and have you live there for a handful of years. Then the meaning of the word ‘complicated’ might come to light.”
“Okay. Once my responsibilities as an imperial are behind me, I wouldn’t mind letting you take me there,” Lafier said, her voice a bit livelier now.
“It’ll be my pleasure.” But Jinto had remembered a bitter truth.
You’ve forgotten, Lafier. When that time comes, you’ll have aged only ten years. You’ll still look young and beautiful. I, on the other hand, will be either stupidly old or already dead...
“But couldn’t you have asked her if she was your father’s... I mean, Fïac Lartr Cryb’s lover? Is that rude, too?”
“Of course it is.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Is this ‘complicated’ to you as well?”
“Very,” Jinto assured her. “Who told you that the Hecto-commander is Fïac Lartr Cryb’s lover, then?”
“No one had to tell me. It was obvious. The captain was always visiting at the lartbéic (LARBAY, royal palace).”
“Sounds complicated.”
“I’m tired of hearing you say that, Jinto. It’s annoying.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
Lafier looked at him like she wanted to say something, but she returned to eyeing the screen. “My genetics aside, I love Lady Plakia. She was already worthy of respect even at the palace, but I gained even more for her aboard ship. The other starpilots and NCCs did, too. There were some I didn’t like very much, but I hope they’re all okay...” Lafier hung her head as though in prayer.
“Yeah.” Jinto recalled all the people with whom he’d conversed on the patrol ship. It had only been five days, but in that time, he’d met nothing but good-natured folks. His preconception of the Abh as cruel invaders was completely turned on its head. At the very least, he had no reason to wish them dead.
Lafier remained motionless for a little while. The sensation that she was drowning at the bottom of the ocean, that Jinto been trying to dispel, came roaring back. This time around, there was just nothing Jinto could say. He stared at the steering controls vacantly.
Finally, Lafier raised her head. “Jinto. Could you tell me about your home?”
“Ah, sure, no problem.” Jinto was relieved. “Where should I start? Unlike your fief, there’s plenty to talk about...”
Jinto suddenly realized he’d been unconsciously fidgeting with the imitation jewel on his chest. The creature engraved on it was that furriest of fish, the rezwan. He decided to lead with all the details about the rezwan’s absolutely wretched diet.
Over the next two days, apart from their alternating sleeping shifts, Jinto spent nearly the entire time filling her in on the lifeforms of Martinh, though much of it was only vaguely recalled and much of it was outright fabrication on his part. And, to his surprise, he’d succeeded in making Lafier laugh quite a few times.
After their two days on the connecting vessel, the pair arrived at the Lymscorh Faibdacr (LYOOMSCORR FEBDAHK, Febdash Barony).
Chapter 8: The Lymscorh Faibdacr (LYOOMSCORR FEBDAHK, Febdash Barony)
The Febdash Barony comprised a blue star and two gas planets, along with countless rock fragments. Even the Empire’s very best terraforming technology couldn’t make an inhabitable planet out of them, and they didn’t have the resources to lug that technology through flat space just for a collection of rocks. It was even emptier than the Viscountdom of Parhynh. But the lymeghéc (LYOOMZHEH, baron’s household) made sure it wrung revenue from this scorh (SCORR, domain).
There was an enterprise one needs only a star to conduct, involving a stable commodity that was always in demand. They manufactured antimatter fuel.
It was considered theoretically impossible to turn matter inside out into antimatter. If one wanted antimatter, they had to rely on an antique method from the dawn of engineering, of civilization. A sun’s radiation was stored in solar batteries, and the energy was then pumped into a linear particle accelerator to speed up elementary particles. When accelerated elementary particles smashed into each other, the energy their collision emitted condensed, with pair production as its result — matter, and antimatter.
Like other resourceless planets, many ïodh (YOHDTH, antimatter fuel factories) were in operation in the barony. Myriad disks orbited close to the star Febdash. Those were the antimatter fuel factories. Their disks, facing the sun, were loaded with solar batteries, and behind them, sixteen linear particle accelerators were radially aligned. The batteries drank in the heat and light emitted by the star, which was subsequently channeled by the accelerators and reborn as protons and antiprotons within the centers of the disks.
Only the antiprotons among them were collected. The protons were allowed to leak away into space. It was far more economically viable to transport protons from gas planets than to install separate proton capture traps.
The antiprotons, so amassed, were harvested into containers connected to the antimatter fuel factories. Once a container became full, it turned into an independent asteroid orbiting the cluster of factories so that in the unlikely case an incident occurred, the factories wouldn’t get destroyed.
The Lymécth Faibdacr (LYOOMEKTH FEBDAHK, Estate of the Febdash Barony) revolved even farther from its sun than the sombec baicœcer (SOHB BEKEKAR, antimatter storage asteroids). There was also the Febdash Gate, married as it was to the baron’s mansion.
The connecting vessel entered normal space through this gate.
“Show me video of the outside, if you could,” asked Jinto.
“Sure.” She made a complex grasping motion with the control glove, and the walls of the steerer’s room filled with the stars innumerable.
“I never imagined the stars could be such a sight for sore eyes,” Jinto said sincerely. The inner wall of the space-time bubble was a gloomy grey. Compared to that, the twinkling stars had a congenial familiarity to them. He now understood, if only a little, why the Abh called themselves the Kin of the Stars and the cosmos their home.
“We still have a long way to go, Jinto,” said Lafier ruthlessly.
“We’re going straight back into flat space after resupplying.”
“Can we take a break while resupplying?” asked Jinto hopefully.
“A break? You’re not doing anything to begin with.”
“Thanks for reminding me. But I’ll have you know I’m overseeing all the controls while you’re sleeping,” he quipped.
“You woke me up whenever anything happened.”
“I haven’t woken you up. Nothing ever happened.”
; “Yes, thanks to me and my computing crystals.”
“Fine, fine.” Jinto dropped it. While it was true that Jinto wasn’t doing — couldn’t do — much of anything, the connecting vessel’s operations were being taken care of by its autopilot. He had never actually seen Lafier steering it.
Compared to that, Jinto brooded inwardly, I was the real workhorse, what with all that talking.
Lafier called up Flight Control.
“This is the patrol ship Goslauth’s connecting vessel. Febdash Barony Flight Control, please respond.” Her screen switched from displaying the map of the star system to video of a Lander woman.
“This is Febdash Barony Flight Control.”
“This is the patrol ship Goslauth’s connecting vessel. Requesting fuel resupply.”
“The patrol ship Goslauth’s connecting vessel?” The Flight Control officer appeared puzzled. It must have seemed strange for a giant ship’s smaller vessel to be requesting fuel by itself. Even so, the officer nodded.
“Roger that, Goslauth connecting vessel. You are welcome within. Please choose your method of resupply.”
“This is a ménh sona (MENYUH SOHNA, light vessel), so I’d like to resupply at the pier.”
“Roger. Please transmit desired amount of fuel.”
“Roger.” After finishing the transmission protocol, she told Jinto: “If we resupply at the pier, we can take a break. We can likely even take a hot bath.”
“Awesome!” said Jinto. “A nice bath isn’t a bad idea, especially considering you’re probably the smelliest royal princess in the galaxy at the moment.”
“What’s that I see...?” Lafier’s squinted her big, beautiful eyes at him. “Oh, it’s someone who clearly yearns for death. I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
“C’mon, I was just kidding.” Jinto was shaken by the light in the princess’s raven-black eyes. “You don’t smell that much, I swear.”
“‘That much’?” Lafier’s eyes narrowed even more.
“No, I mean, you don’t smell at all!” he back-pedaled immediately. And indeed, that was the closest he’d arrived to the actual truth of the matter. “What impudent rube would ever so much as imply that you smelled even a little!?”
Princess of the Empire (JNC Edition) Page 15
