Dyaho stared up at his owner with disinterested eyes, and loosed a gaping yawn.
“Don’t welcome me so warmly, Dyaho,” Jint quipped.
The two of them remained there for a time, neither speaking. Dyaho, meanwhile, was grooming himself with enthusiasm.
“Jint...”
“Yeah?”
“What’s for dinner today?”
“That’s your question?” Jint was amazed. “You know it’s on the compucrystal net.”
“Yes, but you just standing there not saying anything is making me uncomfortable.”
“Ah.” Jint nodded, and looked at his wristgear. “Looks like we’re having sagaich soclyzr (herb-grilled lamb) for today’s main. Want me to read the rest of the menu to you?”
“No, that’s okay.” She didn’t actually care about dinner. She cut to the chase. “If you have something to say, why don’t you come out with it?”
“I don’t actually know what to say.” Jint pulled a spare chair. “Mind if I sit?”
“Do as you please.”
“Thanks.” Jint took a seat backwards, and rested his chin on its back. “About that battle simulation...”
“Don’t tell me what I already know good and well,” she warned him. “Don’t waste my time telling me I was bound to lose to someone like Hecto-Commander Cotcœrh, or that I didn’t do poorly for a novice captain.”
“I won’t. I just think you shouldn’t get so down in the dumps in front of others.”
“Down in the dumps? Me?” Lafier was slightly astonished.
“That’s how everyone took it, anyway. Seems like, when the average person sees a depressed Abliar, they think it doesn’t bode well.”
“Is that true of you, too?”
“Nah. I mean, I already witnessed a royal princess on the verge of tears three years ago.”
“Shut up, Jint.”
“I thought you said it makes you uncomfortable if I don’t say anything.”
“True, but it’s not as though you’ve ever actually shut up after being told to,” Lafier fired back.
“Guess you’re right,” said Jint, scratching his head. “Back to the point: you do understand why everyone might be a little apprehensive, right? If you get so sulky after losing a battle you could never win in a simulation, it’s no wonder they’d worry how you’d handle losing in an actual battle.”
“It’s all right. I’d do the right thing and order everyone to abandon ship.”
“Yeah, of course, they don’t doubt that,” said Jint. “It’s just a little nagging concern, that’s all.”
“Enough about ‘them.’ How do YOU feel? Are you as ‘concerned’?”
“No way. I think I know the difference between when it is and isn’t all right for you to lose heart. Or at least, I knew the difference three years back. And I don’t believe you’ve changed.”
“Yep. So I’m all right,” she repeated. “That aside, you’ve gotten quite stuck-up the short while we didn’t see each other, haven’t you?”
“Wish you’d say I’ve gotten ‘dependable,’” Jint grinned. “Well, might as well lean into ‘stuck-up.’ ’Cause it looks to me like you’re just not used to losing. You’re like a sharp and solid short sword. If you clash with a blade that’s even more solid, you’d probably snap instead of bending. Or that’s the vibe you’re giving, anyway. If the next time you lose, you do so with more poise, then everybody will see you in a new light.”
“Idiot.”
“Well, I’ll be going, then.” Jint got up, and peered at the desktop. Dyaho was occupying himself with some solitary amusement. He scooped him into his arms, and the cat growled in protest.
“Don’t tell me you’re trying to be a father to me,” said Lafier.
“Is that how I’m coming across?”
“Yes. It’s vaguely distasteful.”
“That’s what I’d call a gross misunderstanding.” Jint beamed. “We’re in the middle of space. You know, the home of you Abhs-by-birth. And the only thing I, as a lowly nahainudec (landworlder), can do is to follow you, and trust in you.”
“Your manner of speaking rings as insincere as always.”
“No, bad Dyaho, no claws,” Jint chided. “I’m sad you feel that way, Lafier. I’m always dead serious. But anyway, see you later.”
Jint turned to leave. Lafier opened her mouth, about to say something.
“What?” Jint sensed it and looked back at her.
“No, nothing,” she said, shaking her head.
For a moment, Jint looked on with a curious look, but he exited the room without another word.
What Lafier had almost said: I thought that three years ago, we were each other’s protectors. Looking back now, that was comical, wasn’t it?
Chapter 3: The Chytmec Bhobéïrnair (Vobayrneh Astrobase)
“So you’re saying you do not intend to issue a summons to surrender?” Premier Tallas of the Aptic Star System was stunned.
“Correct. We are choosing not to for the meantime,” stated Ablïarsec Néïc Lamsar Dusanh, King of Barcœc, Crown Prince of the Humankind Empire of Abh, and Imperial Fleet Commander-in-Chief. “Even if you were to surrender now, it would not be of much benefit to us.”
He had arrived in the Aptic System (directly commanding the principal fleet) soon after Associate Commodore Sporr’s Byrec Casna Fleet 1 had. Now, he was entertaining the star system’s premier’s transmission aboard the flagship, the patrol ship Sancaü.
“In other words, you’ll simply be blockading our planet.”
“We’ve taken the liberty of closing off all space above the 300 üésdagh mark. I don’t think we shall disrupt any traffic that transpires below that line. We will, of course, respond to any hostile activities in kind, but I don’t think that will hinder your daily lives.”
But Tallas wasn’t letting up. “Aptic III is a manufacturing planet. We aren’t self-reliant with regards to our food supply. I won’t divulge the quantities of our emergency reserves, but casualties from starvation will crop up soon enough.”
“While we do not especially wish to bring famine to your society, the reality is that it is not, ultimately, our problem. Just so you’re aware, just because we won’t be demanding your surrender, does not mean we won’t accept your surrender. Our military plans on remaining in this star system for some time, so I advise you to surrender whenever you so desire.”
“The way you’re putting it, Your Highness,” said Tallas, brow furrowed, “it appears you have no real interest in our planet whatsoever.”
“To be completely frank, that is indeed the case,” nodded Dusanh. “What we are interested in is the portal relatively close to your sun, and the hydrogen and water on Aptic IV.”
“That is demeaning in the extreme,” spat Tallas.
“I do hope I haven’t hurt your feelings,” said Dusanh in consolation.
“How else am I supposed to feel?”
“That is a shame.” It was not, in point of fact, a shame to him, but so he remarked. “If, once our current operation has completed its initial stages, your star system is still within our control, and you still have not surrendered, then we will formally demand your surrender.”
“Should I tell you that it’s a relief to hear that?” Tallas shot back sarcastically, scowling.
Dusanh pretended he didn’t sense how indecorous Tallas’s response was, satisfied that the Premier had taken the hint that they ought to surrender of their own accord. “Allow me to add that we do not wish for your planet to fall into a state of disorder. Restoring order on a landworld takes time and effort, to put it lightly. As such, I ask that you surrender before anarchy takes hold.”
“I’m thinking I wouldn’t mind exposing my mortal shell to the bats and cudgels of enraged insurgents if I saw it inconvenienced you all.”
Once again, Dusanh pretended not to hear that.
“Now then, Your Highness,” Tallas continued, “this was quite the fruitful conversation, if only because I now und
erstand what you’re all thinking. We’ll consult amongst ourselves from here on out.”
“I bid you farewell, Your Excellency.” Dusanh stood up and saluted, and then the video of Tallas cut out.
With that, any and all consideration of the affairs of Aptic III flew from the Crown Prince’s mind. The man had hundreds more stars and planets to conquer. He could hardly afford to fuss over a single landworld.
The Sancaü’s Commander’s Bridge was located where the mobile space-time mines were housed. Given that they had to control an expansive fleet, the bridge necessitated a large amount of space to function. Several dozen command personnel were busy working.
Behind Dusanh’s Commander-in-Chief’s Seat proudly fluttered three flags. At the top was the crest banner of the Empire, the eight-headed Gaftnochec, and to its bottom-left, the crest banner of the Lartïéc Barcœr (Royal House of Barkeh), which was exactly the same as the imperial flag apart from the base being the red of the Néïc Lamsar. Finally, the flag on the bottom-right with blue flames was the Phantom Flame glac byrer (fleet flag).
Dusanh looked down upon the map of planar space playing out on the floor of his bridge. Aptic, Miskehrr, Mioflandia, Darmap, and Wimber — the five star systems that had been added to the Empire’s provisional territory.
However, they had not yet engaged in full-scale battle, and had not sustained any real damage. The only battle to speak of occurred when Fleet 1 penetrated the Aptic Star System. In the other star systems, the United Humankind’s fleets fled as soon as they learned of the Star Forces’ approach.
Dusanh didn’t think the enemy craven for it. The Abh would have acted likewise. It was beyond them to post sufficient forces along the borders of their lengthy sphere of influence; posting small units as lookouts and observers was all they could manage. Though the Abh were often deemed “haughty and reckless,” when they did do something rash, there was always a reason for it. Facing off against the Star Forces, an enemy they couldn’t defeat despite escape being an option, would have lacked any justification.
“It’s all so tranquil,” Dusanh murmured.
They were likely amassing their fleets somewhere deep within their own sphere of influence. Fleets that could rival his own in scope. Whether or not Cfazaitec Rainibr (Operation Phantom Flame) would unfold as planned depended on their own speed. If the Abh fleets managed to strike before the enemy could assemble enough firepower, they could accomplish their battle objectives to perfection with minimal sacrifices.
Of course, the Star Forces had learned, through abundant battle experience, that a strategy never went exactly as planned. As a consequence, they’d given thought to what to do if the enemy counterattacked earlier than otherwise anticipated. At the moment, however, nothing indicated that was more than a possibility.
“Why didn’t you issue a demand to surrender?” asked the Chief of Staff, Star Forces Admiral Cénéch Üémh Stymer Cipair.
Whenever she stood in place, she did so stiffly, as though always at attention. Only her head was facing Dusanh. Any expression that graced her beautiful Abh visage was a stern manifestation of that emotion. An undulating mane of light-purple hair covered her shoulders.
“Loath as I am to admit it, the state of the war is fluid,” answered Dusanh. “The UH might recover this star system soon. Should that happen, then the people of Aptic would feel ashamed for having become a territory of the Empire. As such, there’s no need to hurry.”
“Are you saying you didn’t demand their surrender because you were considering their feelings?”
“Correct.” Dusanh nodded.
“How kind of you.” But her words were steeped with incredulity.
“Our kind needs kindness.”
“Tell the truth. You just didn’t feel like doing the ceremonial signing or the incorporation procedures, right?”
Bull’s-eye.
He had conquered so many worlds for the Empire so far, yet adding a populated star system to the Empire as a territory remained no easy matter. Until an official lord or lady was appointed, the task of administering a newly integrated star system fell on the commander that accepted that star system’s surrender. And in this case, that would be Dusanh.
Needless to say, Dusanh knew many a person upon which he could foist the job, but that was work in itself. In his mind, Byrec Ghuta (Fleet 5) and Star Forces Admiral Lecemh were there to handle that kind of tedious drudgery.
“Furthermore, it seemed to me that the Premier rather wanted you to demand he surrender.” Her opinion matched his own.
“That’s Our Highness the Commander-in-Chief,” Kenesh continued. “You never give people what they want, and always give them what they don’t.”
“It’s just a bit of harmless fun,” Dusanh explained. “It is true that the battle situation is fluid, mind you. And in the end, it will be the people below who decide. It’s no big to-do whether I issue that demand or not, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m not criticizing you,” she replied. “I’m simply appreciating anew how incorrigible Your Highness can be.”
“I see.”
“Of course, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to re-acknowledge that particular aspect of your personality, and I’m sure there will be plenty more in the days to come.”
“Surely there’s little need to ‘rediscover’ me that many times?”
“Not for me, no.” Kenesh stared at him, her eyes the color of her hair.
“You’re not saying that I need to re-acknowledge it?”
The Chief of Staff just stood there. It appeared she felt no need to answer that question.
“I trust you see we must keep this a secret, Chief of Staff,” said Dusanh, gazing around at the command personnel hard at work on the bridge.
“Keep what secret?”
“The fact that relations between the Commander-in-Chief and his Chief of Staff aren’t untroubled. It would affect the morale of the entire military, would it not?”
“I think relations between us are going swimmingly.”
There were eight star systems in the Empire that were called “astrobases.” The Vobayrneh Astrobase was one of the eight, with a yellow dwarf star at its center. There lay a planet named Lurcédhec (Loorkedth), which had become an R&R destination for the soldiers. Its topography was varied, and the Star Forces offered wholesome diversions of all kinds. And it wouldn’t take much effort at all to encounter some not-so-wholesome diversions offered by non-Star Forces individuals.
However, this planet was nearly exclusively utilized by NCCs of landworld origin, with starpilots rarely touching down. The few starpilots that did also hailed from landworlds. One could even say that an Abh-from-birth had never set foot upon the lands of Loorkedth.
Recreation amenities for Abhs, meanwhile, were situated in orbit around Loorkedth. The sodmronh (microgravity-garten), in particular, was indispensable for the mental and bodily health of those born in Lacmhacarh. Though constructed and used primarily as facilities that helped develop the frocragh spatiosensory perception in babies, swimming through the air proved a delight for adult Abhs as well.
Naturally, the facilities orbiting Lurkedth weren’t solely entertainment centers. What made the place an astrobase was the military facilities. Or rather, the military facilities that weren’t the entertainment facilities, which were all owned and operated by the military as well (including the ones on-planet). In addition, the countless ships spitting out of the Saudec Bhobéïrnair (Vobayrneh Portal) were almost all drawn by Loorkedth’s gravity.
Loorkedth’s orbital area was jam-packed, as new warships not yet belonging to a formation had to be composed into one or more fleets. A new squadron was being organized almost every day, and almost every week a new sub-fleet was born. Then they would head off to the battlefield, many never to return.
The Basrogrh was one among the flock of ships awaiting assignment to a squadron.
Jint fiddled with his glass and looked up. The great green orb known as the planet Loorkedth
loomed so large, it seemed like it could crash right down on them.
“Oh great blue globe of earth! Apple of mine eyes!” said Samson theatrically, raising a glass of beer to the planet above.
Captain Lafier and Senior Starpilot Sobash had gone to accept their orders of appointment to the Vobayrneh Astrobase. Meanwhile, the NCCs of their ship knew they were enjoying the last moments of their short furlough on Loorkedth.
Though the three officers of the Basrogrh who were left — Jint, Samson, and Ecryua — were from different branches and of different ages, they all shared the rank of Linewing Starpilot, and they were all lounging at a park doing nothing of note. No rule mandated they be together, but all the same they were seated around the same table, sipping their beverages. Their break time before departing for the front was to end in three hours.
The park was attached to the Bandhorh Chtymer (Astrobase Headquarters), located at the very top of an enormous structure. Its ceiling was transparent, making the park ideal for a stroll or a day’s repose.
“If you feel that way, shouldn’t you have taken a trip down, too, Mr. Samson?” said Jint.
“No can do,” said Samson.
“Why not?”
“Starpilots get the cold shoulder on that planet. All the NCCs are having fun as a group; having a starpilot with a red waistsash around would just put a damper on things. When I was an NCC, I used to lecture starpilots that didn’t understand that on that world’s code of partying. And I couldn’t possibly break that code now that I’m a starpilot.”
Jint sighed. “Guess I can’t go, either, then.”
“Yeah, the effect’d be even more pronounced since you’re not only a starpilot, but you’ve got a noble rank to boot. That said, it’s all down to what you’ve experienced in the end, so if you wanna see what it’s like down there, I’m not gonna stop you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Jint assured him swiftly. “I’ve experienced the cold shoulder plenty enough already.”
“You’ve got my condolences, kiddo.”
The Ties that Bind Page 4
