“Man oh man.” Jint grimaced at the memories of his days on the planet Delktu.
“Let me tell you, though, you’ve gotta love the nature. You can get booze on any old interstellar ship, but you won’t be brushing with Mother Nature. Makes me regret becoming a starpilot, sometimes,” Samson lamented.
“So, why did you become an Abh?” asked Jint.
“Me? An Abh? Get outta here. This whole being-Abh thing is clothes-deep. They gave me reuceragh (status as gentry) when I made starpilot, so now I’m playing an Abh. But soon enough I’ll be retired, and then I’m gonna run a farm back home. That’s my hope.”
The word “Abh” meant both the biological race, and the position in Abh society one could possess regardless of race. In other words, by working his way up to starpilot rank in the military, he was automatically enrolled into the official gentry registry as an Abh. Besides gentry, Abhs could also be nobility or Imperials (that is, members of the Imperial Family).
“Then, why did you join the Star Forces to begin with?” said Jint.
“It was a youthful indiscretion,” Samson shrugged. “When I was a kid, I thought I wanted to fly out into space. But when I got to see what it was like, I realized it wasn’t all that. But knowing how to deal with interstellar ship engines wouldn’t do me any good on a landworld, you feel me? So I figured I’d crawl my way to starpilot, since I can invest all of my pension money into buying myself a tiny farm.”
“So you’re going to retire soon?” Jint couldn’t keep the disappointment from tinging his voice; he was fond of the man. Samson had some years on him, sure, but as fellow landworlders, there was a nice breeziness to their interactions. Since, in Jint’s heart of hearts, he still didn’t really think of himself as a true Abh noble (even after ten years), Samson was, to him, a golden comrade. After all, they’d both had Abh-ness thrust upon them.
“Nope,” Samson replied, shaking his head. “If my math’s right, summing up my salary up till now and my future pension payout, I need three battles under my belt, and I’ve still got two left. I’m not so loyal as to make opportunities myself, but you could say I’ve got a strong sense of duty.” He paused, then: “Besides, the folks back home like the Empire, so it’s not like fighting for the Empire’s got no point.”
“Really?” While he knew there were plenty of landworlds that were apathetic with regard to Empire hegemony, he didn’t know there were worlds that welcomed them. This piqued his interest. “How come?”
“Why, you ask?” Samson gave the matter a moment’s thought, but he had an answer in no time. “My home’s named ‘Midgrat,’ though it’s the planet Dacfoc in the Dreuhynh Rinair (Countdom of Rinaic) if you go by the name the Abh gave it. You know it?”
Jint shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Aw, that’s a letdown. Granted, it’s not an attention-grabber of a world, but it’s got some rich tradition. Place is old enough to have learned about planar space navigation before even the Empire, actually. Although, the crowd back home like living quiet lives, so it’s not surprising if you’ve never heard of Midgrat.”
“So it was an interstellar power before the Empire?” Jint’s curiosity was only swelling. It had never occurred to him there could be a world that’d regard their own annexation as a blessing.
“It wasn’t an interstellar power, no. It’s only ever taken over the one star system, so you couldn’t really call it ‘interstellar,’” Samson corrected him. “That was the root of all of the system’s problems. Everyone on the system’s one peopled planet were doing just dandy, but before they knew it, they found themselves sandwiched between the Humankind Empire of Abh and the United Humankind. By that time, single-stellar nations were really rare. In fact, they realized, they were the only ones. But I guess until recently, your home planet was a ‘single-stellar nation’ off everybody’s maps, so there’s that.”
“Yeah,” Jint nodded. Jint’s home, (which, by a peculiar series of events, had become an imperial star-fief), was a star system totally isolated from the rest of humanity up until a mere decade prior.
“At any rate, Midgrat was in a bad spot. Apparently being part of a larger interstellar power was the vogue, and they were outmoded as a system. To give both of the great powers some credit, neither side let slip their designs on Midgrat at first. But that restraint vanished in the space of a night. Don’t exactly need to be an expert on human history to see that one coming, either. Now, those old fogeys at the statehouse, they were consummate realists. They decided that if they were gonna get swallowed up, they might as well take the initiative of choosing which of the two to side with.”
“That was a bold move...”
“It was. They were a prosperous planet, without much of a stormy history to speak of; I bet they thought they ought to take a chance and do something drastic for once, you know? I mean, half of the planet’s history textbook is all about the stuff revolving around this one decision.”
“But why did they choose the Empire?”
Samson hesitated to answer. “Well... there’s a bit of an unusual aspect to our eating habits, the kind that makes outsiders do double-takes. We’re told that when we were still independent, a UH ‘activist’ came in and tried to persuade us to change our diet. Looking back, that was probably the deciding factor. The Abhs didn’t say a thing about it. Not in front of us, at least. And if they were going to leave our eating habits be, and the worst they’d do was call our beautiful planet of Midgrat ‘Dacfoc’ amongst themselves, then we were big enough to tolerate that shortcoming of theirs.”
“What do you eat?” asked Ecryua unexpectedly.
Samson mulled over what to say, but in the end he just shrugged. “You know what, I’m gonna keep it a secret. When I was a Star Forces freshie, I lost a lot of friends after divulging what they eat back home.”
“I’m not your friend,” said Ecryua.
Samson pretended to be taken aback for Jint to see. “Are all Abhs that blunt?”
“Sounds like you’d know better than me,” smiled Jint.
“I’ve only known any Abhs personally for three years.”
“Did I insult you?” Ecryua’s sky-blue eyebrows rose up.
A wave of the hand. “No, no, ’course not.”
Not a word came out of any of the three for a while after.
The park was covered with lawn grass, dotted sparsely with trees standing perfectly upright, and populated by skittering squirrels. The carrier cage lay at Jint’s feet, and a squirrel peered into it inquisitively. As soon as it did, the carrier rattled and shook.
“I’m not letting you out, Dyaho,” Jint addressed the carrier. “The squirrels here aren’t on the menu.”
The carrier rattled even more intensely, and the squirrel scampered off in startlement. “No means no,” Jint pronounced.
“You brought your cat?” said Ecryua.
“I couldn’t just leave him on the Basrogrh. He’d be all alone,” said Jint.
“I wonder whether your cat enjoyed its vacation?” asked Ecryua.
“Reckon he did. I left him at a cat lodging house with lots of mice.”
“That’s good,” she said, though her tone betrayed her indifference.
“But by the Captain’s orders I’ve got to send him back to Lacmhacarh, so this is where we part ways.”
“It’s a real shame. I’ve grown rather attached to him. Which is impressive, given he’s a cat,” said Ecryua..”
“Well, don’t go saying that in front of him. It’ll go right to his head.”
“I’ve never seen a cat that’s not already full of itself.”
“Wiser words,” said Samson.
It was then that Lafier and Sobash appeared, making their way across the lawn. Upon seeing Samson and Ecryua rise from their seats to salute them, a flustered Jint quickly followed suit.
“Our placements have been decided,” Lafier told them. “We are assigned to Symh Acharr Casna (Assault Unit 1) of Saubh Acharr Ceutepaulygana (Assault
Squadron 1058). We set sail in 12 hours’ time.”
“Well that’s abrupt,” frowned Samson.
“I agree. But it seems this will form part of our training.”
The Basrogrh was sleeping unmanned in orbit above the planet Loorkedth. The crewmembers were just now gathering together, since their recess was drawing to a close, so it would be difficult to load all of the necessary supplies and ready the ship for takeoff in just 12 hours. Their eyes would be spinning by that time for sure.
“And then?” asked Ecryua. Even toward a superior officer, she spoke only the fewest words possible.
“It seems we’re headed to a certain star system,” answered Sobash.
Ecryua shifted her quizzical gaze over to the Senior Starpilot.
“We don’t know yet, either,” Sobash smiled. “It’d appear it’s for us to find out when we arrive, Linewing Ecryua.”
Ecryua nodded in assent.
“Two hours and 18 minutes of breaktime remain,” said Lafier, glancing at her wristgear. “Regardless, I’d like for you all to begin preparations immediately. Any objections?”
There were none. They had nothing to do for that couple of hours, anyway.
Sobash smiled again. “It’d appear it’s for us to find out when we arrive, Ecryua. Prepare the smallcrafts for the NCCs. We will go back before the rest.”
Ecryua saluted and turned on her heels.
“Off we go,” Lafier ordered the other two.
Jint picked up the carrier, only to be met by the young captain’s narrowed glare.
“What is that?”
Jint sighed, as he knew he was looking pretty dumb at the moment. “The cat you’re already familiar with, Captain.”
“I told you to send Dyaho back to Lacmhacarh.” Her words were pointed, reproving.
“I just thought, there’s still time left... I’ll fill out the transport forms right away.”
“There’s no time for that,” said Lafier. “We have no choice now. Bring him aboard. But know that you are to send him off as soon as possible.”
Good grief... This is the conversation two starpilots are having? Right before an operation? Jint lamented.
“Yes, without fail,” he promised her.
As they headed to the Astrobase Headquarters’ spaceport, Lafier asked him in hushed tones: “Do you know the name of our Sarérh Symr Acharr (Assault Unit Commander)?”
“How do you expect me to know?” Jint whispered back.
“It’s ‘Hecto-Commander’ Atausryac.”
“Atosryua?” Jint cocked his head. “Seems to be ringing a bell.”
“Wow, you’re dense,” Lafier replied, shocked. “She’s the younger sister of the Baron of Febdash. Though the Hecto-Commander is the Baroness now.”
Chapter 4: Their Fitlachoth (First Battle)
The newly formed half-fleet, the Latuch, took three months of joint training, and gradually coalesced as a combat unit.
Meanwhile, Operation Phantom Flame was progressing without a hitch, so much so that it struck the top brass as uncanny. Apart from the sporadic skirmish here and there, they’d encountered next to no UH resistance.
At this point, Military Command Headquarters and the Glagamh Byrer Rainibr (Phantom Flame Fleet Command Center) were having trouble deciding whether the enemy really did lack the power to push back, or they were just angling for the perfect opportunity.
To Lafier, however, the concerns of the top brass had little to do with her. While she was a royal princess of the Empire, and a candidate for future Empress of the Abh, at present, she was nothing more than the captain of a bog-standard assault ship. She was in no position to be fretting over the overall tactical complexion of the war.
What concerned Lafier was something else entirely: namely, the identity of her immediate superior.
She and the Baronic House of Febdash had some history, and that history could not be called pleasant — not after she’d killed the head of that house. It was she who had taken the life of Clowar, the previous Baron of Febdash and older brother to the Hecto-Commander.
Needless to say, she had a good reason to do the deed. The man had hamstrung her mission when time was of the essence, and she could think of no way to escape the virtual cage he’d placed her in apart from felling him. Yet Hecto-Commander Atosryua’s attitude was extremely down-to-business, and she refrained from the smallest peep about their unfortunate past.
Well, there’s no use dwelling on it, Lafier had decided early on. It wasn’t as though she wanted to make friends with Atosryua, and she didn’t feel guilty over her brother’s death. By that fact, Lafier was actually thankful Atosryua only interacted with her on an impersonal axis.
The assault half-fleet Latuch, having completed its training, entered the Aptic Star System. For the time being, its ships were to stay to patrol the system. Recreational facilities and mobile docks were already built and set in orbit around Aptic III, the very picture of a functioning rear base.
The system’s governing body had yet to surrender, but none of the Star Forces personnel orbiting its planet let that give them pause. Every inhabited planet needed traders, but all the Star Forces needed were the various installations now floating in space.
Among the NCCs, who hailed from landworlds, there were those who quickly came to miss the smell of soil, yet if any of the soldiers were to go down to a freshly seized planet, it’d blow into trouble in one way or another; there was no way the Star Forces would permit crew to touch down, the planet’s status as “conquered” notwithstanding.
The assault ship Basrogrh finished its patrol around the Saudec Apticer (Aptic Portal) area, and came alongside the racnébh (mobile base canteen) named Dacruc, where half of the crew had disembarked. Lafier and Linewing Starpilot Ecryua were the starpilots doing the ship-sitting. Ecryua was playing with Dyaho in a corner of the ship’s bridge.
The cat was another problem, though not a big enough problem to make her head ache. From the day it first came aboard, Dyaho had carried himself like the real Captain. Was it really okay to pop his ego by sending him to Lacmhacarh?
Lafier smiled wryly. Here she was, thinking about whether or not to send off the cat. This was just so different from the battlefield lifestyle she’d been envisioning before.
“Captain, there’s something you need to know,” said Ecryua, suddenly standing up, her face sober and serious.
“What?”
“It’s about this one,” she said, hugging Dyaho.
“Do you, too, wish to keep him aboard?” Jint hadn’t said as much, but she could sense how reluctant he was to let Dyaho go. And now Ecryua was evidently enjoying the cat’s company, as well. Even more vexingly, she’d have to say she agreed with the both of them.
“I’ve run a comparison between his chances of survival staying on the Basrogrh and his chances returning to Lacmhacarh.”
“And?” Lafier’s tone was a little more fed-up than she’d intended, but she had a feeling she knew where this was going.
“Allow me to provide some groundwork explanation before getting to my conclusions.” Between Ecryua and Lafier, a variety of two-dimensional charts and readings appeared.
Lafier’s impression of the Deputy Starpilot was of a fairly taciturn lady. Therefore, Lafier could only stare as the normally reticent Ecryua promptly launched into a veritable report. I suppose this is certainly one way to kill some time, she reasoned.
“You are Linewing Starpilot Linn, I believe,” called a voice.
Jint stopped munching on his corn and looked behind him. There stood Hecto-Commander Atosryua. She had her bluish silver hair (the exact same hue as her brother’s) tied behind her, and she was gazing at Jint with her eyes the color of a leopard.
They were on the central passage of the mobile base canteen Dacruc. This main street of sorts was the heart of Dacruc, and could itself be called by that name, for this canteen was shaped like a long, thin cylinder. The center of the tube was a passage visitors could move up and down, w
ith shops lined up on each side, and separate passages above and below for employees and for goods to travel across. The place was chock full of sewage systems, warehouses, and more. The gravity was generated not by centrifugal force but by a gravity control system, so the canteen didn’t need to be ring-shaped. As they spoke, Dacruc drifted lackadaisically in orbit around Aptic III like a taut piece of string. And around that threadlike structure, a number of patrol ships and assault ships were bunched up.
“Hecto-Commander Atosryua!” Jint rushed to salute her.
“I heard tell of you from my father.”
There was no way he could grasp her true intentions just going by her even tone of voice. His link to the Atosryua family was rather complex. He got along well with her father; despite their age gap, he could probably get away with calling himself a “friend” of his. But then there was Atosryua’s brother, the former Febdash Baron... Granted, Jint had taken no active part in it (to be fair, there was nothing he could do), but Jint still bore some of the responsibility for his demise.
Jint tensed up. “Ma’am, I owe your father a great deal,” he stated.
“Don’t get so stiff,” she smiled faintly. “What happened to my brother is water under the bridge.”
“Oh, uh... is... is that so...?” Jint blinked.
“Don’t get me wrong, my brother’s killing was nothing to celebrate.”
“R-Right, of course.”
“But we weren’t close as siblings. Among other things, I didn’t agree with how he treated our father. To think he would imprison his own parent...”
The starpilots and NCCs ambling on by swerved around the two of them, who were standing there, blocking the road.
“We never really got along, my brother and I...”
“But I, uh... what can I say..” Jint spluttered. “Well, I’ll just say it’s a shame about your brother.”
“Thank you. It was a shame.” Atosryua put a finger to her forehead. “The issue now is this noble rank.”
“Huh?”
“As you well know, Febdash is in the middle of nowhere. It’s so remote that it takes several days to arrive at the next manor over. I’ve hated the place since I was a kid. I shudder at the thought of needing to live there.”
The Ties that Bind Page 5
