The Ties that Bind

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  “Ah.... Huh.”

  “I was so relieved when my brother inherited the title, to be honest with you. I thought I’d be able to live and enjoy life in Lacmhacarh for the rest of my days. But then your princess squashed my life plans.”

  “Sorr-” He apologized reflexively, but stopped midway. “Uhh... I don’t mean to be rude, but the Captain isn’t ‘my princess.’ In case that’s whom you’re referring to.”

  “Don’t let it get to you. It’s just a figure of speech.”

  “...Ah.” Jint worked up the nerve to ask: “Are you, uhh, sure you don’t resent us...”

  Atosryua raised an eyebrow. “From what I heard from my father, I thought you’d be cleverer than that.”

  “I apologize,” said Jint glumly.

  “Even if I did resent you, there’s no way I’d tell you that, is there?” she shrugged. “Besides, I could exact my revenge on you using my position as your superior. If I held a grudge, I’d just look for a chance to seize my vengeance without telling you a thing.”

  “I see,” Jint nodded prudently. “But, you were saying about your noble rank...”

  “Oh, that’s no big deal. It all depends on how you think about it; being a head of a noble house has its perks, and even a shabby little domain like that can be turned into something cozier with a little effort. I think I might even follow in my dear brother’s footsteps and hire a bevy of handsome young men as my servant vassals. But that’ll have to wait until the war is over.”

  “That’s... uh, great idea,” said Jint. He had no idea what to say to that, so he just went with the safest answer.

  “In any case, be sure to relay what I said to your little princess. Tell her I don’t resent either of you. That I’ve resigned myself to my rank as a twist of fate.”

  “Why haven’t you told her directly?”

  Atosryua knitted her lustrous eyebrows. “That would be unpleasant.”

  “Unpleasant?”

  “Yes. She’s an Abliar princess. I can talk to her as a soldier, but as an individual, how could I strike any kind of relaxed conversation with her?”

  “If you say so.” Jint sighed. Life was so unfair. There were plenty of people Jint didn’t particularly want to talk to, but it seemed there was no one in the galaxy who disliked talking to Jint.

  “Don’t forget to tell her,” Atosryua insisted.

  “I won’t,” Jint nodded limply.

  Suddenly, an alarm resounded through the whole of Dacruc. “What the?” Atosryua peeked at her wristgear.

  All around, starpilots and NCCs alike looked at their left wrists in unison. The sight was almost farcical. No different himself, Jint looked at his own.

  ASSAULT SUB-FLEET LATUCH, ALL SOLDIERS:: SIX UNIDENTIFIED PATROL SHIP SPACE-TIME BUBBLES FLYING TOWARD THE SAUDEC ÜIMBURR (Wimber Portal). LIKELY THE ENEMY’S RECONAISSANCE-IN-FORCE. CREW ON STANDBY, RETURN TO YOUR POSITIONS IMMEDIATELY.

  “My, how dreadful.” Atostryua didn’t spare Jint another glance as she stomped off.

  Ecryua was still in the middle of her presentation when the alarm rang.

  “Tell me some other time. For now, you must...” But the diagrams changed before she got to issuing her orders.

  Noted alongside the names of all the crew in the register were numbers and info such as whether they were aboard a ship. The numbers indicated how long it would take the crew that wasn’t aboard ship to embark. This was exactly what Lafier wanted to know.

  “It will be approximately 12 minutes and 37 seconds before we’re all assembled,” said Ecryua emotionlessly.

  “Attention. This is your Captain,” Lafier announced over the ship’s speakers. “Any crew who have yet to do so are to assume their posts in 10 minutes,” she commanded. That second, the register of names switched out into a process file for the operations needed to set sail. Each item on the list was either blue or red.

  “Blue means it can go ahead immediately,” Ecryua muttered.

  She’s surprisingly attentive, Lafier thought of the otherwise uncommunicative Deputy Starpilot. Her opinion of her certainly improved.

  In the midst of handing down directives where she noticed things could be done, she could feel the excitement and joy boil up bit by bit within her. This was her first battle.

  Of the starpilots who had disembarked, Samson was the first to get back aboard, a pill gripped in his hand. As soon as he plopped into his seat, he tossed the pill into his mouth.

  “Gurgh, that’s gross,” he grimaced, gabbing to no one in particular. “I hate how these sober-uppers feel.” He must have been drinking earlier; that drug took the alcohol out of his bloodstream. With Samson, the custodian of the ship’s engines, aboard, they could finally set about preparing to takeoff in earnest.

  Samson gave the room three or so scans to see which subordinates were there and working. At last, Sobash silently glided in and took up his designated place. Jint was the last to arrive.

  “You’re late, Jint,” said Lafier.

  “My bad, err, I mean, I apologize, Captain.” Including the NCCs, the entire crew returned 92 seconds ahead of the ETA.

  “All right. Shut all switchgates,” ordered Lafier.

  The bridge suddenly turned lively.

  “Detaching connecting passageways and preparing accommodation.”

  “Preparations complete.”

  “Rev the anterior attitude control engines at minimal propulsion.”

  “Commencing propulsion... Propulsion underway.”

  “Sever the connecting passages!” shouted Lafier.

  The assault ship Basrogrh cleared off the mobile canteen.

  “Captain, a transmission,” reported Ecryua.

  “This is your Commander.” Hecto-Commander Atosryua’s holovision image emerged. “We have orders from above. We are to capture the unidentified space-time bubbles, and, as soon as we establish they are the enemy, annihilate them. I’m sending the coordinates of our point of assembly so that each ship gathers together as soon as possible. Any questions?”

  Atosryua’s hologram cocked her head slightly, waiting for questions, but no ship asked any. “Very well.” The Sarérh Symr (Unit Commander)’s vermillion lips curled up. “I’m sure that for many of you, this is your first real battle. It is mine as well. The unidentified space-time bubbles are most likely the enemy conducting reconnaissance-in-force. What could the units at Wimber have been doing, I wonder? On second thought, I suppose it was wrong to expect much of mere lookout units. Putting that aside, we have to hand it to them: this is an extremely brave move,” Atosryua saluted. “Let’s give these brave men and women a proper welcome.” And with that, she vanished from their screens, still saluting.

  For small vessels like assault ships, it was the Captain’s job to pilot one while in 3-space. Lafier hooked her circlet’s access-cables into the ports, and switched her frocragh to beyond-ship mode. Information rushed from the countless sensors installed in the hull of Basrogrh into her brain.

  She slipped her left hand into the control gauntlet. Attitude control shifted the ship’s orientation, and with low-temperature propulsion akin to a soft zephyr, they pushed to a safe distance from Dacruc. Their immediate vicinity was already full of ships that had likewise gotten their takeoff preparations in order. They had to open up a safe distance away from those ships as well. A number of ships had begun gaining speed.

  Lafier re-confirmed the point of assembly using her frocragh. It was right by the Aptic Portal. She pointed the ship’s bow toward the assembly point’s future coordinates with her control gauntlet.

  “Main engines ignition,” Lafier ordered.

  They could feel the tremors resulting from the warring of matter and antimatter from their seats. She bent her left hand’s fingers such that they accelerated at max speed.

  Her frocragh allowed her to sense the long thin Dacruc canteen fly backward together with Aptic III as they shot forward.

  “And the race is on!” Samson strummed his fingers. The main engine
s he’d painstakingly outfitted were working beautifully.

  They could feel swathes of space blow right by. It was a difficult sensation to describe. The consort ships scattered around flew all at once behind them . There were, of course, some ships among them that had already taken off beforehand. The Basrogrh chased after them with all its might. The ships that had lagged behind soon raced to meet them. It was times like these that made Lafier grateful from the bottom of her heart that she was born an Abh.

  Battle-line ships (which could not accelerate to their smaller-ship speeds) lay ahead. If they kept this path, they’d crash right into one. With a slight tweak of a finger, Lafier corrected course.

  With that, the battle-line ship slipped down from nearby.

  “Captain, a transmission from the battle-line ship Rymsaumh,” reported Ecryua. “They’re saying that close shave was a violation of safety standards.”

  All Lafier thought was: Interesting... so that battle-line ship’s the Rymsaumh.

  “They’re requesting to speak to you directly, Captain.”

  “I’m busy,” she replied. “Tell them I’m not available. Besides, it’s not like battle-line ships will be in on the action.”

  Ecryua relayed her captain’s words, and peered at the message screen with some interest, before whispering: “They’re angry.”

  In the meantime, they maneuvered to the battle-line ship’s front, adjusted their path to follow the path they ought to have taken to begin with, and then proceeded at max speed, as though to spray the bow of the Rymsaumh with their propulsor flames.

  “Senior Starpilot,” called Lafier. “Are there any ships belonging to our unit in front?”

  “Just one, Captain,” answered Sobash.

  “Which is it?”

  “The almgairh (lead assault ship), the Gamrogrh.”

  Lead assault ships were the flagships of assault units. As such, Unit Commander Atosryua was aboard it.

  “How far is it?”

  “Approximately two saidagh.”

  “It looks as though we need to let the Hecto-Commander lead the charge,” said Lafier, biting her lip slightly.

  Given all assault ships had the same specs, it was obvious the ship that left first would outstrip the rest. This just meant that the Gamrogrh had gotten its unmooring affairs in order faster.

  She was a tad mad at herself.

  Eventually, they reached the zone where they were to begin decelerating. The rilbidoc area of her Abh brain made the trajectory calculations subconsciously for her, and this juncture was no exception. She knew when to decelerate instinctually. She temporarily ceased propulsion, turned the ship’s orientation right around, and stoked the fullest propulsor flames once again in the opposite direction.

  From the bow, they witnessed their fellows in war do likewise, their flames blossoming one after the other in the cold heavens. They were like unto a waterfall cascading from Dacruc to the Aptic Portal, as each individual droplet splashed with fearsome destructive force. Taken together, the exhaust of each ship formed a hot mist suffusing the void.

  Bit by bit, the assembly point approached. Not many other ships had made it to the vicinity quite yet.

  “Captain,” said Ecryua. “We’ve received the signal to assemble.”

  “Link it up to my frocragh,” Lafier ordered.

  One of the ships gathered around the Aptic Portal began pulsating in her mind’s eye: the lead assault ship Gamrogrh.

  “Captain, a communication from the Gamrogrh,” said Ecryua.

  “Put it through.”

  “So you’re in the lead, Deca-Commander Abliar,” said Hecto-Commander Atosryua with wonderment. “Stay there and stand by until the rest of the ships arrive.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lafier saluted, and the video cut out.

  Before long, all six ships in their unit had assembled in the standard ring formation, waiting for their orders from the glagamh ïadbyrer (sub-fleet command center).

  “We’ve received our briefing,” said Ecryua. “Projecting map of planar space.”

  The map of planar space surfaced on the bridge’s floor. Lafier gazed down at it.

  The Aptic portal was represented on the map as a sunken spiral. Its concavity indicated a relative sparsity of space-time particles. The blue dots circling the portal were patrolling allies. The area surrounding the portal was nearly completely level, which meant that the density of space-time particles was that even across this zone of planar space.

  In a corner of that space, six dots color-coded yellow formed a line. The description text beside the yellow blips read: Group of unidentified space-time bubbles. Extremely likely to be the enemy. Mass readings point to patrol ships. Their objective is probably to grasp the strength of our troops in Aptic and Wimber.

  “They’re not far at all,” stated Lafier.

  Broken lines stretched from the yellow dots, displaying their projected paths. At this rate, they were going to pass right by the Aptic Portal.

  “Let’s like we need to get down to business if we want to fulfill our objective,” said Sobash, arms crossed.

  “That’s fine by me. What say we get this over with?” said Samson. “There’s a bottle of booze at the watering hole with my name on it, and let me tell you, those curves are something else... I promise I’ll drink lots more of you soon!”

  “Speaking of which, who wants some beverages?” said Jint. “I mean, we’ve probably got time until we get our orders, so...”

  Dyaho leapt up onto the Captain’s lap and curled up. A jolt of tension raced through the bridge.

  “JINT!” In that moment, Lafier had forgotten her personal vow never to address the quartermaster linewing starpilot by his personal name in front of her subordinates. “Beverages are fine, yes, but how about you do something about your cat? I’ll have peach juice, by the way.”

  “You want it hot, with some lemon floating in it, right, Captain?” Jint got to his feet. The cat carrier was already on hand.

  “You had to go and make life difficult for yourself,” chided Ecryua, picking Dyaho up by the scruff. “Why not stick by my side? Lacmhacarh’s far, far away,” she continued.

  “Uhh, he is my cat, you know,” griped Jint, picked him up off of her.

  “Are you jealous?” The Deputy Starpilot locked eyes with Jint, and said: “I’ll have soïc asa (black tea). I take it cold and with lemon flavoring.”

  “Roger that.” Jint pushed Dyaho into his cage. When the carrier lid closed shut, the cat cried pitifully.

  “Could you clear us to drink stuff with alcohol?” requested Samson.

  “That is a joke, right, supervisor?” Lafier asked in gentle tones.

  “Of course it is, Captain. Just wanted to lighten the mood, but I guess my quips need work.” Samson flashed Jint a sorrowful mug. “Thanks, kiddo, I’m good.”

  “Roger. But please don’t call me ‘kiddo.’”

  “Call me when you get yourself a love triangle that doesn’t involve a cat, and I’ll stop calling you ‘kiddo.’”

  “Right then, please keep calling me ‘kiddo.’”

  Yet Lafier hadn’t failed to notice how he and Ecryua each glanced her way earlier. It wasn’t clear what it was all about, but it aggravated her all the same.

  “Get me some soïc ala (green tea),” said Sobash. “We should have leaves from the Dreuhynh Ïonir (Countdom of Ïonic). Use those, and add a good amount of sugar.”

  “Understood.” Jint entered their orders into the console.

  Samson watched in envy as they sipped at their drinks, pining for the bottle waiting for him at Dacruc. Then, a message from the lead assault ship.

  “I have orders from sub-fleet command,” said Atosryua’s image. “All ships are to enter planar space at the designated times. I’ll be sending you our unit’s designated time shortly. After breaking through, we are to quickly reassemble and form a column.”

  A corner of Lafier’s tactical control counter was displaying the shared standard time for
the forces garrisoned at Aptic. Underneath that number, another time could be seen — the hour and minute they would be rushing through the portal.

  “Listen up,” said the Hecto-Commander, expression stern, “Our objective is the complete capture and annihilation of the unidentified bubbles. If we let a single conveyance ship fly away, we’ve lost. I hope I don’t need to tell you that losing our first battle would be miserable. Any questions?” A pause. “...All right, good. Let’s regroup in planar space.”

  Ships seemingly belonging to units that had headed off before them were already getting sucked into the Aptic Portal. But the Basrogrh’s take-off time had yet to come. Of course, Lafier would’ve minded it more if they weren’t going to be heading through at max acceleration. She wanted nothing more than to plunge into the portal at full speed, before the battle. Other Captains drifting in the nearby area were evidently of much the same sentiment, but soon enough, the time was at hand.

  “And we’re off!” said Lafier, the thrill of the moment buoying her spirits.

  The hand within the control gauntlet clenched into the shape that gave rise to full acceleration.

  The Basrogrh’s main engines roared to life while the glorious propulsor flames of the consort ships spouted in tandem.

  “Supervisor, prepare the space-time bubble generators.”

  “Right away.”

  The Aptic Portal, the phosphorescent sphere before them, loomed steadily larger within her frocragh.

  “Generate the space-time bubble!” she commanded.

  “Generator engines all clear and ready to go,” reported Samson, his tone now serious and totally different from before. “Confirming bubble generation.”

  “Crossing portal in E-minus sixty seconds,” said Sobash.

  “Initiate countdown starting at E-minus thirty,” said Lafier, following standard protocol.

  So the countdown commenced.

  “...Five, four, three, two, one, passing through,” said Sobash.