If he were to lose just a tad more hope, he’d have half a mind to keep this fruitless conference spinning its wheels so as to buy time. At present, he was teetering on the verge. But at this juncture, it didn’t matter whether or not they were averse to the idea. This was his and Lafier’s assigned task.
“You can’t be serious,” balked Shungarr, who then looked in Jint’s direction. “Could we meet in private over the first batch?”
“If you insist it’s necessary.” But why can’t we talk about it right here? “I’d just like to make something clear beforehand: there are two preconditions for boarding.”
“What preconditions?”
“The consent of those boarding, and the permission of the landworld administration.
“That’s right,” said Maydeen. “In case you aren’t aware, I’m representing the ‘landworld administration.’ At least for the time being, that is. You can try working him, but it would be a waste of time.”
“That is a petty-minded accusation!” said Shungarr, pounding on the table. “Who... just who are you calling loose, here!? Why would I do such a thing?”
“I’m not saying you would be the one doing the seducing. You do, however, have a number of women as underlings, many of whom were prostitutes. You’d use them, of course...”
“How vulgar! You should be ashamed of your mind being so in the gutter. You don’t even know for sure if His Excellency the Count swings that way!” Shungarr pointed at Jint; then, suddenly, she faced where her finger was pointing with a worried look. “Are you straight?”
Do I have to answer that? thought Jint, lost and bewildered.
“You don’t need to answer that!” shouted Maydeen in Jint’s stead. “It has nothing to do with this meeting.”
“I was just trying to ease the tension by bringing up a lighter topic!” said Shungarr, pounding the table yet again.
“A lighter topic? That’s rich!” Not to be outdone, Maydeen also pounded the table. “You were trying to suss out whether you can strike a backroom deal!”
“Ugh, you insist on painting me as trying to seduce His Excellency. Well, let me use this opportunity to say it point-blank: no one likes you!”
“Of course they don’t. It’s not my job to be popular with the inmates.”
“Is abusing your authority your job, then!?”
“When have I ever abused my authority!? I will not stand by this slander!”
“Oh, let me count the ways!”
As their bickering — for it was far from a constructive debate from any point of view — continued to eat time, the desk continued to receive their punishment. After a while, Jint noticed Dohkfoo’s entourage of prisoners gleefully counting on their hands. It seemed they were betting which side would end up slamming the table the most times.
“Please, that’s enough!” Jint shouted.
Surprised, Maydeen and Shungarr regarded him.
Awkwardly, Jint cleared his throat. “I’m asking you, please, calm down. I, uhh, I don’t know whether His Excellency the Chief Executive has abused his power, but...”
“I don’t believe it...” Maydeen looked away, never imagining he’d be so called into question.
Jint ignored this. “If you’d like to file complaints about each other, I ask that you do so elsewhere. And don’t take this as a warning or anything like that, but just to allay any potential distrust, let me inform you that nothing good will come of trying to strike a backroom deal with me. We’re just working by the request of a landworld administration, and have no intention of changing that framework. Besides, I’m a mere adjunct to the Lady Agent.”
“Oh, now we know you ought to have asked Her Highness up in orbit whether she’s straight,” Maydeen mocked Shungarr.
“I think you’re taking it too far,” Jint’s inner Delktunian chimed in.
Jint wasn’t ultimately sure whether taking Maydeen up on his suggestion and asking Lafier would be considered an affront. In fact, he couldn’t be sure whether it was even a meaningful question to ask. Unlike the landworld citizens of Delktu, the Abh possessed an extremely unfettered philosophy on love, tending not to give much mind to trifling concerns like gender when love struck. Regardless, the values of Delktunian society were deeply ingrained in him, and so hearing Lafier’s innermost personal details be fuel for their glib rejoinders rubbed him the wrong way.
A friend of his most likely still living on Delktu, one Que Durin, suddenly came to mind. When Jint told Durin what he’d learned of Abh love lives at the school he’d been attending, the boy had yelled: “But then there are no taboos to break! Where’s the fun in that?” Then Durin smiled, adding: “I win.”
“Forgive me. I admit my tongue slipped,” said Maydeen, but soon he hid his nervous agitation under an expressionless mask.
“You’re guilty of disrespecting the crown!” Shungarr pointed an accusatory finger at Maydeen. “I was told the Lady Agent is a member of the Imperial Family. The gall of it, to talk of her sexual preferences! You should be executed for offending the dignity of the sovereign!” But once again, she faced Jint with a worried look: “That is a crime, right?”
“I guess?” said Jint evasively.
Imperial law did severely punish offending the throne. On paper. He couldn’t remember which Emperor or Empress had enacted the law, but he knew it was on the books. Only, the realization that if it were actually enforced, then two thirds of the gentry and every single noble (in other words, the majority of the entire race) would have to be executed, settled swiftly. As such, it was ignored in practice. This was hardly the only instance of pretending a problematic law didn’t exist, either. The phenomenon riddled imperial history. Jint knew that much, but being on the less august end of the Abh nobility importance spectrum, he couldn’t help but hesitate to get into all of that.
“See!?” gloated Shungarr. “You’re done for, Maydeen!”
The Chief Executive’s face turned white as a sheet.
“But that doesn’t apply to landworld citizens,” said Jint, still electing not to divulge the whole truth about the law.
“There you have it,” Maydeen smiled with evident relief. Then he blew up again. “Besides, you’re the one who started it by asking people whether they’re straight. His Excellency is a count! If I’m guilty of offending the crown, so are you!”
“A count is nobility, not royalty! And not an Imperial, either!” She gave Jint a worried look. “Right?”
“Of course, they’re all different.” But Jint was fed up with this whole topic. “Now, let’s get back to the main point of discussion, shall we?”
“Ah, right, of course,” said Maydeen. “What were we talking about? Boarding priority, if I recall.”
“Which is for the landworld administration to decide,” stated Jint. “My sitting here won’t help in that regard.”
“Yes, yes. So, it’s a question of onboard habitability, correct?”
“That, and occupancy limit,” Jint added.
“Right. The limit being eight thousand, yes? What exactly will the journey be like?”
Luckily, the relevant files had been sent to Jint’s wristgear from the command center of the transport unit by then. This unproductive back-and-forth had its upside — namely, buying him the time he’d needed.
“The eight thousand figure is predicated on dividing the main hold into three.” Jint projected the ship’s layout map from his wristgear. “We can do it given a little construction work, but you would have to bring any sort of bedding with you from the landworld surface, since the only onboard bedding is for the crew. Also, there will be twenty thousand square dagh of space per person, not taking into account common areas like hallways and the like.”
“Any space for luggage?”
“One million square dagh per person.”
“That’s not much...”
“If that’s the case,” said Shungarr, “let us have it. More of us can board at a time, since none of us has much of anything to bring aboard.�
��
“I said non-personnel civilians are highest priority, and that’s final.” Maydeen began working the terminal by him. A moment later, he was done. “Narrowing down the criteria to children, the elderly, and their guardians and care practitioners, that makes 1,867 people. We’ll have them board first.”
“And the other 6,143 people?” asked Shungarr immediately.
“The other 6,133 people, you mean,” Maydeen corrected her. “We’ll send our household goods instead. That way we’ll be able to enjoy a comfortable journey later, taking only a minimal amount of personal effects.”
“Youuu...” Shungarr began pounding the table anew.
“Please calm down. You must recognize his right to determine the priori—”
“How can I be calm?” Shungarr interrupted. “Once the Chief Executive leaves this planet, we might be forced to ask Dohkfoo or even Anguson for permission to emigrate! Do you think they’ll just let us go?”
She’s got a point, thought Jint, taken aback. She was right; once Maydeen was out of the picture, evacuating the women seemed a difficult proposition.
“I’m appalled by your words,” said Dohkfoo, clasping his hands. “I can’t speak for Mr. Anguson, but should I become System Premier, know that I will not suppress your freedom. If you want to relocate, I will support your wishes.”
“I haven’t lost my touch just yet; I’m not going to buy into the promises of a con man like you,” she potshot.
“That scenario hadn’t occurred to me,” said Maydeen, who also seemed not to take Dohkfoo’s word for it. “Okay. I’ll fly out last. I’ll have you all board before me.”
“Spoken like a true Chief Executive,” said Shungarr.
“At least I know I’m more trusted than Dohkfoo or Anguson, which isn’t a bad feeling.” Then Maydeen frowned. “Wait, is this even something to be pleased about?”
“I’d be pleased if I were you,” said Shungarr.
The air in the room had suddenly taken a turn for the cheerful, with Dohkfoo alone staring on grimly. Actually, Jint wasn’t feeling too sunny, either.
“Your Excellency, it appears I need to revise the schedule,” said Maydeen.
“Right. We need to accommodate more people now,” Jint sighed.
“It’ll be fine,” consoled Shungarr. “The West Zone has the smallest population.”
“Around how many people?” asked Jint, not hoping for much.
“Hmm, around a hundred thousand.”
Chapter 5: The Blaiglach (Hunters)
Aboard the Scacaü, the flagship of Hunter Fleet 4, which was currently in the Ciïoth Egmunter (Egmuntec Star System), Noble Prince Biboth Aronn Nérémr Ïarlucec Nélaith sat himself in a wide chair and closed his eyes. He sensed with his frocragh a giant sphere ahead. The sphere slowly began warping. It was a flat disc; then, suddenly, it stretched vertically, into a cone. The cone then stretched at high speed while simultaneously narrowing, until it was naught but a simple line. The object would continue transforming into a disc and into a cone numerous times, in line with some outside rhythm, until suddenly, it stayed a sphere. The sphere’s surface was not as stable, however; it was astir, as though writhing in protest. From within that commotion arose a smaller sphere, which predictably changed shapes between disc and cone as it revolved around Neleth. The small spheres came into being one after the other, and each time a new one was born, the big sphere changed shape, waving about its tentacle-like appendages. The tips of the tentacles sometimes turned hard and round, before coming off. The number of objects spinning around Neleth’s vicinity kept growing apace. They morphed and deformed, slanted and inclined, jumped and danced. Until finally, the original sphere became around the same size as its offspring, and joined them in orbit. From there, the objects only moved more complexly, more esoterically, as though trying to impart the will of some inscrutable force.
And just as its intentions were beginning to come into relief...
“Neleth, are you napping?”
Neleth opened his eyes languidly. While his frocragh was still occupied by the wild dance of physical bodies, his eyes were greeted by the sight of his brother and Chief of Staff, Nefeh.
“As though I’d be sleeping,” replied Neleth. “I’m spending my time appreciating some art.”
He didn’t imagine Nefeh was going to leave him alone any time soon, so he unhooked his circlet’s access cables from the playback device. It always felt extremely weird and unpleasant for one’s frocragh and one’s field of vision to be at odds.
“A surprisingly respectable pastime, for you.” Nefeh hooked up his own access cables into the device’s ports and closed his eyes. “Oh, I’ve sensed this one before. Only, I remember it being accompanied by music.”
“Have you no appreciation for art in its purest form? Froclaïc (spatiosensory art) doesn’t need music or video or what have you.”
“What a humdrum opinion, coming from you, Neleth. I’m sorry to talk back, but I happen to like rybelaïc (composite art).”
“You have a disorderly, jumbled mess of a soul, so miscellaneous mishmashes suit you perfectly, Nefeh. You could enjoy each on their own, at their most splendid, but you have to go and mix them all together so thoughtlessly.”
“Don’t be silly, Neleth. The essence of composite art is in choosing the individual components, and in how they’re combined.”
“Whatever. Did you come here to interrupt my leisure time to argue aesthetics, Nefeh?”
“I’m afraid not. I come with news.”
“Good news?”
“You might be one to regard it as such, but I and the rest of the staff officers think it rather bad news.”
“Feh. You’re a bad influence; you’re rubbing off on them. I mean, to come to the same opinion, how else can that be?”
“I’m protecting my top-caliber staff from your bad influence. Now then, do you want the news or not?”
“If I said no, would you keep mum?”
“Gladly. After all, it’s not as though your being in on it would lead to anything sound coming out of that head of yours. So will you do us all a favor and leave this matter to us?”
“No can do. Lay it on me.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” said Nefeh, grimacing. “An enemy fleet has passed through Saudec Baurceutebina Rylaimer (Portal 13 of Rylaimec).”
A planar space map appeared. The basal section of the territory in the charge of Fleet 4, which was jutting quite a ways away from the front lines made up by the other fleets, was glowing an ominous red.
“Huh. Well, where are they headed?”
“The Central Sector of the Milky Way Portal-Belts, obviously. Looks like they’re planning to escape.”
“So, what, they’re not going to try to surround and rout us?”
“The enemy commander must have all the common sense you lack. They know that would be a fool’s errand.”
“That’s a shame. I’ve become fond of defensive war ever since Aptic, but there just hasn’t been the opportunity.”
“Is that why you’ve seen fit to ignore our advice and plunge this deep into enemy territory?” chided Nefeh. “What of your obligation to your subordinates?”
“I don’t plan to sacrifice my subordinates needlessly, of course. If they focus too much on our fleet, then in the end, we’ll get off with only a little in losses. I already explained that to you.”
“The losses of the Hunter Fleet in its entirety would be small. But you’re the Commander-in-Chief of Fleet 4.”
“How saddening, Nefeh. I see how it is. You’re just dandy as long as you and yours are safe.”
“If you’re so into this newfound altruism, why don’t you spare some thought for the enemy while you’re at it?” cracked Nefeh.
“I am sparing them some thought. Think about it: They can’t win in the end, but if they encircle us, at least I’m giving them a chance to shine. I was even thinking of writing the sentence ‘In that moment, I steeled myself for the possibility w
e might get utterly wiped out’ in my memoirs.”
“But why?”
“Why, he asks!” Neleth was flabbergasted. “I know you have a bad attitude and no common sense, but I never dreamed you’d be this thick in the head to boot. Let me spell it out for—”
“I’m guessing it’s so that when the survivors among the enemy read it, they’ll be moved to sobbing, and realize that their struggle wasn’t in vain.”
“So you DO get it. I was seriously worried you didn’t.”
“I didn’t want to think you’re really that twisted,” jabbed Nefeh.
“What do you mean, ‘twisted’?” Neleth honestly didn’t know.
“I get it, though,” said Nefeh. “You’re just being considerate, in your own weird way.”
“Exactly. Though I do have to wonder what you mean by ‘my own weird way.’”
“Don’t dwell on it. It wouldn’t be like you to dwell on it, anyway. But please, don’t be considerate to me again.”
“Have I ever in the past?”
“No. At least, not that I’ve noticed.”
“Right. And I won’t pay you any mind from here on out, either.”
“That’s a relief. By the way, what do we do?”
“Ah, yes. I’d hate to give the impression that we let them escape without resistance, so I suppose I’ll refrain from writing about this particular incident.”
“Who cares about your memoirs no one’s going to read anyway?! I want to know what we do about the enemy fleet!”
“What is there to do about it?” Neleth smiled. “Are there any of our ships on that fleet’s path?”
“No. Our supply lines and action zone are stretched as far as we can. The gaps between ships being this large, they’re apparently planning to weave through. But is it really okay not to give chase?”
What Needs Defending Page 8
