Foreword
The figure that is depicted in this crest is called a “Gaftnochec,” or, when written phonetically, a “Gaftnosh.” It is a dragon of aberrant form, as it sports eight heads. This mythical beast had long been forgotten. However, a certain empire chose it to adorn the design of its crest, and so the “Gaftnosh” became the most prominent of all the imaginary creatures humanity has conceived.
That was by simple dint of the fact that the empire comprised a nation of enormity unparalleled in human history. The race that built the empire is named the Abh (pronounced “AHV”). Perhaps they ought to be called what they, in their pride, call themselves — the Kin of the Stars.
In any case, let us return our attention to the Gaftnosh. After all, there are countless texts on the subject of that race.
Roberto Lopez, The Cryptids that Inhabited Earth
CREST OF THE STARS 1 — The Imperial Princess
Characters
Jinto (or “Ghintec” in Abh writing)
...... Son of the President of the Planetary Government of Martin
Lafier (LAFEER, or “Lamhirh” in Abh writing)
...... Apprentice starpilot aboard the patrol ship Goslauth
Hecto-Commander Lexshue (LEKSHOO, or “Laicch”)
...... Captain of the Goslauth
Deca-Commander Rairia (RAY’REEA, or “Rairïac”)
...... Vice-captain of the Goslauth
Klowar (KLWARR, or “Clüarh”)
...... Ruler of the Febdash Barony
Sruf (SROOF, or “Srumh”)
...... Klowal’s father and former Baron of Febdash.
Seelnay (SELL’NYE, or “Sélnaïc”)
...... Servant vassal of the Febdash Barony
Durin (DOORIN)
...... Jinto’s friend from his time on the planet Delktu
Prologue
The night sky was nigh cloudless. Staring up at the heavens on a night like this evoked the sensation they might just suck up its hapless spectators.
Between the stars, satellites glided slowly — satellites that weren’t present near the planet Martin 30 days prior. They gazed down menacingly, as though upon a planet of prisoners, illuminating with their phosphorescent glow. One might have wondered whether the moon they said orbited Earth shone like that, too.
The pinprick of light that passed beneath them must have been an Abh spaceship: the real, true oppressors of the 10 million citizens of Martin.
Actually, there wasn’t merely a single point of light. There were, in fact, dozens. No matter where in the night sky one planted their eyes, at least one of them came into view.
Even now, another flock emerged from beyond the Exotic Jungle that plunged ever deeper into the pitch dark, not unlike the bugs of Martin that gathered, teeming to frolic. The points of light were especially numerous near that giant sphere wrapped in a faint light. Careful observation revealed that the lights were moving in and out of the sphere.
The flocks of lights painted long luminescent streaks behind them, sliding across the celestial expanse with a speed that proved they couldn’t be stars. There were even those that dipped close enough to the surface that one could ascertain their shape, if only dimly. It was like something out of a dream. Jinto ought to have resented them, but he could only stare, transfixed.
Jinto Lin was eight years of age then. According to the standard calendar insisted upon by a subset of adherents of the old nostalgic Earth ways, he was 10. By either reckoning, he was a child. Though it was well past a child’s bedtime, Jinto stared up at this unfamiliar night sky from the hybrid-functionality structure’s rooftop park.
In the distant past, before Jinto was born, the only star system humanity inhabited was what was called the “Solar System.”
An Oort Cloud research vessel that was deployed by a certain nation discovered a wondrous elementary particle in a sector 0.3 light-years away from the sun. Its mass was 1,000 times greater than a proton’s. It would have been a huge anomaly had that been all, yet its baffling characteristics proved numerous.
For one, it released around 500 megawatts of energy. No one could point to where that energy came from. Some put forward the so-called “White Hole Theory” to explain it; others theorized it was due to parallel dimensions, hyperspace, or subspace — whatever the term for it, they claimed one or more holes must have opened up in the barrier that divides this universe from alternate ones. All of those ideas were nothing more than speculation: hypotheses at best.
In any event, the particle was given the name “yuanon,” and research commenced. That research did not aim to determine its true nature; rather, it sought to secure methods of utilizing it.
Humanity had, at that juncture, already obtained nuclear fusion, so they did not usually worry about their source of power on land, but the depths of space were another matter entirely. Before any prospect of efficient interstellar travel could be entertained, the issue of mass differentials lay before them. If someone attempted to travel to the next star over within their lifetime, it would require an amount of fuel many hundreds of times heavier than the combined weight of the ship and its load.
That was the principle set in stone by physics. A fuel-on-board nuclear fusion propulsion model would never be suitable for practical use. Even the Bussard Ramscoop Propulsion Method, which had a fair amount of hope placed in it, was ultimately considered impossible due to the density of interstellar matter. Nor, indeed, was matter-antimatter annihilation-propulsion within reach, and even if it had been, it wouldn’t solve the mass problem.
On the other hand, if yuanons could be made the spaceship’s energy source, then differentials of mass could be disregarded without concern. After all, fuel would no longer be necessary. For that reason, the yuanon-propulsion spaceship was engineered.
Its basic structure was cylindrical; at the core of the cylinder lay a magnetic trap that held in yuanons. The cylinder’s interior was lined with a high-temperature superconducting substance which reflected the charged particles emitted by yuanons. A portion of the electromagnetic waves were then absorbed, with the surplus energy radiating into the vacuum through a heat sink. Meanwhile, electrically neutral particles could be absorbed by the material inserted between the inner tubes and the overall structure.
When a pilot wished to accelerate with full power, they could close one of the tubes and funnel the rushing torrent of energy in a single direction. If they didn’t want to accelerate, they could open both tubes to emit equal amounts of energy in both directions. Adjusting the rate of acceleration was as simple as opening and closing the tubes’ apertures.
Despite the multitude of technical and economic barriers, rampant overpopulation and the strife it caused would mark the final stages of the era and lend strongly to the realization of yuanon propulsion.
A survey into nearby star systems had already been completed by unmanned nuclear fusion-propelled ships. As a result, atmospheres containing free oxygen were found to be rare in this galaxy. It was not enough for the planet to have the right level of gravity and distance from its sun; other factors such as the initial conditions of the star system’s formation and its rock composition ratios also came into play. Earthlike planets were the exception among exceptions. That meant that the number of planets on which carbon-based lifeforms could live was low.
Regardless, that was not an insurmountable problem for the Star System Emigration Plan, since the pressure caused by the ever-burgeoning population spurred humanity to outfit themselves with terraforming technology, implementing trial runs on bodies such as Mars and Venus. After that, it became apparent that all they had to do was apply the technology to which they’d already grown
accustomed to other star systems. Nor was there any need to worry their heads over ethical issues regarding extraterrestrial lifeforms.
Thus, the first yuanon-propelled spaceship, dubbed “Pioneer,” was constructed. Pioneer’s mission was to carry the personnel and materials necessary to open a colonial hub-point. Once laser-propeller bases were set up, people and objects could then be ferried through light-sail-propelled spaceships, mitigating overreliance on precious yuanon-propelled ships.
Whenever humanity would find a planet that even remotely resembled their old home, they would move in on it. They expanded their domain by terraforming planets that resembled Venus or Mars as well. This was achieved by increasing the density of otherwise overly thin atmospheres to breathable concentrations, or else by trapping and thinning excess parts of high-pressure atmospheres. Atmospheric remodeling, soil production, ecosystem construction...
As they expanded their domain, a new type of yuanon was discovered, unlocking the potential for a new interstellar emigration ship. Its construction was undertaken not only within the Solar System, but also in other settled star systems.
The ancestors of the inhabitants of the planet Martin came on an interstellar immigration vessel built in the Solar System named the “Leif Erikson.” During this era, the scarcity of yuanons slightly dropped, such that instead of opening a colonial hub, it became possible to introduce yuanon-propelled starships throughout all corners of the emigration program. In the case of the Leif Erikson, it was subsumed into the mission of surveying and selecting places to reside during its preliminary stage. In other words, to board the Leif Erikson was to be sent away, the call to “go live somewhere, anywhere else” ringing in its wake.
There were cases where people were merely sent on ships as nuisances to get rid of. But the passengers and crew of the Leif Erikson harbored a peculiar desire. They were thoroughly fixated on a planet wrapped in an atmosphere containing large amounts of oxygen. They thought that there must be an exotic ecosystem out there somewhere, and for countless generations they searched far and wide, until, finally, they found a blue planet orbiting a G-type star.
The star was named after their first captain, Hyde, while the planet with the oxygenic atmosphere was named after their captain at the time of discovery. Although there was no intelligent life on the planet Martin, a plethora of bizarre flora and fauna did thrive there. The population of the settlers that came aboard the Leif Erikson, who were careful not to disrupt the alien ecosystem there, slowly increased over time.
Following the completion of the settlement process, the Leif Erikson, the interstellar immigration vessel whose duty was now over, was moored in continuous orbit around Martin in commemoration.
On Day 57 of the first season of the 172nd year of their Post-Landing Calendar, the Leif Erikson exploded without warning. In its aftermath lingered the phosphorescent satellite. Although a “satellite” by name, it did not constitute any solid matter, as it was a mere clump of gas. It was a unique, formless, spherical pocket of space — in truth, a completely transformed mass of yuanons that were once captive within the Leif Erikson. Such was the true nature of Martin’s portentous new “moon,” which had not yet been given a name.
A single spaceship appeared from out of the explosion. That ship refused all communication, but, interestingly, it circled Martin three times before turning its back on the planet’s uneasy populace and quickly returning through the dimly glowing spherical pocket of space.
People made moves to look into the space-sphere, the parting gift left by the mysterious spaceship. However, before the government could appropriate the necessary funding, any opportunity to investigate was dashed, alongside any point of conducting one.
On Day 81 of that very same season and year, a large fleet suddenly made its appearance from within the space-sphere. This time, it was they who wished to communicate. They’d most likely analyzed the radio waves from 24 days prior, determined that Martinese had its roots in the tongue of “English,” and set their translation device accordingly. It was not so difficult to understand the ancient words in the case of Martin, and so there was no language barrier for their first contact.
They called themselves “Abh” (pronounced “AHV”): that was the name of their race. They had blue hair, but their faces and figures were decidedly human, and they were all outwardly youthful and beautiful. They attested thus: “We may look a little different, but we too are children of Earth.” It was just that their genes had been slightly modified.
The Abh were said to rule 1,500 human-populated star systems and over 20,000 half-human-populated star systems. The official title of their system of government (that is to say, their nation) was the Frybaréc Glœr Gor Bari (FRYIBAR GLEHR GOR BAREE, Humankind Empire of Abh), though it was often called the Bar Frybaréc (Abh Empire) for short.
The star system’s administration promptly called for talks to enter into a friendly accord. Yet Commander-in-Chief Ablïar, leader of the invasion armada, rejected the offer.
“Sadly,” said Commander Ablïar, “I cannot do that. My duty is not to forge an alliance for the sake of the Empire; it is to add another world to the Empire’s dominion.”
Given that these were not unarmed ships, but a deployed armada, there were people who suspected they intended to invade, but even they were not immune from the shock. No one could have imagined they’d be hit with such a direct, unabashed declaration. Was it not a matter of reason to start things off with peaceful negotiation? Even if it would turn into intimidation and browbeating more or less immediately.
It was useless to insist on talking to a diplomat as opposed to a soldier:
“I am not just a soldier,” the Commander replied. “I am also a diplomat. In fact, to tell you the truth, I am also Crown Prince. My will is the Empire’s will, at least with regards to how you shall be dealt with. I understand your concerns, so I shall deign to explain what it will be like to be a subject of the Empire. I cannot, however, agree to hold negotiations. We have already recognized this planet as belonging to the Empire.”
Naturally, an explanation was in order. It was not only government officials, but also the common citizenry who keenly needed one. As such, the video image of the Fleet Commander speaking from the flagship was relayed in real time. It was only then that the people saw what their assailants looked like for the first time.
Pointed ears poked through dark, navy blue locks that draped down to his waist area. That, combined with the crown of delicate make upon his head, conjured up the image of a fairy out of a children’s fable more than a stereotypical invader. His face white as fresh snow, he seemed a youth of around 25, and a handsome one. The expression on his countenance, which could be mistaken for a comely lady’s, was listless, languid. It spoke volumes of how tedious he found the task of conquering the Hyde Star System.
“Now then, I shall outline the terms between the Empire and your surface world,” said the Crown Prince of Abh, his voice loud and clear. The words, spoken in Baronh (BAHROHNYUH, the language of the Abh), continued to be translated into Ancient English, which was in turn translated into Modern Martinese by their own automatic translator.
“First of all, there will be no possibility of maintaining a noble rank in your star system. In light of this star system’s special nature, Her Majesty the Empress will be your lord, at least for the time being. Naturally, Her Majesty has other duties to which she must attend, and as such, a local governor will be dispatched. We believe overworld governance to be a labor far removed from the realm of the elegant, and so long as the ground-dwelling populace can look after themselves, the lords and magistrates will seldom interfere in any of your more trifling matters. Needless to say, those principles apply to all of you as well.”
“Now, kindly put forward your representative. That individual will become your lord or magistrate, as well as your negotiator with the Empire. It matters not to us what title you bestow upon the office. You may call them ‘President,’ or ‘Chief,’ or ‘Pr
esiding Chair,’ or even ‘Emperor.’ If you would like to hold onto the illusion that you are a sovereign nation, you may call them ‘Foreign Minister.’ All the same, the title will appear in imperial documents as ‘Territorial Representative.’”
“It goes without saying, but you are free to choose how you select them. Please use any method you like — elections, hereditary succession, nominations, drawing lots. However, in order to be a Territorial Representative, do be aware that it is necessary to receive the approval of your lord. This will essentially amount to a formality, but veto rights will be exercised against those who would flagrantly advocate secession from the Empire. “
“Your lord will not claim any right to levy taxes. Instead, the Empire recognizes the exclusive right to trade with other star systems. The profits so acquired will sustain your lord’s livelihood. In some cases, you may invest in your planet, or other planets in your system. In addition, in order to safeguard your assets, it may prove necessary to post an independent garrison, separate and distinct from your autonomous governing body. That being said, it would be in accordance with a pact reached with your lord, and you will retain plenty of room for negotiation.”
“Roughly speaking, the Empire will only compel you to obey two dictates.”
“Firstly, construction of spaceships capable of interstellar navigation shall be forbidden. This is because once you are under imperial control, you, too, will quickly learn how to overcome the light-speed barrier. Such a development is inevitable, but see to it that you do not entertain the notion of actually applying that knowledge. We do not generally permit vessels that navigate to other systems across space. At the risk of repeating myself: Inter-system trade is a privilege enjoyed by your lord, and one protected by imperial patronage. Depending on whether your lord gives the nod, you may be allowed to possess spaceships should they keep their travels within your star system. However, we will not recognize any right to arm those ships.”
Princess of the Empire (JNC Edition) Page 1