“I see. So this is just another thing that comes with the rank.” The message wasn’t long at all, yet Jint’s eyes lingered. “But then... this means I have to attend as a count, right?”
“Of course,” said Lafier, wondering what the issue was.
“My non-uniform clothing and my count’s circlet is now interstellar matter along with the rest of the Basrogrh. Which, I think, is a bit of a problem.”
“Oh, you’re right...” Lafier hadn’t carried out the articles she adorned herself with as a royal princess, either. At the Royal Palace of Clybh, located in the imperial capital of Lacmhacarh, she had clothing and accessories enough to fill the hold of a small ship, but there wasn’t enough time to send out for any. After all, the signing ceremony was scheduled for three days from now.
Still, with regard to their attire, they were in the clear, seeing as Dacruc had several clothing stores. They could put together some appropriate raiment. They could even probably find accessories, though not easily. The real concern was her royal princess’s circlet. One couldn’t find one in any store, not even in Lacmhacarh.
“Jint, you are about to become a busy man. You are, among other things, my Clerk.”
“I’m thrilled,” said Jint glumly. “Now I won’t have to think of how to kill all this time.”
Those three days would be a whirlwind for the hapless pair. They were forced to arrange for everything down to their own outfits during the intervals between meetings with the Preparatory Committee for the Surrender Signing Ceremony that Headquarters had established for the occasion. In Jint’s case, the circlet problem proved simple enough to solve — his circlet had no spatiosensory perception functionality; it was entirely decorative. Moreover, the wristgear that was attached to his person contained the specs for the circlet of the Count of Hyde. From there, all it took was to recreate one using the equipment aboard a repair ship, and he obtained it in a half a day’s time. Only, the synthetic jewels used as replacements were of much shabbier quality than the real deal’s jewels had been. Not that Jint, who’d rarely ever held his count’s circlet in hand, even noticed before the officer in charge of carrying out his request apologized about it to him.
Arranging Lafier’s ensemble, on the other hand, proved more of a hassle. All the clothing stores on Dacruc contained were pale imitations, made under the assumption that they’d eventually be turned to plasma during some space scuffle. In the end, it was decided that her long robe would have to be specially sewn. The jumpsuit underneath would be her regular military uniform. The long robe would hide the rank insignia anyway, and so the landworlders would never know she was only what the UH would categorize as a “lieutenant.”
As for the royal princess’s circlet, that proved most difficult of all. Unlike Jint’s non-frocragh-enabled circlet, hers was a real one, allowing her the personal radar she enjoyed on a daily basis. Incorporating that gadgetry while also adding the exquisite ornamentation befitting an Imperial was a load too heavy for the repair ships of the Aptic Defensive Fleet. Furthermore, it took time to fine-tune a circlet for its wearer. Ultimately, all they could do was decorate her standard military-issue circlet with similar embellishments. In addition, the jewels used for this makeshift circlet were akin to glass balls compared to the originals, which were synthesized by jewelry masters with great care and attention, and sculpted with the utmost fineness. But the royal princess resolved to make do.
As for the venue for the ceremony, the supply ship Reumseth would be chosen for the honor. Strewn on the floor of its hold (which was also packed with mobile space-time mines), lay flakes of synthetic gemstone, and the walls and ceilings were decorated in lavish fashion. This was all done by a work crew under the direct command of Headquarters; Lafier and Jint were not involved. Another aspect the two lacked any involvement with was one that vexed Command the most — the paper.
Aside from specific instances of cultural preservation, humanity had abandoned paper as a storage medium long ago, and the Abh were no exception. Yet paper was essential for formalized cross-cultural pacts like theirs. The glagac byrer (fleet flagship) had around a ream of sheets of paper in stock if ever the area’s military needed to accept an enemy star system’s surrender. Or it would have, had the Budget Branch not forgotten to stock that paper. And nobody had noticed until now, the moment it was required.
At once, the Pharmaceutical Branch was ordered to produce paper, as the lodaïrh Creurér (Pharmaceuticals starpilots) were thought to be the closest thing on hand to “experts on paper,” but for them, this task proved quite the pain in the neck. Figuring all they needed were a few sheets of paper, they reviewed the technical information stored in the compucrystal net, destroyed the few wood products they had around for raw materials, and finally, on the morning of the day of the ceremony, made sixteen whole sheets.
While all this was happening, it was Senior Starpilot Sobash who maintained command of the former crew of the Basrogrh. Of course, since the ship was no more, and they were not made to help with preparations for the ceremony, all he could do was extend their temporary break period (including for himself). Samson drank by the bucketful while Ecryua deepened her bond with Dyaho, until at last, the day arrived.
“Wow, it’s surprisingly imposing,” said Jint, scanning the assembly place. It may have been a dash job of three days, carried out by a temporary fleet, but it looked nothing short of exquisite. An onyx-like pattern adorned the floor, and a stately wooden desk sat at the center. To the sides, Star Forces starpilots and high-ranking star system officials stood in their lines, while the landworld’s press corps were camped in a corner. Meanwhile, the Biboth twins, who by all rights should have been the central figures of the day’s pomp, were blending in with the rest of the attendees. Finally, from the ceiling were suspended two flags, the imperial crest banner, and what could only be the flag of the star system’s government.
“What did you expect?” said Lafier. “To us, this is an everyday function, but to the landworld, this will alter the course of their history.”
“An everyday function, huh...”
The Empire did boast more than 1,500 inhabited star systems. And while more than half were built up by the Abh themselves, the number of systems they had conquered was no small figure. They’d gone through the motions of accepting star systems’ surrender countless times already, that much was certainly true. Yet Jint, who himself hailed from a planet so conquered, harbored mixed feelings, and the fact that that planet’s system was now technically his own fief didn’t help matters.
“His Excellency Macrit Tallas, Premier of the Aptic Star System!” shouted the Luciac Byrer (Fleet Adjutant). At that moment, the middle-aged man on the opposite side of the venue from Jint pushed forward.
“Their Excellencies, Aptic Star System Executive Council Chairperson Sap Ricfest and Aptic Star System Lead Supreme Court Justice Yuna Fajills.” When their names were called, each high official stepped toward the desk. Then, it was the imperial representatives’ turn.
“Her Highness Ablïarsec Néïc Dubreuscr Bœrh Parhynr Lamhirh, Representative of the Humankind Empire of Abh.”
Once the adjutant’s summons was translated into the common language of the UH, it caused a stir amidst the star system government’s side. They must not have ever expected a bearer of the title of “Fïac” to appear before them. A number of their faces lit up with a visible contentment, and yes, even pride.
The hem of Lafier’s long robe waved in the air as she approached the desk.
“His Excellency Linn Ssynec Raucr Dreuc Haïder Ghintec, Secondary Representative of the Humankind Empire of Abh.”
Once Jint’s name was called, the stir grew greater still. Only, they weren’t struck by the presence of a count; rather, the fact that this noble was clearly a landworlder had thrown them. But Jint was already quite accustomed to this reaction. It was even nostalgic, in a way.
And so, the representatives of both sides were now together, the desk the only object between t
hem. Jint took the document from out of his long robe’s breast pocket and unrolled it. “As Imperial Secondary Representative, I shall read the conditions of surrender.”
Tallas and the other star system officials stared at Jint, their eyes brimming with overflowing curiosity. Jint ignored them and raised the parchment to eye level. “The Aptic Star System will transfer all of its sovereignty and dominion to the Humankind Empire of Abh, including that which it ceded to the ‘United Humankind,’ and it will hereafter comply with Empire law as a territory-nation.”
After he was finished reading out the surrender conditions, Jint laid them before the Premier alongside a memchip containing the laws of the Empire. The provisions of imperial law had been presented to the star system government beforehand, enumerating the various obligations of a so-called “territory-nation.” These included the prohibition of interstellar navigation, the requirement of their lord or lady’s approval to become a landworld citizen representative, and the nonnegotiable establishment of a Star Forces recruiting office.
With Jint’s responsibility fulfilled, Lafier retrieved another document. “Should the Empire make demands in excess of the scope outlined in the law, the landworld administration bears the right to decline, as acknowledged here.”
Lafier then laid it down in front of her, and took a pointed writing implement known as a sygh (scrivenbrush) in hand.
“Sign here, if you so please,” Jint told Tallas.
“Yes,” he nodded, drawing out a fountain pen (an artifact of a bygone age) to write his signature. Lafier checked the signature, and jotted her own beautifully curvaceous, stylized signature onto her document before the two exchanged papers.
“Though this is a pact I sign begrudgingly, we have here forged a new relationship nevertheless.” Tallas proffered a hand.
Lafier looked totally confused.
“Your Excellency,” Jint interjected, “I’m terribly sorry, but shaking hands isn’t an Abh custom.”
“I see...” Embarrassed, he withdrew his hand.
“I am aware that this is not a joyful turn of events for Your Excellency or for the system’s honorable peoples, but all the same, I welcome you to the jurisdiction of the Empire,” said Lafier, bowing her head slightly. “I promise that as soon as possible, a lord or lady, or else a magistrate, will be assigned to this territory-nation. In the meantime, I, the Viscountess of Parhynh, will act as Cfariac (Lady Agent). Is this amenable to you?”
In reality, it didn’t matter whether they found this amenable; the landworld citizens had no actual say. Her query was merely a formality.
“Now, in my capacity as Lady Agent, I shall hereby approve of the landworld citizen representatives. Whom do you desire as the foremost representative?”
“The people elected me,” said Tallas.
“Does Your Excellency plan to incite or plot specific action against the Empire in order to secede?” she asked.
“No. I will keep such thoughts as fantasies in my head,” he replied. “Unless that, too, is a crime?”
“We have no intention of interfering with your inner life,” she answered with the gravest solemnity. “I approve you for the role of landworld citizen representative.”
And with those words, the Aptic Star System administration under the United Humankind was dissolved, and instantly replaced by the Humankind Empire of Abh’s Dreuhynh Apticer (Countdom of Aptic).
Chapter 11: Ïucrabé Dina (Toward a Fresh New Field of Battle)
Here was the imperial capital of Lacmhacarh, also known as the Base of the Dragon’s Necks, the Abh Metropolis, the Capital of Eight Portals, the Turbulent Capital, the Capital of Love, Homespace, the Cradle of the Empire, and the Unfelled. It was a collection of countless artificial planetoids revolving around the sun named “Abliar,” and in the orbit closest to that star sailed the Imperial Palace. The palace’s previous form was as an enormous city-ship; at a point in their past, every single Abh called that ship their home, and its population exceeded one million in number. As of the present day, the ship that was now the Imperial Palace was even more vast. A few orbital strongholds were yet larger, but those were all remodeled asteroids; in terms of structures that were entirely the fruit of human hands and human industry, the Imperial Palace was indeed among the largest ever created.
Were the Imperial Palace solely the residence of the Empress, it would hardly necessitate such sheer volume. But it was also where the Empire’s central political functions were concentrated.
From the Bauchimïach (Chancellor’s Office) to the Üalodiach (Supreme Command Base), a multitude of highly important imperial agencies resided within the Imperial Palace. In addition, the palace was the only institution where non-citizens could dwell. Once, there were official residences set up for the diplomats of seventeen different nations, but now, only one was left.
Yet almost no one in the Empire felt any sense of isolation from this, or thought it much of a bad thing at all.
“You’re leaving your post?” said Chidoryac Baurgh Sidec Chidh, the Rüé Bauchimh (Imperial Chancellor), raising his eyes.
“Yes. My term of office is up,” said the ambassador of the only nation with diplomatic relations with the Empire, the Hania Federation. “As such, I think I would like to ask you to convey to Her Majesty the Empress my salutations upon my parting, Lonh-Bauchimr.”
“With pleasure,” he replied. “I have to say, though, I’ll miss you.”
“It is an honor to hear that.”
Gwen was using a machine translator. Coupled with his expressionless face, the robotic voice made him seem even more unreadable.
“But honestly, how about removing that translator for this, our last time together? It’s so hard on the ears,” Chidoryac smiled. “I know full well you understand Baronh perfectly, Ambassador.”
Gwen’s expressionlessness gave way, as a grin curled his lips; apparently, he was proud of the spot of mischief that the Chancellor had just gotten the measure of.
“All right.” Gwen removed the translator without a second thought, and began speaking in fluent Baronh, such that Chidoryac, who thought he’d gotten one up on the Ambassador, instead ended up feeling strangely outfoxed himself. “To tell you the truth, this machine made me want to smash it against something from time to time, too. There’s one thing about it I can’t stand.”
“What would that be, Ambassador?” said Chidoryac, still taken aback.
“No matter who’s speaking, it always translates that speech in the voice of my ex-wife.”
“Couldn’t you change the voice at any time?”
“It’s silly of me, but if I don’t hear my nagging wife’s voice at least once a day, I get uneasy like you would scarcely believe,” said Gwen, smirking. His expression was now an exceedingly friendly one. “Listening to the who’s who of the Empire, and even Her Majesty herself, speak in my wife’s voice is a bizarre experience.”
“I can imagine,” said Chidoryac, yet to sort his feelings on the matter. “By the way, when will you be stepping down?”
“Hmm... I believe it’s technically as soon as the new ambassador takes the post. So you can greet Her Majesty for me at your leisure. Only, I would be grateful if you could inform her in confidence.”
“I understand. I’ll notify Her Majesty before day’s end.” The Chancellor suspended what he was doing and stood up. “Say, would you care to take a stroll with me? I don’t believe I’ve ever guided you to the Chancellor’s Office’s garden.”
The sheen in Gwen’s eyes turned sharp, as though trying to size up the Imperial Chancellor’s true intentions, but that lasted nary an instant.
“I would love to take you up on that offer.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Chidoryac then addressed the secretary in the other room: “We’re going to go look at the azaleas.”
That was code for, so everybody else should give the garden a wide berth.
Then Chidoryac climbed aboard the personal transporter, and off they went.
The space allotted to the Chancellor’s Office was quite roomy. Going at the personal transporter’s more relaxed-pace setting, it took them five whole minutes to cross the corridor.
“May I ask you a personal question, Lonh-Bauchimr?” asked Gwen atop the transporter.
“By all means. What would you like to know?”
“Why did you become a bureaucrat for the Empire?”
Chidoryac came from a landworld, a planet named Sehba in the Dreuhynh Amhalaicr (Countdom of Amhalaich). In other words, he was not an Abh by birth. Though naturally, now that he was Imperial Chancellor, he received all the respect due a noble, and he could even obtain a star-fief once he retired. He had a son and a daughter, but they were Abh in appearance as well as in name — blue hair, stunning looks, and built for life in space. These days, with his once-black hair turning white, and veins surfacing on the backs of his hands, the fact that he was not a born Abh was screaming at him now more than ever.
“My home society lacks much of anything that’s fun or interesting, so I was dying to fly through space since I was a lad. But I never wanted to be a soldier. It’s difficult for landworlders to reach starpilot rank, and for someone like me without frocragh, being a Flight Branch starpilot was always out of the question. But there was a whole road of opportunity open to me in the bureaucracy. In fact, even now, the bureaucracy seems to hold no appeal to people born with blue hair; it’s largely the bastion of landworlders.”
“I see. So you’ve realized the dream you’ve had since an early age.”
“I guess so, Ambassador,” he said, smiling wryly at himself. “But if you ask me, dreams are a lot more fun un-realized. If you make a wish come true, you come to feel it’s not as fun as you thought. Though of course, that’s just my opinion. Right now, I’m dreaming about the star-fief I’ll be able to receive after retiring. It’ll probably be nothing more than a mere barony, but I’d like to work my way up to a viscountdom through my laudable and meritorious service. I know I won’t be able to see a green planet be my domain before I die, but don’t you agree that building up a planet by your own hands is nothing to sneeze at as a post-retirement hobby?”
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