The Return to Strange Skies (JNC Edition)

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  The casket-rocket steadily picked up speed as it rose. Eventually, the fire ship briefly came face to face with it.

  “Smash into it! RAM IT!!” Kyte demanded madly.

  However, it was a firefighter who’d been compulsorily conscripted that was steering. There was no way they’d comply with an order that meant certain suicide. Even a soldier in the occupying army might doubt the validity of the idea. Contrary to orders, the steerer caused the fire ship to withdraw for fear of getting caught up in the rocket’s shock waves.

  Kyte nearly slipped down and out of the window as he began opening fire himself. “Why isn’t anyone calling for backup, dammit? What are the anti-aircraft units doing!? Bombard them! Shoot that flying nuisance down!”

  VWOOOM ...

  Hot winds blew in through the open window, and the aerial fire ship shook. Entryua promptly braced his head against the back of the seat in front of him. Even Kyte wasn’t so crazed that he neglected to block against the shock waves with his arms. When Entryua looked up, he saw the casket-rocket had already reached high into the sky, its propulsor flames like a flower blooming in the night.

  “Dammit, DAMMIT!!” Kyte opened fire again.

  At last, fire opened from the surface. But it was too late. The casket-rocket had already reached well into the stratosphere. Like a phoenix glaring down at the lowly lower realm, its propulsor flames made nothing of the fruitless gunfire.

  “It’s no use,” said a soldier in a cold tone. “The flying nuisance has become a space-soaring nuisance...”

  As soon as Entryua heard those words, the urge to crack up rose from his insides and broke through to his lips. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. He hadn’t felt this invigorated in quite some time. The fear he might get murdered did flit through his mind, but it couldn’t suppress the primal need to laugh.

  “Damn it to hell,” Kyte cried tearfully. “WHY!? Why must everything always go their way? Does God not grant us divine commendation? Is God unwilling to give us a single sacrifice? Give me something to salve my heart!”

  That was when it clicked for Entryua. Though the Abh and the Silesia Unaging were both born of genetic modification, the environments of their upbringing could scarcely be more different. He realized that Kyte’s hatred stemmed not from anything personal, but from a severe, tribal sort of envy .

  And while a faint measure of sympathy for the military police lieutenant returned, it wasn’t enough to restrain the Lune Beega City Police Inspector’s gales of laughter — and Entryua didn’t care to stop laughing for some time.

  “The destruction of the materials depot at 38 degrees 11 minutes east longitude, 52 degrees 24 minutes south latitude, has been carried out to completion,” reported Cfadiss. “Next...”

  “Please, Senior Staff Officer ,” said Associate Commodore Sporr, Commander of the reconnaissance half-fleet the Ftuné . “Don’t annoy me with such overly detailed reports.”

  “But Commander ...”

  “I’m leaving the cleanup campaign of all ground targets to you.”

  “But I must at least report to you after the fact.”

  “And I’m telling you, you don’t need your commander ,” said Sporr, looking away. “This isn’t combat. It’s closer to an extermination.”

  Can’t argue with that.

  Cfadiss, for his part, was beginning to regret having proposed this strategy. There were 15,000 people under the military command of the troops stationed in Clasbule on the transport vessels that they’d captured in Sfagnoff Marquessate astrospace, and the ships’ memory drives hadn’t had their information deleted.

  That was why they had been releasing 300 million EM bugs across city centers. EM bugs were nanomachines that, upon receiving radio waves of a certain wavelength, emitted pure noise at the same wavelength. And though the generating power of each individual bug was weak, together they made for an energy output not to be underestimated. Once UH-made EM bugs were released, it was impossible to stamp them all out in a single swoop.

  As such, the Star Forces couldn’t stop the radio jamming with great ease, but nor could the enemy themselves. In other words, not only did the remaining 200,000 enemy troops on Clasbule’s surface lack a unified military command, they also couldn’t communicate with each other.

  With the strike on the alpine radio station at the mountain’s peak, the jamming had stopped being planetary in scale. In some remote areas, it was even possible to receive notifications from orbit. However, in the metropolitan areas, highly populous as they were, word from the Abh had not yet reached them.

  So here the Ftuné , which flashed through space like heavy cavalry, was stuck making the aerial fleet ’s job as easy as they could, striking units on the move and enemy bases that were removed from urban centers, among other targets.

  To tell the truth, it felt empty. It harmed the soul to shoot down defenseless enemy remnants. To complicate matters, most of the enemy was in hiding within the planet’s cities, out of the reach of orbital attack.

  “Be a dear and ask me for approval only when it might cause harm to befall any terrestrial citizens . Apart from that, you can conduct this work as you please.” When she uttered the word work , she visibly balked with a pronounced frown.

  “Understood,” said Cfadiss, head lowered.

  “How many hours until the main unit arrives?” asked Sporr.

  “They’re scheduled to arrive in four hours and fifteen minutes by ship’s time.”

  “I see.” Sporr stood up from her seat. “Now I will take my leave and away to the Chicrh Raichacer (Commander’s Room).”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cfadiss saluted.

  “Senior Staff Officer , it’s an urgent transmission,” said the communications staff officer .

  “Forward it.”

  “Yes, sir.” The compuwatch beeped, indicating that the information had been transferred.

  “Please wait, Commander , said Cfadiss, calling her to a halt as soon as he perused the transmission’s contents.

  “What is it?” Sporr about-faced.

  “It appears the bodœmiac (recon ship) of the Lardbyrch has rescued some drifters in orbit.”

  “So?”

  “The drifters in question claim to be Her Highness the Viscountess of Parhynh and the Honorable Noble Prince of the Countdom of Hyde .”

  “Fïac Bœrh Parhynr ?” Sporr repeated. “What’s an Abliar princess doing in a place like this?” She cocked her head. “Is she running away from home?”

  “I doubt it...”

  “You can’t be serious!” The Associate Commodore ’s long robe waved as she strode back to the Commander’s Chair . “There’s no elegance in keeping the company of a rebellious teen.”

  “That’s not it, though,” said Cfadiss. “If I recall, Fïac Bœrh Parhynr was on the patrol ship Goslauth as a trainee starpilot , while Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur Haïder was aboard for a ride. As such...”

  “I know, Senior Staff Officer . I see you’re another serious-minded type.” Cfadiss stood there for a second.

  “I apologize.”

  “Don’t apologize over something so stupid.”

  “I apol— ...Yes, ma’am.”

  “In any case, it’s a miracle she managed to survive on a terrestrial world . How are they doing now?”

  “They’re still aboard the recon ship . The captain of the Lardbyrch is asking what we should do. I believe we should have them come to this vessel directly.”

  “We, the graceful Sporrs, have never gotten along with the unrefined Abliars...” So the Commander monologued, eyes cast down and arms folded.

  “Then shall we have the Lardbyrch stay in place for the time being? To await handling by Commodore Tlife?”

  “What are you saying?” Her red eyes stared into the senior staff officer’s quizzically. “Have them come here, because it sounds like fun!”

  Chapter 10: The Saïrhoth Lothlortagh (Return to Strange Skies)

  The recon ship landed on the take-off dec
k of the flagship of the reconnaissance half-fleet Ftuné , the patrol ship Hairbyrch .

  “We’re here.” While stroking his injured shoulder, Jinto peered at Lafier’s profile. She had her head in her hands. “What’s up with you?”

  “The Great Duchess of Laitpanh ,” she muttered as though delirious. “The commander of this half-fleet is the Great Duchess of Laitpanh. Why now, of all times...”

  “Oh, you mean Associate Commodore Sporr? What about her?”

  “We, the agreeable Abliars, have never gotten along with the sly and insidious Sporrs.”

  “Wow.”

  “Not only did I just get saved by a Sporr, I’m forced to meet one in such clothes!” she bemoaned, looking down at her garb. It was a Clasbule-style “one-piece.”

  “Boarding preparations complete. Please come this way, Lonh .” The ship commander with the rearguard starpilot insignia proved a tad more tongue-tied when addressing Lafier, though. “Trainee Starpilot Abliar.” Lafier stood up and saluted.

  “Thank you very much.” Jinto saluted too, and headed for the air lock room .

  Around ten starpilots were already waiting for them at the take-off deck.

  The starpilot standing in the center was like a carnivorous butterfly: beguiling, yet fierce. Her rank insignia, associate commodore : she could be none other than Associate Commodore Sporr.

  Upon descending from the recon ship, Lafier saluted, and Jinto bowed his head.

  Sporr glared at Lafier’s saluting form as though to find fault, and bowed gracefully from the waist. The attendant starpilots emulated her gesture.

  “Welcome, Fïac , welcome, Lonh . By the way, Your Highness, please conduct yourself as a member of the Imperial Household on this ship.”

  “But...”

  “I have not received contact from a trainee starpilot .”

  “But Associate Commodore ...” Lafier insisted.

  “Besides, I can’t think of you as a trainee starpilot even if I wanted to, with that attire,” said Sporr, delivering the final blow.

  “Very well then.” She saluted with indignation. “It’s been a while, Great Duchess .”

  “It truly has. I haven’t seen Your Highness since the banquet in celebration of your admission to the academy .” Sporr bowed. “And I must say, I as the Great Duchess of Laitpanh , must too congratulate the healthy manner with which Your Highness is growing. Or at least, I would like to, but it looks as though there has been a gnarl in your eye for beauty. Do tell me, what has led to that choice of clothing?”

  “It wasn’t my idea.” Lafier glowered at Jinto askance. “It was Jinto — I mean, the Noble Prince of the Countdom of Hyde ’s idea.”

  “Oh my...” Sporr’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “You mean to say Ïarlucec Dreur gave you that garb to wear, and had you dye your hair black?”

  “These clothes are an improvement. The first set Ïarlucec Dreur bought me was gaudier still.”

  “My, my, my...” Speechless, her crimson eyes turned to Jinto.

  Jinto was perplexed and embarrassed. If he explained that it was out of pure necessity, would this Lonh-Nimr (Honorable Great Duchess) understand and be reasonable about it?

  “Please forgive me, Lonh .” To his shock, she bowed her head deeply to him, despite his lower rank.

  “Uhh, for what?” His confusion only intensified.

  “When I heard Fïac Lart Barcér (His Highness the King of Barce) approved the founding of the Countdom of Hyde , I believed it to be the height of eccentricity. I wondered whether it was prudent to make someone ignorant of the ways of the Abh into a noble . I mean no disrespect, but the surface defense weapons of the planet Martinh were not enough to pose any threat.”

  “‘Eccentric,’ you say...” Jinto didn’t know what to make of all that.

  “But I’ve changed my mind since then. Your achievements more than befit the rank of a dreuc (count), Lonh .”

  “Th-Thank you...” What did he do that befitted the rank of count ? Did she mean how he protected Lafier? But going by the flow of the conversation, he doubted that was it...

  “The quickness with which Abliars fly into rage, and the intensity of their wrath once aroused, has echoed through all corners of the Empire as a legendary object of fear. Moreover, I’ve heard that Fïac Lamhirh of the Royal House of Crybh is an Abliar among Abliars, in that her fiery rage can be compared only to the first instants of the birth of the universe.”

  “Grand Duchess ,” said Lafier. She had something to say.

  Sporr ignored her. “And to think that you would dye the hair of that selfsame Fïac Lamhirh black, and clothe her with such bizarre apparel. Though I see the evidence before my very eyes, I can still scarcely believe it. That’s a feat for a lœbec (marquess), no, a laicerec (duke), let alone a count . You have my heartfelt admiration.”

  Jinto cast his eyes down. He was unable to accept her words of praise as such. In fact, it seemed as though she was indirectly chastising him for dressing Lafier in peculiar garb.

  “Don’t let it get to you, Jinto,” Lafier said apologetically. “She’s using you to make me fun of me. It is in the nature of a Sporr to be as twisted as a molecule of nucleic acid. If I may borrow the Grand Duchess ’s phrasing, Lonh-Painaigr of the Nimïéc Laitpanr (Grand Duchess’s Estate of Laitpanh) is a Sporr among Sporrs, in that she is renowned for having brought the technique of veiled disparagement the Sporr family has refined over a thousand years to the level of an artform.”

  “Hohhh ho ho ho!” Sporr threw back her pale white throat and laughed. Then she peered square into Jinto’s eyes for the first time. “But it’s true that I like you, noble prince . I was told you will be a quartermaster starpilot . I invite you to fight under me.”

  “Before we discuss the future, there’s a more important matter, Grand Duchess ,” Lafier cut in. She seemed flustered for some reason. “Could you lend me a military uniform ? I’d also like to shed this hair dye.”

  “A uniform will be fetched for you on the double. As for your hair, how do we remove the dye? Might a hot bath be to your aid?”

  “I tried. It didn’t work.”

  “Then what is it we ought to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lafier looked at Jinto. Sporr looked at Jinto. Jinto looked bewildered.

  “Now that you mention it, I feel like there was something about that in the product directions... Unfortunately, I threw it out...”

  The two Abh females kept staring.

  “Uhhh... There were plenty of those hair dye things on Clasbule, so if we touched down and asked somebody...”

  “Just now, I heard somebody somewhere suggest a truly alarming idea.” Sporr shuddered. “The idea goes that the starpilots of my glorious Ftuné should descend onto a terrestrial world still controlled by the enemy. That they should clear away enemy resistance, get their uniforms drenched in enemy blood, capture a frightened and quavering terrestrial citizen , and ask them: Hey, you know how to get rid of hair dye?’ What a dreadful notion! The Ftuné ’s prestige would crash down to the ground.”

  Jinto’s shoulders drooped. “You’re right.” With the two of them safe and sound, the fact that enemy soldiers were still holding out on Clasbule’s surface had slipped his mind.

  “This is what I suggest we do: let’s borrow a strand of Fïac ’s hair. I’ll send it to the cruriac (pharmacy). Then we’ll have them analyze it and formulate a drug to get the dye off. What do you say?”

  “Please do so. There’s also this.” Lafier pulled the memory crystal up off her chest. “It’s the navigation log of the patrol ship Goslauth .”

  When Lafier held the memory crystal in hand, the starpilots saluted it.

  After a moment of solemnity, Sporr gave a sign. “Senior Staff Officer , go take it off her hands.”

  “Yes.” The starpilot with the emerald green hair and a mysteriously fatigued look on his otherwise arresting countenance stepped forward to receive the memory crystal with due reverence.


  “Now then, Fïac , Ïarlucec , please follow me. I’ll take you to your rooms. Actually, on second thought, it looks as though we should take the noble prince to the infirmary first,” she said, eyes on his left shoulder. “I can’t help but marvel at how it could even be possible: to get off with just an injured shoulder after fitting Her Highness with such amusing dress!”

  “I’m not the one who shot him!” she snapped.

  Thirty-seven minutes later...

  The glagac byrec tlaimr (flagship of the Tlife fleet), the patrol ship Cairhdigh , reemerged into normal space from the Sfagnoff Gate . And as soon as it did, they received copious amounts of data in communications from the Hairbyrch , which they then began to greedily consume.

  “Lonh ,” said Kilo-commander Cahyoor.

  “What?” Commodore Tlife looked up.

  “Word has come in that Fïac Bœrh Parhynr and Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur Haïder have been rescued.”

  Tlife grunted disbelievingly, mouth agape. It was just so implausible. He’d known them to have been on the patrol ship Goslauth . What were they doing out here? “Is the Goslauth actually intact?”

  “I’m afraid not. It would seem the Goslauth did fall in battle.”

  “Ah. I’m truly sorry to hear that. But if that’s the case, then why is Fïac Lartnér here?”

  “It appears she escaped as per the captain ’s orders, and fled from danger to this terrestrial world . However, the full report has yet to be composed, so I don’t know the details.”

  “Hmm... Well, I can’t blame you.”

  “Fïac Lartnér carried the Goslauth ‘s navigation log back with her, and there is some information of especial interest recorded therein.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “I have ascertained whence they surfaced.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Gate 193 of Céïchu . According to the captain ’s inference, they carried a gate from the area 4.1 light-years away to the Bascotton Star System.”

  “The captain being Hecto-commander Lexshue... She was a fine starpilot ,” he said, pacing.

  “Yes. Her reasoning process was fluid and unstrained, and I agree with the conclusion the hecto-commander reached. As for the analysis of the rest of the information stored in the captured ships, we have only just begun, but I assume it will corroborate her deductions.”