What Needs Defending

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  “Commander-in-Chief,” he said. “It seems the Lady Agent Adjunct has been captured by landworld insurgents.”

  “The Lady Agent Adjunct? Who would that be?”

  “Lonh-Dreur Haïder.” Cfadiss recalled the landworld-born noble, whom he’d only ever met once.

  “My heart goes out to him.”

  “Why didn’t Fïac Cfarér mention it, I wonder?”

  “She must have concluded there was no need to inform us.”

  “But our fleet is capable of forming a very large-scale land corps. I think we could assist in his rescue.”

  “And chip away at our already meager forces?” she said quietly. “That won’t do. I can’t have my subordinates engage in a land battle, not when they have so little experience.”

  Warship crew numbers had been set high to compensate for possible casualties. Yet fewer people working inevitably meant lesser combat strength, and accommodations weren’t spacious enough to house any true reserve crew. The patrol ships under her command had to give up personnel to the traffic ships, and even though it was a small number, it still hurt. Moreover, there were ships that were damaged from small skirmishes, along with ships that didn’t have enough crewmembers to begin with. By deploying some workers to the surface, the figure of ships that could barely fly would only increase.

  “Fair point. Keeping holding capacity in mind, sending a land corps might prove difficult,” Cfadiss concurred. They could hardly afford to sit in this territory-nation for a leisurely stay.

  “Besides, Count Hyde is an Abh noble,” said Sporr, her gaze distant.

  Cfadiss nearly asked her what she meant by that, but there was an assertiveness in her tone that gave him pause. “What a shame. At this rate, all we can do is hope he makes it out okay.”

  “I think it a shame myself. I’ve only met him once, but I like him. Not least because he forced an Abliar to wear that delightful attire. Granted, I won’t be sobbing or whimpering over him like Her Highness.”

  “Was she ‘whimpering’?” Cfadiss couldn’t comprehend what Sporr was saying.

  “Abliars never shed a tear. Do you know why?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “The Emperor must always be impartial. Or at least, they must appear impartial to their subjects. If they were to cry for one person’s sake, they would have to cry for every individual in the Empire, which is impossible. They can’t weep for someone they’ve never met, whose name they don’t know. That’s why the Abliars, each of whom could become the Emperor, can’t cry for anyone else’s sake.”

  “Is that why,” Cfadiss replied perfunctorily. “Her Majesty the Empress can push us to our deaths with a point of her finger. If people start to think she’s favoring someone over everybody else, they’d be unhappy, to say the least.”

  “Right. But us Sporrs can see right through the facade. Abliars do cry from time to time. And Her Highness was sobbing like a wee girl.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me,” said Cfadiss.

  “Don’t trouble yourself over it, Chief of Staff. It’s normal not to notice,” said Sporr tenderly. Then she low-key boasted: “Only, I could never have inherited the title of Archduchess of Laitpanh if I wasn’t able to see the tears of a young Abliar.”

  “Commander, don’t tell me you’re putting our soldiers in harm’s way out of sympathy for her?” Cfadiss couldn’t help but ask.

  “Sympathy? For an Abliar? Me?” Sporr’s eyebrows turned cross. “If I should ever hear such rubbish ever again, I’ll feed your tongue to my adorable birds.”

  Crowded around the amphibious ship Baursaith floating atop the seas of Lohbnahss II were a number of barges... or more accurately, rafts. And poorly constructed rafts at that. They were constructions made by amateurs without blueprints using whatever materials were on hand, such that they could just barely float. The rafts, which seemed prone to sink under the weight of their occupants, were being pulled by guardships, themselves crammed to the rails with passengers.

  Next to the Baursaith came its fellow Saith-class ship, the Dacsaith, sliding across the waves.

  “This is terrible,” muttered Lafier, who was on the Dacaith’s bridge.

  “It sure is,” agreed Gabautec. “To think, to board interstellar ships flying across the heavens, they had to resort to barely functioning rafts. But thanks to that, the time it will take to get everyone aboard has been drastically reduced. We might even make it in time.”

  Already, only one Cetairh-class supply ship, the Natcetairh, was still in the territory-nation. The others had rushed into planar space with full occupancy. The one remaining ship was slated to lift off soon, too. And once the Baursaith itself reached orbit, there would be no other ship to transfer its passengers; it would dash for the prison camp as is. Needless to say, the same went for the Dacsaith and for the Tlecsaith, which were transferring the asylum seekers to the last Cetairh-class currently in orbit. The Baursaith was to depart a step ahead, alongside the Natcetairh. The Tlecsaith and the Dacsaith would form a small corps with the assault ship Basrogrh, and be the last to flee this territory.

  Lafier probably wouldn’t have time to return to her own ship, but she wasn’t particularly worried about that. While Sobash was of relatively low rank, he was a skilled hand on deck. He could competently command in her stead.

  “We’re already full up,” lamented the Baursaith’s loudspeaker. “Please disembark. We can’t take off with this many aboard.”

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen the outer loudspeakers get used,” said Gabautec. Then he told the Captain of the Dacsaith: “Hey, this ship’s got it equipped too, right? We’ll definitely be needing it.”

  “We’re all right on that front,” replied the Captain.

  “I’ve got to say, I’m glad he remembered the outer loudspeakers exist,” he said, referring to the captain of the Baursaith. “But at the end of the day, I’ve got to hand it to whoever designed this ship. Just what circumstances were they picturing when they came up with outer loudspeakers?”

  “Circumstances like these, I would imagine.”

  Due to the reduction in required time, the Unit Commander and the Captain were both hopeful. Yet Lafier was not unreservedly joyful. Jint hadn’t returned yet.

  “Can we call the Citizen Representative?” Lafier asked the Communications Officer.

  “Yes, ma’am. One moment.”

  A moment later, a window-screen showing Tomasov appeared.

  “This is your Lady Agent speaking. How is it going on the surface?” she asked.

  “The fighting continues,” he answered. As one might expect, he couldn’t hide his sheer exhaustion. “Compared to the height of hostilities, the intensity has gone down, but there is still some sporadic combat. Also, it seems the inmates have also begun fighting amongst themselves, though we have yet to confirm those reports.”

  “Only males remain, I’m certain. Why don’t you tell them their objective is lost? You can also tell them the port ought to be given back.”

  “That’s a good idea. To be frank, I don’t expect it will do much good, but I’ll do as you say, and we’ll see what happens.”

  “Unrelatedly, have you obtained any news regarding my Adjunct?”

  “I’m afraid not. If something does come up, you’ll be the first I inform.”

  “Please.” Why must I be asking such futile questions? she admonished herself. She knew she’d be apprised the moment Jint’s status or whereabouts came to light.

  “Er...” Tomasov seemed uneasy. “If, heaven forbid, the worst were to happen to Your Excellency’s Adjunct, would some kind of punishment be levied against us?”

  “No. It wouldn’t be your fault.”

  “Thank you very much,” he replied, visibly relieved.

  While she’d have liked to point out to him that there was no reason to thank her in this case, she refrained from prolonging the conversation. Tomasov was a busy man.

  When the window-screen disappeared, La
fier looked again at the screen displaying what was going on outside. The barges were trying to depart from the Baursaith, but way too slowly. It would take some time for the amphibious ship to be cleared for takeoff.

  There was nothing for her to do. Lafier took an open chair. Of its own accord, Jint’s face floated to mind. Before she realized it, she was staring fixedly at the door.

  “You’re not thinking of pulling something odd, are you, Your Highness?” said Gabautec.

  “Something odd?”

  “If Your Highness tries to leave the ship, I will have to stop you, even if it means getting a tad rough.”

  Now she understood what Gabautec was worried about. She returned his stare.

  “Do not fret. I’m not as foolish as that. I don’t even know where he is, anyway.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that,” nodded the Unit Commander.

  She kept her gaze off the door and looked directly in front. But in her heart, she spared no thought toward the enemy ships that would soon arrive, nor toward the congestion on the high seas. All she cared about was one single question: was Jint still alive?

  Jint was still alive. But he could hardly be called “okay.”

  He was barely even twenty years old, yet this was the third time he’d been stranded in hostile territory. And this time was the worst. The first time was with the former Febdash Baron, and the second time he had Lafier by his side, but now he had no one. He looked for a bright side. The only one he could think of: at least this time, he didn’t have to worry about Lafier.

  I bet they’re all pretty worried about me, though. Jint felt a bit guilty about that. Then he smiled. Boy is that the least of my worries.

  He was the only person in this room, the Office of the Chief Executive, or at least, the only living person. When he’d come to, he spotted five assemblages of guts amidst the vast pool of blood and fleshy bits, and one of those corpses was, of course, Maydeen.

  What the hell happened?

  Jint hadn’t the foggiest clue. All he knew was the enemy had seemingly left him to rot.

  He’d have liked to open up some means of escape and join back up with his allies, but that wasn’t very realistic. He didn’t even know if the Star Forces were still on this landworld. That said, he didn’t think he was out for very long, so they probably were. There was the problem of being unarmed; he wasn’t confident he’d survive walking such hostile territory. Of course, being armed wouldn’t have changed the math much.

  Jint placed a hand on the wall and stood up. His throat still hurt from when Anguson strangled him, but apart from a few scrapes, he wasn’t wounded. He examined the outside through the window. Due to the black smoke blocking out the sky, he couldn’t see very far. But at the very least, the building’s immediate surroundings were quiet.

  The floor wasn’t the only surface strewn with various objects and fragments of humans. So too were the desk and chairs. Most of the objects amounted to useless trash, but Jint began scouring the place for anything that could prove handy.

  Jint was surprised he was so emotionless in the face of these gruesome and gory bodies. But upon seeing one frozen face in particular, even he had to stop in his tracks.

  Dohkfoo’s visage looked so very peaceful, in death.

  Jint really couldn’t muster the urge to mourn the man who had so nearly become the planet’s Citizen Representative. As for the other dead men, he didn’t even know their names, let alone whose side they’d been on. But there was something else he had to be focusing on:

  So Anguson must still be out there. A dark and sobering thought, to be sure. Of course, he might have already guessed. After all, had Dohkfoo’s faction won out, they would have given back the Abh noble they’d only ever kidnapped accidentally, and without a moment’s dallying. On the other hand, if Anguson’s faction did win, why did they leave Jint alive? He could think of two possibilities. One, they thought him dead. Two, they didn’t have the time to finish him off. Either way, were they to come back and see he was alive, there was no way they’d be happy about it. He shuddered at the idea, and went about rummaging at a quicker pace. What he most desired was his wristgear. It had been taken from him, but he didn’t spot them take it out of the room. He wouldn't be shocked if it was still somewhere in this room.

  While his efforts to find the wristgear were fruitless, he wasn’t completely without loot. For one, he’d found stuff to eat, which he categorized into three groupings: 1) stuff he wasn’t totally certain was edible 2) stuff he’d only find appetizing on the verge of starvation, and 3) stuff he’d make a small show of enjoying if he was served it by his host as a courtesy, but likely wouldn’t try otherwise. He decided to take food in Categories 2 and 3 with him.

  He also picked up a weapon off one of the stiffs. Unfortunately, only powder guns were on the menu.

  He was a Budget Branch starpilot, but he was still a starpilot, so he’d received firearms training. His firing instructor had once appraised his skill thusly: ”Trainee Starpilot Lynn, if you absolutely must shoot, first make sure there are no allies in the area. It doesn’t matter if they’re right behind you — knowing you, you might still shoot them.”

  Jint then asked what he should do if there were allies around. He was told to give them his firearm and ask them to do the shooting before taking cover.

  Well, I’ve never received training for powder guns, so my grades don’t matter in this case, Jint consoled himself. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle a powder gun. It did have a trigger, much like a regular lightgun; something was bound to happen if he pulled it. But he refrained from testing it. In the process of examining the gun’s structure, he’d gotten the feeling that that something would be the shooter’s finger getting blown off.

  I’ll only use this thing as a very, very last resort, he thought. Then he tucked it into his pocket.

  Jint put his ear to the door, to hear whether there was any sound on the other side. But then he remembered how Maydeen bragged about how soundproof the room was. Apparently, a brass band could be performing in the hallway, and they’d have no way of knowing.

  He hesitated to open it. Looking behind him and through the window, he witnessed a glowing object fly through the billowing black haze. It was a Star Forces amphibious ship.

  If I’m not wrong, Lafier could very well be on that ship.

  Suddenly, he was visited by the mental image of Lafier in front of him, her back to him. In his mind’s eye, he saw the back of the Royal Princess as she, in her rage, stomped toward armed UH officers empty-handed.

  It was so nostalgic now, that era. The time when they knew each other as the girl not shackled by some mission, and the boy who didn’t even know what he was. While they couldn’t possibly regress in age, they could, conceivably, go back to that dynamic. It would be exceedingly difficult, but not impossible.

  But Step 1 of any tough-to-realize life goal was not dying.

  Jint pushed the door forcefully open.

  Chapter 9: Borandnonn (What Needs Defending)

  A conveyance ship ejected itself from a patrol ship cruising across the planar space-side vicinity of the Lohbnahss Portal. The conveyance ship passed through the portal and sent a report to flagship Lachcaü on standby in 3-space.

  “The enemy fleet has reached the 300 cédlairh point from the Lohbnahss Portal. We believe that in approximately three hours, they will begin infiltrating this territory-nation,” the Communications Officer reported to the Commander-in-Chief dispassionately, here on the Commander’s Bridge.

  “How are things on the landworld looking?” Sporr asked.

  “According to Unit Commander Gabautec, they need another five hours for complete withdrawal to planar space,” replied Cfadiss.

  “I see,” Sporr nodded. “I knew my ships would end up taking a lick or two from this.”

  The one good thing going for them this battle was the fact that the supply ships (the amphibious ship, which could be called an enlarged version of a traffic ship, plus the supp
ly ship they’d deployed to the planet) were fast enough to keep pace with a recon squadron, as they were smaller and lighter than typical supply ships.

  “All ships, set sail!” she commanded.

  Just as scheduled, eleven patrol ships joined the flagship’s sides. Twenty-one ships had passed through the Lohbnahss Portal alongside the Lachcaü, making for a total of thirty-three.

  Thirty-three ships. Those were all they had. Even just a single recon sub-fleet boasted more firepower than their combined forces. Since the ships belonged to various different corps, Sporr grouped thirty of the ships into five temporary squadrons, and took the other two under the direct command of her flagship.

  “I never thought I’d have to fight like some rüaboriac (watchguard fleet) for the sake of some backwater landworld,” she griped.

  “I totally agree,” nodded Cfadiss, all but pointing the finger in her direction.

  The Lachcaü was at the head of the pack when it soared through the Lohbnahss Portal into planar space.

  “Signal for assembly,” ordered Sporr, once the enemy had reached the 10 cédlairh point from the Lohbnahss Portal.

  One by one, the patrol ships under her command nestled close to the Lachcaü. In order to save on fuel, they formed battle lineups three ships to a space-time bubble. By the time their preparations were complete, a mere 200 cédlairh separated them from the enemy fleet. The tension seizing the Commander’s Bridge was thick as glass, the kind of tension that only came right before combat. No matter the ship or the post, everyone felt it.

  “They’re not running,” muttered Sporr.

  “Yes. Because they’re the ones with the massive advantage,” said Cfadiss.

  “The utter humiliation of it. To have to fight even though we know we’re on the back foot.”

  The formation of this stopgap Raicporiac Lobnasr (Lohbnahss Defensive Fleet) was as follows: Sporr’s ship was front and center, with one squadron to each side, and three squadrons forming a rear line.