What Needs Defending

by Hiroyuki Morioka

  “I can tell you’re a poor judge of your own character, Neleth.”

  “Never mind that, just prepare the mines.”

  “Only because you’re Commander-in-Chief,” Nefeh acquiesced reluctantly. “But shouldn’t we at least reduce the scale?”

  “Why must you be so tightfisted? We’re not waging war on your dime,” said Neleth, utterly mystified.

  “Because no matter whose dime is at stake, I can’t bear to see such waste.”

  “Nefeh, Nefeh,” said Neleth, shaking his head. “This is all to tie a bow on this long operation. We can afford to send off our mission with a handful of fireworks, can’t we? In fact, I’d love to order not just the strike squadrons, but all of the battle-line ships and patrol ships to fire all of theirs, too.”

  “But we wouldn’t be able to see the ‘fireworks,’ Neleth. Mines explode in separate time-spaces. I think that detonating fusion shells in 3-space would make for a better show. Plus, it’d be cheaper.”

  “That is true, but...” As Neleth stammered, he felt something was off. At some point in their conversation, the point of the mines had gone askew.

  “Prepare the mines.”

  “Fine, Neleth. Just don’t forget how I warned you it was a waste.”

  All at once, the mines were fired by the battle-line ships of Fleet 4, which was encircling the Bascotton portal. The mines proceeded to plunge into the coiling spirals of planar space. If something was lying in wait on the other side of the portal, then the mines would adjust their trajectories to collide with it automatically.

  Preliminary mine strikes were recommended whenever it came time to infiltrate a star system under enemy control — depending, of course, on whether the situation called for it.

  Despite getting shot with mines, the Bascotton Portal remained as still as death. Neleth commanded the recon sub-fleet to pass through. This time, his always-captious Chief of Staff found no fault with the order.

  With nuclear fusion shells loaded into their EM cannons, a flock of patrol ships flew through to 3-space. Soon, one of them returned to planar space and sent an inter-bubble communication: “No enemy presence detected in the Bascotton System,” read off the Communications Officer.

  “I never said the enemy was definitely there,” Neleth told Nefeh. “It’s just that commanders should always be prepared for the worst.”

  “I didn’t say a thing.”

  “Only because you were letting that overworked tongue of yours rest. Your smug expression said it all.”

  “Let’s agree to disagree.”

  “Wait, sir,” said the Communications Officer. “There’s more: ‘We have, however, detected several allied ships.’”

  “Allied ships?” Neleth unintentionally kicked the Commander-in-Chief’s Seat. “Where did they come from?”

  “From the Ileesh Monarchy, obviously,” reasoned Nefeh.

  “Nobody’s told me a thing about them making inroads from that direction, dammit!”

  “It must’ve been decided on the spur of the moment. But why are you so annoyed, anyway?”

  “You’re not annoyed, Nefeh?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, why don’t you tell me what I’m supposed to be annoyed about, Neleth?”

  “That they beat us to the punch, obviously! Does even that much elude you?”

  “Utterly,” Nefeh fired back. “Actually, now that I think about it, you’ve been oddly obsessed with leading the charge, haven’t you? An obsession you share with no one else.”

  “How dare you,” said Neleth, grinding his teeth.

  “Look at it this way — we’ve planted the very first Star Forces footsteps on so many different star systems. Is that not enough to sate your mania to be first?”

  “But this star system is special, Nefeh. I was planning to make the conquest of Bascotton the swinging highlight. And now that dream is dashed.”

  “‘Swinging highlight’? Of what?”

  “Of Part 2 of my memoirs. What else?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. How silly of me. What else indeed.”

  Needless to say, that meant there was a Part 1. Neleth expected his spitting image to ask where Part 1 began and ended, but it appeared Nefeh didn’t care to linger on Neleth’s memoirs.

  “You must agree that the climax wherein we zoom in unperturbed after another corps already took the area doesn’t quite stir the soul.”

  “Must you always be so childishly hungry for glory, Neleth?”

  “Childish!?” he fumed. “What are you talking about!?”

  “You’re childish in that nobody apart from you thinks you’re a man of honor and prestige. If your false impression that every member of the Biboth Clan shares your notion that being first equates to true glory, then I couldn’t live with the shame,” said Nefeh, sticking a finger up. “And that’s not all. If people start thinking the clan’s made a tradition of fighting just to spice up some personal memoirs, I’ll throw away the surname of Biboth! I’m not entirely comfortable with the phrase ‘the florid insanity of the Biboths,’ but there is something appealing in it. Your insanity, on the other hand, is far from ‘florid.’”

  “I didn’t think you were capable of feeling shame. I guess there’s a first time for everything, though.”

  “If only you weren’t my brother,” said Nefeh, gnashing his teeth himself, “then I’d have a mind to malign you and all your ancestors three generations deep!”

  “Wise of you to realize you can’t, Nefeh.”

  “Now that you’ve confirmed the commonly known truth, how about you issue your next order?”

  “Right,” nodded Neleth. “All ships, advance slowly toward the Bascotton Portal. I leave the entry sequence to you, Nefeh.”

  “Roger that.”

  And so the flagship of Fleet 4, the Scacaü, led the pack in passing through the portal.

  “Establish a line with the enemy... with the allied flagship,” huffed Neleth.

  The ears of the one who saluted through the main display screen were pointed. “This is Grand Commodore Ablïarsec Néïc Dubreuscr Dubeusec, the Glaharérh Byrer Mata Fageucr (Commander-in-Chief of the Snow-Skift Fleet 2) speaking.”

  “This is Commodore Biboth of Hunter Fleet 4 speaking. It’s a great honor to meet you, Fïac Lartr Clybr,” he added, for no other reason than as a social pleasantry.

  “I too am pleased to have crossed paths with your fleet. How serendipitous,” he said, with a carefree grin. “Now, that was a rather by-the-book entry pattern, Commodore.”

  “I have something to ask you, sir,” said Neleth. He wouldn’t be happy if he couldn’t run at least one question by the King of Clybh. “Why, if you’d already taken the star system, did you not send an alert-ship to planar space? We might have spared some mines that way.”

  “We might have spared ourselves getting excited over nothing, more like,” muttered Nefeh.

  “We tried to send a patrol ship to planar space so as to apprise others, only to find a sudden storm of mines blocking the way. Incidentally, Commodore, do you know the name of the developer of the friend-or-foe identification apparatus?”

  “I’m afraid not, sir.”

  “Well, that’s a shame, because we ought to give that developer our thanks. Had it not been for that apparatus, how many of my fleet’s ships would have taken damage?”

  “Are you saying the mines were unnecessary, sir?”

  “Perish the thought. I would have done the same if I were commanding Fleet 4.”

  While the two Commanders-in-Chief were conversing, their respective flagships were exchanging the necessary data though a language incomprehensible to humans, via an information link. As such, the commanders’ chat was nothing more than a mutual courtesy.

  “By the way, I hear my daughter is under your wing, Commodore Biboth.”

  “You flatter me, sir. She’s taking care of herself out there,” said Neleth humbly. “Besides, she isn’t actually under my command at the moment.”

  “Due to some
kind of irregularity?”

  “Heavens no. I gave her a mission as a lady agent. And though I’m not sure why, she seems to have taken more of a liking to it than to military matters, which is why she’ll be continuing in the role for some time.”

  “That’s...” The eyes of the King of Clybh were wide open. “That’s unlike her. Are you quite sure?”

  “Quite, sir. She even applied for leave.” Neleth got a nice charge out of knocking an Imperial off guard, so his mood improved.

  “She applied for leave? I did not know that.”

  “Plus, she was searching for a mercenary corps.”

  “A mercenary corps, you say?” The King of Clybh cocked his head. “I’m learning more and more.”

  “I believe you’ll be fully informed as to the context of the matter once the information link is done.”

  “True. But never mind my daughter. Tell me, what will your fleet be doing from here on out?”

  “We await orders from the Hunter Fleet command center.”

  “Which is to say you don’t have any orders currently.” Dubeus saluted, signaling that he’d end their conference. “We leave this star system to you. We shall be headed towards our next destination, the Countdom of Vorlash.”

  “Hold on, please!” said Neleth, rising from his seat, “Will you not send a liege agent for this place?”

  “I told you — we leave it to you.”

  “But it was Your Highness’s fleet that came first, that conquered the system. It doesn’t make sense for commissioning the liege agent to be our responsibility.”

  “I find it hard to believe you’re that short on personnel, Commodore. Oh, I know — as long as you’re still waiting for orders, why don’t you take up the position?”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Neleth.

  “I was forced to take the position myself, when I was younger. Dreadfully tedious job. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule. But the tedium level is crushing, so crushing that no one who hasn’t gone through it themselves could fathom it.”

  “I see.”

  “Now then, I shall take my leave. I wish you success.”

  “Not that I have any fleets to succeed against, sir,” said Neleth, saluting.

  He could hear voices. He couldn’t, however, make out what they were saying. In fact, he was only barely able to tell they were human voices to begin with. He couldn’t even figure out what language they were speaking.

  They were quarreling, loud and hot. Over what, though? He had no idea.

  Lately, whenever he tried to fall asleep, he’d hear voices, but these were altogether different voices — the kind his ears had nothing to do with. And lucky that, or else he’d be quailing for no reason.

  Actually, maybe this isn’t a trend to champion, thought Jint as he nodded off. Perhaps he was beginning to crack.

  He didn’t know how many days had passed since he watched the amphibious ship return to space. He’d survived this far by single-mindedly avoiding other humans. He also regularly changed where he slept. At first, he hid in a warehouse near the government building, since it had been pillaged of every last object and was now empty. But it was difficult to tell from the outside that it was empty, so more looters did show up from time to time. He’d even bumped into a posse of five at one point. Yet, with just an intense glare on his part, they decided not to lay a finger on him. It was almost as though that lot believed they’d get struck down by a bolt of divine wrath if they came near him. It looked as though Sobash’s threat was working its magic. But in his sheer isolation, Jint wished they knew there were rewards in it for them if they came as allies.

  In the end, Jint found some rest in the semi-basement of a fire-damaged building. The building was so ravaged that he couldn’t yet tell what its purpose used to be, and it was accordingly uncomfortable, but all that mattered was that it didn’t put his life in danger.

  That being said, there was a possibility that, after all this time, Jint was being too cautious. The first week after the Empire’s withdrawal had been wild, to say the least, but now there was no sign of people in town. He didn’t think they could all have died; they must be holing themselves up somewhere. No sign, either, of what Jint feared most — UH land war troops.

  Time just passed. Seconds after seconds, hours after hours, days after days.

  Starvation was the most pressing danger. All the food had been exhausted a while back. He remembered the last thing he ate being a fragment of ariraimec (choc-cocoa), but he didn’t remember how much time had passed since then. There was food to be had somewhere, that much was certain, but chances were extremely slim anybody would share with him gladly.

  He’d rationed what little food he had, and now he simply rested in order to preserve any strength at all. There was plenty of time to sleep. After all, he had nothing whatsoever to do. His sleep took the form of an extremely light sleep that lasted the whole day. That was one factor as to why he’d lost all sense of time.

  When he was steeped in his daylong dozing, he dreamed a lot. For whatever reason, life in space never appeared in his dreams. Martin, Delktu, Clasbure, landworlds he’d only ever seen in videos, landworlds he’d never seen at all. And in every dream, beside him throughout it all was...

  Jint snapped awake through his own coughing fit. Of late, his coughing had grown very bad. He could feel ounces of precious energy get depleted each time the air exploded out from his lungs.

  “Water.”

  Jint rose waveringly to his feet. He reckoned that the amount he’d speak out loud had risen rapidly in recent days. When he first noticed he was talking to himself, he’d been speaking in Baronh, but now the only words coming out of his lips were in Martinese. At times, he found himself wondering whether his days as an Abh noble were just a dream.

  In fact, maybe this planet wasn’t Lohbnahss II.

  He was on Martin, and due to some inciting incident he wasn’t privy to, he was now stuck inside a dark room where the light never shone. Maybe that was the real truth.

  Water...

  Drinking was another issue. There was no running water, so he’d use cans to collect some to slake his thirst whenever it rained. He’d have liked to boil and sterilize the stuff, but there was no fuel.

  He poured some into a glass. Holding the glass was the only time in the day he felt more civilized than a caveman.

  The water gave off a rather foul odor.

  Near the ceiling of the semi-basement lay several skylights, through which the rays of the sun, also named Lohbnahss, trickled. Jint made sure the light didn’t reveal the glass’s precious contents before downing it.

  He squatted by the wall. “Born in the dark, to die in the dark,” he whispered. “Eh, too hackneyed, and it’s not even that accurate, either.”

  To tell the truth, when he wasn’t asleep, he was trying his hand at poetry. He wanted to leave some evidence he’d existed in this place, so he used a piece of metal to carve letters into the wall, but he was far from satisfied with this endeavor. The only fruit of his efforts was discovering in no uncertain terms his lack of literary talent.

  “Wait, why am I writing this in Baronh?” he said, scanning the Ath glyphs he’d engraved.

  He was talking to himself in Martinese, but his poetry was all in Baronh. If he tried composing something in Martinese, he was sure he’d be able to come up with some magnificent poetry. That in mind, he picked up the piece of metal and set toward the blank portion of the wall.

  Then it dropped right back out of his hand.

  What was he doing? The one to whom Jint wanted to communicate his feelings wasn’t some Martinese person. Sure, she’d be able to decrypt the text, but what would she think upon seeing his last message was written in Martinese?

  He entertained the notion of translating the Martinese poems he knew into Baronh, but all he remembered were lullabies.

  “Lullabies... That might actually work.” He elected to strive his hardest not to dwell on how, exactly, as he hummed
a Martinese lullaby.

  Jint’s shoulders jolted up with a start. A voice! An outside-the-head voice! And unless he had a bad case of hearing things, somebody was trying to enter.

  Fortunately for Jint, up to this point, he hadn’t had a reason to use either the powder gun or a bomb that would activate in his hands. If he’d had his way, he’d never have a chance to use them. Alas, the universe did not flow as Jint saw fit.

  Jint held his gun at the ready.

  Chapter 11: Cfazaitec Flaucsa (A Personal Game Plan)

  Off the coast of Rajay Island, the Raügeuch landed.

  The Raügeuch was one of a rare breed of ship. It was capable of descending to a planet’s surface before returning to the vacuum of space, yet it wasn’t military-use.

  The vast majority of the inhabited planets of the Abh Empire (including those in outlying regions) had orbital towers, so the demand for supply ships that could enter an atmosphere was low. Such vessels typically weren’t used for much besides orbital tower-less landworlds in the initial stages of terraforming. And while there weren’t many of the ships out there — which, according to supply and demand, made them a valuable commodity — the galaxy was at war, and landworld development was on the backburner.

  Up until now, the Raügeuch hadn’t made use of its unique feature, employed only as a supply ship like any other. And the one who commissioned it was none other than the Royal Princess of the House of Clybh.

  The Raügeuch approached the island from the south, and coughed up multiple hovercars. A mercenary corps that had only recently begun to exist was not about to get handed military-grade üsiac gora (armed hovercars). They were standard commercial vehicles, with one not-so-standard exception: a peculiarly-shaped, giant-sized car.

  Originally, it took tourists on rides through the savannahs of a landworld named Cyrsaü, and so was equipped with defenses of the lowest possible level to deter the beasts of the wilds. But those defenses were good enough to deflect the bullets of mere powder guns.

  The safari trips of Cyrsaü were the dream of many an imperial citizen, as well as of many a landworld citizen (and since landworld citizens couldn’t travel the stars with as much ease, there was a significant percentage that had settled in Cyrsaü simply for the safari, which lasted a whole month). That was why the car’s interior was so spacious. It was practically a land-roving inn.