“It handled amazingly smoothly. The only defect was with the water drainage system.”
“Talk about spoiling a perfect ride.”
“I know. Were there no such problems on the Flicaubh?”
“The drainage system was fine. We did find a few small things here and there that could be improved upon, but we’d be perfectly happy with the ship as is, too.”
“I think the number one thing to improve is how they’re having the Gunner pilot while in 3-space. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Would you rather have the Captain pilot, as with assault ships?”
“Right,” she nodded. “In the heat of battle, having the Ship Commander give orders while the gunner moves the ship strikes me as too circuitous. The Ship Commander piloting the ship directly would be more efficient.”
“I would counter by saying that there’s no correlation between one’s piloting skills and one’s aptitude as a commander. Wouldn’t it be difficult to apply both skills at once?”
“We need to be doing both. While they operate on smaller scales, the Captains of assault ships and defense ships are asked to do the same. You were the Ship Commander of an assault ship once, too, right, Ship Commander Sobash?”
“No, actually,” Sobash confessed. “I was promoted from the Senior Starpilot of an assault ship directly to Raid Ship Commander.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said, blinking.
If Captains were the ones to pilot in 3-space like she wants then I would never have gotten the chance to be a raid ship captain, he thought to himself.
“I don’t have any experience as an assault ship captain, either,” said a male starpilot, joining the conversation. “I’m Deurec of the Batcaubh. I was the Vice Commander of a patrol ship. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m surprised. I’d thought a lot of us had experience on assault ships.” Serboth peered at her wristgear and looked into the backgrounds of the soon-to-be ship commanders. “Looks like that impression was mistaken. One of the Senior Ship Commanders is a sarérh symr acharr (assault unit commander), and the other is from a patrol ship. Then there are five assault ship captains, and another four from patrol ships. It’s almost half assault ship people, half patrol ship people.”
“I fall under neither category,” said Sobash as he reached out for another cup. “I am from an assault ship, but it may be more accurate to put me in under the ‘vice commander’ category.”
“Did they gather starpilots with diverse backgrounds on purpose?” Serboth muttered to herself.
“But it’s too lopsided for that. In that case, there should be people who were vice commanders on battle-line ships, or manoüass laiter (defense ship captains),” said Deurec.
“True,” Serboth nodded.
From there, the topic shifted to whether the raid ship should be operated as a light patrol ship or a heavy assault ship. Serboth was on the heavy assault ship side, and Deurec was on the light patrol ship side. Both seemed to be repping for their previous positions. Sobash felt no loyalty to his previous position in and of itself, so he remained neutral. Soon, another starpilot joined the debate, averring that raid ships were raid ships and nothing more, raising the temperature of the argument even higher.
A tad peckish, Sobash stepped away and approached the mobile table. While rank was said to be moot during this banquet, starpilots tended to chat with starpilots, and NCCs with NCCs. Even starpilots from landworlds who’d earned status as gentry were speaking with NCCs.
Suddenly, a familiar starpilot came into view — it was Ecryua. Meanwhile, a linewing starpilot he didn’t know was enthusiastically chatting her up.
Maybe she’s finding him annoying in his persistence, thought Sobash. There was no sign from her that she minded his presence, but then again, there was no sign she was enjoying his presence, either.
Sobash walked over to the pair. “Vanguard Ecryua, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “More or less.”
He sized up the Linewing Starpilot as a father might. He must be young, given his rank. In addition, his features were very young. Not much time must have passed since he’d hit his slow-aging period.
Maybe I ought to have just minded my own business, he thought. Knowing her personality, if she’d felt him a bother, she would have left him hanging immediately, even if he’d been His Highness the Imperial Fleet Commander-in-Chief.
Besides, he was lower in rank than her. If she was standing near a man who kept on firing words in her direction, then she really was enjoying herself to an extent.
“Uh, Ship commander...” The Linewing looked nervous, raising and lowering his right hand as if swallowing the urge to salute.
“You heard the Commandant, didn’t you? No saluting.” Maybe he’s mistaken me for a rival in love. Honestly, if he’s going to be putting the moves on a higher-ranked soldier, he needs a bit more nerve, he thought, all the while smiling his way. “I’ll get out of your hair. Have fun, you two.”
He left them alone and picked up a plate and chopsticks.
“Ship Commander,” said Grinshia. “There’s a fight.”
Sure enough, a commotion had broken out. One with multiple people on each side, at that. On one side: the crew of the Flicaubh.
“Where’s the other side from?”
“The Lymcaubh, sir.”
“I see,” he nodded. “My ship’s crew better win.”
“May you grant me permission to stop them?”
“No need to grant you permission. If you want to stop them, you can. I didn’t know arbitrating fights was a pastime of yours.” Sobash was exceedingly pleased. He’d finally found a bad habit in her.
“It isn’t a pastime, sir.”
“Then what’s the issue?” asked Sobash, with some disappointment.
“We need to stop them, because we’re obligated to,” she said impatiently.
“Why, though? The venue is quite large. If you don’t want to participate in the fight, just keep your distance and no harm will come.”
“That’s not the reason I want to stop the fight, sir.”
“Then why?”
“Our subordinates may get injured.”
“But they’re not armed. They won’t be maiming each other fighting hand-to-hand, and we can give them any treatment they might need before departing.”
“That may be, but...”
“But?”
“They may hold grudges.”
“Which stopping them won’t solve. Do you know what caused this?”
“It seems it started when a conversation was struck with a crewmember of the Lymcaubh.”
“Why would that spark a fight?” he asked, tilting his head in puzzlement.
“I don’t know the particulars, but it seems it’s a lady who’s popular on the Lymcaubh.”
“And the crewmember of ours who talked to her is male?”
“Yes. Multiple males, actually.”
“The picture is getting clearer by the second,” he said, observing the fight for the time being. “Low-gravity fistfights... how clumsy. How unsightly.”
“Of course they’re not fighting on the level of Airship Branch NCCs, sir.”
“Even for Mechanics Branchers, they’re pretty bad fighters. It’s settled — I’m giving them training to do later. Fortunately we still have time.”
Although rare, there were times starship crews had to emulate bausnall Üacér (Airship Branch soldiers) and serve as land war troops. For that reason, the Airship Branch wasn’t the only division whose soldiers received such training. The soldiers of the Star Forces, too, were expected to master base-level close quarters combat skills.
As more and more joined, the fight gradually grew in scope. The mobile tables surrounded the scufflers, in an attempt to contain any damage. One of the crewmembers called over a mobile table, which, like all machines made to serve humanity, sadly couldn’t disobey.
Several hands reached for the plates on the table,
and much of that food soon found itself flying through the air. One plate even made its way all the way over to Sobash. It was a low-gravity environment, so projectiles soared long and far. However, since the Abh were furnished with frocragh, none of those culinary missiles hit them.
But they couldn’t afford to do anything more; they were all still eating, after all. Before Sobash’s very eyes, a plate was sticking out of a beautiful platter of apyrrirh (roast meats).
“You’re still not going to stop them?” he asked Grinshia, who was still by his side.
“No, I will. No matter what you say, Ship Commander, I cannot let my subordinates get injured over a farce like this.”
“Can I come with you?”
“For what, sir?”
“To arbitrate, of course. Looks fun.”
He didn’t know how she took that sentence, but in any event, she turned on her heels without a word and strode toward the cyclone of fists and fury.
But ultimately, she had no time to shine.
“ENOUGH!” Atosryua scolded.
That instant, the brawling NCCs froze in their tracks.
“I thought I told you playing with your food is off limits.”
“We aren’t ‘playing’!” said one stupendously courageous NCC. “We’re in the right!”
“So are you saying you’ve weaponized the food?” she said, glaring at him. “You do know how friendly-fire fights with weapons are punished under military regulations, do you not? And that food was provided for you by the Star Forces, of that there is no doubt.”
Even that brave man had no retort for that. If he was found to have brandished a weapon against a fellow soldier, then he’d be spending years brawling with mud and dirt on a freshly-terraformed landworld.
“Then it’s not a weapon? That’s good to hear. If I was forced to invite guard NCCs to this hall, I would be very disappointed. Now, back to the topic at hand: making your food into a plaything as opposed to a weapon is not a military violation, but do be careful. I’m sorry I’m pushing my pet peeve on you, but I have that right. If you doubt I’ll do anything about it, I suggest you press your luck. If you play with your food, I will hold you in insubordination. Hey, you, do you mean to break another of my rules?” she said, spotting some of them saluting stiff as boards with her eagle eyes. “You understand, I trust? Now then, you may continue.”
Not a one of them resumed fighting. In fact, they may have been searching for a pretext to stop.
“No one feels like it anymore? Well, I won’t order you to keep at it. It wasn’t very entertaining as far as fights go. Let’s just say I’m glad none of you are Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 people yet. I’d hate to have to enter a brawl this limp into the records of our squadron as its first-ever throwdown. Don’t forget what I said the next time this happens, got it?”
After that, a peaceful, relaxed air wafted over the venue.
Sobash stared as Grinshia walked away from him toward their subordinates in large strides. He could practically see the anger rising from her back like a shimmering heat haze. He didn’t know whether she was angry at their men for having started that stupid fight, or at the Commandant for stealing her thunder. Either way, she pushed into the throng and began counting the injured with remarkable self-control. Thankfully, the fighting hadn’t been that serious, and no one from either ship needed treatment.
Sobash then noticed Ecryua was by herself, standing still.
“What happened to the guy from before?” asked Sobash.
Ecryua cocked her head. What guy from before?
“The Linewing that you were talking to a little while ago.”
“Oh, him. I wasn’t talking. He was talking.”
“So, what happened?” He knew it wasn’t becoming to pry, but he found it hard to bottle up the need to know how Ecryua had handled him.
“He went over there.”
Poor guy, he thought.
That was when his frocragh picked up on somebody approaching them.
When he turned to look, there was Atosryua, cup in hand. “Great timing. I’ve been meaning to talk to you guys,” she said.
“With us, the former crew of the Basrogrh?”
“Right,” Atosryua nodded. “You’re Vanguard Ecryua, if I recall?”
“That’s me.”
“How about a drink?” Atosryua snapped her fingers, and a mobile table with cups shifted over.
Sobash took a glass of distilled apple cider, and watched as Ecryua chose a loudly-colored mixed drink. “Might you be telling us that it was no coincidence we became your subordinates, Commandant?”
“For starters. And at the same time, you’ll come to know how we’ll probably be in each other’s company for a long time.”
“I did entertain the notion, ma’am, but...”
“You were probably right to do so; that said, I hope and expect that train of thought to have veered from the beaten path. That way, it’ll serve as a topic of conversation down the road.”
“I’m afraid I’m not imaginative enough to meet those expectations, ma’am,” Sobash smiled wryly.
“That’s a pity. Oh well, let me in on your thought process anyway.”
“I surmised Her Highness the Royal Princess had something to do with it.”
“You’re on the money so far. And if you’d been off the mark from the first sentence, I’d have been disappointed, no matter how entertainingly wildly you’d swerved. In fact, I’d feel like reconsidering how long we’d last in each other’s company. Now, how exactly do you think she was involved?”
“Fïac Lartnér is currently taking a break, but she’ll be returning to the Star Forces eventually. She is an Abliar, after all. Those born in the Abliar Clan can’t keep away from an active battlefield for too long. And would it not be our duty, then, to provide her with a place to return to?”
“You could put it that way,” she nodded lightly. “Though I wouldn’t use that phrasing.”
“How would you put it, ma’am?”
“We’re her ‘chosen.’”
“Favoritism?” said Ecryua, with Ecryua-like brevity.
“Now that’s straightforward,” said Atosryua with admiration. “That’s right.”
“So we’re being treated with undue favoritism?”
“No, Fïac Lartnér is.”
“I see.” Sobash was beginning to understand now. The Imperial Family was forced to vie for the throne. Each individual born with royal blood was so obligated. And what the Empire sought most in an emperor was an aptitude for military leadership. As such, young Abliars competed with each other for the path to the throne through Star Forces positions. Whichever Abliar in a given generation made it to the rank of Imperial Admiral first would be crowned the next Emperor. The Imperial Family and its members were demanded, during the course of this generational competition, to burnish their skills as commanders while also eventually selecting a top-caliber commander-general. The Empire was too vast to be led by a single brilliant commodore. Instead, the Emperor put many brilliant commodores to full use.
Apparently, she’d been chosen as a candidate for the role of brilliant commodore. “An honor,” said Sobash.
“You’re a good egg,” said Atosryua, impressed.
“You don’t think it’s an honor, Commandant?”
“Well, a little,” she acknowledged. “What do you think?” she asked Ecryua.
Ecryua scanned the venue. “Is Captain Abliar the only one being shown favoritism?”
“So you noticed,” she replied, surprised. “While there aren’t any Imperials in my squadron, all of the commanders have some connection to the Imperial Family.”
“So it’s not just a place for Fïac Lartnér specifically,” said Sobash
“Right. No one knows yet how useful trample-blitz squadrons will be. If they end up being the principal force of the Star Forces, then Imperials will be stationed in them one after the other. Needless to say, by that time there will be more than one such squadron. At the moment
, we’re testing these so-called ‘raid ships.’ And once the test phase is over...” Atosryua gulped down her glass. “We’ll be the ones made into test tools, with the Imperials as examinees.”
“Ah. That doesn’t sound all that pleasant, certainly.”
“In more gloomy news — well, gloomy for me — is that, going by her rank, Her Highness won’t be made into a raichaicec saubr (squadron commandant) just like that. She’ll probably be the Ship Commander of a newly made ship first. In other words...”
“In other words?”
“I’ll be Her Highness’s superior.”
“You’ve been her superior before, ma’am. Surely you’re used to it?”
“Being the superior of a candidate for Emperor is exhausting. I’m more than happy having it done just once in my life. I’d much rather be her subordinate,” said Atosryua, brushing her hair up. “Of course, she’ll be outstripping me in rank soon enough either way. And if she doesn’t, then Fïac Bœrh Parhynr was never going to become Empress anyway.”
“I don’t think they promote Imperials any faster than they promote gentry, ma’am.”
“Oh no, the promotion criteria won’t change. Or at least, as far as I know, they won’t. But the Abliar Clan knows how to make excellent soldiers.”
“That may be, but you’re far from talentless yourself, Commandant,” said Sobash, and he meant it. There was no doubt in his mind that Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 would be an indispensable asset to the Star Forces. Too indispensable to be leaving in the hands of a third-rate commander, no matter her connection to the Royal Princess.
“Thank you.” She smiled — likely, the smile of a woman who knew he wasn’t just flattering her. “That said, if she’s only as competent as I am, she’d make for a feeble empress, especially since the Empire’s at war right now.”
“Even if Fïac Lartnér were to become heiress to the throne, she would accede only after the Crown Prince does.”
“So? Are you saying the war will be over by then?”
“I don’t think that idea’s too off the beaten path.”
“I guess it is possible. But the chances are high the war will still be on. Distressingly high, I’d say. I hate to think how I might not ever be able to live out my days in peace in my capital manor in Lacmhacarh before I die,” Atosryua lamented.
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