“Not enough battles for your taste?” asked Atosryua.
“Correct, ma’am.”
“It’s okay,” said the Nacaubh commander. “I’m sure the UH will pick up the slack.”
“I wonder,” said the Marscaubh commander skeptically. “In truth, the UH is fairly scattered as well.”
“If you ask me, our hope for a good fight lies in the Greater Alkont Republic,” said the Chtucaubh commander.
Both the United Humankind and the People’s Sovereign Stellar Union were commonwealths, with the lack of a sense of unity that entailed. Then again, compared to the Empire, they were the height of homogenous. For one, the way each of their constituent systems were tied by a lingua franca was unthinkable in the Empire. While Baronh was taught as a second language on most Empire planets, that was not due to some kind of official imperial policy.
However, the Greater Alkont Republic was a different story in terms of unity. Especially since the nation became an interstellar power, they fixated on the principles of landworlds. Their inter-system exchange was the most enthusiastic, and a robust and powerful bureaucracy bound those systems together. Which made them all the more formidable an adversary.
“What do you think, Chief of Staff?” asked Atosryua.
“I’ve always thought of myself as a merchant,” replied Sobash. “I just want to return to my principal vocation as quickly as possible.”
“I’ve always thought of myself as a libertine,” said Atosryua, breathing a sigh. “I want to return to that vocation as quickly as possible, too.”
“What do you plan to do with your domain, ma’am?” asked the Chtucaubh commander.
“Once the war ends, there’ll be more than enough good magistrates to employ,” said the Baroness of Febdash impetuously. “Besides, my father is still alive.”
“Goodness, ma’am.”
“What do you think, Vice Hecto-Commander Abliar?” Atosryua asked the taciturn Ship Commander of the Flicaubh.
“I have never given my ‘principal vocation’ any thought, Commandant,” she replied.
“Well, I guess being a starpilot is just a stepping stone in the learning process for you.”
Lafier wordlessly sipped her mead cut with apple brandy (or at least, the drink she asserted to be such). Jint thought she might be asking herself what exactly she wanted to do.
“Oh no, I can’t believe myself,” said Atosryua, glancing at Jint. “This isn’t the place to be discussing military strategy! C’mon, everyone, let’s break this up. Why don’t you use this opportunity to deepen your friendships with your subordinates, Ship Commanders of mine? It might be a good idea to talk to the soldiers of ships besides your own as well.”
The Ship Commanders let out strained laughs before dispersing.
“Hey, Linewing Gnomboch,” said Jint, patting the Messenger of the Flicaubh on the shoulder. “This is your department. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, Vanguard, sir.”
Jint then left that spot as well. The singing of (already drunk) soldiers filled the air — two different songs from two different singers were clashing. It was torture on the ears, but it was preferable to a fistfight.
Was this feast a success? I wonder, ventured Jint. The reason he reserved this spacious park was so that a little cutting loose would be tolerable. That would not have been the case in a normal commercial establishment.
“Lonh-Dreur,” called a voice.
There stood an unfamiliar NCC, likely a crewmember of another ship. Each raid ship housed just under thirty crewmembers, and not even Jint knew all of their names and faces. At the end of the day, Jint’s job involved looking after their meals and their health. And no one on the Flicaubh would call him “Lonh-Dreur.” They’d call him “Clerk” or “Vanguard (Starpilot).”
“What’s up?” said Jint.
“Might we have a délbonh (songifier) on hand?”
“Would using your wristgear as one not cut it?” At times, Jint had a tendency to think of wristgears as truly all-purpose. After all, it came with some all but pointless features as well. Whether or not the ability to play music was one of those pointless features was in the eye of the beholder, of course. In any case, if someone wanted the musical accompaniment a songifier provided, they had only to leave it to their wristgear. They could choose from among hundreds of millions of tracks and tunes.
“It wouldn’t be the same,” replied the NCC instantly.
Probably won’t be happy just singing at high volume. This NCC wants to make the whole park rumble with an electronically amplified voice.
“All right,” said Jint. “I’ll arrange for one right away.”
Just then, another NCC came panting. “Please, get us one, too.”
“‘Us’...?”
The two NCCs began making their respective cases. From what Jint understood, one of them was a member of the Cœlcaubh and the other, of the Nacaubh. And it was these two who’d been competing with each other for the ears of the park earlier. Each wanted him to furnish a songifier for their own group of shipmates.
“That is true equality,” said the Nacaubh’s representative. “If the enemy is unarmed, we fight them unarmed. But once they’ve armed themselves, we can’t just sit down and take it. If we don’t match them weapon for weapon, they’ll just bowl us over.”
“You’re just being thin-skinned,” said the Cœlcaubh “We’re not fighting you. We just want to enjoy the magic of song.”
“Go ahead and enjoy it, then. We just want to enjoy our singing, too.”
“Oh, we will.”
While the two argued, NCCs from yet another ship came along. They must have found this amusing, for they too began demanding a songifier of their own.
Maybe I should get five or so songifiers, thought Jint. But he soon cast aside that notion. The deck was wide, but it wasn’t wide enough for multiple songifiers to coexist. If they sang different songs at the same time without voice amplification, it would be bearable. With voice amplification, even a fistfight would be preferable, and not by a little. At least with a fistfight, they could ignore it. He contemplated setting up a soundproof room, but then what was the point of throwing the squadron a party to begin with?
“Listen, I’m giving everyone a single songifier,” said Jint firmly. “Gnomboch of the Flicaubh will decide the singing order.”
“You mean the master of ceremonies kid — er, starpilot.”
Jint nodded and got them their songifier, inwardly apologizing to Gnomboch. The songifier, a podium that provided accompaniment and amplified the singer’s voice, came gliding over the water’s surface. For a handful of seconds, he wondered where to place the thing, before deciding to situate it in the farthest recess by the pond. That way, he could minimize the damage.
The first NCC mounted the songifier and started singing a song from a far off landworld, voice drenched with emotion.
The second the song began, Atosryua came rushing over. “What is this mess?” she scolded him.
“They asked, I supplied,” he said defensively. “I thought I’d help them have their fun.”
“Which is great, but what about everyone else?” Atosryua stared at Jint’s face, but soon she broke into a smile. “Fine. This is your feast. To be honest with you, I’m not sure what the NCCs enjoy. This might be a good thing.”
“That’s very kind of you, ma’am.”
“That being said, it seems not all of the NCCs are enjoying themselves.”
Sure enough, there was a group of people distancing themselves from the songifier.
“That’s why I put the songifier at the very edge,” he said boastfully, taking pride in his forward thinking.
“And that was a good idea,” said a cringing Atosryua. “Just, ban the thing next time. Please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, dejected.