“This is your Ship Commander speaking,” announced Lafier. “As you were apprised earlier, the ship will be entering super-high-acceleration for a period of eight hours. There will be a rest period of fifteen minutes after the four-hour mark, where we will assume standard acceleration, so remain seated until then; otherwise, you will be putting your life at risk. The alarm will sound one minute before acceleration commences. I am granting you a little under ten minutes’ time to prepare, after which the alarm will sound. Get your affairs in order in that time.”
Both sides of the raid ship Flicaubh were furnished with auxiliary engines. These engines were dumb things which existed solely to squeeze out as much thrust as possible. This, when added to the Flicaubh’s primary propulsion, allowed the vessel to realize the limits of acceleration that a raid ship’s design could handle. It entailed levels of G-forces that the gravity control systems couldn’t neutralize. Much like the astronauts of the bygone era of space exploration, who had no gravity regulators to rely on, the crew would simply have to endure the acceleration period.
Naturally, it wasn’t just the Flicaubh that had to put up with this torture. Each and every ship in Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 was scheduled to do so.
“One minute until high-acceleration,” reported Grinshia.
Lafier sounded the alarm.
“All hands, be seated,” said Ecryua, all-business as she fulfilled her role as the second-in-command. “Check your seatbelts.”
“Inspector Supervisor, begin the countdown at the thirty-second mark,” ordered Lafier.
“Roger,” said Grinshia.
The seats transformed from chairs into shapes akin to cots. The vector of the artificial gravity was still pointed toward the floor, so it felt like they were being stood up by force.
“Thirty-second mark reached. Beginning countdown. 25, 24, 23...”
Grinshia’s voice was played throughout the ship.
“All hands now seated,” said Jint. If there was somebody stupid enough to be roaming around the ship, there was nothing to be done about it at this stage.
“Enact the necessary high-acceleration procedures re the gravity control systems,” Lafier commanded.
“Roger,” replied Jint. “Switched over to high-acceleration procedures without incident.”
The artificial gravity disappeared.
“...5, 4, 3, 2, 1, accelerating!”
Powerful and eerie vibrations rocked the Flicaubh. Just as acceleration commenced, the gravity control systems worked at maximum output to create artificial gravity pointing toward the bow. But the acceleration outpowered it. A net of 10 daimonn of G-forces were pinning the crew to their seats.
Abhs were accustomed to changes in gravity, but this was an ordeal for landworlders. For one, there was nothing to do during the acceleration period. The crewmembers were allowed to fall asleep, but it could prove a restless “sleep.” Many had nightmares.
Revolving around the planet Akadd (alongside its satellites), there were the orbital construction sites. The largest of them was for warships, and it was where Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 was headed. The raid ships, accelerated to 0.02 times the speed of light, would rush in and fire their EM cannons to destroy it. Operations didn’t get much simpler than that.
Of course, the fleet would be detected from afar, and the enemy would try to hinder them. That was why the assault ships that constituted the main forces of the vanguard unit went up close to the orbital factory cluster; they were now engaged with the enemy. Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 was a volley of arrows loosed upon the battlefield. And it was the sharpness of those arrows that would determine the validity of this strategy.
“The auxiliary engines are functioning as normal,” said Grinshia.
But that report was scarcely necessary; they could sense that that was the case. Even froch-less Landers could tell by this acceleration, these vibrations.
In order to lighten the load on Arbohf’s shoulders, the Flight Branch starpilots took it in turns to pilot during high-acceleration. The first shift belonged to Lafier. While all she had to do was fly it in a straight line, which was less than exhilarating, this was her first time piloting in some time. Her heart pounded, despite the dangers posed by their fast-approaching mission. But that emotion soon gave way to self-pity. To an Abh, this acceleration level was a gentle breeze. She’d need to crank up the speed to really enjoy it. It wasn’t “high” acceleration until it hurt to breathe — until it felt like she was wearing a neutron mass.
She was worried her sensation of soaring through space had dulled. She’d spent her precious and valuable leave period on a landworld together with Jint, which she was beginning to rue, but she decided to think more positively. It had been a meaningful experience, so there was nothing to regret. Besides, there would be plenty of chances to pilot ships in the future.
Jint could hardly bear the pressure. Compared to when he was last on a landworld, his body weight was five times heavier. Even worse, his bones and muscles had adapted to the Abh standard gravity level, becoming weaker in the process.
The display surface of the console rose up before his eyes. He could feel the skin on his face press in as he looked up the circumstances of all hands. All clear. It seemed everyone was properly in their seats. If there had been someone who failed to take a seat in time, there was nothing Jint or that dullard could do.
He glanced behind his shoulder. There was a door far below. If he swiveled a little to the side, he’d crash down immediately. If the 1-daimonn standard gravity level had been in effect, he wouldn’t have hurt himself falling from that height, but right now, he’d be lucky to get off with bone fractures. There were NCCs who were sleeping at higher heights than him, though they were probably used to it. There was no gravity control system in a smallcraft, so moving while assuming this posture was the norm. Sitting in the front row meant lying sprawled at a height equivalent to a ten-story building. Smallcrafts typically accelerated at 4 daimonn of G-forces, though, so this relatively high-acceleration had to be a fresh experience for them, too.
Looks like I really can’t afford to fall asleep. Jint resolved himself for a rough time.
It was one of the duties of a clerk to mind the health conditions of the crew. And this was Jint’s job aboard the Flicaubh. At the moment, no one was complaining of anything amiss with them, and the crewmembers’ vitals, as displayed on the console screen, were all hale and healthy. Jint was hit by a sudden nostalgia as he recalled the time he spent with Lafier on their initial jaunt to the Gothelauth. Though that had technically been his second-ever brush with the world of the Abh, to him that was the first day he truly came into contact with it.
Man, I was so carefree back then. He’d had his reservations about stepping into an unfamiliar new world, but he hadn’t been worried about possibly dying. Of course, he had the option of throwing away his noble rank and thereby doing away with his military obligations. That way, he could escape from the constant fear of a sudden premature demise. But Jint had no such intention.
Compared to how he’d been aboard the Gothelauth, at least he wasn’t presently worried about his future, and that was reassuring. Now he had no choice but to live as an Abh noble. He had no other place he belonged.
As she drowsily nodded off, Ecryua too was reminiscing. She wasn’t on duty yet, but her access-cables were connected to the console. Through her froch, she was sensing the scenery outside the ship.
Unlike most Abhs, Ecryua was not born in Lacmhacarh, but rather inside a trade ship. According to the records, she had been born while the ship was cruising through the planar space of the Barkeh Monarchy, but she naturally didn’t have any memory of that, nor did she really care.
Her father could be considered an oddball even by Abh standards. Few people brought artificial wombs into trade ships with them. He was a capricious sort, and he doted on her when she was a tot. But he seemingly tired of raising her after five years, and he sent her (along with a cat) to their relatives’ orbital quarters in Lacmhacarh. And so she spent her first five years aboard a trade ship. The number of people she’d met until then was limited. Her father and a number of cats had made up her entire world.
“Navigator,” said the Ship Commander. “It’s your shift now. Helm the ship.”
Ecryua’s consciousness was straddling the line between dream and reality.
“Did you hear me, Ecryua?” said Lafier, a trace of worry in her voice.
“Roger,” Ecryua replied.
“If you’re not feeling well, I don’t mind piloting a little longer,” she added. This time she didn’t sound as worried as she did expectant.
“Not necessary.” She equipped the control gauntlet. Her arm felt a bit heavy, but it was no big deal. “Ship Commander. Preparations for control transfer complete.”
“Understood.” Lafier’s voice was slightly tinged with disappointment. “I leave it to you.”