“Ship Commander, the Lartbéic Barcœr (Barkeh Royal Palace) has granted permission to pass through the Portal,” said Yatesh. “We are permitted to enter at 11:06:32 by ship’s time.”
“Understood. Navigator, do calculate the route,” ordered Lafier.
“Calculating route... Calculated,” said Ecryua.
In the vicinity of the Saudec Barcœr (Barkeh Portal) drifted innumerable space-time bubbles. The massed ships were waiting in line for their turn to enter Lacmhacarh. Needless to say, there were also many space-time bubbles emerging from the capital.
That business was a telltale sign the Empire was at war. Of course, this was the capital of a giant empire, so it was bustling even in peacetime, but it was during times of war that Lacmhacarh truly went into full swing.
The raid ship Flicaubh soared along the route that Ecryua calculated, drawing ever closer to the Barkeh Portal. “Portal in E minus three minutes,” said Ecryua.
“Begin the countdown at the thirty-second mark,” said Lafier.
The time had come. “...Four, three, two, one, passing through the Portal.”
The sparkling capital sprawled before them in all its glory.
“Initiate the information link with the squadron flagship,” ordered Lafier.
“Roger,” said Yatesh. “Conducting information link. Information link complete.”
Atosryua’s face appeared on screen. “Welcome, Flicaubh. You’re the last ones here. Also, sorry about this, but we’ll be taking control of steering.”
Robbed of anything to do, Arbohf simply shrugged.
The mood in the air on the bridge was relaxed. They would be remote-controlled by the squadron flagship, the Chtucaubh, for a brief spell. As a result, the bridge personnel had nothing to work on.
“This is your Ship Commander,” Lafier announced over the comms. “All-hands-on-duty status has ended. All off-duty crew, at ease.”
Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 formed a column and flew deeper into the capital, headed toward Special Construction Site 7022. This was where each of the ships would get their damaged parts repaired.
“It was you who was supposed to be on duty right now, right, Yatesh?” asked Lafier.
“Yes, ma’am. Allow me to take control of the bridge, if you please.”
“Please do.” Lafier got up from her seat.
“I’m looking forward to it,” broached Jint.
“Looking forward to what?” asked Lafier, curious.
“The banquet.”
“We had plans for a banquet? This is the first I’m hearing of this.”
“Commandant Atosryua promised, remember? She said she’d hold a banquet at the expense of the Baronic House of Febdash.”
“Ah, that,” said Lafier. Then she remembered the banquet hosted by the Count’s House of Hyde. She could hear the sordid and disorderly din even now. She wrinkled her brows and frowned. “You’re looking forward to that?”
“Well, that banquet was a bit much, granted...” Jint glanced meaningfully at Ecryua’s face.
“What is it?” Lafier looked at Ecryua’s face as well.
“It was fun,” Ecryua whispered.
“What was?” Lafier still didn’t understand.
“The Stylet.”
Lafier was still not getting it.
“I get what she’s trying to say,” said Jint. “It seems that before Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 could do anything, Commandant Atosryua hosted a get-together. As Deca-Commander Ecryua tells it, it was a real hoot.”
“I see.” The Stylet was one of the most famed restaurants that catered to the Star Forces. Lafier, too, was aware of how delicious the food there was said to be. “But it’s not set in stone that the banquet will be taking place there.”
“Guess you’re right; I haven’t heard specifics.” Jint put his hands behind his head. “Come to think of it, it’d be nice if it were held at the Garich Arocr Lymr Faibdacr (Febdash Baroness’s Capital Manor).”
“Either way, I’m not particularly looking forward to it.”
“Well, you were raised at the Imperial Palace, so that makes sense,” said Jint. “Banquets can’t have been all that rare for you.”
“That’s not true,” said Lafier. “Well, yes, the banquets are rather frequent, but we can’t exactly let loose. It’s us Imperials who do the inviting, after all.”
“Then why not be the guest instead of the host for once?”
“But I’d rather be flying a ship than attending a party.”
Jint was astonished. “Haven’t you had your fill of flying ships already?”
“We haven’t been flying ships,” said Lafier.
“What she said,” said Ecryua.
“Oh, I get it. You mean flying ships by hand.” Jint looked at their left hands. “What I don’t really get is, is it really that fun?”
“We don’t do it because it’s ‘fun,’” said Lafier. “We do it because to us, flying at high speeds feels natural.”
“To me it is fun,” said Ecryua. “I’m not fussed about whether it’s ‘natural.’”
“Is it sort of like how if a guy doesn’t take a bath, they feel gross?” said Jint.
“It’s nothing like that,” said Lafier. “And I’ll have you know we take baths, too.”
“I know that...”
“Do you take baths because it comes naturally? No, you take baths in order to be clean.”
“That may be,” said Jint, pondering, “but if you ask me, it’s more for-the-moment than that. It just feels good to come out refreshed, you know? People don’t really take baths just to be hygienic. They can be plenty clean already and still feel gross if they don’t bathe daily. On that point, I thought I’d fully turned Abh.”
“What do you mean?” asked Lafier, curious.
“I told you how I learned how to ‘be an Abh’ at a school on Delktu, right? They drilled it into our heads that since Abhs are obsessed with bathing every day, those who are seriously aiming to be imperial citizens should make it a habit to bathe before going to bed.”
“Imperial citizens?” asked Ecryua. Going by her tone, this had struck her as odd.
“There’s not a whole ton of Landers who can go straight to being Abhs like I did, so there ain’t any schools for that. Going to a school for imperial citizens was my only option, man.”
“I’m your superior,” said Ecryua.
“Pardon my language, Deca-Commander,” said Jint. Now I see how our ways of thinking differ. Lafier also enjoys bathing, of course, but to her, the fact that it feels good or that it puts her heart at ease is secondary.
But Jint may have had a point. Just as bathing was both a momentary pleasure and a necessity in order to keep clean, soaring between the stars was, to the Abh, both a momentary pleasure and a ritual whereby Abhs affirmed to themselves that they were, in fact, Abhs.
“Either way,” said Jint, “that flying business has nothing to do with me. All I’m looking forward to is the banquet.”
Atosryua reappeared on screen. “I hate to put a damper on your excitement, but it seems you’re wanted at the Imperial Palace posthaste, Quartermaster Vanguard.”
“Me, ma’am?” said Jint, looking distinctly mystified. “I’m to go to the Imperial Palace, and not the Ship Commander?”
“Those are our orders. Oh yeah, by the by, it’s just as you suspected — we just landed a reservation at The Stylet. The banquet will start in thirty-two hours.”
Lafier wondered how much of the conversation the Commandant had listened in on.
“How long will it take? Will I not be able to make it in time?” he asked, in self-pity.
“No idea,” said Atosryua bluntly. “I don’t know what this meeting’s about, after all.”
“Speaking of which, with whom will I be meeting?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
“Don’t tell me... is it Her Majesty I’m...”
“Certainly not. If it was an audience with Her Majesty, you’d need to go through more complex procedures. Isn’t that right, Vice Hecto-Commander Abliar?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lafier corroborated.
“Come back in time for it,” said Atosryua. “I’d like you to learn what a real banquet is. And don’t worry, Roïbomoüass Abliar — singing will not be allowed. Now then, get out a smallcraft and send your Clerk to the Imperial Palace.”
“Roger that, ma’am.” Lafier saluted.
Atosryua almost saluted back, but dropped her hand midway through and started talking to somebody offscreen. “Roïbomoüass Abliar, I don’t know why, but Senior Staff Officer Sobash has some words of counsel for you. Don’t let Deca-Commander Ecryua be the smallcraft’s Skipper. That’s not an order, but something to note.”
Lafier looked at Ecryua. She was expressionless, yet Lafier somehow got the feeling she was indignant.
“Understood, ma’am,” said Lafier.
This time, Atosryua did return the salute. Then she disappeared.
“This is a job for our Messenger,” Lafier told Ecryua. “Gnomboch, ready the smallcraft and escort Raicléc Sazoïr Lynn to the Imperial Palace.”
“Yes, ma’am!” The Linewing’s knees were shaking. He must have been nervous.
Perhaps she should have entrusted the task to someone else, but she’d already issued the order. If she changed her mind now, she might inadvertently wound him. Besides, even a child could fly a mere smallcraft. She was confident that once Gnomboch equipped the control gauntlet, he’d grow calm again.
“Well then, Jint, I’ll see you later.” Before sending out her Clerk, she checked how her Messenger was doing one more time. “I wish you luck in battle,” she let slip.
Thankfully, the trip to the Imperial Palace wasn’t so bad. Gnomboch’s piloting was definitely stiff, but all the less dangerous for it, and they entered the pier through the guidance of Blyséc Rüébéïr (Imperial Palace Space Traffic Control).
“Thank you, Linewing,” said Jint, before disembarking from the smallcraft.
The pier door opened, and a personal transporter came for him, aboard which was someone he hadn’t been expecting.
“Mr. Samson!” said Jint, not believing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Samson was supposed to be at the Hyde Countdom. Though he had become a servant vassal of Jint’s, the bond they had forged aboard the assault ship Basrogrh hadn’t changed much at all.
“The Empire strongly insisted I be here,” said Samson. “I brought documents from the Countdom. Well, I guess it didn’t have to be me specifically, but I thought I’d come to humbly behold the noble countenance of mine Lord. Got the magistrate’s permission and everything.”
“But what’s all this about...?”
There were two others aboard the transporter alongside Samson. One was the chamberlain driving it, Béïcébriac. The other looked like a Lander bureaucrat.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lonh-Dreur Haïder,” said the Lander politely. “My name is Barowz, and I’m a Bauchimïach Gaicec Scofarimér saudonir (Chancellor’s Office Ambassadorial Agency councilor).
“Nice to meet you, Saudonic (Councilor).” Jint looked at Samson and Barowz’s face, wondering which one of them would do the explaining.