“Sure. ’Cause this time, I’m probably not leaving the ship anyway.”
“I wouldn’t let you. Nothing good ever happens when you touch down on a landworld.”
“I came back safe and sound from my visit to Delktu, didn’t I?”
“You spent all of your time there tormenting your own liver,” she pointed out.
After a while, Yestesh finished his briefing and exited the conference room. Another job was apparently waiting for him. Jint remained there, gazing at the map of Martin. Would the day he could once again walk the land of fantastical lifeforms ever come?
“Jint,” Lafier called from behind.
“What?”
“I must apologize to you.”
“You mean for saying it’d be better for us if the planet was under military occupation?” he said, looking back at her.
“Right,” Lafier nodded. “It was thoughtless of me. I know this landworld was your home, but sometimes I forget.”
“I do, too,” Jint smiled. “But it is my home, nonetheless. I don’t want a ground war to happen here. Of course, a ground war would be the pits anywhere else, too.”
Space battles were different. The vast majority of people in ship-on-ship combat were soldiers, and those that weren’t were there to serve. Sure, levels of enthusiasm varied between them, and some may have entered the army thinking there would never actually be a war, but at the end of the day, space battles were waged between those who resolved to fight. Ground battles, however, inevitably involved innocent civilians.
“Yes, naturally. I don’t like ground wars, either. Just the thought of enemies and allies fighting while breathing the same air makes me shudder.”
Jint had a feeling Lafier disliked ground wars for very different reasons, but he decided not to pursue it.
“But for argument’s sake, what would you do if they were under an occupation?” she asked.
“That’s a tough nut to crack,” he replied. “If they’re still under occupation, we can’t exactly choose to leave them be. But then that’d lead to a ground war on my home planet.”
“What’s your ultimate goal for your star fief?”
“That’s easy. I wanna just forget about the wider galaxy and live a peaceful life on my landworld. So, if we don’t attack the space-bound facilities of the Empire, I don’t need to worry myself about trading, either.”
“What a waste. By not engaging in commerce, you’re throwing away ninety percent of your potential wealth.”
“And be stinking rich with just ten percent. Besides, having loads of money doesn’t mean a thing if you’ve got no way to spend it.” Jint snapped his fingers, having remembered something. “Oh yeah, I’ve gotta repay my debt to the House of Clybh. But there’s no rush, right?”
“Not in my eyes,” said Lafier. “The best client for a money lender is one who pays their interest and borrows for a long time.”
“Good.” Jint’s eyes returned to the map. “Why’s planar space navigation gotta exist, anyway? If the speed of light were the absolute limit, then I and the people of my planet wouldn’t have had to suffer so.”
Lafier chuckled. “My father often makes the same sort of remarks.”
“His Highness the King of Clybh? But why? If it weren’t for planar space navigation, the Empire couldn’t keep going.”
“If there were no planar space navigation, then we wouldn’t have needed to build the Empire. He claims we would still be roaming the galaxy like our ancestors.”
“Is that a more blissful existence?”
“My father seems to find the idea charming enough. It’s like he was born too late.”
“Born too late, huh? I think the same could be said for the people of my home. But while Fïac Lartr Clybr is pining for the distant past, the Martinese are pining for an age all of the adults experienced directly. That’s why they may be super fixated on it.”
“And you mean to turn back the clock for them?”
“That’s not in the cards. There’s no way we could ever return to total isolation. But we can give them that illusion. If we don’t trade with other systems, the people won’t ever lay eyes on products from other territory-nations, and if we block information, then they can live without the fear that comes with the active awareness of being a tiny corner of a vast interstellar power.”
“Would that bring your landworld citizens true happiness? Let me assure you my father’s nostalgia for a bygone age is a quirk of his own. I, for one, don’t believe for a second that the Space Roving Age was better, and most Abhs don’t, either.”
“It’s not at all a rare opinion among my landworld citizens, though.”
“But if they wish to wrap themselves in a happy fiction, then everyone must constantly make sure reality never pokes a hole in the veil.”
“I know. There must be loads who prefer reality — especially the generation born after mine. And for their sakes, I’ll give them the opportunity to face it. That’s the best idea I could think up, anyway. The best, for my fellow citizens.”
“I see you’ve given it a lot of thought,” she said admiringly.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but could you do me a favor and acknowledge I’ve got enough grey matter to squirt out a thought or two once in a while?” he sighed, poking at his head.
“Your gray matter occasionally produces some erratic ideas.”
“Really?”
“Yep. That’s why I sometimes have to wonder whether you’re thinking anything at all.”
“Well, you are observant. There are those times,” he admitted. “But this is my home. Trust me, I’ve thought about it. A whole lot, actually. I feel I’ve got a life mission here.”
“And not in the Star Forces?”
“If I stay in the Star Forces, I’d just be one of tens of thousands of quartermaster starpilots. I’ve done a decent job of it, but there’s any number who can easily replace me. But as of now, there’s only one lord who knows the ins and outs of Martinh.”
“You have a point. I can’t speak for other worlds, but for this one, you are qualified in a way that’s hard to come by for lieges the galaxy over. I’m sure everyone will look on your work with gratitude.”
“I doubt it,” said Jint, his heart cold. “My father and I must be in the textbooks as traitors. He, the man who sold out the planet he was born and raised on to the Empire to become a noble, and his son, the brazen-faced child who’d wield the scepter after him. I don’t know which of us is more hated, but at the very least I know I’m Villain No. 2 in this story.”
“You’re such a pessimist.”
“No way. I’m looking forward to it. I think I might live to see my name used in a spicy proverb.”
“All right then.” Lafier stared him in the face.
“What?” he said, unsettled.
“It’s nothing much. I was just thinking I’m glad I took leave.”
Planar space navigation ain’t all bad, he thought. Without it, I would never have met Lafier.
Jint’s wristgear beeped. He peered at the lines of text that floated on screen. It was a short message from the captain, bidding him to come to the bridge at once. Which was all well and good, but there was a phrase in the message he’d never heard before. “Lafier? Do you know what a ‘trample-blitz squadron’ is?”