From the Hyde Portal, supply ship after supply ship emerged into 3-space. The flotilla had finally made it to its destination, materials from faraway Lacmhacarh in tow.
Jint was staring absently at the wallpaper of the office inside the Baucbiruch. Guess it’s time to bid this room goodbye.
The Baucbiruch was currently the manor of the House of Hyde in both name and substance. He’d never planned to sit at this desk forever, of course, but he hadn’t expected to part with the ship in such short order, either. Life was such a series of surprises.
His wristgear rang.
“Lonh-Dreur,” said Sehrnye. “Mr. Swohsh has arrived.”
“Thank you. Please send him my way. Also, please tell Mr. Samson to come here, too.”
“Very well, sir.”
This would be the last time Sehrnye would act as his secretary, too. The employees and materials Sehrnye’s company needed were here now. She could go do her real job. Though to his surprise, he did feel she made for a pretty good secretary.
The door opened, and an old man came in. A tall old man. He was Swohsh, the magistrate of the Hyde Countdom, as selected by the landworld administration of Martinh.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Jint, standing up and offering a hand, as was the Martinese custom.
“This isn’t our first meeting, Lonh-Dreur.” Swohsh gripped Jint’s hand in his own leather glove-like hand. “I’ve bumped into you a number of times when Your Excellency was a lad. I owed your father a lot.”
“Oh, I see.” Now that he mentioned it, Jint did have a feeling he’d met the man before. “Our lives have taken various strange turns to get to this point, but thank you, and I look forward to working with you.”
They exchanged a handful of pleasantries, but the entire time Jint was doing his best not to let the pain in his hand show on his face.
Then Samson came in. Jint introduced the two to each other. Surprisingly, Swohsh greeted him in Baronh (albeit heavily accented Baronh).
The Hyde Count’s Manor was floating 0.8 light-seconds from Martinh’s sky. Consequently, if the accord went into effect, he would be obligated to distance himself.
The way Jint remembered it, Parliament was sure to work slowly, yet the representatives had ratified the agreement with alarming speed. Had politics changed while he was away, or was this a special exception?
Jint could only stay here for another twenty hours. And he could only stay within the Hyde Countdom for another two hundred and sixty hours. After which he’d have no choice but to hand the management of the countdom to Samson and Swohsh. Their cooperation was essential. Jint was their Lord on paper, but for all intents and purposes he was an outsider.
Once the two were finished with their rote salutations, Jint decided to make himself useful by offering his hospitality. He brought them tea and chairs.
“I have a personal request of you...” said Swohsh, reluctant to bring this up.
“What is it?” said Jint.
“This means I’m going to have to live here, right?”
“Not necessarily. While I think it would be more convenient on a practicality level, I don’t mind if you work in Crandon City if that’s what you want to do.”
“No, I understand the benefits of working at the manor. May I use this room?”
“Yes,” Jint nodded. “If that’s what you want, Mr. Swohsh.”
“Thank you very much. I’ll keep it tidy.”
Jint smiled wordlessly. There was an almost zero percent chance Jint would ever use this room again, so he didn’t particularly care how tidy Swohsh kept it, but he understood this was a thoughtful gesture. It did warm his heart.
To tell the truth, Jint didn’t expect much out of whichever magistrate the Martinese decided on. He’d steeled himself to be viewed as “the enemy” by the de facto overseer that was the magistrate. And Swohsh could be an enemy, but he was a pleasant one as far as enemies went.
“Well,” Swohsh continued, “you see, I, uh, took a look at the photo the Corints showed me, and...”
“Huh?”
“So, if I could make a personal request...”
“Yes? What is it?”
“It’s just, I heard you were looking for someone to raise the kittens, and if it’s all right with you, I’d like to humbly throw my hat in as a candidate. Cats might cause disturbances to the ecosystem, but there should be no problem whatsoever if I were to raise a cat here in the manor.”
“I’d be delighted,” said Jint. “I have to warn you, though, cats don’t really help in the tidiness department. If you mean to keep this room tidy for me, you may have to keep out any cats.”
“I see. It seems there’s much you must tell me; I don’t know a thing about raising cats.”
“I can help you with that,” said Jint. “Of course, there’s usually a lot of people in any given group of Abhs with many years’ experience raising cats, so you might not need my help in the end. I have two kittens left; would you like both of them?”
“No, thank you,” said Swohsh, shaking his head. “This will be my first creature, so tending to the needs of just one is likely challenging enough. And I’ll be fairly busy for a while, too. I’d like to take the pure-white one, if there’s no issue in doing so.”
“No, no issues. Please cherish it and make it feel loved.”
“Thank you so very much,” said Swohsh, expressing his overflowing gratitude before leaving the room with a spring in his step. The man hadn’t touched his tea.
“So that’s one kitten you’ve got left,” said Samson.
“Yep,” Jint nodded. But he hadn’t forgotten the terror of the dish called “lutimond.” “Don’t tell me YOU want to ‘raise’ a cat, too, Mr. Samson?”
“You don’t have to give me that look,” grumbled Samson. “I know how to love a living creature, too, you know.”
“So do you want it?”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to give mine Lord something extra to worry about.” Just then, a call-received beep sounded from Samson’s wristgear. Samson squinted to read. “Oh, it’s a letter from Vice Hecto-Commander Sobash.”
“His pen’s always at the ready.”
“Actually, I heard about this letter directly from the Vice Hecto-Commander himself. Was wondering what became of it, since it was taking so long to arrive. I’m sure it traveled far, and for no reason.”
Just like my journeys, you could say, mused Jint.
When Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 returned to the imperial capital, dozens of mass-produced Caubh-class assault ships were already off on familiarization voyages.
The two Senior Ship Commanders and the Senior Staff Officer of Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 were promoted to Kilo-Commander. Roiryua was assigned to Saubh Dtirér Mata (Trample-Blitz Squadron 2), and the other Senior Ship Commander, Clapaimh, was assigned to Saubh Dtirér Bina (Trample-Blitz Squadron 3). The Senior Staff Officer, Semlaich, was made the Commandant of Saubh Dtirér Gona (Trample-Blitz Squadron 4).
In addition, some among the staff officers, all of whom now had valuable experience under their belts, were assigned to the new squadron command centers, and some were appointed as ship commanders; those officers left the command center of Squadron 1. The Ship Commanders were allocated to the new squadrons as well. Not even Squadron 1’s flagship, the Lymcaubh, was able to stay with Squadron 1.
Only Commandant Atosryua was left at the Glagamh Saubr Dtirér Casna (Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 Command Center). And the Flicaubh was the only original ship that stayed in Squadron 1.
As a matter of course, Atosryua set up a provisional command center on the Flicaubh, but in this situation she was no different from a freeloader. The “provisional command center” consisted of a single starpilot’s quarters.
“I’m going to be made Senior Staff Officer?” Sobash couldn’t believe his ears. He’d come to pay her a visit, curious what she was doing holed up in her quarters, only to discover she was working out the personnel shifts.
“Correct,” she said, sipping her tea. “This isn’t favoritism.”
“But why, ma’am?”
“You’re better suited to being a staff officer than a commander. Not that you weren’t an excellent commander, but as an assistant and advisor your skills will shine even more.”
“I know you wouldn’t have picked me if this were just favoritism, Commandant, but I’m afraid it hasn’t sunk in yet,” he told her from the heart.
Sobash was a merchant. Ever since he was young, he’d thought he’d stand at the top — and that he’d only be working for others for a very tiny sliver of his existence.
“If you don’t pass muster, then I’ll fire you without hesitation, so don’t worry.”
“That’s a relief,” he said, again with all sincerity.