Vice Admiral (Roifrode) Spoor Aron-Sekpat Archduchess Letopanyu (Niif Letopan) Peneij was Commander (Lesheik) of the reconnaissance half fleet, Futune.
“Spoor” was a great family name, denoting status barely beneath that of the Imperial family (Fasanzoerl). There were over five hundred members of the Spoor family holding court ranks (Sune).
The Archduchess Letopanyu (Niifyuunyu Letopan) had three inhabited planets in her territory, making hers the wealthiest domain in the Empire.
In other words, her blood was as blue as her hair.
If I were her, thought the Futune’s Aim Kasalia, Hecto-Commander (Bomowas) Cufadiss, I’d retire and live the life of a great noble.
True, Sif do have an obligation to join the Star Force, but she’s been here longer than necessary.
Whenever she talked about missions or responsibilities, Cufadiss couldn’t help thinking that what she actually meant was hobby.
Cufadiss was new to Futune’s Glagaf; he came in just one month earlier, when his predecessor took unexpected maternity leave. Now, after a month aboard the ship, he still wasn’t totally acclimated.
This is the weirdest thing. Cufadiss still couldn’t get over the Roifrode’s command seat (Lesheikibash), a canopied affair with ornately engraved marble pillars. The canopy looked hand-embroidered, too. It must have cost Spoor at least three years’ salary.
On the back of the command seat, there was the Imperial National Badge (Rue Nigla), the Gaftonosh, the half fleet banner (Guraw Jadbyr) Futune, and the Spoor family crest, Golden Crow (Gatharss). Of course, they were arranged in a triangle, with the Gaftonosh at the top. However, the Golden Crow was much larger than the other two.
It’s just so out of place, he decided about the command seat.
The appointed pilot (Sedraleia) sprawled lazily on the elegant couch, in a manner quite contrary to the crispness of her uniform (Serlin). Her blazing blue hair, elegantly tied up, looked more appropriate for a dinner party than for being squished under a double-winged tiara (Alpha Matbrar).
I know an Imperial-appointed pilot gets special privileges, but this is ridiculous.
Shortly after his appointment, Cufadiss asked her if she didn’t mind acting “a little more like a commander.” She pretended to consider this for a moment, before refusing.
What’s next, he thought, a beefcake waiter feeding her grapes and Rinmo all day? I wonder if that’s why I’m here. He shuddered.
“Lonyu,” he said. During periods of inactivity, he often tried to talk to her.
“Yes?” she asked languorously. Her red irises shifted around in her almond-shaped eyes. “Spoor red eyes” (Kireifu Piana Spoor) were a well-known family characteristic (Wariit).
“Do you know Lonyu Loebar Sufagnaum?”
“Yes, I know him. It’s a small galaxy.”
“What kind of person is he?”
“Quite nasty, actually,” she said bluntly. “I detest the thought of damaging any of my ships to rescue that kind of man.”
“Oh.” Cufadiss was dumbstruck.
“Don’t worry; I keep my personal life out of Frybar directives.”
Yeah, right, thought Cufadiss, laughing at the ostentatious Lesheikibash and her use of the phrase “my ships.” His silence and the look in his eyes betrayed his thoughts.
“Don’t look at a superior officer like that, unless you want to be scrubbing Gorv.”
“Sorry.”
Before the situation could get any more awkward, orders arrived. “Drosh Facteder from Glagaf,” announced the communications staff officer, turning around from his control console (Kuro).
“Read it,” Spoor said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He cleared his throat theatrically.
” ‘Crush them.’ “
Spoor laughed. “This is my first job under Frode Trife, but I have to say I already like the way he gives orders. Okay; single-ship Flasath numbers one through six, Noktaf Bata. Arrange the Sov in a vertical formation, at the front of the fleet.”
In addition to the HQ Squadron, Futune comprised six reconnaissance squadrons and one Sov Dikporleil. The Labule tacked a number onto the name of every Sov. However, the numbers were unwieldy, so Spoor just assigned her own numbers to the ships, calling the Sov Usem one through six, and the Sov Dikporleil number seven.
At that time, one Flasath held the whole half fleet. In sequence, the battleships separated from the main time-space bubble, in their own individual Flasath. Accelerating one point seven three times faster than the rest of the fleet, they fell into a vertical formation.
“Sov Gurarl, Skobrotaf. Aga Asparlot. Announce number three dense formation.” Spoor said calmly.
The three ships that made up the HQ squadron lined up in a triangle, with the flagship (Glaga) Heirbyrsh out in front.
Five lines formed behind the triangle.
“What’s taking Number Four so long?” asked Cufadiss. The other squadrons were already moving to the side of the escort vessel squadron, while the fourth loitered in the area of the battleships.
“Lazy,” clucked Spoor. “No matter. They’ll come with us. We’ll strike with the remaining five Sov.”
“But…” Cufadiss had too many objections to this plan to actually voice any of them.
The logic of Spoor’s decision was sound, in its own way. If they spent a long time worrying about the concentration of their troops, and waited for Number Four to get its act together, they would give the enemy just as much time to organize its defenses and counterattack.
I know time is of the essence, Cufadiss realized, but it still seems a little bit rash to me.
“The remaining five Sov are done forming ranks.”
“Good. Tell the Sarerl. Noktaf Bata. Course three hundred ten. Keep sending the Aga ‘follow me.’ “
“Got it.” Cufadiss relayed the commander’s orders to Communications Staff Officer (Kasalia Drokia).
And Jadbyr Futune moved out. The enemy adjusted its formation accordingly and sent a cluster of Hoksath at the imposing half fleet.
Switching his Alpha to external input, Cufadiss plugged it into the Heirbyrsh’s sensors.
Instantly, his face tightened. At a rate of about one cluster of mines every five seconds, the enemy was pulling out all the stops. Heirbyrsh’s cannons fired equally voraciously, destroying incoming mines.
If just one cluster of mines gets through… Cufadiss shivered.
Like most officers (Bosnal) in the Labule, Cufadiss had never been in a battle before. For the first time, he felt the very distinct awareness of his own mortality.
How can the commander be so calm? he wondered. Is she humming? Does she understand the gravity of this situation?! She’s either the bravest person in the world, or the dumbest!
“Lonyu,” Cufadiss implored, “shouldn’t we perform Hoksatjocs Mejiyot?”
“Where were you stationed before this?” asked Spoor, wiping at a smudge on her Greu.
What does that have to do with anything? “I was Aim Kasalia at Sov Vortout Kigagona.”
“Aha! Then you wouldn’t know. A Resii doesn’t have mines to spare for defense. The patrol ship’s Hoksath are for one purpose only: war fleet destruction. Remember that.” “But…” “But nothing. No reason to panic. It’s routine.
Remember, this is the Futune.”
At a loss for words, Cufadiss couldn’t tell whether or not she was bluffing. He did notice that her tiara was plugged into the external sensors.
“Drosh Flacteder reports from Squadron One Resii Kyuubyrsh,” said the Kasalia Drokia. “The damage is bad; the Irgyuf and forward mobile cannons are inoperable. Squadron One retreating to the rear.”
Not only did Spoor maintain the same nonchalant expression, she ratcheted up the volume of her humming.
The enemy’s front line of ships began to split apart, creating an opening for the Jadbyr Futune. It made sense— the enemy’s vanguard was likely an escort squadron, which could hardly match the firepower of a patrol ship.
“The enemy has taken evasive action. Should we pursue?”
“Are you actually that much of an Onyu, or are you just pretending?” sniped Spoor.
“Sorry.” Cufadiss did not expect such a harsh response.
“No, seriously. Which is it?” pushed Spoor.
“Just a joke, I guess.” Suddenly, he found the floor worthy of intense scrutiny.
“Know what I think? I think you wanted to find out whether or not your Sedraleia knows what she’s doing.”
Cufadiss paled. “Not at all!”
For a moment, Spoor said nothing, letting her red eyes speak for her.
Unable to take it, words exploded out of Cufadiss’ mouth. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again!”
“I’ll forgive you this time,” Spoor said wryly. “Just don’t do it again. Next time, I won’t let you off the hook so easily.”
“Yes, Sedraleia.”
“Okay, maintain course. Our targets are the Alek. The people in the rear can handle the small potatoes like the Leit.”
Without further incident, the fleet passed through the enemy’s front line. Almost immediately, a swarm of Flasath zipped toward them.
“Based on their masses, those are individual Gel Flasath!”
“Aren’t you glad we saved those Hoksath for an occasion like this?” Spoor teased the Aim Kasalia, raising her Greu overhead. “Commence left Hoksatjocs.”
Each of Futune’s ships fired at least one mine in the direction of the enemy Flasath. One by one, red dots on the Ja Fad disappeared.
“They’re coming from the right, too! At least three Resii-sized Flasath!”
After a moment of deep thought, Spoor tapped her cheek with the command cane. “Let Number Four deal with them. We’ll hold our course.”
To compensate for its previous underperformance, Sov Four switched from a vertical to a horizontal formation and made quick work of the enemy. Soon, there were no red dots on the Ja Fad. The Heirbyrsh was temporarily out of danger.
“I don’t know about you, Aim Kasalia,” grumbled Spoor, “but I’m bored.”
“What?” Surely, Cufadiss’ ears were broken.
“I said I’m bored,” reiterated Spoor. “I spend so much time waiting and waiting to get into battle, and then when we finally do, it’s so anticlimactic. I should have been a Sarerl. Being a Sedraleia sucks all the fun right out of it.”
“Are you for real?” Cufadiss had just enough Gahorl experience to know that the dangers of being a ship’s captain scared him.
“Yes; as a young girl, I always dreamed of becoming a Resii Sarerl and engaging in epic, cosmic dogfights with ignoble enemies. But, while I was Captain, there wasn’t a war. And now that there is war, the Labule needs me here. So, I can’t afford to be selfish. Not until the war’s over, at least.”
It is a hobby for her.
“I thought I told you to not look at me like that,” quipped Spoor.
A fresh batch of enemy troops charged toward them. An assault ship began to fuse time-space with the Heirbyrsh.
Clang clang! An alarm (Duniit) sounded on the Gahorl Grawl, and a vibration announced the firing of the ship’s Irgyuf.
The assault ship exploded instantly, leaving only a shower of particles.
Visibly shaken, Cufadiss wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Spoor yawned.