Jadbyr Usem Futune’s Glaga’s recon vessel alighted on the landing-departure deck (Goriaav).
“We’re here.” Jinto rubbed his wounded shoulder, and snuck a glance at Lafiel. “What’s the matter?”
“The Lesheik of this Jadbyr is Archduchess Letopanyu, of all people.”
“What’s wrong with Roifrode Spoor?”
“The noble Abliar and dastardly Spoor have been at odds for some time now.”
Jinto grunted.
“On top of the embarrassment of being rescued by a Spoor, it had to happen while I’m dressed like this.” Lafiel pulled at the fabric of her Clasbul-style one-piece.
“Boarding preparations complete,” announced a coxswain (Ponowas) with the rank insignia of Rear Defense Officer (Rinjer). “This way please, Lonyu, Bene Lodair Abliar.”
Lafiel saluted, and Jinto bowed and moved toward the Yadobel.
There were already ten officers gathered on the Goriaav. In the center of the group stood a woman who reminded Jinto of a carnivorous butterfly, equal parts bewitching and ferocious. Judging from the rank insignia, Jinto pinpointed her as Roifrode Spoor.
As soon as they stepped off the recon vessel’s steps, Jinto bowed and Lafiel saluted. Spoor acknowledged Lafiel’s salute with a facial expression, then bowed in return to Jinto.
“Welcome, Feia, Lonyu. Please, Feia, act as a member of the Ruejhe while on this ship.” “But-“
“I won’t accept responsibility for a Bene Lodair.” Lafiel squeaked another protest. Then, Spoor hit her with the knockout punch, “Mostly, I just can’t fathom a Bene Lodair dressed like that.”
Lafiel indignantly finished her salute. “It’s been a long time, Archduchess.”
“Indeed. Since Feia’s Kenru acceptance celebration banquet, correct?” She waited for Lafiel to nod. “Well, I certainly congratulate you on your accomplishments, but I must say — you look very different from the last time I saw you.”
“It was Jinto’s — Jarluk Dreu Haidar’s — idea.” “Good heavens!” Spoor gasped. “You mean Jarluk Dreu made you wear those clothes and dye your hair black?”
“These clothes are actually slightly more acceptable than the ones he first got for me to wear.”
“Oh my.” Spoor’s red eyes devoured Jinto’s soul. Jinto wasn’t sure what to do. Would Her Excellency the Archduchess (Lonyu Nim) understand that it had been necessary for their survival to blend in with the Clasbul natives?
“Forgive me, Lonyu.” Spoor bowed reverently, despite the fact that she definitely outranked Jinto.
“For what?”
“When I first heard that Feia Larth Barker enabled the establishment of Dreuhynu Haidar, I thought he was a sentimental fool. Why make someone Sif who doesn’t know the Abh way of life? Planet Martine didn’t even have sufficiently intimidating weapons. No offense.”
“Sentimental?” Jinto was still a second or two behind.
“But I was very wrong. Lonyu’s accomplishments are totally deserving of the rank of Dreu.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Jinto wasn’t even sure what she meant. What accomplishments?
“To offend an Abliar is to become an object of legendary hatred. Feia Lafiel of Lartei Kryb is an Abliar among Abliars — I’ve heard the flames of her wrath could give the Big Bang a run for its money.”
“Niif,” Lafiel attempted to interrupt, but Spoor just kept rolling.
“And you have made the very same Feia Lafiel dye her hair black and dress up in that circus costume. Even though I’ve seen it with my own eyes, I can hardly believe it. Forget Dreu, I’ll lobby to get you the Traiga of Loebe — Leikur even. My admiration for you is boundless.”
Feeling slightly insulted, Jinto drooped.
“Don’t worry, Jinto,” said Lafiel spitefully, “she’s just using you to tease me. Her very soul is as twisted as a double helix. Niimje Letopan’s Lonyu Benegu is a Spoor among Spoors; she’s elevated the refined insult to an art form.”
“Ho ho ho!” bellowed Spoor.
“Would you please loan me a Serlin, Niif?” grumbled Lafiel.
“Of course. Right away. And perhaps a bath for that hair?”
“It won’t come out in a bath.”
“Then how will you get it out?”
“I don’t know.” Lafiel looked at Jinto, as if he might know.
“There might have been some instructions in the package, but I think we threw those away or buried them or something,” Jinto scrambled.
Their gazes bore holes in his will to live.
“We could ask someone from Clasbul,” Jinto proposed.
“I just had the disturbing image,” shuddered Spoor, “of the Lodairl of my glorious Futune traveling to a Nahen that is still under enemy control. After wiping out the enemy’s resistance, their Serlin spattered with blood, they would capture a frightened Sif just to ask how to remove hair dye.”
“Oh yeah.” Jinto’s shoulders slumped even further.
“How about this: I’ll take one of Feia’s hairs and send it to the Kreuria, so they can analyze it and figure out how to wash it clean. Sound good?”
“Yes, thank you. Also, please take this.” Lafiel produced a Jeish. “It’s the flight log from the Resii Gosroth.”
The officers all bowed toward the memory sheet.
After a brief moment of solemn silence, Spoor motioned for one of them to take it. “Aim Kasalia, if you would, please.”
The very worn-out Cufadiss complied.
“Well then, Feia, Jarluk, please follow me to your rooms. Or perhaps the count’s son should go to the infirmary first?” Spoor stared at Jinto’s wounded shoulder. “I knew Feia had a temper, but that seems excessive…”
“I didn’t shoot him!”
✦ ✦ ✦
Thirty-seven minutes later, the Resii Keildij, Trife’s Glaga Byral, gingerly floated into Dath from Sord Sufagnaum.
Immediately, it was hit with a massive communication from the Heirbyrsh. The Keildij, an information glutton, ate it up readily.
“Lonyu,” hailed Shewas Kahyuul.
“Yes?” Frode Trife asked slightly impatiently.
“We hear Feia Borl Paryun and Lonyu Jarluker Dreur Haidar have been rescued.”
Trife’s jaw dropped. Unbelievable. He knew that they were on the Gosroth, but… What the hell are they doing here?
“Did the Gosroth survive somehow?”
“Sadly, the Gosroth was destroyed, as we surmised.”
“That’s really a shame. Well, why is Feia Lartneir here?”
Kahyuul relayed the story, and Trife was duly impressed.
“Feia Lartneir managed to hold on to the Gosroth’s log. We’ve found something very interesting in it.”
“What’s that?”
“We know where the enemy came from.”
“Where?”
“Sord Kikotosokunbina Keik. The Gosroth’s Sarerl determined that they used it by somehow carrying a closed Sord all the way to Vascotton, four point one light ‘ years away.”
“Bomowas Lexshu was a good Lodairl.” Trife paced.
“Yes. I think she’s probably right. Even though we just started to analyze the data from the enemy ship we captured, I’ve got a feeling it’s going to back up her hypothesis.”
A Ja Fad popped up on the Gahorl Grawl.
“Between here and Sord Kikotosokunbina Keik,” explained Kahyuul, “there are two Skor: Borskor Gamtek and Lyumusko Febdak. If it’s possible, we should dispatch a Byr immediately and evacuate the Fapyut and Gosuklash.”
“A detour to Sord Kikotosokunbina Keik, huh? Can you contact Dreuhynu Vorlak?” Trife stopped walking and thought.
“We should try. Should we send the Futune?”
“Don’t they need a break?”
“There’s no other Jadbyr that can endure this mission,” declared Kahyuul.
“You’re right,” Trife acknowledged. “Okay, we’ll send Futune.”
“Right, but we can’t make the two refugees go along.”
“Why do you even waste time pointing out such obvious things? Arrange a ship to transfer them at once!”
✦ ✦ ✦
“The surgery’s finished,” said the Gairit, who also happened to be a lander. He removed the medical support machine (Kreurpok) from Jinto’s shoulder. “It was almost good enough to make this unnecessary. It’s going to be inconvenient for a while, but it should heal completely by the time you reach Lakfakalle.”
The Gairit wrapped Jinto’s shoulder in a bandage and used a mysterious solvent to harden it.
“Thanks.” From elbow to shoulder, Jinto’s arm disappeared into a cast.
“They’ve delivered some clothes for you. I hope you like the design.” The doctor handed him a Sorf.
Specially altered to accommodate Jinto’s cast, the left sleeve appeared to hang loosely near the waist. Jinto fumbled to put it on. Dressing with only one arm sucked.
As if on cue, an aviator (Fektodai) entered the infirmary.
“This Jadbyr has been reassigned,” he reported. “Lonyu is to leave the ship.”
“Already?”
“The Sarerl sends her regrets — she was looking forward to dining with you and hearing of your adventures.”
“Please give her my thanks.” Waving goodbye and thanking the doctor, Jinto followed the aviator out the door and to the Goriaav. The man told Jinto he would be at the Arosh in about three days and was surprised to hear that Jinto had never been there before.
When Jinto boarded the shuttle (Kariik), Lafiel was already inside. Her hair was back to its icy blue, and she wore a Serlin.
“Hey, you’re back to normal,” Jinto said cheerily. Although he had gotten used to the figure with black hair in the one-piece, he thought her original look suited her much better.
“Not quite,” Lafiel said. “The color’s faded.”
Upon second inspection, the hair seemed to be paler than it was prior to the dye-job.
“Well, it looks good anyway,” consoled Jinto.
“I can’t believe you didn’t notice the difference.”
“It didn’t change that much,” he argued.
But Lafiel didn’t want to hear it; she turned up her nose at him, and didn’t listen to anything else he said until breakfast the next day.