To the Abh, who were not at the mercy of the weather, seasons were not associated with increments of time— rather, they were linked to specific locations. There were four gardens in the Lartbei Kryb, one each for summer, spring, autumn, and winter. The gardens’ ecosystems were regulated to match the stereotypical conception of the corresponding season.
On a wooden bench in the autumn garden, Jinto sat, watching maple leaves dance in a gentle breeze.
“There you are.”
He turned and saw Lafiel standing there. For once, she wasn’t in uniform; she wore a flashy Lartnei’s Alpha, and a golden Daush over a light green Sorf. In her arms, a kitten purred softly as she stroked it.
“It’s very peaceful here.”
“Were you thinking about your Aith?” asked Lafiel.
“No. And I wasn’t thinking about my native world, either.”
“Not at all?” she asked, taken aback.
“Really. Even when I heard that the ties with my native world were completely severed, for some reason, I wasn’t sad at all. I actually felt kind of relieved, as if a heavy burden were lifted off my shoulders. I know that’s terrible …”
“Aren’t you worried about your father?” Lafiel seemed baffled.
“I want to be, but I’m not. He’ll probably be just fine. My father’s a survivor. If we could make it out of Clasbul, then surely…”
Jinto knew it was balderdash. The ecosystem of Martine was hostile to humans, and they learned this at a very young age. There would be no place for his father to hide, but in the buildings of Martine, where he would certainly be discovered during even a rudimentary search. Most of the people of Martine hated Jinto’s father.
Dreu Haidar is probably already no longer of this world.
“Who’s your friend?” Jinto asked, indicating the cat.
“Diaho, the son of Zeneria, who is Horia’s daughter.” She set the kitten down on the bench. “Zeneria had a litter while I was on the training cruise.”
The name Horia sounded familiar to Jinto. Oh yeah, that’s the name of the cat Lafiel used to think was her mother!
“So … I guess that makes you this cat’s aunt.”
“Onyu.”
Jinto held out his hand, and the cat rubbed his face on it.
“Isn’t he adorable?” Jinto scratched the kitten’s throat.
“You enroll in Kenru Sazoir tomorrow.”
“Yes. They’re coming to get me as soon as breakfast is over. There’s a war, you know, so many enrollments have to be processed in a hurry. It’s kind of daunting — the start of three long years of school life.” He turned to Lafiel. “What about you?”
“I haven’t decided which ship I’ll board yet.”
“You should take your time — once you commit, you’ll be in a battle encampment for a long time.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Three years? You’ll be a Fektodai Sazoirl in three years?”
“Assuming everything goes according to plan.”
“By that time, I’ll probably be a Rowas. I should be able to get a small ship — a Leit or a Gel. Probably not an assault ship.”
“That’s right.” Jinto continued to pet Diaho, unsure what he was supposed to say.
“A Gel needs a Fektodai Sazoirl as a Wiigt. And according to Labule tradition, to a certain degree, the captain gets a say in choosing the ship’s personnel. Of course, it’s not absolute — the officer’s own wishes must be taken into account.” She waited.
Jinto finally understood what he was supposed to say.
“Future Rowas Abliar,” he said grandly, “when you get a ship, if there exists a person called Fektodai Sazoirl Linn, please summon him, as your faithful Wiigt, by all means.”
Lafiel’s face lit up. “If that’s what you really want. But, I must warn you: I am committed to becoming a Rowas in three years’ time, so you’d better do your part to graduate on schedule.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll work hard, Lafiel.”
“Then, I’ll see you again at breakfast, Jinto.” Excitedly, she stood to go. “I’ve got things to do.”
“What about Diaho?” Jinto held up the kitten, which batted its paws at a floating leaf.
“He likes you, and he’s not doing anything right now. Maybe you should talk to him for a while.” She walked away.
Setting the kitten on his lap, Jinto said, “You sure don’t have much to say, do you pal?”
Diaho chewed playfully on Jinto’s clothes.
While the cat continued to gnaw little holes in Jinto’s Sorf, he fell into deep thought.
I’m glad I’ll be able to be with you again, Lafiel.
Although I’ll live only half as long as you, I will stay by your side as long as I can. Whether you take your place on the Skemsorl Roen or are bested and scattered in Fath, I will always be there beside you.
Even if you hate it.
That is my intention, and the future I’ve chosen for myself.
The value of a human life is only as high as the worth of the freedoms with which we’re born. Maybe if I were Ku Dorin, I would grimace and suggest that it is too early to sell my freedom. But I can’t imagine an offer this good coming my way again.
For some reason, Jinto’s thoughts turned to the exotic jungles of Planet Martine, the backdrop against which the Martinese were wed. He wasn’t thinking about weddings, just a change of scenery from the Gereulash.
“What do you think, Diaho,” he mused, “about this Jinto fellow?”
The kitten mewed.
✦ ✦ ✦
“They’re taking the Futune away from me?” demanded Spoor.
“Well, it would be highly irregular for someone with the Renyu of Frode to serve as Lesheik Jadbyral,” explained the hologram of Peace Protection Office Commander-in-Chief (Glaharerl Shutymer) Star Force Fleet Admiral (Spen Labular) Unyuush. “As you know, we lost a considerable number of ships in the battle three years ago. We’ve put our battle array in order at last. You will lead a Byr, carrying one wing under Fofrode Trife.”
“Which Byr?” Spoor asked in disbelief.
“It hasn’t been assembled yet. For the time being, you will serve as Roiglaharerl Shutymer. But that will only last until the time is right to remind the enemy of the existence of the Rue Labule.”
“Is it decided which ship I’ll board? I’m quite fond of the Heirbyrsh, you know.”
“It will definitely not be the Heirbyrsh, because that’s Futune’s Glaga. Please surrender to rear duty. For now, that is all.” Unyuush seemed rushed. “The personnel notice will come into effect in three days. Until then, you’ll make the arrangements. Please, be prepared to discuss personnel matters at the new Glagaf. Congratulations, Frode Spoor. Now, please excuse me.” The hologram disappeared.
Spoor stared at the traces of the vanishing image. “Congratulations? Do they honestly think I care about titles? I’m already a Niif!”
Eavesdropping, Cufadiss felt slightly relieved. Spoor was a tough boss. After three years, Cufadiss thought he would be used to her, but that was purely wishful thinking. She was selfish and capricious, and — worse than anything else — a terribly efficient commander!
“Why are you smiling so much, Aim Kasalia?” Spoor snapped Cufadiss out of his pleasant daydreams of less demanding commanders.
“What? Nothing! I don’t know. What happened?”
“It’s okay that you’re happy. Please, be quick with your personal arrangements.”
“Say what?”
“You heard the news. We will depart to consult on personnel matters at the new Glagaf. After all, you’re the new Was Kasaler.”
“Hold on just a minute.” Cufadiss panicked. “I’m a Bomowas. The Renyu doesn’t match.”
“It’s high time you got a promotion! Three years? I’ll push it through myself. I can’t advance and not share some of the joy with the officers who helped this to happen. Congratulations, Shewas Cufadiss.”
“Can’t… bear … the … joy.”
“Is there a problem?” Spoor crossed her arms.
“No, no, I’m very honored, thank you very much.” He nodded maniacally.
“You’re welcome. And that goes for everyone — you’re all promoted. I’m taking everyone with me!”
As cheers broke out on the command seat bridge, Cufadiss let loose a sigh of enormous proportions.
✦ ✦ ✦
“When I left my beloved husband and children to travel into deep space, this is not what I had in mind,” Marca grumbled.
“Eh, what can you do?” pondered Undertaker.
“We’re not even flying the ship!” Bill took a swig of some booze. “Load the cargo, unload the cargo, sit, drink, and repeat!”
“Eh, what can you do?”
“At least we’re making money,” Minh said between gulps of liquor. “I know I feel better, thinking about the funds we’re raising for the Clasbul Independence war that will inevitably occur one day. And we’re doing this with the Frybar’s cooperation. Not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” Bill probably drank more than anybody. ” ‘Please, Kyuuk Ryuukar, deliver this pork shoulder to the next town’? I can’t take it!”
“Eh, what can you do?”
“Hey, we’re getting to see all kinds of worlds, giving us more insight into the independence struggle. Once the war is over, we can choose the destination of this ship.”
“Once the war is over?” Marca threw up her hands. “When will it ever end?”
“Exactly.” Bill looked at Daswani. “If you can hack into this ship’s Datykirl, I can overpower the crew.”
Silently, the big man shook his head.
“Then what should we do?”
“What can we do?” corrected Undertaker, quite pleased with himself.
“Can’t you say anything else? It’s starting to get really old.” Marca glared.
“Sure. Did I ever tell you the story about the man who jumped into the thorns?”
Everybody groaned.