Princess of the Empire (JNC Edition) Page 8

  “I didn’t even fully believe the reason he gave for hiding it. I think he perhaps kept birth-secrets solely to wind me up.”

  “But why?”

  “I’ll never forget it. When I was a child, I wanted him to tell me that I’m a daughter of love, so I was always badgering him to show me my gene donor. But he just refused to reveal them. Until one day, he finally agreed to bring my gene donor for me to meet. What do you think happened then?”

  “Did he not bring them after all?”

  “No, he committed a far more insidious act. He tricked me. He held Horia in his arms and said, ‘Say hello to one half of your genes’!”

  “Who’s Horia?”

  “Our cat!” she spat bitterly.

  Jinto burst out laughing. “Tell me you didn’t believe him, Lafier!?”

  “It’s not impossible.” Lafier watched Jinto’s mirthful grin with resentment.

  “What, really?” The outer corners of Lafier’s eyes were high on her head — not at all unlike a cat’s eyes. “You people go that far?”

  “It’s against the law. It would be unethical.”

  “I’m glad I’ve found a point of moral agreement with you people.”

  “You are Abh, too.”

  “Ah, right, right.” Jinto didn’t deny it. “But then, wasn’t it obvious it wasn’t true?”

  “I was eight years old. Of course I wouldn’t be very interested in legalities.”

  “You’ve got me there.”

  “I cried that whole night. Horia is a nice cat, but I couldn’t stand the idea that half of me came from it.”

  “I totally understand...... Okay, maybe not totally, but I understand.”

  “And the thing I could stomach the least, was how my own father was a degenerate who enjoyed creating cat-children!” Lafier’s right hand swung animatedly in the air.

  An unspeakable anxiety came over Jinto, who looked at the apprentice starpilot’s left hand. The control glove on her left hand was so still, it was as though it was held in place by glue. Relief washed over him.

  “Horia was only a kitten when it came to our home, and what’s more, I remembered the day it joined our family. And yet it took a whole night of tears for me to realize that.”

  “Hey, all’s well that ends well, right?”

  “No! Because I got it in my head that I must be the child of another cat. Every day I was worried I would grow pads on my palms, or that my nails would become retractable, or that my irises would change shape. Even now, I’ve never tensed up as badly as when I stared at my reflection in the mirror after my irises constricted from exposure to bright light.”

  “But now all doubt’s been cleared, I imagine.”

  “Yes.” Lafier nodded. “Though I’ll never forget those restless days. Part of the reason I want to become a starpilot is to get out from under my father.”

  “You don’t like your father?” Jinto didn’t know whether Abh standards of etiquette could condone prying into the life of a stranger this thoroughly, but despite his trepidation, he just had to ask.

  “I don’t dislike him.” Her otherwise pretty face wrinkled up in a grimace. “I don’t want to admit it, but I love him, and I’m proud of him. It’s just that when I’m near him, I sometimes get irritated.”

  The image of the face of his own father, the Count of Hyde, came to mind. A face he hadn’t seen except through occasional correspondence for seven years. The feeling that he’d been betrayed by him, those seven years prior, festered inside him.

  He couldn’t really lie to himself that he loved him. But he didn’t hate him, either. He felt nothing at all for him.

  That, or that deep, deep recess of his heart was refusing to embrace the emotion.

  “I guess every family’s got its share of circumstances,” Jinto remarked. “So, you kept saying your father wouldn’t tell you, but did you finally get him to at some point?”

  “Yes.” She turned around, and with a beaming smile, said: “She’s someone I know well — a woman I look up to. I was a daughter of love.”

  “Good,” Jinto said. And he meant it with all his heart.

  Chapter 4: Patrol Ship Goslauth

  “Jinto, have yourself a look below,” Lafier said suddenly.

  After a few seconds of microgravity and attitude control, a long stretch of time passed.

  Jinto’s talk of minchiu — which, much to his chagrin, did not seem to be of much interest to Lafier — was cut short, and he shifted atop his bunk-seat to gaze down at the floor.

  Amidst the unblinking stars, a structure was floating. It had the contours of a squashed hexagon, with a number of circular mouths open wide. Because it was slightly tilted, he could tell it was something like a tower, and one that he was either viewing from its base or its apex.

  “Is that the patrol ship Goslauth?” asked Jinto.

  “Correct. It’s somewhat bigger than this vessel, wouldn’t you agree?” said Lafier sarcastically.

  “Somewhat,” said Jinto, though in truth it he couldn’t really grasp its size. He was certain it had to be incredibly enormous, but his mind perceived it as being smaller than the vessel they were on.

  That was when it started suddenly zooming up in size. They stopped decelerating, and the ship’s interior reverted to microgravity. At the same time, their bunks reverted back to normal seats.

  They’d finally crossed paths with the patrol ship again. Its relative speed was very low. The gargantuan tower slowly, slowly rose up towards them.

  Jinto’s line of sight darted from the floor to the walls, then up to the ceiling. The part of the tower he’d been looking down moments ago was now scraping the stars far above him, and Jinto was beset by the false feeling that he’d plunged that whole distance down.

  A prolonged nose dive. Was this the vantage a suicidal feather that had jumped off a cliff would see in its final moments?

  The tower just wouldn’t end.

  “Wow, it really is astounding.” Jinto sighed with admiration. When he reflected on the fact that it had been built for battle, its aura became all the more imposing and overwhelming. The hull before their eyes keenly asserted that it was a weapon constructed to wreak havoc. The only functioning weapons of any kind Jinto had seen up until that point were the ribrasiac (REEBRAHSEEA, paralyzer guns) that Delktunian police officers had strapped to their hips. It would have been stupid beyond compare to draw any comparisons between the two. It was in a whole different league.

  “You’re a little slow on the uptake,” teased Lafier.

  “C’mon, I couldn’t tell from so far away. We’re in space. You people’ve got it made with your frocragh.” Jinto saw the face Lafier was pulling, and chuckled. “Please, you don’t need to give me that sympathetic look. I’ve never minded the fact that I lack frocragh, and I have every intention of living right and thriving from here on out as well.”

  “Of course.” Lafier looked away, flustered. “Allow me to give you the special opportunity to appreciate it.”

  “Thank you.”

  At last, the imperial crest passed by. Its design was the same as her rank insignia, but its hemming and the gaftnochec eight-headed dragon were gold, with a black base. And of course, the two insignias’ sizes were incomparable. The national crest on the patrol ship was likely big enough to host a game of minchiu.

  Finally, the warship’s bow came into view.

  With a wriggling of the fingers on Lafier’s left hand, their vessel slipped sideways. The tip of the giant warship swooped blurrily over Jinto’s head like a pendulum, and appeared on the opposite side.

  The patrol ship came dropping down. It was a scene one would expect to be accompanied by a roaring noise.

  “The Goslauth is leading-edge among the Empire’s warships,” explained Lafier. “It’s 12.82 üésdagh long.”

  “That’s all?” It was surprisingly small.

  “It’s small compared to an alaicec (AHLEK, battle-line warship). The ship you were on was almost certainly bigge
r than this one. However, there is probably no other warship with as much combat strength anywhere in the human-peopled cosmos, let alone the Empire.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He unreservedly believed it.

  The vessel shifted angles and revolved around the patrol ship a number of times. “That should be enough, I think,” said Lafier.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  When Lafier moved the fingers on her left hand, a cutout video frame of a male starpilot floated up amidst the starry heavens.

  “This is Vessel 1. Ship Command number-code is 01-00-0937684. Slomhoth (SLOHMFOHTH, mission) number-code is 0522-01. Requesting admission.”

  “Roger,” replied the starpilot. “External controls are ready. And let’s enjoy our little breaks in moderation, Ship Command. Unless you spotted something of note on the ship’s exterior?”

  “Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur had me show him the difference between this vessel and the main ship,” she replied, while giving Jinto a meaningful glance.

  “What do you mean? Actually, never mind, just get on with your longhoth rirragr (LONZHOHTH REERAHG, information link).”

  “Roger.” Lafier motioned her fingers and told Jinto, “To tell the truth, I have no desire to rely on computing crystals, but it’s a military regulation, so I can’t disobey.”

  The Star Forces aren’t stupid enough to give an apprentice the chance to damage the ship. But before Jinto could say as much, the patrol ship starpilot interrupted.

  “Link confirmed.”

  “Link confirmed on this end as well. Requesting end of transmission.”

  “Ending transmission.” The image of the starpilot vanished from the screen, to be replaced by a cavorting throng of numbers, glyphs and graphs.

  “This leaves me with nothing else to do,” said Lafier, a little frustrated.

  Jinto made sure his gratitude was known: “Thank you.”

  “It’s just my mission.”

  “So, what is your mission, exactly...?” asked Jinto. “What do you do when you don’t need to man the vessel? Do you have a lot of free time to fill?”

  “What are you saying?” Lafier pouted. “An apprentice’s job is to learn through observation.”

  “I mean, I know that, but...”

  “They make me do anything and everything the starpilots of the Gariac (GAHREEA, Flight Department) do. Provided it’s suited to an apprentice, obviously. All in all, I am kept quite busy.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll see how tough it can be if you become an apprentice.”

  “But I’ll be in the Sazoïc (SAHZOEE, Quartermasters’ Department), so...”

  “I’ve heard that the Quartermasters’ Department gets busy, too. They spend all day inspecting food and supplies, among other things.”

  “What a magnificent vocation,” Jinto groaned.

  The patrol ship’s outer wall drew nearer and nearer before their eyes. A gaping wide hole had formed on its side.

  Though the gravity was finely adjusted through attitude control, he felt out of sorts.

  The hole had arrived right behind them — or so it might have registered to him had he been given time to think before the entire steerer’s room shifted 90 degrees, after which the hole appeared to lie right below them. Their vessel, pulled by the patrol ship’s artificial gravity, sank gently down.

  At the last moment, the lower attitude-control jet nozzle spouted, softly landing the hull onto the gorïabh (GORYAHV, take-off deck). The ceiling lock gate of the horh (HORR, ship’s hatch) closed, and the lights turned on.

  “Commencing pressurization,” announced the starpilot from earlier, who appeared on screen once again.

  “Standing by while pressurization is in progress,” Lafier replied.

  The vessel proceeded to get sprayed from all directions by plumes of white mist. These plumes collided and formed a complex whirl. Finally, it evened out into an undifferentiated haze, and steadily cleared away.

  “Pressurization complete. Remain there and continue to stand by momentarily,” directed the starpilot.

  “Roger that.”

  “Wait, how come we need to stand by?” Jinto scanned Lafier’s expression to see if something was wrong. “Do they always have you wait a while?”

  “No, today is different.”

  “Then why...?”

  “They need to prepare for your Patmesaïhoth (PAHTMSAH’EEHOHTH, gangway welcome ceremony),” said Lafier as she removed her control glove and disconnected her circlet’s access-cable.

  “Patmesaïhoth?” That word rang a bell. If he recalled correctly, it referred to a ceremony held to welcome important people onto a ship. “Whose ceremony is it?”

  “If you’re really asking because you don’t know, then you have the astuteness of a cyanobacterium,” said Lafier.

  “Haha, sorry.” Of course it was his ceremony. There’s no way he’d be that dense. It’s just that he didn’t think he was all that “important” a person. “Isn’t that ceremony for people of the Cheüass (SHOOWAHSS, Kilo-commander) rank and up, though?”

  “It’s a ceremony for people of your tlaïgac (TLAEEGA, title), Lonh. You are a Lonh, after all.”

  “Now that you mention, I guess I am. But are they really willing to go through all that trouble just for little old me?”

  “You are a ‘grandee,’ Jinto. You’re not so low in the imperial hierarchy.”

  The Abh numbered about 25 million in total population. Most were gentry, with only about 200,000 nobles. Those that possessed populated planets as territory were called grandees. There were only 1,600 grandee families, and less than 20,000 individuals inclusive of family members.

  By comparison, there were about 1 billion imperial citizens, and approximately 900 billion territorial citizens under Abh rule on terrestrial worlds. With those numbers in mind, one could definitely appreciate how uncommon grandees truly were.

  It was true — the Household of the Count of Hyde belonged to a rare breed indeed –its not-so-favorable origin story notwithstanding.

  “I’ve never been good with ceremonies and functions and stuff...”

  “It won’t be that big a deal. Not enough to be called a ‘function,’ anyway,” Lafier assured him. “The ship’s captain will do a self-introduction, and then introduce you to the ship’s highest-ranked starpilots. That’s all.”

  “That may be a ‘that’s all’ to you, but not so much to me...”

  A door opened to their back left. An onuhociac (ONOOHOHKEEA, automaton) laid down a red carpet, and six starpilots ambled down it.

  The starpilot at the head of the entourage, a lady with dark bluish-grey shoulder-length hair and bob-cut bangs, wore an almfac clabrar (AHLFA CLAHBRAR, one-winged circlet). The wing extended out to pin her hair so as not to interfere with the equipping of her saputec (SAHPOOT, pressurization helmet), and it also served to display her sarérragh (SAHRRERAHZH, designation as captain). In addition, she also bore the ornamental belt-sash that was proof she was serving in that role, and wielded the greuc (GRYOO, staff of command).

  “Preparations for the Patmesaïhoth Ceremony are complete,” sounded the voice transmission. “Bring Lonh-Ïarlucec Dreur Haïder aboard.”

  “Roger,” said Lafier, and she looked at Jinto encouragingly.

  “Okay, I get it.” Jinto released his seatbelt and stood up. “You’re coming with me, right?”

  Lafier shook her head in amazement. “To do what?”

  “Oh,” Jinto said disappointedly. “Well, I, uh, hope I see you again later.”

  “The living quarters aren’t so spacious. We will likely be meeting again.” That wasn’t exactly the response Jinto had been hoping to hear, but he had no choice but to be satisfied with it.

  “All right, see you. And thank you for taking me here.”

  “I enjoyed myself.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  Amidst the six starpilots attending the Patmesaïhoth, the four lined up from Jinto’s right each had on the scarlet insign
ia of a steerer. At the leftmost position of those four stood the captain, and to her left there was the green insignia of the scœmh (SKEF, Engineers’ Department). At the very left, there was the white insignia of the Quartermasters’ Department.

  What am I supposed to do during times like these? Jinto regretted not asking Lafier beforehand. Unfortunately, there were no lectures on how a grandee should handle a Patmesaïhoth at the Abh Linguistic and Cultural Academy on Delktu.

  For the time being, he straightened up his back and attempted a dignified posture.

  An NCC (non-commissioned Lander crewmember), standing alone, blew a méc (MEH, whistle). The six starpilots saluted in unison.

  Suppressing his right hand’s reflexive impulse to return the salute, he instead kept with the general etiquette of the Abh (however awkwardly) and aligned his heels, straightened his back, and lowered his head.

  “We are honored by your presence, Lonh,” said the captain. The color of her irises brimmed like melted gold, in contrast with her black pupils. “I am Captain of the patrol ship Goslauth, Bomoüass (BOHMOHWAHS, Hecto-commander) Lexshue (LEKSHOO).”

  Huh, I guess Abhs introduce themselves by name when meeting new people, too. How... normal.

  Jinto lowered his head again. “My name is Linn ssynec-Rocr Ïarlucec Dreur Haïder Ghintec. I thank you, and I hope I can be of service on the way to the Capital, Captain.” Jinto was pleased he’d proved able to say something passable. He was especially happy he hadn’t butchered his own name.

  “Please leave it to us. Might I also introduce my subordinates, if you wouldn’t mind?” The Hecto-commander presented her five subordinates to him.

  Lexshue resembled Lafier, but only in some way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d thought that due to their uniform level of beauty, their features would by that same token lack individuality, but that was not the case. The other starpilots were beautiful in their own ways, with distinctive facial features.

  First was the bynecairh (BYOONKEHRR, supervisor) and Loüass Scœmr (LOHWAHSS SKEM, Engineering Deca-commander), whose name was Gymryac (GYOOMRYOOA). These were the titles of the crew member in charge of maintaining and inspecting the warship’s equipment, starting with its opsaic (OHPSEH, main engine system). In contrast with her ebony skin, her eyes and hair were a bright azure.