He ordered Deca-Commander Idlia to have the crew line up into two columns. Sobash himself, of course, stood in front of them. The crews of the other ships were lined up in identical files. With a large gap in the center, the crews’ respective sets of columns were face-to-face, six crews on one side and six on the other.
The venue’s gravity level was sent to 0.5 daimon, which was the carefully considered standard for standing banquets, meant to prevent foot swelling.
The whistle sounded.
Sobash pulled out the command baton from his waist and held it in front of his face. This was a rite permitted only to those who bore the reins of command. The majority of soldiers, who had no command batons, saluted as normal.
Commandant Atosryua walked out in front, leading her staff officers. She stepped onto the platform at the farthest point from the door and about-faced. The soldiers dropped their salutes at her turning around.
“Sorry for the wait,” she said. “Bénh, tyce loré!” (Everyone, take your cups!)
Mobile tables with the cups appeared on each side of each crew’s columns, and began moving from the back of the line to the front. Finally, the mobile table came by Sobash, and he glanced at it. Various drinks had been prepared for them, because every individual had their preferences, and some did not drink alcohol at all (like Grinshia). Sobash chose the sparkling rice wine. The Abh believed that particular beverage to be indispensable to celebrations, and Sobash was no exception. As for the drink’s container, it was made of bamboo genetically modified to be made into cups, feeling sticky to the touch.
“None of you are yet official members of Trample-Blitz Squadron 1,” said Kilo-Commander Atosryua, though not before making sure everyone had their drinks. “At present, the only official members are the command center soldiers. That being said, Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 will eventually be formed via each of your ships. Squadron 1 has nothing to boast of, but that’s not shocking considering it hasn’t been born yet. In any case, I unfortunately can’t tell you to be proud of getting into my squadron. We must build a foundation of which we can be proud. After a series of exercises, our squadron will probably be dismantled, with each ship dispersed to a new, different squadron. Every one of you is expected to serve as a cornerstone of the trample-blitz squadrons to come. Then you can hold your heads up high and tell your subordinates, your colleagues, even your superiors, ‘welcome to our squadron.’ Here’s hoping that greeting someone to a trample-blitz squadron becomes synonymous with sharing in glory.” She held up her bamboo cup. “And though I know this is a wish that can’t come true, I hope that when the Empire snatches victory, every single person here gathers again to talk and reminisce about the days they earned bounteous glory in battle. Tyce cosé!”
With that call to toast, they cheered in response and partook.
“All right, everybody, please enjoy yourselves. There’s only two rules — no saluting or bowing, and no playing with your food. I can’t stand it when people play with their food. It’s indecent. Outside of that, I’m permitting you to let loose a little. You can lick your plates, and you can even shake hands with cats.”
At the snap of her fingers, even more mobile tables, this time with both food and drink, entered the venue. The soldiers broke rank and grouped around the cuisine on offer. Sobash viewed it all out of the corners of his eyes as he took up a fresh new cup. The banquet would last long enough, so the food wouldn’t be going anywhere. Right now, what he needed to secure instead was conversation partners.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, raising his cup to a close-by female ship commander. “I’m Vice Hecto-Commander Sobash of the Flicaubh.”
“I’m Vice Hecto-Commander Serboth, Ship Commander of the Lymcaubh,” she said, smiling as a formality.
“How is your ship?” he asked, deciding to go with a safe topic.
“It handled amazingly smoothly. The only defect was with the water drainage system.”
“Talk about spoiling a perfect ride.”
“I know. Were there no such problems on the Flicaubh?”
“The drainage system was fine. We did find a few small things here and there that could be improved upon, but we’d be perfectly happy with the ship as is, too.”
“I think the number one thing to improve is how they’re having the Gunner pilot while in 3-space. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Would you rather have the Captain pilot, as with assault ships?”
“Right,” she nodded. “In the heat of battle, having the Ship Commander give orders while the gunner moves the ship strikes me as too circuitous. The Ship Commander piloting the ship directly would be more efficient.”
“I would counter by saying that there’s no correlation between one’s piloting skills and one’s aptitude as a commander. Wouldn’t it be difficult to apply both skills at once?”
“We need to be doing both. While they operate on smaller scales, the Captains of assault ships and defense ships are asked to do the same. You were the Ship Commander of an assault ship once, too, right, Ship Commander Sobash?”
“No, actually,” Sobash confessed. “I was promoted from the Senior Starpilot of an assault ship directly to Raid Ship Commander.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said, blinking.
If Captains were the ones to pilot in 3-space like she wants then I would never have gotten the chance to be a raid ship captain, he thought to himself.
“I don’t have any experience as an assault ship captain, either,” said a male starpilot, joining the conversation. “I’m Deurec of the Batcaubh. I was the Vice Commander of a patrol ship. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m surprised. I’d thought a lot of us had experience on assault ships.”
