“I fall under neither category,” said Sobash as he reached out for another cup. “I am from an assault ship, but it may be more accurate to put me in under the ‘vice commander’ category.”
“Did they gather starpilots with diverse backgrounds on purpose?” Serboth muttered to herself.
“But it’s too lopsided for that. In that case, there should be people who were vice commanders on battle-line ships, or manoüass laiter (defense ship captains),” said Deurec.
“True,” Serboth nodded.
From there, the topic shifted to whether the raid ship should be operated as a light patrol ship or a heavy assault ship. Serboth was on the heavy assault ship side, and Deurec was on the light patrol ship side. Both seemed to be repping for their previous positions. Sobash felt no loyalty to his previous position in and of itself, so he remained neutral. Soon, another starpilot joined the debate, averring that raid ships were raid ships and nothing more, raising the temperature of the argument even higher.
A tad peckish, Sobash stepped away and approached the mobile table. While rank was said to be moot during this banquet, starpilots tended to chat with starpilots, and NCCs with NCCs. Even starpilots from landworlds who’d earned status as gentry were speaking with NCCs.
Suddenly, a familiar starpilot came into view — it was Ecryua. Meanwhile, a linewing starpilot he didn’t know was enthusiastically chatting her up.
Maybe she’s finding him annoying in his persistence, thought Sobash. There was no sign from her that she minded his presence, but then again, there was no sign she was enjoying his presence, either.
Sobash walked over to the pair. “Vanguard Ecryua, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “More or less.”
He sized up the Linewing Starpilot as a father might. He must be young, given his rank. In addition, his features were very young. Not much time must have passed since he’d hit his slow-aging period.
Maybe I ought to have just minded my own business, he thought. Knowing her personality, if she’d felt him a bother, she would have left him hanging immediately, even if he’d been His Highness the Imperial Fleet Commander-in-Chief.
Besides, he was lower in rank than her. If she was standing near a man who kept on firing words in her direction, then she really was enjoying herself to an extent.
“Uh, Ship commander...” The Linewing looked nervous, raising and lowering his right hand as if swallowing the urge to salute.
“You heard the Commandant, didn’t you? No saluting.” Maybe he’s mistaken me for a rival in love. Honestly, if he’s going to be putting the moves on a higher-ranked soldier, he needs a bit more nerve, he thought, all the while smiling his way. “I’ll get out of your hair. Have fun, you two.”
He left them alone and picked up a plate and chopsticks.
“Ship Commander,” said Grinshia. “There’s a fight.”
Sure enough, a commotion had broken out. One with multiple people on each side, at that. On one side: the crew of the Flicaubh.
“Where’s the other side from?”
“The Lymcaubh, sir.”
“I see,” he nodded. “My ship’s crew better win.”
“May you grant me permission to stop them?”
“No need to grant you permission. If you want to stop them, you can. I didn’t know arbitrating fights was a pastime of yours.” Sobash was exceedingly pleased. He’d finally found a bad habit in her.
“It isn’t a pastime, sir.”
“Then what’s the issue?” asked Sobash, with some disappointment.
“We need to stop them, because we’re obligated to,” she said impatiently.
“Why, though? The venue is quite large. If you don’t want to participate in the fight, just keep your distance and no harm will come.”
“That’s not the reason I want to stop the fight, sir.”
“Then why?”
“Our subordinates may get injured.”
“But they’re not armed. They won’t be maiming each other fighting hand-to-hand, and we can give them any treatment they might need before departing.”
“That may be, but...”
“But?”
“They may hold grudges.”
“Which stopping them won’t solve. Do you know what caused this?”
“It seems it started when a conversation was struck with a crewmember of the Lymcaubh.”
“Why would that spark a fight?” he asked, tilting his head in puzzlement.
“I don’t know the particulars, but it seems it’s a lady who’s popular on the Lymcaubh.”
“And the crewmember of ours who talked to her is male?”
“Yes. Multiple males, actually.”
“The picture is getting clearer by the second,” he said, observing the fight for the time being. “Low-gravity fistfights... how clumsy. How unsightly.”
“Of course they’re not fighting on the level of Airship Branch NCCs, sir.”
“Even for Mechanics Branchers, they’re pretty bad fighters. It’s settled — I’m giving them training to do later. Fortunately we still have time.”
Although rare, there were times starship crews had to emulate bausnall Üacér (Airship Branch soldiers) and serve as land war troops. For that reason, the Airship Branch wasn’t the only division whose soldiers received such training. The soldiers of the Star Forces, too, were expected to master base-level close quarters combat skills.
As more and more joined, the fight gradually grew in scope. The mobile tables surrounded the scufflers, in an attempt to contain any damage. One of the crewmembers called over a mobile table, which, like all machines made to serve humanity, sadly couldn’t disobey.
Several hands reached for the plates on the table, and much of that food soon found itself flying through the air. One plate even made its way all the way over to Sobash. It was a low-gravity environment, so projectiles soared long and far. However, since the Abh were furnished with frocragh, none of those culinary missiles hit them.
But they couldn’t afford to do anything more; they were all still eating, after all. Before Sobash’s very eyes, a plate was sticking out of
