“You’re still not going to stop them?” he asked Grinshia, who was still by his side.
“No, I will. No matter what you say, Ship Commander, I cannot let my subordinates get injured over a farce like this.”
“Can I come with you?”
“For what, sir?”
“To arbitrate, of course. Looks fun.”
He didn’t know how she took that sentence, but in any event, she turned on her heels without a word and strode toward the cyclone of fists and fury.
But ultimately, she had no time to shine.
“ENOUGH!” Atosryua scolded.
That instant, the brawling NCCs froze in their tracks.
“I thought I told you playing with your food is off limits.”
“We aren’t ‘playing’!” said one stupendously courageous NCC. “We’re in the right!”
“So are you saying you’ve weaponized the food?” she said, glaring at him. “You do know how friendly-fire fights with weapons are punished under military regulations, do you not? And that food was provided for you by the Star Forces, of that there is no doubt.”
Even that brave man had no retort for that. If he was found to have brandished a weapon against a fellow soldier, then he’d be spending years brawling with mud and dirt on a freshly-terraformed landworld.
“Then it’s not a weapon? That’s good to hear. If I was forced to invite guard NCCs to this hall, I would be very disappointed. Now, back to the topic at hand: making your food into a plaything as opposed to a weapon is not a military violation, but do be careful. I’m sorry I’m pushing my pet peeve on you, but I have that right. If you doubt I’ll do anything about it, I suggest you press your luck. If you play with your food, I will hold you in insubordination. Hey, you, do you mean to break another of my rules?” she said, spotting some of them saluting stiff as boards with her eagle eyes. “You understand, I trust? Now then, you may continue.”
Not a one of them resumed fighting. In fact, they may have been searching for a pretext to stop.
“No one feels like it anymore? Well, I won’t order you to keep at it. It wasn’t very entertaining as far as fights go. Let’s just say I’m glad none of you are Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 people yet. I’d hate to have to enter a brawl this limp into the records of our squadron as its first-ever throwdown. Don’t forget what I said the next time this happens, got it?”
After that, a peaceful, relaxed air wafted over the venue.
Sobash stared as Grinshia walked away from him toward their subordinates in large strides. He could practically see the anger rising from her back like a shimmering heat haze. He didn’t know whether she was angry at their men for having started that stupid fight, or at the Commandant for stealing her thunder. Either way, she pushed into the throng and began counting the injured with remarkable self-control. Thankfully, the fighting hadn’t been that serious, and no one from either ship needed treatment.
Sobash then noticed Ecryua was by herself, standing still.
“What happened to the guy from before?” asked Sobash.
Ecryua cocked her head. What guy from before?
“The Linewing that you were talking to a little while ago.”
“Oh, him. I wasn’t talking. He was talking.”
“So, what happened?” He knew it wasn’t becoming to pry, but he found it hard to bottle up the need to know how Ecryua had handled him.
“He went over there.”
Poor guy, he thought.
That was when his frocragh picked up on somebody approaching them.
When he turned to look, there was Atosryua, cup in hand. “Great timing. I’ve been meaning to talk to you guys,” she said.
“With us, the former crew of the Basrogrh?”
“Right,” Atosryua nodded. “You’re Vanguard Ecryua, if I recall?”
“That’s me.”
“How about a drink?” Atosryua snapped her fingers, and a mobile table with cups shifted over.
Sobash took a glass of distilled apple cider, and watched as Ecryua chose a loudly-colored mixed drink. “Might you be telling us that it was no coincidence we became your subordinates, Commandant?”
“For starters. And at the same time, you’ll come to know how we’ll probably be in each other’s company for a long time.”
“I did entertain the notion, ma’am, but...”
“You were probably right to do so; that said, I hope and expect that train of thought to have veered from the beaten path. That way, it’ll serve as a topic of conversation down the road.”
“I’m afraid I’m not imaginative enough to meet those expectations, ma’am,” Sobash smiled wryly.
“That’s a pity. Oh well, let me in on your thought process anyway.”
“I surmised Her Highness the Royal Princess had something to do with it.”
“You’re on the money so far. And if you’d been off the mark from the first sentence, I’d have been disappointed, no matter how entertainingly wildly you’d swerved. In fact, I’d feel like reconsidering how long we’d last in each other’s company. Now, how exactly do you think she was involved?”
“Fïac Lartnér is currently taking a break, but she’ll be returning to the Star Forces eventually. She is an Abliar, after all. Those born in the Abliar Clan can’t keep away from an active battlefield for too long. And would it not be our duty, then, to provide her with a place to return to?”
“You could put it that way,” she nodded lightly. “Though I wouldn’t use that phrasing.”
“How would you put it, ma’am?”
“We’re her ‘chosen.’”
“Favoritism?” said Ecryua, with Ecryua-like brevity.
“Now that’s straightforward,” said Atosryua with admiration. “That’s right.”
“So we’re being treated with undue favoritism?”
“No, Fïac Lartnér is.”
“I see.” Sobash was beginning to understand now. The Imperial Family was forced to vie for the throne. Each individual born with royal blood was so obligated. And what the Empire sought most in an emperor was an aptitude for military leadership. As such, young Abliars competed with each other for the path to the throne through Star Forces positions. Whichever Abliar in a given generation made it to the rank of Imperial Admiral first would be crowned the next Emperor. The Imperial Family
