in the countdom of Hyde.”

That’s rough, thought Sobash, sympathizing with Jint, though he figured that it was only natural Jint had to face the various irksome obligations that came with reigning over a territory-nation now that he was an active grandee. Jint’s case was special, however, and deserving of his sympathy in one respect. After all, the young man’s father had acted irresponsibly when he himself became a grandee despite having only one child. That one child didn’t have much of a choice.

“So we’re to intimidate the landworld?” asked Roïryac, Ship Commander of the Sircaubh. He was one of the squadron’s two Senior Ship Commanders.

“I think it’s common sense to assume that’s what they expect from us.”

“Then there are no specific orders to do so?” he asked.

“It wouldn’t be an ‘ulterior reason’ otherwise.”

“But does the Countdom of Hyde have all the facilities we’ll need? From a cursory search, the system doesn’t even have proper fuel resupply,” said Serboth, Ship Commander of the Lymcaubh.

“Oh, we can’t complain about that,” said Atosryua. “These raid ships won’t always be fighting on battlefields with lots of facilities. In fact, we should probably think of places without such facilities as better for training exercises. Though that’s just my opinion,” said Atosryua.

“But we don’t have a supply corps accompanying us. Only an incompetent commander would ever send out a trample-blitz squadron without a supply corps,” she replied.

“It’s not impossible, you know. Coming under an incompetent commander. Besides, even a competent one might be compelled to issue utterly daft commands from time to time.”

“Getting forced into such a hopeless situation would have to be the work of an incompetent commander of higher rank.”

“Please, let’s drop this topic, Vice Hecto-Commander Serboth. Otherwise we’ll be here all day. Planar space is vast. There’s no way we can grasp every possible battlefield. Even if every commodore were perfect, a seam can open unexpectedly. And I don’t think for a microsecond that every commodore is, in fact, perfect at all.”

“So long as it’s an order from above, we can’t argue against it,” nodded Serboth begrudgingly.

“Exactly. Anyone else want to complain?” asked Atosryua. Her tone admitted no backtalk, but it wasn’t too hard to tell she herself was hiding how dissatisfied she was with their orders. “No complaints? Then let me split the squadron into two — the Red Team and the Blue Team. The Blue Team will be headed by me. The Red, I give to you, Roiryua.”

“Roger,” said Roiryua.

“You and I are now enemy commanders,” she said. “We each command half of the squadron. I’ve already selected which ships will be on each team. I grant Hecto-Commander Roiryua the right to choose which route each team will travel down.”

“Aren’t we already enemies, ma’am?” Roiryua pointed out. “I don’t need to be taking orders from you, Kilo-Commander. You’re the enemy.”

“I like that personality of yours, Hecto-Commander,” she said, putting a white hand on her forehead. “I have a leather sandbag. Whenever I’m irritated, I give it a punch or two, and let off a tiny bit of steam. I’m going to change that punching bag’s name to yours.”

“Thank you very much,” said Roiryua. “Incidentally, what is your favored punching bag’s current name?”

“This may be a confidential line, but I couldn’t divulge such a secret. In any case, let me amend my statement. You and I will be enemies shortly. As of now, you’re still my subordinate. Got it?”

“Roger that. Now then, I choose the clockwise route.”

“Very well. Now remember, the objective of the exercise is to take and maintain control over the Hyde Portal. The code to suspend the exercise will be the following phrase: ‘True solar flames are blue.’ If you receive the message ‘True solar flames are blue’ through the Camrinic crypto-mode, you will then revert to the original command structure immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Roiryua nodded.

“This confidential line is now the line for the Blue Team. That means that the ships excluded from this line belong to the Red Team. Now then, off we go. From this second onward, you and I are enemies, Hecto-Commander Roiryua.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nearly saluted before stopping himself with a strained smirk.

Then, the video of six of the ship commanders’ window-screens, including Roiryua’s, ceased to transmit.

I suppose this makes me a member of the Blue Team. Sobash didn’t feel strongly one way or the other about that. He didn’t know Hecto-Commander Roiryua well enough. Besides, this was just an exercise in the end. And he’d have to follow Kilo-Commander Atosryua’s command baton where it counted, too.

“Now then, we’re headed for the Ileesh Portal in a single column at maximum combat acceleration. Go to your respective bridges and issue your orders.”

Samson was in the chicrh ruhyrr (flotilla lessee’s office) of the supply ship Acrych Nata. The planar space map on the floor of the office was showing forty or more space-time bubbles. Each of the bubbles contained only a single ship. Space-time bubbles had a critical mass, and the ships that comprised the borh (flotilla) were so huge they only barely skirted below that limit.

Paper cup in hand, Samson gazed at the map. The flotilla was sailing smoothly. Too smoothly. The man was bored.

Mechanics starpilots were usually needed as specialists of temporary repairs. When voyages were proceeding without a hitch, he had no role to play. Moreover, he was just aboard ship to serve as the Count of Hyde’s proxy; each of those ships already had an inspector supervisor of its own. If issues did arise, they would deal with them. Worse yet, while those inspector supervisors were in the reserves, they were still Mechanics starpilots in rank, with quite a few outranking him.

He heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Samson may not have had frocragh, but he could tell who it was from the sound. He’d known Paveryua for long enough now. He was more than familiar with his subordinate’s mannerisms.

“I really can’t stand this ‘boredom’ thing,” grumbled Samson. “I’m the kind of guy who always needs to be

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