“Please, could you stick to either praising me, or disparaging me, but not both?”
“Hey, pal, I’m nothing if not consistent.”
“You certainly are.”
“Let me tell you, being an inspector supervisor isn’t just bossing people around. You’ve also got to take care of the folks with the blue hair.”
“Are you referring to the Basrogrh?” said Paveryua, looking distinctly skeptical. “You took care of them, Inspector Supervisor? I seem to recall one time when I saluted Vanguard Starpilot Sobash by your quarters, only to find he was carrying your dead drunk form. Is that what you call taking care of someone on your home planet, sir? Because on mine, it’s the opposite.”
Just as Samson was about to retort, somebody entered the office.
“Ah crap,” said Samson, ducking his head. “I can’t stand that woman.”
“I see,” said Paveryua, positively delighted.
“The ship Her Highness the Royal Princess was on was attacked! How can you be so relaxed!?” accosted Sehrnye. “And could that be alcohol I’m seeing? Unlike the Abh, you can get drunk, ruhyrh (flotilla lessee)!”
Samson didn’t mind getting treated like some pale shadow of an Abh; there wasn’t the faintest fiber of him that bought into the delusion that he was an Abh in anything but name. The laws of the Empire could claim what they wanted — he was a proud man of Midgrat.
“That’s not entirely correct,” said Samson, ignoring the latter of the two questions. “The ship that got attacked was the one that was going to be the manor for the House of Hyde. But the Captain wasn’t on that ship.”
“I don’t know who this ‘captain’ is, but what do they have to do with Fïac Lartnér?” she pressed.
“Ah,” said Samson, smiling awkwardly, “Fïac Lartnér is the Captain. I’ve gotten so used to calling Her Highness by her military title.”
Even from just his recent, limited interactions with her, he could sense the sheer reverence this woman held for Lafier, so he braced himself to get shouted at for being too familiar when referring to royalty, but it seemed Sehrnye had the common sense not to push her preferences on others.
“I’m just glad Her Highness is okay. That is, if what you say is true. All the same, this is a matter of grave concern, is it not?”
“It’s just as you say,” said Samson sincerely. Now there was the possibility they couldn’t enter the Countdom of Hyde. In all likelihood, they’d end up getting stuck in the system right before Hyde, this “Vorlash Countdom” or some such. And wasting hours and days doing nothing would eat into their funds. If they didn’t play this right, even payments toward the salaries of the servant vassals would get affected.
Yet another job I don’t know my way around, huh, thought Samson, disheartened.
On the whole, late pay wasn’t a thing in the Star Forces. Even if it had happened, it would’ve been incumbent on Samson to stand for his NCC subordinates and denounce his superiors. This was different, though. Even as the head vassal, he didn’t have the heart to pillory Jint. He’d probably end up taking the brunt of the vassals’ slings and arrows defending him.
And how could he possibly get through it all without an occasional pint? Samson thrust his empty glass at Paveryua.
Sehrnye raised her eyebrows, but didn’t bring it up. “Shouldn’t we be raising our speed?” she asked.
“What for?” said Samson readily, having anticipated that question. “You’re not saying you want to rush toward Fïac Lartnér as fast as physically possible, are you?”
“I am,” she nodded.
What good would that do, he nearly said, but he bottled that up and left it at: “Either way, the flotilla is already sailing at max speed. We can’t fly any faster.”
“Then I suppose I have to bear it,” she said, looking truly crestfallen. “If only our ship had planar space navigation functionality, then I’d have liked to rush over right away.”
Sehnye, Ltd. owned a Lander-pilotable antimatter fuel tank inspection ship, also named “the Sehrnye,” but it, of course, lacked that functionality. That ship was packed somewhere in the hold of this ship, the Acrych Nata.
“Oh, I know!” she said, and Samson steeled himself for the needless toil that was sure to follow that statement. “How about we organize a guard garrison?”
“A guard garrison?” Samson was taken aback.
“In the domain I used to be part of, the vassals all received minimal military training. I mean, we were all women, but this flotilla has a lot of former soldiers, including you, sir...”
“Please, enough,” he said, promptly rejecting the notion. “According to our intel, the land army of the Three Nations Alliance is still on the planet of Martinh. A thrown-together unit isn’t going to help.”
Given how she’d asserted her own experience, he figured she might volunteer for the guard garrison herself; only, she’d want to organize a unit of guards specifically for the princess, not for the Countdom of Hyde. Sure enough...
“I’m not saying we gain total control over a landworld,” said Sehrnye, lips pouting. “I just want to protect Fïac Lartnér and Lonh-Dreur...”
“There’s already a guard unit for that.” It wasn’t a standing unit, but it would defend the facilities of the House of Hyde — which, for the foreseeable future, amounted to the Count’s Manor and the antimatter fuel factories.
“Wow,” she said, her face lighting up. “In that case, kindly add me to that unit. It’s our responsibility to protect Her Highness
