“Well,” Swohsh continued, “you see, I, uh, took a look at the photo the Corints showed me, and...”
“Huh?”
“So, if I could make a personal request...”
“Yes? What is it?”
“It’s just, I heard you were looking for someone to raise the kittens, and if it’s all right with you, I’d like to humbly throw my hat in as a candidate. Cats might cause disturbances to the ecosystem, but there should be no problem whatsoever if I were to raise a cat here in the manor.”
“I’d be delighted,” said Jint. “I have to warn you, though, cats don’t really help in the tidiness department. If you mean to keep this room tidy for me, you may have to keep out any cats.”
“I see. It seems there’s much you must tell me; I don’t know a thing about raising cats.”
“I can help you with that,” said Jint. “Of course, there’s usually a lot of people in any given group of Abhs with many years’ experience raising cats, so you might not need my help in the end. I have two kittens left; would you like both of them?”
“No, thank you,” said Swohsh, shaking his head. “This will be my first creature, so tending to the needs of just one is likely challenging enough. And I’ll be fairly busy for a while, too. I’d like to take the pure-white one, if there’s no issue in doing so.”
“No, no issues. Please cherish it and make it feel loved.”
“Thank you so very much,” said Swohsh, expressing his overflowing gratitude before leaving the room with a spring in his step. The man hadn’t touched his tea.
“So that’s one kitten you’ve got left,” said Samson.
“Yep,” Jint nodded. But he hadn’t forgotten the terror of the dish called “lutimond.” “Don’t tell me YOU want to ‘raise’ a cat, too, Mr. Samson?”
“You don’t have to give me that look,” grumbled Samson. “I know how to love a living creature, too, you know.”
“So do you want it?”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to give mine Lord something extra to worry about.” Just then, a call-received beep sounded from Samson’s wristgear. Samson squinted to read. “Oh, it’s a letter from Vice Hecto-Commander Sobash.”
“His pen’s always at the ready.”
“Actually, I heard about this letter directly from the Vice Hecto-Commander himself. Was wondering what became of it, since it was taking so long to arrive. I’m sure it traveled far, and for no reason.”
Just like my journeys, you could say, mused Jint.
When Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 returned to the imperial capital, dozens of mass-produced Caubh-class assault ships were already off on familiarization voyages.
The two Senior Ship Commanders and the Senior Staff Officer of Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 were promoted to Kilo-Commander. Roiryua was assigned to Saubh Dtirér Mata (Trample-Blitz Squadron 2), and the other Senior Ship Commander, Clapaimh, was assigned to Saubh Dtirér Bina (Trample-Blitz Squadron 3). The Senior Staff Officer, Semlaich, was made the Commandant of Saubh Dtirér Gona (Trample-Blitz Squadron 4).
In addition, some among the staff officers, all of whom now had valuable experience under their belts, were assigned to the new squadron command centers, and some were appointed as ship commanders; those officers left the command center of Squadron 1. The Ship Commanders were allocated to the new squadrons as well. Not even Squadron 1’s flagship, the Lymcaubh, was able to stay with Squadron 1.
Only Commandant Atosryua was left at the Glagamh Saubr Dtirér Casna (Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 Command Center). And the Flicaubh was the only original ship that stayed in Squadron 1.
As a matter of course, Atosryua set up a provisional command center on the Flicaubh, but in this situation she was no different from a freeloader. The “provisional command center” consisted of a single starpilot’s quarters.
“I’m going to be made Senior Staff Officer?” Sobash couldn’t believe his ears. He’d come to pay her a visit, curious what she was doing holed up in her quarters, only to discover she was working out the personnel shifts.
“Correct,” she said, sipping her tea. “This isn’t favoritism.”
“But why, ma’am?”
“You’re better suited to being a staff officer than a commander. Not that you weren’t an excellent commander, but as an assistant and advisor your skills will shine even more.”
“I know you wouldn’t have picked me if this were just favoritism, Commandant, but I’m afraid it hasn’t sunk in yet,” he told her from the heart.
Sobash was a merchant. Ever since he was young, he’d thought he’d stand at the top — and that he’d only be working for others for a very tiny sliver of his existence.
“If you don’t pass muster, then I’ll fire you without hesitation, so don’t worry.”
“That’s a relief,” he said, again with all sincerity.
The electricity of the battlefield was gratifying, particularly at the beginning of his tenure, when the fresh new sense of danger kept him sweating and on his toes. But as of late, he’d had his fill. He missed his free-wheeling days as a trader. It was too much to hope for such an unfettered lifestyle in a time of war, but the urge to be a supply ship captain and serve at the rear while taking it easy grew with each passing day.
But if someone wanted him on the frontlines this badly, his personality forbade him to decline. Now, even if he dove back into his ideal world, the fact that he disregarded her best-laid wishes for him would gnaw at the back of his mind and suck the joy out. At the end of the day, it was just easier to prioritize the will of another over his own. If that other person (i.e., Atosryua) truly had need of him, that was to be appreciated. On the other hand, if he ended up focusing all of his efforts on what turned out to be a flight of fancy, then misfortune would darken the doorsteps of both parties. Thankfully, Atosryua seemed to
