Sobash seemed about to grin. Just imagine the look on his face trying to work under Grinshia.
“Call Military Command Headquarters. I want to speak with the Commandant of Saubh Dtirér Casna (Trample-Blitz Squadron 1).”
“‘Trample-blitz squadron’?” Ecryua cocked her head.
“It’s a new type of squadron. Though at the moment, the command center is all there is to it. We’ll be part of Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 the moment it’s officially formed,” explained Sobash.
“‘Trample-blitz squadron,’ huh...” said the Vice Commander and Gunner, Idliac. “Now that’s talking tough, with a name like that.”
“We just have to hope it lives up to the name.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will. This ‘raid ship’ is a fine vessel. I’ve always thought patrol ships would be easier to handle if they’d just take out the mines,” said Grinshia.
“Well, if that’s what our tech master thinks, then it must be true.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
“Trample-blitz squadron” was a novel word for Sobash, too. He resolved to grasp the gist of the formations and personnel that were planned for Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 while they waited to hear back from the Commandant.
Each trample-blitz squadron was made up of twelve raid ships. Two of the twelve Ship Commanders were called the Almsarérh (Senior Ship Commanders), and they were of Hecto-Commander rank. If anything ever happened to a commanding officer, they would of course be replaced, and depending on the situation, a platoon of about four ships was to be entrusted. However, unlike assault squadrons composed of assault units, symh dtirér (trample-blitz units) had not been long-established, leaving room for formational flexibility.
“Ship Commander,” said the Communications Officer, Rearguard Starpilot Ïatechec. “The line is connected. The message lag is 2.7 seconds.”
Sobash stood up and saluted. “The Flicaubh has just finished its familiarization voyage and returned to base. I’ve just received orders from the Glagamh Byrer Claiïar (Training Fleet Command Center) to act under Your Excellency’s command for the time being. Your orders, Commandant Atosryua?”
“Thank you for your hard work, Ship Commander Sobash,” smiled Kilo-Commander Atosryua, after returning the salute. “I remember you.”
“Yes, Kilo-Commander, ma’am,” said Sobash, letting his saluting hand drop back down and nodding. “I haven’t yet had the honor of meeting you directly, but I was a senior starpilot on the Basrogrh, a ship that was in the assault unit that you commanded.”
“I know. I read the career log.”
“I see. What a coincidence, that we should cross paths again.”
“A coincidence? Do you honestly believe that?” she said, her tone a little teasing.
“Yes, ma’am. What else could it be?” said Sobash, tilting his head in puzzlement.
“I see you’re not very up on this sort of thing. I don’t blame you — judging by your career log, you’re all about trading. Oh well, never mind that. We’ll talk about that when we’re assembled. There’s no hurry on that front. The Training Fleet has already booked your ship to be lodged at Locrh Difaca Danbaurhmatmata (Special Construction Site 7022). Could I get your navigation plan?”
“Please wait a moment.”
After double-checking the location and relative speed of the designated base, Sobash set the acceleration to five daimon G-levels, calculated the route himself, and sent over the results through the Communications Officer.
They could see Atosryua’s eyes train left and right on-screen as she read the message.
“I see you’re taking things quite slowly, Vice Hecto-Commander.”
“I believe it would be best to proceed with caution while at the capital. The ship does, however, have resources to spare. We can expedite docking if required.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Atosryua. “Once things have settled down aboard ship, come with all of your crew over to the restaurant named ‘The Stylet.’ Let’s have ourselves a modest little meet-and-greet before Trample-Blitz Squadron 1’s glamsaïhoth (crest bestowal ceremony). I was waiting for you guys.”
“Then perhaps we should...” start accelerating, Sobash almost said.
“It’s fine,” said Atosryua, waving off the suggestion. “I just know you’ll all be driven like horses in time, so I’d like for you to take it easy for now. You can wring out, what, around thirty hours at most? Besides, for a restaurant as big-name as The Stylet, it’ll be tough to reserve a room. Or are you the type that can’t get a good night’s sleep unless you’re smack dab in the gleaming fields of battle?”
“Decidedly not,” Sobash smiled. “I’m not exactly yearning for the warzone quite yet, either. There are many things of beauty to be found outside the light show of combat. A crystal goblet filled with apple cider, for instance. Now then, until we meet again.”
The line dropped.
Sobash set himself back down into the Commander’s Seat and ruminated on that brief conversation. It appeared that in the Empire, some affairs were not the concern of ‘natural traders’ like him. And by the looks of things, Commandant Atosryua would explain it all. Her demeanor told him loud and clear that even if he were to say he didn’t want to hear it, she’d regale him all the same.
“All right, any bridge personnel who are supposed to be off-duty, feel free to rest. I will take a break as well. Deca-Commander Idlia, I leave the rest to you.”
When they all stood up and saluted, Sobash nodded in return, before withdrawing to his quarters. Then, he began to write a letter to Samson, whose whereabouts he knew not.
Samson was in Lacmhacarh. To be precise, he was in the ladabh (commercial complex) known as Baidec. It was the largest of the countless commercial complexes in the imperial capital, with innumerable ships and recreational facilities.
There was a bit of a housing shortage, but there were plenty of inns and hotels for people without homes in Lacmhcarh. Samson was currently staying in one
