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5.26% 4+4 / Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Delktu Spaceport

章 2: Chapter 1: Delktu Spaceport

The hustle and bustle hit his ears the instant he stepped off the dobroriac (DOHBROHREEA, elevator-tube) leading away from the planet's surface. Jinto stood still and looked around the waiting-plaza.

Is this what this place looked like? Jinto tried to recall what it had been like, back then.

It was his second time arriving at a bidautec (BEEDOHT, spaceport). The first time was seven years ago, when he'd arrived at this very spaceport on the planet Delktu from Martin (or Martinh "MARTEENYUH" as the Abh pronounce it).

His memories of that time, however, were quite fuzzy. He was sure he must have passed through here while he was following that stewardess on the rébisadh (REBEESAHDTH, cargo passenger ship), though.

All around the circular floor shot elevator-tubes connecting to various places within the port, and at the center lay the elevator-tube leading back to the surface that was also used for cargo. The sight reminded him of the Nexus Floor in the hybrid-functionality building in which he was born and raised.

The difference was that this place was a space for endless carousing. People, self-propelled vending machines, and more were milling around all the countless tables and seats. Of course, there were also people seated on those chairs, many tucking into the food and drink they'd purchased off the vending machines passing by while chatting cheerfully in a variety of languages.

The informational broadcast rose in volume so as not to be drowned out by the background music.

"The Lengarf Glorn, the rébh (REV, passenger ship) headed toward the Laicerhynh Estatr (LEKUHRRYOONYUH ESTAHT, Duchy of Estoht), is scheduled for a 17:30 departure. Customers who have not yet completed their check-in procedures, we urge you to do so soon, before proceeding to elevator-tube 17..." Either Delktunians knew how to kill time, or this was the norm across most of the spaceports of the frybaréc (FRYOOBAR, Empire).

Other passengers darted around Jinto in annoyance. Realizing he had become an obstacle in their path, Jinto started walking, too. The dagboch (DAHGBOHSH, self-propelled luggage) zoomed after him. Gravity here was maintained to be equal to that of Delktu's surface.

The hundred or so people who'd departed the surface aboard the elevator-tube got swallowed by the bustle, and in mere moments, Jinto was all by himself. Not that he hadn't felt alone even inside the tube. As a whole, Delktunians were friendly, but when it came to him, no one initiated any conversation. For instance, a group of three had been laughing and chatting until they caught sight of Jinto, after which they quickly cleared out to the side. When Jinto passed into view, the atmosphere around them grew tense.

Oh well, I guess only real weirdos would want to chat it up with somebody dressed like me.

The sorf (SORF, jumpsuit) he was wearing underneath was more than fine. It was the fashion of the day, after all.

The daüch (DAOOSH, long robe), on the other hand! Why in blazes did he need to parade around in a daüch!? It was absurd. The robe lacked sleeves, while its shoulders hung over each of his own in a V-shape. Held in place by the ctarœbh (KTAREHV, ornamental sash) tied around his waist, it widened from there until it reached his feet. It was a stark white, while its hem and collar bore thick bordering.

The datycirh (DATYOOKEERR, computing crystals) inlaid in his creunoc (KRYOONO, compuwatch) were green, identifying his family status as a newly ascended noble.

In addition, an elegant almfac (AHLFA, circlet) adorned his head. It was made to match Jinto's status, though he didn't know that. As it was vouched for by the Gar Scass (GAR SKAHS, Institute of Imperial Crests), one could only assume it was a good match for him.

This was the standard outfit among rüé-simh (ROOEH SEEF, imperial nobles).

In fact, this was the first day he'd ever put on the appearance of a noble. Granted, upon inspecting his reflection in the mirror, it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. If one didn't pay too much mind to how his shoulders were broader than a typical Abh's, the look was tolerable, if only barely.

That being said, it was not at all common for a noble to be alone in a civilian spaceport, and his brown hair instantly gave him away as not being Abh.

"We thank all currently disembarking patrons for riding with the passenger ship Sellef Niziel. Welcome to the Dreuhynh Bhoracec (DROOHYOONYUH VOHRAHK, the Countdom of Vorlash)! The next elevator-tube will be departing for the surface in three minutes. The baüriac (BAOOREEA, connecting shuttle ship) for the planet Gyuxath will be..."

These announcements were also broadcast twice: The first time in Delktunian, and the second in Baronh (BAHROHNYUH).

Sure enough, there was a crowd that had just disembarked the Sellef Niziel, but they didn't seem to have any desire to get right on the elevator-tube. By all appearances, they instead planned to hold their first drinking party on Delktu at this geosynchronous orbital spaceport. They bought food and drink from the vending machines and spread them out on the tables.

Passengers who would soon be leaving this star system also drank together, and with great gusto. Jinto wondered how many people passed out drunk and let their ships slip away each day.

He couldn't blame them. Almost all of them were immigrants, and for them, this was the one and only time they'd ever travel through space. Small wonder, then, that they'd want to cut loose.

"Hey! Lin Jinto!"

Jinto thought he must be hearing things. Unlike on Martin, on Delktu an individual's family name came before their given name, so "Lin Jinto" was most definitely his name.

Not expecting much, Jinto searched for the source of that voice. If he hadn't been hearing things, he was sure to have simply heard someone wrong; failing that, there was somebody else with the same name.

So he thought, but when he made out a strapping young man occupying a round table for four by himself, he started beaming with a joy he couldn't see coming.

"Ku Durin!" Jinto called his friend's name as he came to the table half-running. "What're you doing in a place like this?"

"What am I doing? What else could I be doing here, ya blockhead? I'm here to see you off, dude. Duh."

"I see! Thank you, man."

"Or is the presence of a little urchin come to see you off bothersome to Mr. Fancy-shmancy Noble?"

Jinto laughed. "I said 'thank you,' didn't I? Dumbass. You do know what the words 'thank' and 'you' mean, right?"

"I do when they're pronounced right, ya phony immigrant. I'm surprised your accent never slipped out. Well, whatever, just sit down, would ya? I'm tired of waiting for you. Wasn't it supposed to be an 18 o'clock departure? I wanted to see you off before you boarded, but I got here too early."

"You should've sent me a message. I would've met up with you." Jinto plopped onto a seat and took a look around expectantly.

"Ah, yeah." Durin looked a little shamefaced. "I'm the only one who's here to see you off. The others aren't coming."

"...Oh." He tried to conceal his disappointment, but he wasn't very successful.

"To tell you the truth, I was a little uneasy myself. I was afraid you might just ignore me when I called you over."

"What're you talking about?" Jinto objected placidly. "C'mon, man, we're minchiu mates and everything. I wouldn't ignore you."

"Yeah, and we never had another player as terrible as you," Durin replied. But then, suddenly, his expression turned gloomy.

"Don't blame them, all right? We were all shocked. I mean, we knew you were going to an Abh school, but we never dreamed you were so... high-status..."

"It's fine," said Jinto. "I was probably in the wrong for keeping mum. But would you have honestly let me be your friend if I'd told you I was a noble?"

"No." Durin shook his head. "It'd be pretty hard to imagine."

"Yeah."

"Minchiu" was the most popular ball sport in Delktunian society, with teams of ten competing against each other. Not only were there professional minchiu teams, there were also regional clubs, as well as school and even company clubs. Jinto learned about the game in his school's minchiu club, and discovered, to his surprise, that he had some talent at it, after which he joined the regional club. There he made loads of friends, starting with Ku Durin.

But Jinto had had a secret. He had pretended he was the child of an ordinary immigrant. A mere three days prior, Jinto confessed to his band of friends that he had to leave Delktu, and that he was in fact an imperial noble.

From the way the atmosphere soured, one might have thought he'd confessed to killing someone. He'd never forget their reactions for the rest of his days. Unable to stand the situation, he'd turned heel and fled.

"None of us knows how to hang with a noble. Forget nobles, we'd never even seen a reucec (RYOOK, landed gentry) before."

"I get it, 'cause not even I know how I'm supposed to be acting."

"Sounds serious." Durin nodded. "But ya know, those noble clothes really suit you."

"Don't go saying things you don't actually believe, ya galoot." Jinto flicked his robe with his fingers. "Give it to me straight, it looks like something out of a history play."

"I've gotta say, I'm feeling good. It's not often a poor surface-dweller boy gets to talk face-to-face with a high and mighty noble — and a bhodac (VODA, landed, high-ranked "grandee") youth at that!" Durin looked around and said "Oh, looks like we stand out a bit, huh."

"Stop it," said Jinto, exasperated. "I know how I must look. I don't look Abh, that's for sure."

To that, Durin didn't respond. "So, you'll be returning to your home planet, right?"

"Huh?" Jinto blinked. Now that he mentioned it, while Jinto had told them he'd be leaving Delktu, he never did inform them where he'd be going. "No, man. I'm going to Lacmhacarh (LAHKFAHKARR)."

"The arauch (AROHSH, imperial capital)?"

"Right. It's 'study abroad' for me once again, only this time around I'll be attending a cénruc sazoïr (KENROO SAHZOEER, quartermasters' academy)."

"The hell is that?" Durin stared back at him blankly.

"A school that trains administrative officials for the military," Jinto explained. "Though I'll be a lodaïrh sazoïr (LOHDAEERR SAHZOEER, starpilot quartermaster). Two months ago, I took the exam at the Laburéc (LAHBOOR, Star Forces) banzorh ludorhotr (BAHNZORR LOODORROHT, recruiting office), and I got in."

"You're gonna be a soldier?" His eyes opened wide, his surprise undisguised.

"Yep."

"But haven't you got your own ribeunec (REEBYOON, star-fief)? Why're you going outta your way to..."

"I'm duty-bound, my friend. To inherit your snaic (SNEH, rank of nobility), being born into a noble household isn't enough. You need to serve in the Star Forces as a starpilot for a minimum of 10 years. My father was already of advanced age, so they made an exception for him, but that won't fly for me."

"Guess nobles've got it rough, too."

"Yeah. Seems like the higher your status in the Empire, the more obligations are thrust on you. I like it that way, though. It makes a lot more sense than the other way around. That said... it'll actually be three years as an army trainee, and then ten years as a starpilot, for a total of thirteen years of army life. Kill me now."

"But you will be returning to your home planet, right?"

"At some point, yeah. It is my fief, after all." Though calling his home planet his "fief" felt weird.

"No, I'm talking about returning there now. You've been gone for a long-ass time already." Durin frowned.

"True, true." Jinto hadn't set foot on Martinh soil in seven years. It had been so long that he wasn't certain he could even properly speak Martinese anymore. His only real lasting link with his home planet was the monthly tidings from his father. According to that correspondence, Teal Clint had become a leader in the anti-imperial movement. Jinto had no idea what had become of Teal's wife Lina.

"Sadly, I'm not in any position to return at the moment," he said, shaking his head. "It seems it's not really a home for me anymore. The founding story of the Dreughéc Haïder (DRYOOZHEH HAEEDEHR, Household of the Count of Hyde) isn't a heroic one. It's the tale of an original sin. The people of Martinh all hate me and my father."

"Ah." His expression was one of deep sympathy. Though they may have been the descendants of immigrants, Delktunians felt a fierce affection for their planet. Getting chased away from their land with hurled stones was their greatest fear. "But you want to be a fapytec (FAHPYOOT, lord) despite all of that?"

"I don't want to be one," he pouted, chagrined. "I can't tell you how many times I've thought about renouncing my inheritance rights. About becoming a citizen of Delktu and carrying on the same as ever. And even if I wanted to revert back to being a citizen of Martinh, it's not like they'd forgive me anyway."

"Then why didn't you?"

"My father persuaded me not to. Here's the deal..."

The man formerly known as President of the Hyde Star System, Rock Lin, was now Linn ssynec-Rocr Dreuc Haïder Roch (LIN SYOON ROHK DRYOO HAEEDEHR ROHSH, Count of Hyde). He'd persuaded his son of the merits of the following line of thinking:

The planet Martinh holds an important resource. That is to say, all the lifeforms that evolved in ways unrelated to Earth's. Humankind has created all manner of mutant creatures, but the gene splicing guided by the superficial wits of man cannot compare, even meagerly, to the evolution wrought by nature over eons. The agth (AEETH, territory-country) newly christened the Dreuhynh Haïder (Countdom of Hyde) is extremely rich and fertile.

However, it is only through commerce with other star systems that those bio-resources can be our wealth. What do you think would happen if we left that exchange of goods to the Empire? There's no doubt they'd take a big bite out of it. They'd give the people nothing but their scraps, wouldn't you agree?

As such, it was necessary for someone of the Hyde Star System to become its lord and take part in its trade.

"Well, I'm convinced," said Durin.

"Yeah, it's reasonable enough. That's why I'm staying a noble. Although, I've been having my doubts lately..."

"Doubts? About?"

"Think about it — it's impossible to be a citizen of Hyde and an Abh noble at the same time. I don't have any of the rights of a citizen of Hyde anymore. Sure, it'll be fine with my father at the helm for the time being, though he doesn't have citizen rights in Hyde either. But he's convinced that he's working for the benefit of the star system. I intend to work for the system, too. But what about the generation after me? My son or daughter would have their genes altered; they'll be born as a beauteous blue-haired Abh. That's the rule, and there's no getting around it. They'll also likely be Abh culturally. Would they be capable of putting themselves in the shoes of a Hyde citizen?"

"Dude, you're so damn stiff. Stop overthinking!" Durin looked at him dumbfounded. "That bunch of idiots hates you anyway, so forget about them! Point is, you're part of a family business, and you get to decide whether you take it up or not. Though if I were you, I wouldn't even think about handing over such a big business to someone else."

A "family business," huh. Never thought about it that way. Jinto felt as though he'd been thrown a life vest. Jinto was an only child, so if he didn't become the next count, then the Lin family line would terminate without ever accumulating much by way of tradition. But so what? Who exactly would cry over that? "You're right. You're absolutely right."

"I'm always right." Durin suddenly pointed toward his toes. "Look right here. This is my first time at a spaceport. From up here, I think our planet looks really pretty, too."

It was then that Jinto realized the floor was projecting Delktu's surface. A screen right around the same size as their round table was displaying video footage of the clouds drifting over the planet. The arnaigh (ARNEZH, geosynchronous orbital tower) bridging the surface and the spaceport tapered so thin it seemed a thread before getting sucked into the clouds, which gleamed with the light of their star, Vorlash.

"Yeah. It is pretty." It dawned on him that he'd never looked down upon the surface of his true home planet, Martinh. The realization surprised him a little.

"By the way, how long've you been here? Five years?"

"Nah, been here for seven." Jinto looked back up at him. "The invasion of Hyde happened in I.H. 945 (Imperial History, Rüé-Coth ROOEH KOHTH)."

"So you came here right after they invaded? Am I remembering that right?"

"Yeah. I had no idea what was going on, they just shoved me on a frach (FRAHSH, traffic ship), and then whisked me away on a cargo passenger ship that was standing by in orbit. Let's just say I learned what it felt like to be an animal dragged to a zoo."

"But you had a retinue, right?" Durin bought some surguc (SOORGOO, coffee) from a passing vending machine and handed Jinto a can. "Take it, on me."

"Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. It feels good to treat a young master prince to a little something."

Jinto smiled. "So yeah, about my 'retinue' — there was nobody there for me. Or at least, nobody from Martinh."

"Whaaat? But that must've been a super raw deal. You were what, 10, back then?"

"Yeah, I was 10."

"Whose bright idea was it to send a 10-year-old kid alone to a star system dozens of light-years away?"

"Yep. So one of the stewardesses on the cargo passenger ship became a full-time attendant for me. I think she must've been asked to do so by my father. She took care of me in lots of ways, including bringing food to my cabin."

"Wow, sounds swanky." Durin looked a tad envious. "Must've been some high-class space travel."

"It wasn't." He grimaced at the memories of that time. "Not least 'cause I couldn't talk to anybody. There weren't any translation devices that could speak my home language then. She somehow managed by using a translation device for Ancient English..."

"Wait a sec. What's 'Ancient English'?"

"My home language is descended from Ancient English. But it's not like I ever learned Ancient English, and now I'm way out of practice with my Martinese. It's unintelligible to me."

"So it's just like Baronh." The majority of Delktunians couldn't understand Baronh, and Durin was no exception.

"Yeah, for the most part. Not that I really felt like chatting anyway. Aboard that ship, I kept quiet. I didn't even take a single step outside my cabin."

"Was that stewardess Abh?"

"No, I think she was a rüé-laimh (ROOEH LEF, citizen of the Empire), since she had black hair. Must've been from a nahainec (NAH'HEN, terrestrial world) somewhere. But that didn't matter to me then. They were a crew of invaders to me."

"Heh heh, if she'd been Abh, I've got a feeling you might've gotten attached to her."

"Why's that?"

"C'mon, you know how they say Abhs are all lookers. Guys and ladies alike! I don't care how young you are, you'd be all about playing nice when a gorgeous young woman comes along."

"Come on, dude." Jinto became somewhat huffy. "When I look back, I can't help thinking I did wrong by her. I mean, she even went so far as getting off the ship to do my paperwork so I could enroll in school. And despite that, I don't even know her name. She probably did introduce herself, but her name was buried in heaps of either Baronh or Ancient English, both of which were babble to me."

"Huh. Well, whatever. By now, that stewardess has gotta be middle-aged anyhow. Unlike Abhs, us Landers are just gonna keep aging."

"For god's sake, is that the only way you can think about people? I'm trying to express my earnest gratitude to her as a person..."

"Yeah-huh," said Durin, trying to pacify him. "No matter what, I only ever think about pulling in the chicks."

"Good grief," Jinto readily agreed. "You're the type that honestly believes that any old person in the crowd that passes you by is the love of your life. It doesn't matter how tenuous the connection is, you never lose time trying to get in super-cozy with her."

"Okay, first of all, I don't just fall for 'any old person.' She's gotta be cute, obviously. Second of all, I never think of her as the 'love of my life.' I just want her to be with me for a single night, in fact."

"Hah!" Jinto clapped. "So what's your success rate?"

"A lot higher than you think, pal."

"Oh really? I've only ever seen you take out a girl once. Plus, according to what I heard when I asked about it afterwards, that girl was your little sister."

"Fine, then what do you think my success rate is?"

"Zero."

"Look. Compared to zero times, one time is infinitely huge."

"What?" Jinto looked taken aback. "Don't tell me you're into... you know..."

"Quit it. I'm trying to tell you I've won the heart of a maiden that's not my sister."

"But just the once, huh?"

"More than once!" Durin fumed. "You just happened to never be around."

"That so? Hey, I'm willing to chalk it up to that for the time being."

"Oh man, you can't face reality, can you? Talk about averting your eyes from the truth. If I score with the ladies, what's it to you?" Then, Durin looked as though something had suddenly occurred to him. "Ah, could it be!? Are you actually into... you know..."

"That'll be enough of that." Jinto knew Durin was just firing back, so he took it lightly. "I'll have you know I'm a devout follower of the Hetero way. And no matter how thirsty I become, my faith shall hold strong. I will neither woo nor romance you."

"I'm fine with it, honestly." Durin's eyes clung to him.

"If you liked me, you should've confessed to me sooner. Oh yeah, we've still got time. Let's take a moment, before we part ways, to verify our romantic feelings..."

"In full view of all these people?"

"You think public view is any obstacle so long as you've got love?"

"You are surprisingly unrelenting, you know that. It makes me wonder whether you might secretly be a 'pagan' yourself."

"Don't be silly." Durin dropped the gag. "'Cause if you're a devout Hetero, then I'm a crazed Hetero fundamentalist extremist."

"Oh, I know." Jinto drank the rest of his coffee and tossed the paper cup into the receptacle in the middle of the table. "Thanks again for the drink."

"You don't need to thank me for a coffee, young master noble." Durin laid down the sick burn and, upon casting a fleeting glance to his right, gave the back of Jinto's hand a little poke.

"What is it?"

"Have a look."

Jinto followed Durin's line of sight. Sitting by an adjacent table was a middle-aged woman with brown skin. She was taking an interest in his strange combination of brown hair and noble attire so visibly that she was practically boring a hole in him.

If I were a real Bar simh (BAR SEEF, Abh noble), thought Jinto, how would I react in this moment? Would he have shouted at her, called her "insolent"? Would he have steadfastly ignored her? Or would he have shot her dead without a word?

But what Jinto ended up doing instead was flash her an ingratiating smile.

The middle-aged lady looked away slightly, as though she'd seen something she shouldn't have.

Jinto breathed a sigh.

"That old lady's hot for you, man. I'm jealous. You're an old-ladykiller. I've got half a mind to stick your face over my own..."

"That's not it. She was staring 'cause a Lander wearing the garb of an imperial noble is as rare as a dog using gréc (GREH, chopsticks).

"But you're really getting somewhere, buddy boy. For a Lander, that is."

"I guess," Jinto admitted.

Durin had a question for him. "Hey, I've only ever seen them on holovision — are Abhs really that attractive?"

Jinto cocked his head. "Couldn't tell ya." "I myself haven't ever seen an Abh in the flesh."

"But didn't you attend an Abh school?"

"Wha—?" Jinto realized that his friend had been under a misconception. "Wow, I barely ever talked about my school life, did I? So get this: There isn't a single Abh at the Abh Linguistic and Cultural Institute I went to. It's all about educating candidates for naturalization as imperial citizens, and there are a lot of former imperial citizens among the faculty. The founders and principal went out there, and then came back. In other words, they're soss (SOHS, territorial citizens) of the Countdom of Vorlash that were formerly imperial citizens. Mind you, it's not as though the Empire and the Countdom of Vorlash are linked in some special way; in the end, it's a private school under the jurisdiction of the Vorlash territorial government's Ministry of Education."

"I see. I took it for granted that it was an imperial academy."

"You think Abhs would throw any of their coin at a surface school?"

"When you put it that way, I guess not." Durin angled his head to the side in puzzlement. "But then, why did you come to Delktu? Shouldn't they have you taken you to an Abh school right off the bat? It's not like learning Delktunian's gonna do you much good, right?"

"Abhs don't go to elementary school. I'd have had to enroll in an institute of higher education, as a kid who was neither a prodigy nor understood any Baronh."

"For real? Then how do Abhs learn to read and write?"

"Their parents teach them."

Jinto recounted secondhand the info he'd learned in school. Abh society was aristocratic in nature, and so much weight was placed on each family's ghédairh (JEDERR, family traditions). In order to pass on those family traditions, parents needed to personally provide their children with an education. Apparently, the Abh thought it outrageous to allow children, whose personalities were not yet sufficiently concrete, to spend a significant amount of time under a stranger.

During their children's infancies, Abhs gave the task of educating them their undivided attention. Nobles with territories hired tosairh (TOHSEHRR , local magistrates), and even gentry took leaves of absence from their work duties, all in the effort to make their heirs more fit for the task.

Moreover, to transmit knowledge that the parent themselves had forgotten, they had onoüaréïréc (OHNOWAHRE'EEREH, mechanical teachers), as well as trips to camp for imparting group-living experiences.

"If you think about it the way they do, I've received a really warped education," said Jinto. "My father is the Count of Hyde, but there's no way he can be there to teach me the Abh way, so he thought at the very least he could have me learn Baronh and all the common knowledge stuff. That's why he dropped me at the nearest school for imperial citizenship aspirants."

"And so it's been seven years since then," Durin chuckled. "I thought you were smart, but it turns out you're not that brainy."

"I had to study and pick up material that was age-appropriate, so it took me all of that first half-year or so and a ton of sweat to learn Delktunian. For one, most of the students there were Delktunians."

"'Course they were. The only folks who'd study abroad on a territory-country out on the outskirts like Vorlash are country yokels."

"You oughta say stuff like that only after I've returned home. Not even Delktu's most amazing architecture can hold a candle to Martinh's hybrid-functionality structures," said Jinto in defense of his home.

"Not even this orbital tower?" asked Durin. He was so unfazed it was obnoxious.

Durin had hit a sore spot. As the latest news had it, there still weren't even any prospects for the construction of an orbital tower on Martinh due to anti-Abh sentiment, despite the fact that every other inhabited planet within the Empire had one. To ride a spaceship there, one still had to rely on dangerous and costly traffic vessels. Even so, it seemed there were almost no candidates for space travel.

"C'mon, it's not impressive, it's just stupidly huge," said Jinto, straining to come up with a comeback.

"Sure." Durin didn't rebut. He leaned his right elbow against the back of his seat. "Hey, that old lady's staring at you again."

"Must be this dumb hair." Jinto combed up his hair. He was fed up.

Abhs kept their hair within tones of blue. However, "tones of blue" was an oversimplification; in reality, the colors they deemed appropriate for hair varied within the range of green to purple, to say nothing of all the different shades thereof. That said, brown hair was out of the question.

"You should've gotten it dyed. Should be easy enough."

"Nah, though I did think about it..."

"Why not, then?"

"For starters, I was afraid I'd sort of delude myself into thinking I was a real Abh. I technically am legally, but genetically I'm a Lander."

"'For starters'? So, there's more where that came from," pressed Durin.

"Yeah, though I guess the only other reason is I'm stubborn. I may've stumbled into being an imperial noble by some cosmic mistake, but I don't want people thinking I'm pleased about it."

"Gotcha." Durin leaned over the table, his expression unusually serious. "You know, about what you were saying before... if you wanna call it quits on the noble thing, then I'd stand by you, no problem. This is your last chance, isn't it?"

"It's not my last chance," said Jinto. "I can withdraw from the aristocracy at any time."

"Why not do it now, then? Is it 'cause they'll stop sending you your allowance?"

"That's one reason."

"I can look after you; just gotta get you a job, that's all."

Jinto was shocked. "But you're still in school!"

"Yeah, but even kids in school've got their contacts. I know a manager who appreciates the position of low-income students. I won't beat around the bush; he's my uncle. Besides, you're smart — you could get a government scholarship."

"It's all right. Thank you," said Jinto. "I want to see the world of the Abh with my own eyes. I want to see how the people who invade and reign over us live their lives."

"Guess that could be fine, too." Durin shook his head, as if to call him eccentric in his curiosity.

"Besides," Jinto continued, "You're the only one who came to see me off."

"That's... uhh..." His friend had suddenly turned rather inarticulate.

"All the kids who hung out with me, were chums with me, back when I was just 'Lin Jinto'... they all flew off the minute they found out that I'd omitted the bit between my family name and my given name." You're the only one who forgave me for misrepresenting my identity. If I'm to ever live as a territorial citizen, I'd want to live right here on Delktu. But that requires giving things time to cool down."

"It was a great opportunity to find out who your real friends are." He smiled a weak smile. A smile that didn't suit his typical self.

"It really was," Jinto agreed gratefully. "If and when I come back, I might come to you for guidance."

"You got it. Leave it all to me." Durin puffed his chest out in pride. "When I'm out of school, I plan to form a business. And I'm gonna work you to the bone when you're back here as a low-grade employee of mine. I'll even use you in an ad while I'm at it. I can see it now: 'Our company is staffing a former imperial noble!'"

"However will I thank you?"

Durin glanced at the giant clock hanging on the ceiling and said "Uh-oh, has it really gotten this late already? Shouldn't you already be boarding? Which ship you taking?"

"The imperial üicreurh (WEEKREURR, warship)."

"Wha?"

"New students of the military academy have the right to hitch a ride on an imperial war-vessel. At first, I wrestled over the decision, but then I thought I might as well check out what it's like aboard a warship, since I'm gonna be a starpilot and all. So, I chose to exercise my right."

"Hold up, does that mean a warship's gonna dock at this spaceport?"

"Beats me, man. Someone's scheduled to come pick me up at 18 o'clock. And I'm here with the proper attire." Jinto pointed as his long robe. "Easier to spot this way, they said. Kind of a facile idea for a race capable of prolonged interstellar navigation, huh?"

"Wait, so an Abh soldier's gonna be coming?"

"Yeah; not sure if they'll be Abh, though. A Star Forces bausnall (BOHSNAHL, soldier) will be here soon, in any case."

"Ah. In that case, I oughta retreat now."

"Huh? How come?" said Jinto with some alarm. "Don't you wanna drink in the sight of me getting hauled off by 'em?"

"I'll pass." Durin rose from his chair. "The sheer patheticness'd make me spill tears of pity for sure."

"That's rich, coming outta Delktu's most ruthless scoundrel," Jinto replied as he, too, rose to his feet.

"Stop flattering me, you're making me blush!" Durin extended his hand.

Jinto took it in both hands.

"What's your formal name again?" asked Durin.

"Linn ssynec-Rocr Ïarlucec Dreur Haïder Ghintec (LEEN SYOON ROHK YARLOOK DRYOOR HAEEDEHR JEENT, Noble Prince of the Countdom of Hyde Jinto Lin, descended of Rock). I think."

Durin goggled at him. "Whaddya mean, 'I think'? It's your name!"

"I'm not used to it. It feels like somebody else's name."

"All right then. From now on you're 'Lin COUGH Jinto.' And you'd better remember my name. 'Ku Durin.' Thing of glory, isn't it? It's definitely loads easier to remember than 'Lin Whosawhat Jinto.'"

"Dude. Like I could ever forget you. And you can drop the 'Whosawhat.' Just don't forget the name 'Lin Jinto.'"

"You can count on me, Linn ssynec-Rocr Ïarlucec Dreur Haïder Ghintec." Durin's face curled up in a grin, as though boastful of his powerful memory.

Jinto returned the smile and let go of Durin's hand.

"See ya. Break a leg out there."

"You, too, man. Make sure you grow your company big enough so that I don't have to worry about searching for work no matter when I return."

"I told you, bro, you can count on me." Durin spun on his heels.

Jinto watched him disappear down the elevator-tube, but he never looked back.

When he made to sit back down, the middle-aged woman from before came back into view. But she wasn't looking his way. Those blunt eyes were trained in the opposite direction.

Jinto's own eyes pivoted in that direction, as though drawn by a hook.

Someone slender with a skintight black jumpsuit and scarlet üébh (WEV, belt) caught his eye. They made a beeline towards him, drawing even more attention than when Jinto first appeared.

Black and red — the sairhinec (SERREEN, military uniform) of the Imperial Star Forces.


章 3: Chapter 2: The Bénaic Lodaïrh (BENEH LOHDAEERR, Apprentice Starpilot)

The definition of "Abh" was laid down clearly and concisely in Rüé-Razaimec (ROOEH RAHZEM, Imperial Law). That is to say, it was a general umbrella term for fasanzœrh (FAHSANZEHRR, the highest family or "imperials"), nobles, and gentry.

According to that definition, Jinto was, as the legitimate progeny of a count's household, indisputably Abh.

However, the word "Abh" meant something else as well: It was also the name of their ethnicity. This double-meaning was not overly problematic by dint of the fact that Abhs-by-law were also typically genetic Abhs.

In other words, Jinto was the unfortunate exception. This gap was not something that could easily be covered up. After all, the difference between Abhs and Landers wasn't on the level of divergent races or ethnicities, not truly. It was on the level of different species.

While clearly distinct from Homo Sapiens, it was almost certain that Abhs were descendants of Earth humans. The evolutionary split that produced this "mutant race" cannot have been spurred by a mere mutation, it was said, but rather can only have been brought about with an explicit plan in mind.

To back that claim, one needed only point to how even now, the Abh continued to dally with their genes. It was said that the genetic manipulation of newborn children was especially indispensable to them. If there was any deviation among 27,000 designated DNA sequences within a child's nucleic acid molecules, it had to be corrected.

It was also said that this was in order to prevent congenital diseases and maintain the uniformity of their race, but there was a more perceptive way of looking at the matter.

Rather, their thinking was based on a concept not unlike poetry with predetermined numbers of lines and rhyming patterns — when certain constraints are placed upon an art form, it can reach a higher level of sophistication.

Yes, the awareness of their children's genes as the subject matter of a work of art — this was the resonating verse of Abh culture. It wasn't mandatory — it was out of a simple sense of aesthetics that they touched up their children's genes.

Nor did they practice this genetic art with poor taste. They shared their sense of beauty with most terrestrial worlds, and no one ever pointlessly ran away with their own hideous predilections — or at least, they seldom ever did.

As such, the Abh comprised a collection of lookers so lovely that it was downright irritating.

The soldier of indeterminate gender coming Jinto's way seemed the epitome of Abh genetic artistry.

Their long bluish-black locks flowed behind them, and they wore a plain military-issue circlet. Their face was oval-shaped, and a light cocoa in hue. The pupils of the striking eyes aimed straight at him were like black agates. Their eyebrows, though thin, traced sharp and elegant lines, and their small nose was beautiful in its delicateness. Their full lips were tightly pursed.

The scarlet belt was the sign of a starpilot.

As for their age... It was said to be a nigh impossible task to judge the age of an Abh by their appearance. That was because they aged in a peculiar way. Up until around age 15, they aged just like their ancestors, but during the 25 or so years following that point, they only outwardly put on about 10 years. After that, they didn't show any signs of aging for the rest of their lives. Abh call the period of growth until age 15 "zarhoth" and the subsequent period before one's appearance stops changing "féroth."

The Abh were unaging, but contrary to what many Landers believed, they were not immortal. Over time, nerve cell regeneration fatally muddled one's personality and memories. For that reason, it was said they had to make do with the same neuro-biology as their ancestors. Even Abhs couldn't survive the fraying of their brain cells.

In their pride, Abhs programmed their genes to freeze up the functioning of the area of their brains that governed breathing before their intellect faded away. Abhs also died of old age: they just did so between the ages of 200 and 250.

In other words, an Abh that appeared to be in their mid-20s could in fact be 40 or even 200 years old.

However, in this starpilot's case, there was no need to worry about getting their age too far off the mark. They were either somewhere around the end of their zeroth growth period, or the beginning of their féroth maturation period. They were most likely around Jinto's age.

They'd have to get closer before Jinto could be sure of their gender. His gut told him they were a she, but he couldn't be certain. It was quite common among Abh males to possess faces and figures that could pass as a beautiful young maiden's, even past age 200. Indeed, at this age, one couldn't tell whether they were a handsome man or a lovely lady.

But here they came, even as Jinto wracked his mind; here they came, parting the crowds with the larger-than-life presence they exuded. The way they walked was dashing and refined. Their head stayed almost completely still. She, or perhaps he, strode forward as though skating.

Jinto looked at the rank insignia on the chest of their black Abh military uniform. Though he only had a surface knowledge of rank insignias, there were some things he knew.

It was an inverse isosceles triangle with curved sides. Within its silver bordering roared the eight-headed dragon of myth, which stood as the agh (AHZH, crest/coat of arms) of the Rüé-ghéc (ROOEHZHEH, Imperial Household) and imperial niglac (NEEGLA, national coat of arms) — a silver Gaftnochec (GAHFTNOHSH). The base color of the lowest-ranked insignia was scarlet. It indicated one was a starpilot. There were no other lines or stars emblazoned on their attire.

That meant they were an apprentice starpilot.

They were wearing a starpilot's uniform, but they weren't formally a pilot for the time being. They were learning the ropes. That was the position that fresh graduates of a cénruc lodaïrh (KENROO LOHDAEERR, flight academy) took on for half a year, during which they did hands-on training aboard a warship or at a lonidec (LOHNEED, base).

Jinto was also able to glean that this apprentice starpilot was, in fact, a girl from how the insignia was modestly bulging out.

Seeing as he knew she'd come to pick him up, he ought to have walked toward her, but something about her had him overawed; he stood paralyzed.

In that time, the apprentice reached him and planted her heels right in front of him. "Are you Linn ssynec-Rocr Dreur Haïder Roch-lonh (LOHNYUH, the Honorable)?"

Jinto flinched at the unfaltering recitation of his long and laborious name. It took all his effort just to nod.

Her right hand flashed. Jinto sensed danger, so he reflexively took a step back. However, the apprentice had only moved her right hand to place her index and middle fingers to her circlet, the Abh salute of respect.

"I have come to greet you from the résic (RESEE, patrol ship) Goslauth. You will follow me." Her tone of voice was definitely a girl's, but her tense demeanor wouldn't have been out of place in a young man. Her voice was limpid, like plucking a harpstring wound tight enough to snap.

After finishing her salute, she turned her back and once again took brisk strides, as though she didn't much care whether Jinto followed her or not.

Anger seethed in Jinto's chest. It wasn't that he'd expected a lot. The dictionary definition of "aïbss" (AEEP, Lander [i.e., surface-dweller]) wasn't discriminatory per se, but from what he'd gathered reading his textbooks, Landers were the targets of the Abh's unspoken disdain. That's why he was able to brace himself a little. Of course, he was used to being treated differently from the rest. But everyone is born equal, and so he had no desire to live his life groveling before people who held him in contempt.

He was sure the the duty of escorting the heir of some upstart Lander noble wouldn't be to the apprentice starpilot girl's liking. No, it wasn't just her; nobody aboard the patrol ship cared for the idea, so they pushed it on the lowest-ranked apprentice.

Jinto convinced himself that was the case. This had to be redressed: first impressions are crucial to interpersonal relations. Of this, Jinto was very sure; it was what he'd learned from his experiences on Delktu. It all started with the courtesy of introducing oneself.

"Wait, hold up!" called Jinto.

"What?" She turned back to face him.

"You know my name, right?"

"Are you not Linn ssynec-Rocr Dreur Haïder Roch-lonh?" Doubt tinged the jet-black pupils that were staring back at him. It didn't seem as though she'd been mocking or looking down on him after all.

"Yeah, I am Linn Whosawhat Ghintec, but I don't know your name. I dunno what it's like for Abhs, but that's not something I can be comfortable just letting slide."

Astonished, she opened her large eyes even wider.

Was it rude to ask an Abh their name? Jinto felt a smidge uneasy. He may have studied Abh culture, but what he knew, he was taught by former imperial citizens at school. His knowledge could be incomplete.

However, her reaction far exceeded his expectations.

Elation broke on the apprentice's mouth, and she puffed her chest. Her blue-black hair swept in the air, and the cothec cisaiger (KOHTH KEESEGEHR, functionality crystals) at the ends of her cisaigec (KEESEG, circlet-embedded access-cables) swayed like so many eccentric earrings.

"You will call me 'Lafier'!"

She's just saying her name — so why did it sound like a declaration? wondered Jinto. It was positively triumphal in tone.

"In exchange," continued Lafier, "I would like to simply call you 'Jinto.' Agreed?" The instant he saw Lafier's inquisitive eyes, the grudge he'd harbored in his heart melted away like so much snow tossed into boiling water. Her captivating eyebrows lifted in unmistakable apprehension, frightened and unsure what she'd do if rejected.

"Of, of course!" Jinto nodded enthusiastically. "I'd be grateful if you'd do that for me."

"Well, greetings then, Jinto," said Lafier. "Let's go."

"Right." And so, now amenable, he followed Lafier.

"Jinto," said Lafier. "There's something that I would like to ask you."

"What?"

"Earlier, when I saluted you, you stepped back. What was that?"

Jinto couldn't exactly tell her that he thought she'd hit him, so he made something up on the spot. "That's just how we greet people on my home planet. Old habits."

"Ohh..." Lafier didn't appear to doubt what he said at all. "Your home planet's greeting customs are really strange. I had gotten the impression that you were guarding against some kind of attack."

"You're bound to think something you're not used to seeing is odd, no matter the culture," Jinto explained soberly.

"I see," she said, nodding. "I grew up surrounded by other Abhs, so I don't know much about foreign cultures."

"Makes sense you wouldn't."

"That being said, you are also an Abh, Jinto. I think you ought to familiarize yourself with the ways of the Carsarh Gereulacr (KARSARR GUHRYOOLAHK, Kin of the Stars)."

Jinto groaned on the inside. That's what the Abh dubbed themselves from time to time. The "Kin of the Stars." It seemed they were rather fond of this poetic moniker.

But is regarding balls of vapor bereft of any feat apart from nuclear fusion as your relatives really all that much to be proud of? pondered Jinto. Never mind that, has anyone ever tried asking the stars themselves what they think about all of this?

However, the only words that passed through his lips were: "Easier said than done. Shaking off an upbringing that's already ingrained is extremely hard."

"That may well be."

"It's gonna be tough from here on out," he said. He made sure to add a sigh to invite sympathy. That sigh belied his actual mood. He felt brilliant. His first encounter with an Abh had gone far better than he'd feared. After all, he'd managed to establish a first-name-basis relationship. Not only that, but he'd done so with a girl about his age. Any guy in his shoes who wouldn't feel exhilarated needed to get checked for a sickness of the soul.

They stopped in front of the doors to Elevator-tube 26, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Lafier fiddled with her compuwatch, and the doors opened.

Though the elevators headed towards the planet's surface were each furnished with enough seating to accommodate around 100 passengers, this elevator didn't contain any seating at all. Its interior was cramped, with only enough room for about 10 people.

"Say..." Jinto had chosen a safe topic of conversation. "That patrol ship... uh, what's its name again?"

"The Goslauth."

"Right, yeah, what byrec (BYOOR, fleet) does the Goslauth belong to?"

"It belongs to the Byrec Claïar (BYOOR KLEH'EEAR, Training Fleet)."

"So there must be a lot of apprentice starpilots like you on board, huh?"

"You lack common sense," said Lafier reproachfully.

"Of course, it took all my effort just to learn the language. Plus, I'm almost all boned up on military stuff."

"Ah, yes, of course." Lafier frowned slightly. "Forgive me." Jinto was left mystified as to whether that had been meant as an earnest apology.

The elevator-tube ascended two floors and came to a halt. Jinto got off after Lafier.

"There are claiïagac (KLEH'EEAHGA, training ships) within the Training Fleet, that much is true," Lafier explained as they walked. "However, those are boarded by cénh (KENYUH, trainee pupils). Apprentice starpilots like me don't go on those. The Training Fleet is trusted with a second mission. It hosts new, leading-edge warships that haven't yet been formally assigned while they're running familiarization runs. The Goslauth just got commissioned three months ago, and the Sarérh (SARERR, Captain) and everyone else aboard are practicing how to handle it."

"Huh?" He was suddenly nervous.

"There's nothing to fret over," Lafier said, unsmilingly. "It's a figure of speech. Excepting myself, there's no one but experienced saucec (SOHK, crewmembers), and the first round of fine-tuning has been done. It won't fall apart with you in it."

"Don't get me wrong, I wasn't worried or anything," Jinto lied once again.

There were no civilian passengers that he could see on this floor. There were only officers in uniform. The wall beside the elevator-tube was curved, giving the impression that this was a rounded circular hallway.

After going around the elevator-tube, they came upon a hallway that led outside it, guarded by a pair of sach (SAHSH, non-commissioned crew, or "NCCs").

Sach were not Abh. They were followers of the Star Forces, its low-ranked officers, and largely picked up from various terrestrial worlds.

The two NCCs standing guard saluted. "Apprentice, in accordance with regulation, allow us to inspect your compuwatch." Lafier proferred her right arm, on which the compuwatch rested. The retainer placed an oblong device on the compuwatch and read what it displayed.

"You're clear, Apprentice. Now then, if you would give us your compuwatch as well, Honorable Lonh."

"Ah, right." Jinto gave them his left arm.

While performing the identity check, the retainer took a glance at Jinto's face. He regarded him with suspicion, as though asking himself why somebody of his own race was a noble.

"You're clear, Lonh. Please, you may proceed," said the retainer, granting permission.

"Your work is appreciated," said Lafier, somewhat rotely. She urged Jinto forward.

When they set foot onto the hallway, it started to move forward. It wasn't a very long distance to traverse.

Jinto saw the words "Baulébh Rüé-Laburér" (BOHLEV ROOEHLAHBOOREHR, Administrative Zone of the Imperial Star Forces) written on the wall, and shuddered. He'd come here from a world where the concept of "the military" was found solely within the pages of history books and dictionaries. It was very late to be getting nervous about it now, but he couldn't shake the sensation that the time had finally arrived: he was officially involving himself with that great unknown, that veritable relic from the past.

There was a door at the end of the automatic path; it opened smoothly at their approach. A spaceship lay hunkered just beyond. Its painted black hull enveloped Jinto's field of vision.

"This is the patrol ship Goslauth?" asked Jinto earnestly.

"Tell me you're not seriously asking that." Lafier's eyes turned severe.

"Please remember, Lafier — I'm ignorant," said Jinto, flustered.

"There are limits to how ignorant one can be."

"Now that I recall, I think the cargo passenger ship I was on seven years ago was a bit bigger."

"I don't know what class that ship was, but it can't have been 'a bit bigger.' This is the Goslauth's loading caricec (KAREEK, small docking ship), one large enough to carry around 50 people. It's used to carry soldiers when a ship can't dock at a port directly, or to ferry them between ships. Though today, you'll be its only passenger."

"I'm honored." But then, a pang of worry. Wait, then who'll be flying the thing? Is it Lafier!?

He'd been harboring a firm preconception regarding saidiac (SEDEEA, steerers), and it definitely didn't include girls his age. But he also had a feeling, bordering on a conviction, that testing that notion might end up delivering a fatal blow not only to the relationship that had thankfully started off on the right foot, but also to Jinto's bodily form.

"So, which will you take?" she asked.

"What do you mean, 'which'? I only see the one ship..."

"The assistant steerer's seat is open. Will you be taking that seat, or would you rather stay in the accommodation compartment in the back?"

"Is there a lovely lady stewardess back there?" Jinto quipped.

"There's no lovely stewardess," replied Lafier with dead seriousness, "but if it's a most beauteous steerer you want, you won't be disappointed. So what will it be?" The "most beauteous steerer," it would seem, was referring to herself.

I'm glad I didn't ask if anybody else could steer, Jinto mused. She would have definitely taken it as an insult.

"I'll take the assistant's seat, obviously," said Jinto, thereby resigning himself to leaving his life in her hands.


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