It was crazy to her how two ships that looked identical on the outside could be so different on the inside. Io followed Lin through a tiled, dust-caked hall lit only by chemical emergency lights built into the ceiling, which stretched forwards and backwards into the darkness. But the dull green glow was enough to reveal a Houser fetish for paintings, so many paintings, each as tall as Io's Rehoboam was long. Each a man she didn't know, immortalized in peeling mats of egg tempera.
It wasn't so different, then, from the murals aboard the Zeb. How much history was there here, and whose was the more profound?
Of course, even Io recognized the portrait of the Emperor, a man with a hawk-like nose and broad shoulders, always depicted sitting. Her back bent slightly beneath his gaze, which got a chuckle out of Lin.
The brightest lights were floodlamps set up like checkpoints on the road, usually next to small groups of students in hi-visibility vests, groping around behind the wainscoting with toolboxes. It was clear that the ship was being repaired underway.
"Many of this cohort will study to be military engineers and logisticians," Lin explained. "The Academy's path runs through their home systems a few months ahead of schedule, so that they can perform any refitting necessary before the year officially starts. Trust me—this place looks much better than it did when we first opened.
"Next we intake the officer cadets—such as yourself—along with the Imperial scholars. Finally, we walk the Emperor's Trail and study the Succession."
Io tilted her head at this last thing. She felt like she'd been left out of a memo, again.
Lin smiled. "Don't worry. I know you'll pick it up fast."
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They soon rejoined the group she'd left behind, some tens of Houser girls. Io noticed immediately the way the students cleaved.
There were uniforms that resembled Lin's—some kimonos and some qipaos, but the most reliable indications were the red amulets and knots. These were the Tian Lung. They stuck to one side from the Vestas and seemed to close ranks against Io. She remembered the Torch on her shoulder; guess that's why.
Some of the Vesta girls nodded cautiously at her. They didn't seem to sport any outerwear for uniform; instead their Z-suits seemed themselves ornamented, with a quilted panel tight across the breast and a ribbon around the neck. It struck Io as unladylike, given how the suits hugged the body. But the Torch on their shoulder was unmistakable.
Io hovered near them politely, a wordless camaraderie, even if she was the fake.
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Lin and the group ducked into a rotunda off the side of the hall. Asymmetrical arcs of seating swept through the circular space like eccentric orbits around a star. In the center was a glowing table that recalled the Navigation projector aboard the Zeb, set on a plinth that buzzed with the low groan of struggling cooling fans. The room smelled like a heater that hadn't been turned on in a while.
Lin tried to lead the students around the edge, perhaps wisely, but a few girls drifted towards the device like meteors caught in a gravity well. The president clicked her heels on the tile. "Girls? I'm sure the simulator is fascinating, but we have a lot of ground to cover before the class assignment."
A few budged like swarf off a blank, but a group of about 10 hunkered down. With a grimace, Io glanced over the makeup of those who stayed.
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They were nearly all Vesta. Most had clustered around a blonde girl with a slightly modified uniform: over the quilts she wore a peaked military cap and huge velvet cape that dragged on the floor. She was flanked at the table by what were certainly sycophantic figures.
"You're a genius, Diane," one of them gassed her. "Do it again."
The caped and capped Diane placed a finger between her collarbones and chuckled. "Now, now, a mere simulated opponent is beneath the strategic omniscience of Diane Levenger, successor to the decorated former Admiral Levenger of the Imperial Navy. But, because you asked so nicely, I shall demonstrate again."
What an introduction. Io already disliked her.
The Drifter pulled up a chair and watched the symbols circulate above the surface of the simulator. Diane's finger dragged thrust orders onto a Vestan gunship facing off against a simulated Federalist flotilla—their natural enemy—on the opposite side of the moon. With a finger tap on the table itself, the symbols would zip through the air, the mission clock advancing at 1000x speed until the next moment of interest.
Each time, the Feds would hock a swarm of hundreds of orbital missiles at Diane's gunship. She would dodge them with one well-placed transfer, then close in for a guns kill.
Io had proven herself a poor orbital strategist—even Melchizedek humiliated her here—but even she could tell something was seriously wrong with the simulation. Her heart thumped in her chest. Should she really say it?
She raised her hand and said—
"Weeeell, that's enough masterstrokes for one day." Diane pretended to scratch her head.
"Wait," one of the others interrupted, locking eyes with Io. "You've got something to say, haven't you? Better yet, can you take control of OPFOR?"
A chill ran down Io's spine at the suggestion. The interloper was a chubby, mousy-haired girl wearing what was clearly a boy's uniform: a full-length necktie tucked into a vest with an earthy sportcoat that didn't resemble either of the major Houses.
"Hi, I'm Ema." The wide, rosy-cheeked girl curled a palm over her mouth and whispered loudly. Her other hand closed into a sparkling thumbs up. "You! Got! This! ✨"
A clap echoed through the rotunda. Lin had had enough. "That's more than enough milling around from you all. Read the blasted air for once—"
"Motion vetoed," said yet another interloper. Her voice carried like a shot, making both Lin and Diane wince when they heard it.
"Vineta..." Lin grimaced.
Io turned her head towards the source to find it came from an unlikely character. Vineta was a pale, diminutive Vesta who wore a comically small tiara, watching from somewhat afield with her chin propped on a lecture table. For some reason, the others seemed to lose color at the sight of her.
"Diane made her bed," the little girl spoke with the same clear, practiced intonation. "Surely Admiral Levenger's granddaughter should like to lie in it?" She capped it with a yawn, her limbs stretching languidly like a cat.
Lin sighed in frustration before nudging Io towards the table with her eyes. "Go on. Do it."
With an anxious breath, Io tapped the yellow Federalist fleet and took control.
The table beamed the count of missiles and fuel directly into Io's retinas so that Diane couldn't see. She knew roughly what to do here. She dragged out from the fleet and carefully massaged the arc of the missile launch onto Diane's gunship. An unsatisfying midair tap confirmed the trajectory.
Meanwhile, Diane Levenger worked on the opposite side of the table, gulping as her friends looked on expectantly. The unaffiliated 'Ema' did the honors of advancing time for both of them once they'd made their moves.
Io's missile slung around the planet and missed, as expected. But it was only one rocket of the many.
Diane might've set the ELO of the scenario so low that the Feds sent everything they had at once. But that wasn't the strategy against a gunship with finite delta-V, particularly chemical bipropellants like methane-oxidizer. Io flicked her another missile after she'd dodged the first one. And another.
Ten turns elapsed before Diane froze with her finger half-extended, struck dumb by a 'NO FUEL' callout only she could perceive.
"W... Well, I think we've troubled President Lin enough." She stalled and wiped a crop of sweat from her brow. "For now, I'll gladly accept your concession. Just know that, for a tactician such as myself, coming back from a setback like this is but a simple matter."
Io looked Diane square between the eyes. She tried to keep the words in her mouth but they slipped as if electrified.
"The only simple matter here is yourself."
Something shattered behind the mask. Moreover, she swore she saw cracks spider through the glass where the Vesta girl had been resting her palm.
"Wow..." Diane said in a sweet, lilting voice. "You are a Drifter after all ♡"