BOSTRUISA, MALGEIRU
The Fresh Trail Cuisine restaurant’s decorative style was a fusion of classic elegance with modernity: the dining room was sophisticated, yet cozy. It felt as if he had stepped into an enchanted forest and been taken away by the beauty all around; plush green leather chairs perched atop wooden floors, potted vegetation cascading from their hanging baskets above, ivy draped along the walls, giving off an almost ethereal feel to the place.
Speinfoent couldn’t help but marvel. In the middle of Malgeirgam’s bustling metropolitan landscape of steel and glass, they had somehow managed to carve out this little oasis of charm and comfort. And judging by the pricey menu, they were paying steeply for that privilege. Well, he wasn’t…
He stole a glance at Eupprio sitting across the handcrafted table (no doubt hewn from real, imported lumber) and blushed. She wore a gorgeous floral dress that flowed around her curves in all the right places while leaving just enough to the imagination. Her makeup was tasteful: enough to make a difference but not stand out, and her long, silver fur cascaded down her back hypnotically, reacting subtly to the wind.
Feeling severely underdressed in comparison, Speinfoent resisted the strong urge to itch his back. His dark blue dress uniform was stifling, even in the climate-controlled environment of the high-class restaurant.
Leaning in, he whispered to Eupprio, “Why was it so necessary that I wear my uniform?”
Eupprio flashed an innocent smile at the awkward twenty-nine-year-old. “I like a date who dresses up… Besides, how else will other people know you’re in the Navy?”
He tilted his head. “Wait, why do you want other people to know?”
“Because,” Eupprio giggled with delight. “That’s the whole point of going on a date with a Navy officer. One of my underlings is currently seeing someone from Home Fleet and she would not shut up about it at work. You’re pretty high ranking, right? Anyway… if you see anyone stop by to talk to us or taking pictures, make sure to smile.”
Speinfoent’s eyes widened. “People are coming by to take pictures?!”
“Well, maybe. This is the fanciest restaurant in this part of Bostruisa. The place is a paparazzi magnet. Movie stars, big-shot politicians, they all dine here. And I’m kind of a big deal around here for the gossip columns. Of course, if this doesn’t work… I’ll have to take you to Soerru Steakhouse in downtown Malgeirgam next time, where there will definitely be someone there to take our pictures.”
“I didn’t know that we military males had such a good reputation,” Speinfoent said, almost primming.
“I didn’t think so, either. Until the last couple of years at least,” she shrugged casually. “A lot has changed. With the way the war is going, I guess there’s a lot more emphasis on the honorable aspects of service.”
“Wait, so… I’m a trophy date. Your prop for tonight,” Speinfoent said, slightly disappointed. He hadn’t expected her price to be a date at a fancy restaurant far outside his Navy salary’s pay range, which she offered to pay for, but he didn’t complain or resist very hard either. A conventional beauty, Eupprio was easy on the eyes, and he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t had a crush on her in school like everyone else in his friend group.
On top of that, she’s unfathomably rich.
Still… being used this way bothered his ego.
“Hah, look at your face. No need to look so crestfallen. A prop… please… I wouldn’t just go on a date with any handsome guy in the Navy,” Eupprio chortled. Then she leaned in closer, her snout almost brushing against his ear as she whispered, “And if you play your cards right, I’ll show you some fun props back at my apartment tonight.”
Before he could find a reply to the audacious proposition, Eupprio’s paw reached out, casually smoothing a barely noticeable wrinkle on his uniform’s shoulder. Her eyes flitted to one of the flashy medals — which of course, she insisted that he wore to the date — on his dress shirt. “What is that one for? Looks like a planet.”
Glad for the distraction, Speinfoent looked down at what she was pointing at. It was an intricate medal with a golden circle framing a blue planet, its orbit populated by the icons of several engraved ships. “Ah, that’s the Datsot Liberation Campaign Medal.”
“Really? You were part of that whole thing?” she asked excitedly. “I saw it on Channel One. That will teach those Grass Eaters a lesson about invading one of our core worlds. They won’t be doing that again for a while.”
For once in his life, Speinfoent managed to bite back his impulse to correct her or to mention the heavy losses they took; there was no need to start rumors or worry her.
Instead, he nodded and said modestly, “Other people did most of the fighting. I mostly just sat on a ship the whole time.”
“So humble, too. I adore a male who knows his limits,” she cooed.
Just then, the waiter swooped in to save him from further teasing or embarrassing questions. He presented them with two plates piled high with strongly seasoned, well-grilled Soerru meat. Salivating at the smell of real meat, Speinfoent managed a quick “thanks!” to the waiter and dug into his meal.
“Mmm, wow,” he hummed delightfully, taking a juicy bite. “It’s been months since I’ve had any good food.”
Eupprio glanced up from her own steak and looked at his appetite with mild concern. “What do they feed you on the Navy ships?”
“Ration cubes, mostly,” Speinfoent said in between bites. “Heavily preserved meat if we’re lucky.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
She made a disgusted face. “Yuck. And if you’re not lucky?”
Speinfoent stuck out his tongue. “I’ll tell you after dinner. It’s not pleasant. Crew members get sick from them all the time. But at least they wouldn’t dare give the worst portions to the officers.”
“I wonder what Grass Eater rations look like,” she asked, licking some of the spices off her utensils delicately with her long tongue in his full view. “Must be easier to carry a bunch of grass instead of meat and flesh.”
“Actually, we’ve captured some before from their supplies. And we occasionally have to feed Znosian prisoners their own rations.”
“Cool!” She exclaimed, then giggled. “Did you have a taste?”
“It’s just dried grass. Edible for us, but bland. Unlike us, the Grass Eaters don’t bother with such things as culture and art, and their food is no exception.”
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After dinner, Speinfoent chivalrously escorted Eupprio back to her residential den.
“Thank you, that was very nice of you,” she said with a smile as she unlocked her door with a paw scan.
“And thank you for the dinner. Good night,” he smiled back and bowed slightly before turning to leave.
“Wait, why don’t you come in?” she asked, standing in her doorway. “We can talk about your side project!”
Speinfoent entered her residence behind her. Her apartment was homey, but utilitarian. The walls were an off-white shade with bright colors framing the windows and doors. Her full bed was stacked on the side against a large window, accompanied by an elegant-looking closet and nightstand that look straight from a designer catalogue. A plush, light green sofa claimed one corner of the living room, sitting alongside an aged wooden table that actually held real paper books.
Speinfoent took the offered seat on the sofa and Eupprio joined him, perching gracefully on one of the nearby chairs. She smiled at him as she picked up her datapad and crossed her rear paws casually. “So,” she asked in a light tone, “Did you have fun tonight?”
“I did. Even with the paparazzi spying on us,” he chuckled.
“You spotted her?” she looked up from her datapad, tilting her head in question.
“Sure did. Two tables behind me. She had a recording device tucked inside her purse, aimed right at our table.”
She smirked. “I saw her too. Told you we’d have an audience. Anyway, my friends at work will have something to gossip about for the next few days.”
“Speaking of work, any word from that dream team of engineers you said you assembled?”
“Matter of fact, I was just looking for it… Yep, they’ve updated their status.” She showed him her datapad proudly. “We’ve been able to determine which report filers are truthful. Which reporters are habitual liars. Which of them exaggerate from time to time. We’ve assigned everyone an honesty score.”
Speinfoent’s eyes widened, impressed. “That’s so fast! Wait… what’s my honesty score?”
Eupprio’s claws danced over the illuminated datapad, filtering through layers of code and statistics. After a few moments, she looked up with a smile. “Ninety-six percent out of three hundred forty reports filed. Not too shabby.”
Speinfoent grinned. “Not bad, not bad at all. What’s the score for Fleet Commander Grionc?” he asked, spelling out her name.
“Let’s see…” Eupprio clacked away again, her eyes scanning rapidly. “Ninety-four percent, out of over three thousand reports. Wow, she’s filed a lot of reports!”
“Yeah, that’s the fleet commander alright,” Speinfoent chuckled. “Can you average the honesty score for Sixth Fleet?”
More typing ensued. “I can. All right, here it is: seventy-four percent. Not bad, right?”
“No, not bad at all. What about Fourth Fleet?”
Eupprio’s paws flew over the datapad once more, but this time her expression changed. She frowned, then let out a disapproving “hmm.”
“That doesn’t look right. Thirty-two percent honesty. Maybe something is broken with our model—”
Speinfoent snorted, shaking his head. “Nope, your thinking machine nailed it. Thirty-two percent honesty sounds like Fourth Fleet alright. They just make everything up… That settles it. I’m convinced it’s close enough. Now we just have to figure out which reports describe an incident in which results strayed wildly from expected outcomes.”
Eupprio glanced back at her datapad, her eyes flickering with excitement. “We’ve made some headway on that as well. Actually, the engineers reported that your Battle Prediction Algorithm is actually pretty solid.”
Speinfoent blinked in disbelief. “You’re kidding. It is?”
Eupprio nodded. “It is. We didn’t just take its word for it, mind you. We made our own evaluations by training our system on your data. But guess what? Your algorithm was within a decent margin of error about eighty percent of the time.”
“So the wisdom of the ancients was right the whole time?” Speinfoent wondered.
“Mostly, it looks like,” Eupprio confirmed, scrolling through her datapad. “Turns out, all you needed to do was plug in good, honest parameters into the prediction models. But, you know, I’m sure it’s way easier to see that when you’re looking back at a detailed after-action report than when predicting a battle ahead of time…”
“Right.”
Eupprio continued. “Anyway, we’re still working on it, but we’ve got better results now. Filtering by only naval incidents, we’ve narrowed it down to four thousand more-or-less honest entries where the outcomes wildly deviated from what we calculated was way outside the norm.”
“Four thousand reports, huh?” Speinfoent scratched his snout. “Still a pretty hefty pile to sift through, but I can dive in right away.”
“Go for it,” Eupprio said, transferring the data to Speinfoent’s datapad with a flick of her paw. She stood up, stretching her paws as her chair swiveled back.
Speinfoent’s datapad chimed, confirming the file transfer.
Eagerly, he began scanning the reports. “Border Patrol reports skirmish against Znosian raiding force ends in complete unexpected disaster. All fourteen friendly ships lost, and enemy takes no casualties, despite the overwhelming balance of force… nope, this isn’t it. Next… Second Fleet reports attempt to intercept—”
“What is it you’re hoping to stumble upon?” Eupprio asked.
“Well, I figured that while your engineers are attempting to narrow it down any way they can, maybe I’ll get lucky and find what I’m looking for first.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Suit yourself.”
Speinfoent went back to the datapad. “Second Fleet reports attempt—”
His reading was interrupted by the subtle rustle of fabric cascading to the floor. Glancing up, he found Eupprio standing there, significantly less dressed than before. Her ornate, flowing gown was now a puddle of silken fabric around her hind paws on the plush carpet. Gracefully, she stepped away from it, fixing him with an innocent gaze. “Or… maybe you can get lucky with something else.”
With that, she turned around and climbed into her bed deliberately, giving him a generous view of her ample silhouette from behind.
He made up his mind:
The reports could wait.
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ATLAS, LUNA
S.83920 Republic Defense Authorization Act 2123
Status: Expedited Process Approved
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BOSTRUISA, MALGEIRU
Hazily, Speinfoent could feel the velvety touch of Eupprio’s paw as she traced intricate patterns down his clavicle towards his thorax. “What are you doing?” he mumbled, a sleepy grin spreading across his snout, not unappreciatively.
She leaned in, her warm breath tickling his pointed ear as she whispered, “Oh, not much. Just wondering if you want to go again. I don’t think I’m quite finished with you just yet.”
“S—sorry,” he stammered apologetically. “It’s been a while since—”
“No need to explain. I don’t mind,” she interjected softly, cutting him off with a tender peck on the nape of his neck. “And I’m liking the effect I’m having on you.”
He let out a contented sigh. “Just give me a minute.”
“There’s no rush. Take your time,” she smirked. Her paws reached his soft belly and continued their slow journey downwards. “We’ve got all night.”