"I'd rather what just happened not happen again on my ship. I don't care what rank any of you hold, and I don't want your gratitude, or any repayment for saving your lives. I need none of it. All I ask is that you sit here quietly until we reach a starport, where I'll set you down. Then we each go our separate ways, home to our own mothers." Zhao Chen spoke coldly, then turned and walked out of the hangar without another glance.
"Our Commander seems to have struck quite the losing bargain — offending a pack of noble young masters over one crew member, and throwing away the chance to get in good with them all. A real loss." Charlotte happened to be standing in the long corridor outside the hangar; she'd seen the whole thing. She watched Zhao Chen with a faint smile — the first time she'd ever teased the "master" who had bought her.
"In my book, whether it's a loss is mine to decide. Bully my crew, and the answer is no." Zhao Chen snorted. "Come on — let's go get something to eat."
Charlotte watched him walk ahead, hands clasped behind her back, her tail swishing of its own accord as she fell in behind him. Plainly, she was in a fine mood.
The hangar sat close to the ship's canteen — a few steps, no more; through the canteen's clear glass you could see the hangar door straight across. The two were right next to each other. A dozen-odd crew members, off-shift and resting, were already inside. After a hard battle, Zhao Chen had made a point of rotating every post through rest, so they could bathe, eat, and snatch a little sleep. He'd grabbed the chance to come eat with Charlotte, leaving Lilith the bridge; once the two of them finished and returned, they'd relieve her. And it was on the way here, as it happened, that they'd caught the commotion in the hangar.
"Lord Commander, Lady Vice-Captain — what would the two of you like? A great battle's just ended; have something good, build your strength back up." The cook greeted them warmly, running through the dishes.
Before Zhao Chen could order, Charlotte reeled off a string of dishes in one breath: "A plate of braised fish, a bowl of white-radish fish-head soup, a side of dried whitebait — and grilled-eel over rice for the main."
Then she went and found a seat, tail swaying, waiting for the food to come.
Good grief. A true feline through and through — four fish dishes in one sitting. Zhao Chen bit back a laugh and ordered himself a bowl of rice, one meat dish, two vegetables, and a soup. A good deal healthier than Charlotte's spread.
He sat down across from her.
"Nothing you want to talk to me about?" He looked at Charlotte, who sat silent, waiting on her meal.
"Talk about what?" She looked back, puzzled.
Zhao Chen paused. "About what comes next. Thanks to our little reckless stunt back there, this T3 Blizzard-class Light Interstellar Battlecruiser is out in the open now — it's bound to draw attention. There's a heap of trouble ahead; it could even put us in real danger."
Charlotte blinked. "Isn't all that your concern?"
Zhao Chen was taken aback.
"You bought me," she went on. "Whatever you need us to do, we do. What results those things bring isn't ours to weigh. How you handle it is your business — you're the Commander."
He laughed despite himself. "You're awfully carefree. Not worried I'll stir up some enormous mess?"
"I trust you." The words were offhand, and yet they left Zhao Chen with a feeling he couldn't quite name.
Just then Charlotte's all-fish feast arrived. Her pupils dilated several times over — she'd eaten it many times before, yet still couldn't resist the lure of these little "temptations." As Zhao Chen made to speak, she shot him a glare. "My mama always said: eating is a sacred, solemn thing — no talking!" And with that she gave herself over to the feast.
He hadn't expected a habit like that from her. Say what you would, watching Charlotte work her way through the fish, bit by bit, was rather endearing. He'd thought all those dishes were far too much for one person — yet in no time she'd cleared half of them.
"Should've ordered a plate of fish balls too," she muttered under her breath, sounding a touch unsatisfied.
Zhao Chen began to wonder just how pure this White Tiger's bloodline really was.
Then again — with the way Charlotte ordered, if she didn't enjoy benefits in the Owl Dragon Fleet second only to Zhao Chen's own, all that meat and fish would blow through an ordinary crew member's weekly food allowance in a single meal, and leave her drinking the northwest wind[1] the rest of the week.
Meanwhile, back in the hangar
Thanks to the scene Zhao Chen had just made, the two academies' people had settled down considerably. But their impression of this Commander had split into three camps.
The first held that Zhao Chen was too arrogant. Sure, he'd saved them — but was that any way to treat noble-born scions? No manners whatsoever, crude and overbearing! This camp was almost entirely Heaven's Glory Academy students.
The second held that the way Zhao Chen fiercely guarded his own was simply too commanding — drop-dead impressive. This camp was mostly Northstar Academy girls, with Xue Xiaoxiao their ringleader; she kept sidling up to Zhao Wan'er to pump her for details about Zhao Chen, all but asking after 18 generations of his ancestors.
The last camp was neutral: none of it mattered, so long as they left this wretched place alive and reached some starport. Sitting on this hard floor still beat a knee-to-knee heart-to-heart with the bugs back on that planet.
Tromp, tromp, tromp, tromp.
Out in the corridor beyond the hangar, the footsteps multiplied. Through the door you could see the ship's crew moving about. And then the two academies' people caught a scent on the air.
"That… that smells like… meat! Braised pork! I had it once last month!" a student blurted, sniffing.
"How could there be braised pork on this ship? …Though now that you mention it, I really am starving."
Stirred by the smell, more than a few stomachs in the hangar began to growl. For the past three or four days they'd barely eaten: when their ship crash-landed on the planet, the compartment storing the synthetic nutrient rations had, unluckily, blown up. So for three days they'd had almost nothing — nerves stretched taut the whole time, one battle after another burning through their strength. In danger they hadn't felt it; but now the hunger came pounding at their brains.
One girl couldn't help edging up to the hangar door. Catching the crewwoman's eye, she said quickly, "It's fine if I just stand at the doorway and look out — isn't it…?"
The crewwoman hesitated. The Commander's order was that they not leave the hangar — but standing at the threshold to look out didn't seem to break it. Taking her silence for assent, the girl stepped up beside her and looked.
And what she saw nearly set her drooling. Diagonally across from the hangar door stood the canteen's clear glass, and through it she could see the ship's crew eating — chatting, laughing — and eating all kinds of natural food, not the flavorless synthetic rations.
"Oh my heavens… is this what you eat, normally?" she couldn't help asking.
The crewwoman nodded.
Perhaps it was the girl's exaggerated expression that left everyone baffled. They were noble scions, after all; the better-off among them ate natural food 20 days a month — bread, milk, delicacies like mashed potato. Could the food on this ship really be better than theirs?
One student, refusing to believe it, walked over — and the instant he reached the doorway, his feet wouldn't move another step. He stared fixedly at the canteen across the way, swallowing again and again.
"Come look, all of you! They're eating natural food, every bit of it — all kinds of pork, beef, and mutton, and fruit too!" a girl cried out enviously.
For those who hadn't seen it with their own eyes, one thought filled their minds:
How is that possible?