Clack. Clack.

The standard-issue gray plastic eating utensil resembling the likes of a spoon and fork taps against the dark interior of the tan-colored bowl. But I make no attempts at taking a jab at the few nutritionists left in it. The bowl has a remainder of a dozen small greenish-blue peas and small blobs of rice dripped in a black condiment that adds such a questionable taste that I would have been better off not asking for any at all. But the cafeteria lady is so proud of the contents that she likes to rag on about how they’re organic produce from the nearest Frankish settlement and how it will help me grow… though haven’t I grown enough already?

Following Buttermilch’s departure I was still left feeling down and decided to head to the cafeteria to cheer up with some comfort food, and though she gave me a pat on the back—which hurt, by the way, what’s with everyone giving me such rough slaps on the back?—she offered to give me some leftover selection of tofu that was probably not synthesized in a Metropolitan factory somewhere. Her most recent inventory of food for the day, she claims, is actually the real authentic stuff; real food grown with no fancy nasty stuff that usually goes over my head. The main exports from the planetary settlements located in the Frankish Domain mostly consist of agriculture commodities, with the Ruthenia colonies following in close behind. In the olden days, the terraformed Australian Outback was the breadbasket for the first pioneers of space colonization. But the Outback was soon overtaken in later decades by the strong fertile lands that alien planets in what was then, the ever-growing Frankish Domain had to offer.

It’s kind of funny when I think about it. Back home the food is actually worse than what they have to offer here. My mom is… not exactly a world-class chef, but I admire her and dad for doing their best with what they make do with. I started to take this food for granted because it was just better. The food from the Franks have taste and quality that I never realized was even feasible growing up back home in Australia. But yet… a part of me is homesick for mom’s terrible cooking on top of the terrible processed food manufactured without soul for the en mass. Even if it was crappy, it was still food. I grew up on it and knew no better. And I miss it.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Still more unenthusiastic taps with the spork against the surface of the bowl, and even fewer attempts at impaling the globs of rice or lonely peas.

But, right, the tofu, getting back on point she had an unusual amount leftover from shelf life and offered to dump it all on me. It’s tasty! She had exclaimed wrapping her arms around my neck in a deadly lock. This is not your ordinary lunch lady, mind you. She’s unlike the typical overweight cafeteria ladies from my childhood—she’s a bit on the lean side, with some hints of toned muscle if you didn’t have the luxury of being in a bonafide headlock by her. I guess when you have to deal with hundreds of grumpy sailors who might want to get into a shouting match with you, I guess it makes sense to toughen up a bit when push comes to shove. Just because it’s nearing its expiration date doesn’t mean it’s necessarily bad! Or so she said and ended up giving me an unflattering heap of the blimey stuff without taking a word of protest.

I never stuck around in the cafeteria, however. I took my yellow plastic tray straight to my room and sat down at my desk to eat. To get away from the rather bustling cafeteria. There’s a lull in combat right now, I guess, and the military police have failed to maintain discipline order when the hard-ass Buttermilch departed with Mazzareli to the commodore’s flagship. It’s so casual that it reminds me of life back at the academy.

It’s only been a few months at best since our sped-up graduation and deployment to the Metropolitan Space Navy, but life aboard the Yilan makes it feel like a whole year has passed at least. So little has been done when we were idling waiting around in the Frankish Domain, with endless assignments and tactical war games against one another. And then Operation Lucky Alphonse happened…

Clack. Clack. I deflate with a sigh.

Even though I hoped to eat some food for comfort, in the end, I never had much of an appetite. I haven’t even taken one bite out of the pile of tofu yet. And yet…

The television across the room plays such a tremendous sound that it makes me nearly jump in my seat. Oh, right. I forgot Friederika barged her way into here earlier. And just as I had always thought, she nearly fell face flat on the light blue carpet after stepping on some random accessory. I never like it when she comes to my room because it’s such a chaos that she complains about it in the end.

But anyway, she came by to cheer me up, you know, like a good friend is supposed to do. Or, at least that was my original impression. But in reality, she just wanted to escape the military police since she’s technically an accessory in my crime of insubordination across the Yilan. I don’t blame her though, I don’t think she even did anything when I left her hanging in my quest for Buttermilch. Interestingly, when I did walk past an MP, he only gave me a gentle slap on the wrist—metaphorically speaking, of course. None of that usual ‘let’s-hurt-Victoria-with-a-strong-slap-on-the-shoulder-blade’ kinda deal.

And when I say original impression…

She didn’t even try to comfort me at all. In fact, after her much-deserved-in-hindsight comical crash, she pouted and went straight to my bed to watch the telly. But that loud noise makes me think it’s not like her usual M-dramas.

“Sorry, did I startle you, Vicky?” She rolls over on my bed to look over at me. I think she’s gotten too comfortable in that thing. It’s going to smell like Friederika later—and then I’m going to sound like Friederika later. I can’t even remember the last time I even washed my covers…

“Oh, uhm… yeah, you kinda did. Whatcha watching? It’s pretty rare for your M-dramas to have violent action scenes don’t you think?”

“Actually it’s not an M-drama this time! It’s some fantasy drama from a well-renowned studio in the Perdenes system—but it does have a few Martian actors that I liked, and I heard some marines talk about it so I figured it was worth checking out.”

I let out a whistle. Friederika is not watching an M-drama for once? Well, it still has some actors from Marsol, so I guess it technically counts as one. “What’s it about, exactly?” I ask, ignoring my food for now and sliding my chair towards the telly.

“It’s set in a fictional Perdenes where the realm was once unified by an empire but became shattered by a civil war that lasted for ages… I didn't get the chance to watch from the beginning, though, this is a dozen episodes in already. Anyway…”

The setting certainly seemed medieval. Indeed, there are large iron looking cannons blasting away at once, which is probably what I was hearing before. The characters speak, and although they speak in a language that’s awfully like angry-toned gibberish, the subtitles let me follow along; a siege is underway at the last bastion of resistance against the larger empire faction. Some important looking guy in elaborate looking bearskin armor is discussing with servants about the best course of action for the siege. A hole is shown to be blown in the wall, but the servants are cautious. The bearskin armor king wants to take advantage and storm the breach with infantry, but his men urge him to wait until they can blow another hole in the wall and spread the defense of the fortress city thin. Some of the servants go on to explain that if they channel most of their army into that single breach, then they will not suffer the initiative but also lose numerical superiority. The camera pans out to the camp—and gosh! It is HUGE ! There’s at least a thousand guys or so!

“Shocking, ain’t it?” Friederika asks giddily. “This show had an enormous budget for its time. I think this was made sometime in the 50s’ or so? The studio borrowed a lot of actual active-service military guys from Marsol, so they were able to get away with a lot of big battle scenes without using… what is it called? CG? Or whatever.”

“Oddly specific to move around that much manpower across the Orion Arm.” I muse in response, “why didn’t they just ask for some dudes from Ruthenia or even the Frankish Realm?”

“That’s a good question as any,” Friederika hops to her feet and walks over to my table. Without occurring to me what Friederika is doing she quickly pinches some of the globs of rice from my bowl and with a free hand grabs the depressing black bowl containing the brown crispy tofu and hurries back to the bed. I decide not to protest about it, though. I wasn’t too keen on eating the tofu anyway. Sorry, cafeteria lady, your delicious inventory of hard-earned tofu is a victim to Friederika’s bottomless stomach. “But I read that after suppressing a minor Martian revolt lasting some years earlier, they were transferred to the Perdenes system to act as a security force there, too.”

“I’m not sure I still understand the logic, but I guess they wanted some experienced soldiers who knew what they were doing. It still baffles me why—”

“Shhh! The commercial break is over!”

“Right…” I roll my eyes. This is a pretty fun watch, though.

In the end, the bearskin armor king orders one last bombardment and leads the charge into one of the breaches where a cinematic battle scene unfolds against intense drumming and trumpets. Several of his foes fall but he takes many grave injuries, and someone that I guess is his best friend holds him in his arms. The dying bearskin armor king begs his friend to reassure him(the king) that the fight—and the war as a whole—was well worth fighting for. In the king’s dying breath, he orders his friend to keep the announcement of his death secret until the last moment—as the battle lines were pushed back, and only a few on-screen are somberly witnessing the moment—and in a rather emotional scene that even moves me a fair bit, the king closes his eyes one last time, just as the flag of his army is raised at one of the castle gates.

And with that, the credits for the episode roll.

“That was kinda cool, but isn’t it kinda spoiling yourself to not watch it from the beginning?” I ask Friederika, shortly before I finally jab one of the remaining resistance of dried together rice with the spork.

Friederika only shoots me a funny look. “You crazy? This series is like 50 episodes long and like 40 minutes each! And that’s not even including the opening or credits, either. It’s not like we have that much time that I can play catchup, and it’s kinda plot-heavy—the M-dramas I watch are more or less self-contained…sorta.” After downing most of the tofu, Friederika pats her stomach and turns off the telly. “But that aside, Vicky… are you doing alright? Has your head bump gotten any better?”

“Oh… yeah, it has. I barely even feel it anymore.” I gesture for Friederika to hand me the tofu bowl so I can put it back on the tray and send it to the cafeteria later for waste disposal. Technically we’re not supposed to eat in our rooms, but since discipline has broken down and the Yilan has seemingly become a playground I just kinda took advantage of the situation. I needed to cool my head and not deal with the loud mess hall. “Thanks for checking in on me—even though you didn’t actually…”

“Ohhh, think nothing of it!” Friederika says while gushing for whatever reason. “I just wanted to hang out with you while I still can. I couldn’t exactly wheel in a TV to watch anything while I was with you in the medical bay, you know? I was bored out of my mind!”

Well, I was going to ask why she even came to my room just to use me for my telly, but I guess that answers it. She’s as much of a social creature as anyone else. Watching stuff with friends is several times more fun than being alone cooped up in her room. Friederika might be a bit of a dimwit but I’m glad I have a friend like her.

“But that aside… I never got to ask you about Buttermilch, did I? Did you manage to catch him before he left for the commodore’s ship? Were you able to give him a piece of your mind before he left?” She asks with such concern that it makes me feel bad for calling her a dimwit just now.

“Yeah, I did, thankfully… and I think I got everything off my chest—I can only hope he can convince Commodore Chal along with the other officers. I feel like… my only regret is not forcing myself to tag along with him. I think if I came along, I could help convince everyone not to do anything irrational… and I didn’t. And it makes me want to kick myself.” I got up from my desk to sit next to Friederika on the bed, “the whole thing you said about people complaining we’re wasting time and fears of splitting the fleet kinda did get to me…—and by the way!” I karate chop an unsuspecting Friederika on the forehead and she cries out in typical Friederika noises, “Buttermilch said you need to get your hearing checked—because the guys you overheard weren’t actually talking about that at all. They were more or less crying about not being part of theMalabo marine force, or whatever.”

“Tee-hee~” Friederika playfully knocks on the side of her head, “I guess I am the source of many great woes!~”

“I think if there was ever a goddess of misinformation and woes, it’d probably be you.” I say, failing to hide a grin.

“You don’t like to mince your words, do you?” Friederika shoots back but she can’t refrain from cracking a smile, too. “Well, hurt words aside, I did my job of cheering you up, didn’t I? It wasn’t all in vain to risk dying in here to a catastrophe of a room. Look at you, no longer bummed as a ghost! Lemme pinch those cheeks!~”

But before Friederika can tease me any more, a siren wail from outside catches our attention which is followed by a female announcer calling all personnel to the strategic planning room.

“I suppose it’s about time, huh…” Friederika says offhandedly. “Commander Buttermilch must be back from his little trip.”

The anxiety spike makes my stomach churn. Honestly, I’m kind of worried sick about seeing Buttermilch now. Who knows what news he may bring back with him? If it’s anything other than what I’m hoping…

“The planning room, right? Well then, let’s get going?—Oh, and I’ll leave the food here for now. The cafeteria is in the opposite direction so I’ll come back for it later, I don’t want the two of us to be written up for missing muster.” I tell Friederika, and she gives me a nod in reply.

And with that, the two of us leave my room in tense silence.