A Dinner Party

Von

Aug 26, 2024

Article voiceover

0:00

-6:07

Illoia looked at her wrist band. It was Tomirosh. “Where are you?” he asked, when she hit ‘accept, voice only.”

“In the fresher. I think I’m going to spend all night here. I ache all over.”

“Do you need to visit the med bay? Do you think you are injured?”

“No, I think I’ve just done more running, jumping, and poking rifles around corners then I have done since… since forever.”

There was a pause. “So… so when are you coming back to the room?”

Illoia stared at her wrist band. He had thought she was serious? She had seem some social quirks in him before, but this was the worst. She wondered if he had some kind of autistic brain imbalance. He was such a genius at some things, and so very clueless at others.

“I should be done in a minute, and will be back at the room to dress for dinner.”

“Ah. Very good. You had told me we were eating with those other two leaders and their wives…”

“Oh by the stars! I forgot!! Com them and tell them we’re running late, will you!”

“Certainly, Love.”

‘Love’ he called her. Well, that was what the marriage manuals said to do, however illogical. Illoia rushed into the dryer and threw her robe on. “I can’t believe I forgot,” she said, as she dashed back into the cabin and threw the robe down.

“Don’t worry,” Tomirosh said, standing and watching her while she dressed. He made no secret whatsoever about watching her and, as she had gotten more comfortable with their physical relationship, she was starting to enjoy it. She wondered if her father did the same thing. It wasn’t something that, before, she had ever imagined. “I told them you had had a hard day in the sims.”

“You did?”

“Yes. That’s what you told me…?”

“Yes, yes,” she said. She hadn’t imagined he would use that excuse, but perhaps it was ok. She could play on that as a conversation starter. “There, I’m ready.”

Tomish held out his arm, and Illoia took it. Humming, he led her off to the dining room. Which was kind of a joke, that name. The room was small, had some bimetalic silicon tables and chairs all in a line, and could barely fit fifty people. Hardly what Illoia was used to calling a dining room.

“Well, it’s about time you all showed up,” Eukles said, rising as Tom and Illoia arrived at the far end of the room where the other couples were sitting. He, Tom, and Meriones clasped hands while the lasses exchanged kisses, and then they all sat down.

“Tom tells us you’ve had a hard day in the sims?” Eudoria asked Illoia.

“Oh, it is just killing me,” Illoia said. “Here I thought I was in good shape, but that obstacle course… it makes me hurt in places I didn’t even you could have muscles… or tendons or whatever.”

“Your performance in the obstacle course is excellent,” Tom protested. “Your scores are improving every day!”

Her husband was so clueless! Didn’t he understand she was just making small talk?

“Well, I don’t like the obstacle course either, “Eudoria said, after an awkward pause, “but I am enjoying learning how to shoot. My brothers are quite the hunters, and they were forever looking down on me as someone who didn’t know one end of a rifle from the other. I’m sure I am better than either of them, now.”

The others laughed at that and Illoia, internally, laughed at Tom’s serious expression. Just then the waiter came and business of ordering began. When everyone had put in their orders, the other lads echoing Tom in his penchant for meat, the waiter asked, “And what would you like to drink? Would you like to see the alcohol list?”

“No, thank you,” Tom said, coldly. “Alcohol ruins physical reactions.”

The other’s faces all fell a bit at this but they all dutifully ordered milk, juice or, in the case of Meriones, water. “Lightly carbonated, if you please,” he said to the waiter. “I learned to drink it that way on Tangen,” he confessed. “Their water is all carbonated, right from the well, some trick of geology or something. The only question there is what kind of carbonation. I learned to even like the light carbonation that they can achieve here on shipboard.”

The waiter left and the group fell silent. This was awkward. The other lads were nervous around Tom, and Tom would just hum… “Say, lads, I have a question,” Illoia said. “You know I’m new to all of this military stuff and have a lot to learn. But there’s this word that I’ve heard whispered around, about Tom… what is a ‘jumper’?”

“I am a jumper,” Tom said, laughing quietly. “A three time jumper.”

“A jumper, Illoia, is a soldier who ‘jumps’ rank due to a medal,” Meriones said. “Our friend Tom here is a triple jumper, a feat pretty much unheard of. Most of us do our two years as rankers before we become Middys, two as Middys before we become Top Ranker, and two at Top Ranker before we can try for leader. We might get off a little early if we do well. I skipped my last month as ranker, for example.”

But Tom here just kept getting Dictator’s own and jumping ranks. What are you, two years short of normal?”

“One year, nine months, actually,” Tom said. “Altho my first award didn’t come in right away, so I ended up skipping four months as a Middy.”

“You see? So that makes him a ‘jumper’, and the brass don’t like that. How did you get those medals, anyway, Tom?”

“Luck,” Tom said.

“No, really… I’ve heard all of these different rumors, and the official report. Not sure which ones I believe less.”

“Yeah, Tom, confess…”

“I would like to hear it too,” Illoia said, softly. Tom looked at her.

Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!

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Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,

Von

Links

Article 17 is a military science fiction story with aliens and romance. It is set in a future reminiscent of Napoleon era Britain. The war was going very poorly until the military installed a dictator. This story follows one of the dictator’s great men: Cladin Tomirosh, Leader, and thrice decorated hero.

Intro // Podcast Version

She was pretty, popular, snobby, and a planetary governor’s daughter. He was the son of shopkeepers, a social misfit, and a decorated hero. She thought she was there to dance. He had other ideas.

A Dance // Podcast Version

As a governor’s daughter, Illoia usually avoided such events, but when the captain made the announcement that there was to be an Article 17 dance, she, too, was forced to attend. If only the scum hadn’t been there too.