Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Galaxy Angel are the creation of and property of Kanan and are used here without permission. This story may be freely distributed, but it should not be altered or used for profit.
The last time Eonia Transbaal felt so small and defenseless was five years ago, when his ideals for a better use of the Lost Technology from the White Moon resulted in being stripped of his royal rights and exiled to the darkest corners of the galaxy.
Back then his father was the Emperor, and therefore his word law, but now things had changed. For starters, Gerard Transbaal was dead. The surviving members of the Empire's Army were no match against his forces and he was only one step away from becoming the new ruler.
Then why? Why had this feeling, forgotten long ago, returned?
It could be the smell that mercilessly assaulted his senses and made his crimson eyes cry and his nose itch. Or maybe the layers of space fungus that covered the, perhaps once white, walls were so thick that the room seemed smaller every time he looked at them; creating a surreal claustrophobic effect.
Nonetheless, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the call of nature and, with a quick shook of his head; the Former Prince looked in the direction of the toilet. The first thing he noticed was the lack of a door between the stalls—both of which, by the way, were covered by crude drawings and profanities of all kinds; some of which Eonia himself did not know they existed—as well as a proper toilet. Instead, there was a large hole in the ground where a mysterious, darkish brown mass crawled its way, slowly but surely, towards the dim light.
Having decided he would rather trust the power of his will than his immunological system; Eonia turned around to face the hand basin while carefully avoiding stepping on a space cockroach—mostly because it was the first time he saw one. The surface of said basin was only slightly better than the walls and the tap was quite rusted yet washing one's hands before eating was something his parents and tutors had taught and enforced from his early years; and royal etiquette is something you do not forget easily.
Eonia opened the valve and, much to his surprise and joy, the water coming out of it was sparkly clean.
"A ray of hope in a world of darkness…" thought the Former Prince as he submerged his hand in the cold but smooth stream. Alas, the joy was short lived for the paper towel dispenser was empty.
And so, with an annoyed sigh, Eonia dried his hands with his robe.
Even when the Transbaal Empire had not suffered the calamities of war in over a hundred years—until now—the study of military strategies as well as tactics from ancient generals and philosophers was a common subject for all the courses at the Transbaal Military Academy as well as other institutions whose careers encompassed leadership. Having been a member of the Royal Family for the majority of his life, Eonia was, of course, well versed in said subjects.
Nevertheless, there was a big difference between learning about war and experiencing war firsthand. And no amount of training or studying could ever prepare your body and mind for the pain and the nausea of the aftermath of a battle.
Now, as he witnessed the blood flowing from the depths of the charred flesh, Eonia Transbaal realized he would have to deal with the consequences of war sooner than expected.
"Is something the matter, Lord Eonia?" asked Sherry Bristol, commander of the Elsior Pursuit Forces and Eonia's most trusted retainer.
"This space cheeseburger is not properly cooked…"
Eonia sighed with more tiredness than disgust. The two weeks of nothing more than space cheeseburgers and sleeping on a mere metal slab were starting to take their toll on his body.
"Should I get you another one, my Lord?" eagerly asked Sherry.
"No thanks…" replied the former Prince as he dumped the space cheeseburger on a nearby garbage bin. "I think I have lost my appetite," he added.
Sherry's lower lip curled in a gesture that denoted concern. "Maybe you should have a talk with Lady Noah…"
"I mean, as powerful as our fleet is, sometimes I think these ships were designed without taking human needs into account…"
The former Prince smiled. "Noah's just a little girl, Sherry. And you know how children always focus on the aesthetic and combat aspect of their creations first…"