Chapter 10: All Clowns

“Are we here already?”
“Yes!”
“Feels kind of underwhelming, doesn’t it?”

The reluctant driver glanced out the window and saw a space force ground crewman in a rigid spacesuit busily working outside. When he noticed the army cadet inside the vehicle, he broke into a bright smile and waved at the driver.

“The space force guys are surprisingly friendly!”
“Yeah, well, we’re the little brothers of the army after all!”

Since entering the UC era, the status of Earth Federation’s military branches underwent a dramatic upheaval. The navy, once regarded as the nation’s pride and the big brother of the forces, had been demoted to a minor role. Meanwhile, the newly favored space force surged ahead, surpassing all three branches to become the vanguard of the new era. Though it initially started as a derivative of the three branches, the Earth Federation Space Forces (E.F.S.F.) entered a period of rapid expansion after the 2060s. Space battleships rolled off the assembly lines like dumplings, and to date, the Federation boasts over a hundred battleships, nearly six hundred cruisers, and countless smaller support vessels. Their reach even extends to the Jovian sphere, making them the cornerstone of the Federation’s defense.

The arrival of their little brothers from the army was warmly welcomed by the space force veterans at the orbital defense base. This place was usually inactive, only called upon in dire emergencies where retreat was not an option. Ordinarily, their presence was even less noticeable than the navy’s. To celebrate the army’s arrival, the base commander, a somewhat lean middle-aged colonel, specially arranged a banquet.

“Our supply situation here isn’t great, so don’t be picky. Eat your fill, rest up, and get ready to thrash those Zeon scum!”

The colonel’s words were modest, leading the puzzled army cadets to assume that the space force’s accommodations were rather average. But as they entered the enormous two-story mess hall, they quickly realized who the real fools were.

“Twenty dishes, seven staples, six fruits, eight beverages, and even four flavors of ice cream with options for cookie crumbs and jam toppings—all self-service. The space force calls this average?”

“Compared to the main fleet, sure, it’s average. Over there, they have French cuisine buffets, and when the fleet holds weekly banquets, there’s even a military band playing. The mess hall operates 24/7…”

Makarius nudged the somewhat bewildered Andrei with his elbow and said,
“So, Andrei, keep your spirits up. Hold your head high. Don’t embarrass us—let them see that armored troops aren’t just country bumpkins!”

“That’s not very convincing coming from you!”

When Andrei turned, he saw that Makarius had, without anyone noticing, already brought over two ice cream bowls smothered with cookie crumbs, banana chips, gummy candies, and a generous layer of strawberry jam, and was happily munching away.

“The chef over there gave it to me! I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I had to accept it.”

Makarius happily devoured the treats, one spoonful after another.

Andrei followed Makarius’s gaze and saw a muscular man about six feet tall wearing a tight chef’s jacket and a crooked chef’s hat. The man was preparing ice cream for a group of female space force soldiers. Spotting Andrei watching, the chef grinned, showing a set of gleaming white teeth, and lifted one of his sweet creations invitingly toward him.

Andrei quickly waved him off. He wasn’t much for sweets—his tastes ran more toward tobacco and spirits.

Then he noticed the beverage station, which surprisingly included kegs of whiskey and low-alcohol beer. However, a staff member was watching closely, and one had to present identification to receive a regulated portion of alcohol.

“Damn space force! They even get to drink when off duty!”
“Not just that, on our days off, we drink as much as we want!”

A space force sergeant, smiling as he picked up a shallow glass of whiskey to place on his tray, said,
“So, do you regret joining the army now? It’s not too late to switch to us!”

“No, thanks. Being in the army isn’t so bad. We get to boss you guys around to pilot the ships and even eat your meals. That’s enough for us!”

The sergeant could only turn away in frustration, but politely before leaving, he mentioned the mess hall’s specialty: a dish of deep-fried then simmered shrimp, retaining a crisp texture. Soon after, he regretted it.

The army cadets were ruthless—they each grabbed a shovel and scooped up nearly all the freshly made shrimp. The space force soldiers waiting in line behind them were left with hardly any, forcing the chef to rush to replenish the supply.

Meanwhile, Makarius and his group returned to their table like victors. The armored corps officers dining nearby looked at the towering piles of food on their plates, unsure what to say.

“Our meals aren’t that bad, are they?”

Further back, they saw the armored corps commander carrying a double portion of meat, his eyes blazing like a starving wolf on the Siberian tundra.

“Tsk, tsk, what bad habits do you have?”

The commander glanced at the officers’ plates, which were well balanced with meat, vegetables, and staples—nutritionally sound to the point that even their mothers couldn’t find fault. Yet he sighed and, frustrated by their lack of ambition, said,

“When dining at allied units, don’t bother with staples. You can fill up on meat just fine. Break this bad habit! Do you think our allied brothers would begrudge you a bite of meat?”

Inspired by him, the cadets and the officers grabbing seconds began a voracious feast, eating with such speed that the space force soldiers stopped in their tracks, whispering among themselves, “What’s going on? Has the armored corps come to feast like big spenders?”

The chef, however, was delighted. Every bite they took was a vote of confidence, so he fried the shrimp with even more enthusiasm.

Only in a shadowed corner, the steward held the invoice and lamented bitterly to the base commander,
“This sudden banquet has blown the food budget, plus there were extra supplies purchased. How am I supposed to make up the shortfall?”

“I was just putting on a show. Who knew these guys would be so earnest—when we say eat, they really eat?”

The commander groaned. Had he known, he wouldn’t have pretended.

“Forget it. Next month, everyone’s going to have a few hard days.”