“Great…”
The link cut off abruptly. Ingersol must have been made aware of it.
Klyne was right.
Intel tested and grilled her over the next week.
Ingersol explained at one point. “We need to make some more copies of the KDM and the index before we turn you over to the Mystics.”
“You guys made over a thousand copies before. I know deciphering it’s a major pain, but don’t tell me they’ve already burned through that many?”
“Maeris, I just follow orders. Intel says we need more copies. I gotta make more copies. So just lie there and don’t give us any crap. Believe me, I want to get you the hell away from me and my people as soon as possible. Troubles swarm around you like scavengers and carrion eaters following an army on its way to a battle.”
“Haisha, I love you too, Ing.”
His eyes narrowed to slits and he sneered. “That’s General Ingersol to you, merchant captain.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shut up or I’ll have you sedated.”
Om cut in.
Why are they making more copies of the Kexxian Data Matrix? Is this authorized?
Calm down, Om. Ingersol’s a major butthole, but he’s still with the good guys.
Naero, they’re not just making copies. They’re also experimenting with erasing parts of the KDM from you.
But that would ruin the entire data matrix.
Should I attack them?
No! Don’t alert them. They don’t really know that you’re in there Om, or to what level. Let’s hold you back as our wildcard. Can you stop them, throw up a decoy or something?
In progress. I can create surface copies at will. They’re manipulating and interacting with one now.
They can’t read the KDM yet anyway. How would they know whether it’s the real Kexxian Matrix or not? They can’t tell the difference any way.”
Correct. Again I ask. Should this be considered an attack?
Let them do their worst and let’s see what their intentions are. Keep me updated on their progress. Ingersol might be following orders, or he might even be going rogue with his own agenda.
Klyne had called him an ideologue.
Good strategy. We’ll let them show their hand.
*
After three days of playing dumb, they finally had their answer.
General Ingersol has congratulated his staff quietly. They seem very pleased. They think that in fact they have made several thousand copies of the KDM with some kind of new tek breakthrough. And they also feel confident that they have erased it completely off your DNA. To their mind, they have deleted it from you. And they are the only ones who now control the copies.
Good. Let them keep thinking that. Can we destroy those copies any time we feel like it, Om?
They are worthless any way in the end, but yes. The failsafe is in place with them, just as it was with all of the other copies. We can make them or any data derived from them worthless at any time. Kexxian pico-level wyrms are insidious and cannot be defended against by any known tek.
So, now that they think they’ve solved this problem, what are their plans for me?
As before, they are preparing to transport you to Janosha, and hand you over to the Mystics, to High Master Vane.
I guess Klyne was right.
This Ingersol definitely does not like you for some reason, Naero. He privately expressed great hopes that Master Vane–as he puts it–grinds you to dust.
13
Intel Mystics loaded Naero and her few personal belongings into a cloaked, Intel insertion probe.
She didn’t even get to say goodbye to her people on board The Dagger.
Then they launched her probe toward Janosha like a torpedo.
As well as being cloaked, the sleek black probe jumped several times in as many days, to avoid any attempts at tracking.
All Naero had during her trip was the small, cramped one room to exist in. She studied everything that was known about the secretive Spacer Mystics on the data files in her hand comp.
Which because of their strict policies of absolute secrecy–wasn’t that much.
Unless there was a war, most Spacer Mystics remained isolated and detached from the rest of Spacer society. Practicing and perfecting martial arts, psyonic, and any unique Cosmic abilities. Deep meditation.
Some adepts only did so part-time after their initial training. Adepts like Klyne and her parents and Aunt Sleak. They kept and maintained their regular Spacer lives and pursuits.
Others devoted themselves to the Mystic Paths full time, and more or less left their Clans. Immersing themselves in constant study, practice, and the Mystic search for knowledge and enlightenment.
Yet Klyne was correct. Even if Spacers returned to their old lives after they completed their initial training at whatever level. Thereafter they were always considered to be adepts for the rest of their lives from that point forward. And could be called on to serve as such when needed.
To pass the time, Naero and Om discussed many things. She was glad to have him with her. She caught him up on what he had missed since they had been separated.
Both of them worried about what the Mystics had planned for her, especially after Klyne’s warning. But Naero guessed that if they had really wanted to get rid of her outright, they could have simply set the probe to explode or pass into a star.
Over the course of that standard week, Naero even wore Om out for once.
And surprisingly enough. She read and wrote a lot of poetry.
Her dad would have been proud.
Finally the probe changed course one final time before emerging from jump and starting a landing sequence.
The Mystics in the Intel warning bases at the poles of Janosha announced that they were taking over the controls to bring her probe in.
Another surprise awaited for her.
The flat male voice from the command tek explained a new factor to her. One that had not been mentioned before.
“Adept Candidate Maeris. Be advised. Because of a secret time dilation factor on all three Mystic Homeworlds, you will train on Janosha–not for three months–but actually for three years. Outside of Janosha, only three months will pass.”
Thanks for the information.
“My orders?
“You will train extensively with High Master Vane and his Prime Chaos adept, Mitsubishi Hashiko. For the next three standard years.”
Three years. To decide her fate.
“At the end of your training period, Janosha will fall back in sync with the rest of the galaxy again, for approximately two weeks. That is all. Prepare for landing procedures.”
It all made sense in a way. The time dilation feature would certainly protect the Mystic Homeworlds from attack or invasion, even if their locations were discovered. Very ingenious of the Mystics really.
She and Om both pondered on how the Spacer Mystics had managed such Cosmic feats.
But within the hour, Naero landed on the planet surface. The hatch to the stealth probe unsealed and opened.
Ahhh…fresh air at last. Naero breathed it in deeply and tasted it.
What felt like a jungle or savannah climate closing in all around her. She got out and stretched, still a bit stiff. Blinking in the bright glare of sunlight.
Naero surveyed a lush, green, rocky lo-tek world with strange trees, and luminous, large, yellow-green crystal formations punctuating the surface. Active vulcanism by the taint of volcanic ash on the wind.
Yet when she pulled out her personal belongings and took a step across the planet surface, Naero gasped.
She keenly felt bombarded by the intricate, intense Cosmic energy fields and flows that permeated the air, and everything on Janosha. And that included herself now. As if she swam in it, filling her with both elation and terror.
So much power. All around her; like half-drowning with each breath.
Once she staggered a safe distance away from the probe clutching her single bag, t
he hatch re-sealed. The insertion probe rose up and sped away somewhere toward the…northwest. Then it cloaked.
Naero checked her com unit and and tried to scan around her for any large life forms. Especially any specimens of the humongous, life-threatening variety that lo-tek worlds always seemed to teem with.
Her com unit was completely dead. But Janosha was rumored to be rife with dangerous life forms of several unique and deadly varieties.
That knowledge gave her little comfort. Especially when she noted that none of her tek seem to be working at all.
She sat down on a mossy log and checked her gear in her duffle. Rifles, blasters, combat armor, energy blades, micro-bombs, stunners. Even her wristcom and the self-destruct unit.
All her tek inert and useless. The one fixer she smuggled in with her? Same thing.
All her tek lifeless and unresponsive.
What could cancel out tek like that, on a planetary scale?
She could be surrounded by five meter carnasaurs ready to crunch her juicy bones, and all of her gear was utterly useless.
She couldn’t activate her gravwing on her back, or even program her Nytex flight togs.
What in the hell was going on?
Then she almost panicked.
Om? Om!? You still with me?
She never fully understood if Om was tek or bio or both.
I am–but with only great difficulty. I am part of you and your mind, but we are not entirely immune to these strange tek-dampening affects. Even the KDM is struggling to compensate for them. But might I say, as you often do–Haisha! The energy fields and flux levels of this world are exceedingly strange. I cannot make any logical sense of them. No such place in the universe should rationally exist. It defies most of the known laws of physics and most systems of mathematics and teknology.
I know, Om. What is going on? I’m feeling really weird.
Understandable. Heavy waves of cosmic energy flow and shift around and through us at will. They permeate everything on this world. Including the very atmosphere, all that you see, and the planet itself, all the way to its core. Oh, by the way, scores of strange creatures are surrounding us.
At first Naero couldn’t see or sense them.
Shapes suddenly moved at the edge of her vision.
Naero jumped, taking a defensive stance.
Shadowy blurs, staying just out of sight.
A pretty neat trick really. Was it psyonic or innate?
Were these the natives to Janosha? Were they Spacers or some other life form indigenous to the planet?
From their size they looked smaller than her, ranging from a meter to just under her own short height.
She took a chance, lowered her guard, and called out to them.
“My name is Naero Amashin Maeris. Admiral Klyne and Spacer Intel sent me here for…further Mystic Testing and training with High Master Vane. Are you my contacts?”
The shifting shadowy shapes suddenly ringed around her, coming out of their strange angle of hiding.
Dozens and scores of them, staring at her. Shapeless, blurred images. Fluctuating.
Only slightly terrifying.
Then a sound arose from them, low at first, and then louder and keening.
They were singing. They sang to her. Strange and eerie, but it was still singing, and somewhat welcoming, in its own bone-chilling way.
Sha nii hah, ahluu-nii-ha-ah! Mah nah-hii, jah ah-loh, ah-dii!
It’s a language, Naero. Crude. Simple. I think they’re attempting to be reverent. They even seem a little afraid of you. I’m trying to learn it for us. I will focus on that for a time.
They’re afraid of me?
I think they’re trying to welcome you. Try singing back to them.
What? I’m not very good at that stuff.
You sing when you are alone with me. In your mist showers. You’re not that terrible. Try a little of that. Just notes. You don’t have to form words if you don’t want to. Just be expressive.
She hummed at first. The hazy-looking shapes surrounding her stopped singing. They even seemed to cringe and back away from her in fear.
Was she that bad?
She changed to syllabic notes, from an old Spacer Thiolin tune that her father and mother loved to dance to. She never knew the actual lyrics.
One by one, as she turned around, continuing to sing the tune in lilting fashion, the shapeless creatures knelt down before her, and bowed their blurry heads.
In an instant more, they all took full shape.
They were humanoids. Well-formed. Small. But they were people. Their skin tones ranging from pale pink to gray to blue and dark black.
Long, straight, shoulder-length mops of shiny black hair on their heads. But short gray fur covered their bodies–even their faces.
Short whiskered noses–somewhere between a nose and a snout. Large, expressive eyes with lids, eye color running from black, brown, green, and dark blue. Their small rounded ears actually looked human, except for the velvet-like gray fur covering them. Wide expressive pink mouths with teeth in the normal range. Slightly larger canines, pre-molars and molars, denoting them as omnivores.
Five fingers and toes. Short black nails. Not claws. Only their palms and the bottom of their feet were bare and looked tough. No tails; loincloths of some kind of supple brown hide their only clothing. Slender. Athletic. Agile and quick.
No weapons except for a small leather belt pouch of most likely simple stone, bone, and wooden tools. Low or no-tek, based on the drilled and tied beads, shells, crystals, and colorful feathers they adorned themselves with.
Did they even use fire?
A stone age culture by their looks.
Men. Women. Fuzzy children of various ages.
No old people. The oldest among them seemed to be in their late twenties at best.
Who knew how they aged?
The females all had four breasts, small but well-formed.
In their own unique way, this species was fit, virile, and attractive. Even beautiful she guessed, especially to each other. Several females looked decidedly pregnant. Possible mated pairs. Families.
Naero counted about a hundred of them. All kneeling. All watching her with an intense sense of awe, and not a small amount of fear at her every move.
“Can you…understand me?” she asked.
All one hundred of them seemed to breathe a sigh of relief all at once.
“Haisha!” one of the females exclaimed in perfect Spacer common. “And here we thought we were going to have to sing to you all the time.”
They all laughed.
“Bloody hell to that,” her male companion said.
The two of them stepped forward and bowed their heads, touching the center of their forehead with the tips of their fingers of their right hands.
“Bahan,” the male said.
“Iika,” the female added, standing beside him. “Pleasant greetings. We are your humble guides, halaena.”
“Your wish. Our will.”
“What did you call me, Iika?”
“Halaena. You are a power. All like you who come to our world are halaena. Those who wield the power of the stars. We honor your coming and your place among us, and fear and respect you.”
Bahan bowed again. “We entreat you, halaena. We will see to your every comfort, your every need. Please do not harm us or any of our people.”
“Why would I do anything like that?”
Iika shrugged. “It happens from time to time. Not all halaena have control of their powers when they come here, or choose to control them.”
“Where is here? And who are you people? What should I call you?”
“We are the Tua,” Bahan said. “We call our world Tua’Ka.”
“Short for the World of the Tua. I am Naero Amashin Maeris, of Clan Maeris. I have come to train with the Mystics–the other halaena, I’m guessing. Were you sent to take me to Master Vane?”
As one, the Tua abased themselves and cringed.
&nbs
p; “We do not speak his name!” Iika said, her head down.
She trembled, literally shaking beyond control.
Naero almost giggled.
“Why the hell not?”
Bahan could barely speak. “He is the master…of all the halaena.”
“He is Yahaewa Ga-halaena. He who decides the fate of the halaena.”
Naero shook her head and drew herself up. “I respect those who can teach me, but I have yet to meet anyone who is my true master. And I shall always decide my own fate. But if Master V–”
The Tua whimpered and cringed again, imploring her not to speak the name again.
“If he is one of the three High Masters of the Mystics of my people, I am honor bound to respect him, and try to learn from his teachings and his wisdom.”
Bahan and Iika stared up at her with their mouths open. Abject fear.
“Have you ever…met the Yahaewa Ga-halaena?” Iika asked.
“Be prepared,” Bahan said. “He is fear itself.”
“Even if the halaena cannot please him, he destroys them, with but a wave of his hand,” Iika added. “We Tua, are as nothing to him. Less than the bugs that crawl upon the ground. We do our best to please him, and not get in his way. But some always manage to do so.”
A look of great pain came over Iika’s face. “My great-mother, the mother of my mother, was one of the unlucky ones. With only a glance he…he turned her to ash upon the wind. She barely had time to scream.”
Naero blinked. “What did she do that he destroyed her?”
“She did something both to dishonor and displease him greatly. And for that she was punished.”
Bahan spoke up. “She was cleaning the great one’s cave; she tripped and…splashed the cave pot on him.”
Naero curled up her lip. “Messy, disgusting, but no reason to incinerate someone’s granny.”
They looked at each other and then back at her.
“Forgive us,” Iika said. “Some of your words are strange to us still.”
Spacer Clans Adventure 2: Naero's Gambit Page 9