Spacer Clans Adventure 2: Naero's Gambit

by Mason Elliott

“Let’s get started, people.” The hush spread, and all eyes turned her way. Volume on the INS feeds and the various date arrays and holo screens went down low or off so that she could speak over them.

  Naero pointed and sneered at the INS coverage of the Ceasefire Talks. “It is obvious to myself and many that our foes see some value in playing out the sheer stupidity and delaying tactics of this farce. Of course, as we suspect, they’re also using this time to solidify their gains in the war thus far, improve their positions, and bring more fleets and troops on line closer to the front.”

  Captain Max Lii spoke up, a ready smile on his handsome face. “When questioned about their naked aggression against Spacers, their territory, and their allies, the Corps mouthpieces blather on about freedom and how the very fate of humanity is at stake in this, ‘War-To-End-All-Wars.’ They claim that the Spacer threat to Liberty and the grand ways of the Corps has to be dealt with. Once and for all time.”

  Chaela took her turn next.

  “We’ve never stopped protesting the Corps no prisoner policy. It is barbaric and unjust. In response, the Corps insist–despite overwhelming evidence–that Spacer crews routinely refuse to surrender, and always choose to fight to the death. I say we should do the same thing to their crews that we capture!”

  Naero shook her head sadly. “No, Chae. We can’t.”

  Chae stared back at her in quiet, simmering anger.

  “Why the hell not? They’re doing it to us. What makes that right?”

  “Even so, we’d be playing right into their hands. They’d never stop playing those vids against us, proving us to be the bloodthirsty foes they claim us to be. We have to keep the truth on our side.”

  Captain Hans Konrad agreed with Chae. “Nobody cares about the truth in this war. And a lot of good that’s going to do us when we’re all dead. Like Captain Lucia and her people.”

  Naero bowed her head and closed her eyes.

  I’m so sorry Luce.

  So sorry we had no way to save you and your crew.

  Naero lifted her head. “Luce and her people were our friends. Our family. No one mourns their loss more than all of us. But we have to keep our heads, and remain who and what we are, whatever vile actions the Corps take. If we simply become like them, what is the point? What is the difference who wins this war?”

  Captain Saemar took a turn. “I’m afraid En’s right, sweeties. We’d be giving the bastards a propaganda victory that they’re just itchin’ to exploit. In fact, similar speeches were made during all of the last four Spacer Wars. Our historical archives prove it.

  “Just look at INS if you don’t believe me. Why, one Corps jerk even got chastised and demoted for repeating–verbatim–one such speech some other Corps lackey made in the past–during The Second Spacer War.

  “Apparently, originality in Corps propaganda is some kind of frickin’ virtue. They can basically say the same lies. They just can’t plagiarize one another directly. It’s all silly and idiotic, while they commit mass murder by the tens of thousands and try to cover it up.”

  Naero strove to re-direct the discussion.

  “While I think all of these matters are serious and important, we all know very well that we have some new wild cards on the table now.”

  Everyone sat up a bit straighter and looked both uncomfortable and slightly nervous.

  “The new and unknown threats that the Corps’ new alien allies pose have got to be analyzed and dealt with. All of us saw firsthand how devastating their tek can be. Yet here’s the thing that bothers and worries me most. Why did they ignore a decisive battle that their tek could have clearly won–simply to capture one Mystic adept? Mitsubishi Hashiko.”

  As the discussion continued, all of the captains confirmed from the first that they had transmitted all of their data to Admiral Klyne and Spacer Intel for analysis.

  Many had a sinking intuition that there was indeed more at work behind the scenes than the Corps merely using the ceasefire talks as a ruse and a pretense to mass new elements and plot for another major military push.

  But whatever these new aliens were up to, Naero and her people simply did not know enough about them and their capabilities or motivations to make any rational guesses.

  After the long meeting, Naero returned to her quarters, head aching. She needed rest.

  Half way through her troubled sleep, she at last she received a secret coded message on another one of the secure channels.

  One that only Baeven used.

  The transmission simply read, once decoded:

  Hurry to Celonia-4. Urgent. Bring serious help; but keep it quiet in the wings. Don’t let Intel know I’m your source. Good reason to believe that you and the other Mystics are now high value, priority enemy targets. All adepts are in serious, direct danger from the Corps’ new alien allies.

  The final cryptic line read:

  If I’m right, even bigger troubles lurk ahead. Worse than the war.

  Naero blinked. She read it all again.

  What in the hell could be worse than a damn war they were certain to lose?

  She went to Klyne and told him her suspicions.

  He looked a little startled.

  “We have similar fears. How did you learn about all of this? What are your sources? It better not be Baeven.”

  Naero dismissed that. “We all know people who know things. It’s our business. We all have sources out there, digging for info everywhere. You know how it is. Rumors abound. But eventually, some of the rumors have the weight of truth to them.”

  Klyne licked his lips. “I suppose. But why Celonia-4? It’s a shabby little mining world on the edge of our space with Joshua Tech. Well away from any of the current fronts. Literally nothing of strategic or any military value there or anywhere close. Zero. Nacha. What could anyone possibly want there?”

  Naero shrugged. “Who knows what the aliens are after. But my sources tell me that some kind of trouble is brewing in that direction. And the aliens are directly involved.”

  “Hmmm…" Klyne said, stroking his lips absently with his strong fingers.

  Naero could almost see the complex wheels of his mind working. Klyne was said to be a genius among Intel strategists. But presently, even he looked stumped.

  “These aliens are playing very deep game. We have no choice but to look into it and calculate all of the variables. Anything, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant.”

  “Don’t forget to check with the miners and Nevano Kinmal.”

  “Already in touch with him. Waiting to hear back on coded channels. How much support are you going to need on this run, Naero?”

  “My people, and ten other crack fleets hiding back in support on vectors I choose. I know you’ll re-position others nearby to pile in if needed.”

  “SOP. Do you think there’s any chance that Hashiko will actually turn up…still alive?”

  Naero shook her head. “Not sure. But I think if we find the aliens, we’ll find out what has happened to her. One other thing.”

  “Name it.”

  “I want some major ground forces. Real ass-kickers. At least an entire battle group. Ready to drop and win at a moments notice.”

  “Hmmm…The Sterling 54th Highlanders, the 3rd Ghurkas–both are already deployed. Let me check.”

  Klyne suddenly smiled. “You want fighters, huh? Well, here you go. You want Big Jim Walker’s Second Spacer Marine Planetary Invasion Force. Bravo Command. Those bastards don’t know the meaning of fear. They love to fight–the hotter the action the better–and the Corps live in abject fear of them dropping down anywhere in the known systems.”

  Klyne chuckled. “And you’re in luck. Not only are they available, they’ve just come online with our most advanced armor and heavy weapons, straight out of the Intel and Spacer military development labs. They’ll be itching to try out all of their new toys.”

  “Sounds good. I’ve heard of them. If we find those aliens, I think we’re going to need them.”

 
; “Good hunting,” Klyne said.

  Naero and her forces launched the next day.

  She retrieved her glowing medical officer and sent Alala, Captain Tyber, and The Darkstar crew forward to scout the area ahead of them.

  The good thing about Naero using her trade fleet as a front was that they could mask their movements as a trade run among the mining worlds. Not only were the specialized ships of her fleet heavily armed, their captains and crews were hand-picked.

  They reached Celonia-4. Long and short range scans showed nothing to worry about so far.

  Like Klyne said, just an average mining world, doing much better now that it was self-governed instead of under the heavy heel of Triax.

  With the help of Spacers and Joshua Tech, the miners had flourished. Production from the mines was way up, safety ratings soared as the proper practices, regs, and safeguards were established and maintained.

  Instead of over three-quarters of the population living in fear and total squalor and misery, cities and well-ordered communities exploded. Their children were being properly educated. Exploration expanded exponentially, and there was prosperity and opportunity for anyone with the gumption to pursue it.

  In short, the miners were happy for the first time in a long time. Knowing a peace and contentedness that they had never known before.

  But with the threat of war and Corps invasion once more, the miners had armed themselves to the very teeth. And swore openly to remain free and independent or go down to the last soul fighting.

  Everywhere Naero saw miner commando banners reading:

  Live Free or Die!

  Never Again!

  Death to Tyranny!

  Invaders Beware!

  Naero put on some old clothes she’d worn among the miners when she had been fleeing in disguise. Back in the day.

  She and Tarim smiled, slipping into their short dusty flight jackets. The ones with the old red Ejjai Avenger patches.

  “Mine’s a little tight,” Tarim noted.

  Naero laughed, straightening out his collar on one side. “You’ve filled out a bit since then, Tarim. You’re not a skinny little half-starved miner punk like you were back then. Be careful you don’t get too fat.”

  “Who’s fat?” Tarim said. “Working out with you crazy-ass Spacers? I’m lucky if I have an ounce of fat on me.”

  Unlike Spacers, Tarim still had to have regular healing treatments each month to combat the effects of living and working in space for long periods.

  Naero smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Tarim. And good crew. I’m proud to serve with, and have you guarding my back.”

  Tarim nodded, and put on a tough-looking, flat brimmed black leather mining hat, decorated with a ring of Ejjai teeth.

  “Proud to do it. Hey, have we heard where Kinmal and Shalaen are? With the war I’m worried about them both.”

  “Your gal and her dad can handle themselves,” Naero said. “No, I’m sure their locations are kept top secret.”

  Tarim looked down at his dusty old boots. “Probably, I guess.” Tarim sighed. “I sure do miss her, Naero. I think about her all the time.”

  Naero took his hand a moment. “I know you do. That’s why you love her. C’mon. Let’s go meet up with our old friend of the family.”

  Tarim tucked in a few more weapons into his concealed rigs.

  Naero laughed. “Do you think you have enough? Too many weapons and you won’t be able to move.”

  “You let me worry about that. If we’re getting anywhere near Baeven, I want a freight hauler of weapons, ammo, and grenades at the ready if possible.”

  They went down in The Flying Dagger and walked from the old mining starport on foot into what else?

  The nasty, illegal, seedy side of the entire place. Every form of vice and villainy that held out against civilization, usually in the no-man’s lands that hid in the shadows around starports.

  Easy to slip in. Easy to slip away.

  The dive was called The Happy Boy. The welcoming holo was a soldier’s decaying skull, laughing uproariously, set upon a huge bottle of some vile grog. A vicious looking battle-blade shoved through its chortling head.

  As patrons drew closer, they could even hear the animated skull laugh and bellow, “Welcome to The Happy Boy!”

  Two mean looking drunks hung out in the entrance. They stunk like Jilarian polecats.

  One of them made the mistake of accosting Naero.

  “Hey, little girl. There’s a cover charge here. Show me some credits, and your tits!”

  The oaf actually groped for her chest.

  Naero grabbed his hand in a flash.

  She pulverized every bone in it.

  Like grinding egg-sized rocks to dust back on Janosha.

  She flung him gasping in wide-eyed pain out into the nasty smelling gutters behind her without a glance.

  Meanwhile, Tarim held the oaf’s mate at bay with a short bore micro-grenade launcher rammed up into the man’s bleeding face.

  “Blow your nose? At this range, one round will vaporize your head into blood mist, all over this vestibule. I strongly suggest that you go screw with someone else…dumbshit.”

  The thug whimpered, forgot all about his buddy, and ran for it.

  Naero led the way in.

  The place did not disappoint.

  A raging bar fight was already underway on the heavily shielded third floor up.

  Patrons on the first and second floors completely ignored it.

  A scrawled sign on the bar read:

  You wanna scrap? Third Floor Only.

  Spacers and aliens and miners gambled quietly, talked, got stoned or hammered among themselves, in small groups at tables and in the shadowy corners and booths.

  Naero went to one of the darkest corners, where three shadowy figures sat quietly.

  When they got close enough, two of the seated figures faded away, revealing shining silver spheres that pulled back above the shoulders of their owner. Making room for them to sit down across from the large fellow.

  Naero recognized a pair of Baeven’s miraculous emulators.

  “Good to see you,” he said, matching the local miner drawl perfectly. Yet it was clearly him. She could tell by his scent, which he always tried to mask.

  “Good to see you, “Naero said. In fact she was glad.

  Baeven scared her many times, but she still liked him. In a way, she liked it that there was someone who could still scare her.

  “Training, huh? I can smell it on you, captain. I remember mine very well. I’m sure Vane made it even tougher on you.”

  “He did. Any word on Hashi?”

  “In a hurry are you? Don’t say her name again. Not even here.”

  Someone got up quickly from a table nearby and ran outside.

  All three of them stared after the figure.

  “Sorry,” Naero said. “That guy watching or following you?”

  Baeven shrugged. “Maybe. I wasn’t sure yet. I suppose we’ll find out shortly. Hey T. You look well. I hear you’re quite the shootist now.”

  “I do all right.”

  “I’d like to shoot against you some time. See who’s best.”

  Tarim smiled slightly. “I’d like that.”

  Baeven turned back to Naero. “I think I might have a lead on your friend’s trail. She’s traveling with some very unsavory characters. I don’t believe they’re treating her very well at all. And what’s more, these same individuals might very well be the ones who have your sibs too.”

  “Jan?”

  “Damn it girl. No names.”

  They waited. No one jumped up and ran out that time.

  “Sorry. Where are they?”

  “If my suspicions are correct, they’ll come after all of us as well. Very soon.”

  “Why?”

  “Our new acquaintances are on the prowl for new friends. Any one who has had the proper training.”

  Naero cocked her head. “They’re after Mystics?” she said softly.
>
  Baeven nodded.

  “What do they want with them?”

  “They’re after anyone who can tap into the right kind of energies.”

  Mystics. The enemy actively hunted anyone who could use or tap into Cosmic energy of any kind. But why?

  “What do they want with energy users?”

  “I don’t rightly know the reason yet. But the evidence seems pretty plain. For example, there have been several precise and very brutal raids on the mining worlds in several remote spots. Kinmal and the miners have tried to hush it up, but everywhere it’s happened, a whole lot of folk have been wiped out, heads taken, and bodies eaten right down clean to the bone.”

  That meant Ejjai, most likely clone troops like the ones they fought before. But Ejjai didn’t normally take heads. There wasn’t any meat on or in them but the brains, and usually Ejjai just cracked them open and gobbled them up.

  So what was taking the heads of their victims and why?

  “Have you figured out anything yet?”

  “Nope. But our new friends are after something. And they want it awful bad.”

  “So why are we in the middle of nowhere here on Celonia-4?” Tarim asked.

  “I’m pretty sure this is where they’re gonna visit next.”

  “How soon?” Naero asked.

  “Dunno. Could be any second. Maybe a day or three. But I think they’ll show.”

  Naero clenched both fists.

  “Then I mean to be ready for them.”

  For the first time, Baeven leaned forward out of the deepest shadows and smiled.

  “I was hoping you’d say that. My friends and I will be around to lend a hand if you need us. Good to see you, captain. Oh, can you guys handle that team of Corps bounty hunters that just took up positions around this dive? There’s only ten of them, but they’re careless and very messy.”

  Naero glanced at Tarim, who was already checking his scans.

  Tarim stuck his lower lip out and shrugged.

  “Sure thing,” Naero said. “But they’ll be looking for you, not us. Nobody knows who we are or even that we’re here.”

  Baeven smiled. “Certain of that are you?”

  He leaned back and faded completely out of view.

  Baeven vanished right in front of them.