She fired all four barrels of her khotgun at once, point-blank.
The energized microblasts shredded Lady Drianne in mid-air.
Pink mist and red bits scattered across the tarmac.
Aunt Sleak spat on the burning pieces and racked four more hyper rounds.
“That’s for my sister!”
She turned to Naero with a grim smile, as Spacer drop troops descended in waves down from the sky to secure the area.
“No one messes with our Clan, Naero. No one. Let our vengeance fall heavily upon them. By our hands.”
Naero smiled sadly and staggered forward, feeling her eyes roll up in her skull.
She collapsed against her aunt.
55
Strike Fleet Captain Naero Amashin Maeris and the Alliance arranged their twenty-three fleets–and growing–into arcs of optimized, advanced attack formations. Poised to engage in combat.
After another desperate battlefield promotion, Naero now commanded the fifty ships of Strike Fleet Six.
They pushed deep into Triaxian Space, jumping in timed, coordinated waves, overwhelming key system after key system.
Enemy fleets panicked and fled before the Alliance’s white-hot desire for vengeance, their superior might.
At last they converged on Heaven-7, one of the primary Triaxian Capital Worlds, in 360 degrees of interlocking, overlapping fire, ready to be unleashed.
They surrounded Heaven-7, and there the enemy chose to make their stand, outnumbering them with forty fleets. Two to one odds.
Yet they were mere numbers.
Admiral Sleak Maeris gave them immediate terms.
“All hostile forces, be advised. You face oblivion. In order to avoid further bloodshed and catastrophic loss of life, Triax Corps will completely dissolve and surrender all its worlds and territories to the Alliance, and assist in the inevitable annexation. All fleets and warships will stand down and return to their bases for re-assignment…or be destroyed. All prisoners of war, including Janner Maeris Ramsey and the outcast, the former Danner Maeris Ramsey, will be returned to the Alliance immediately, safe and unharmed.”
Triax opened fire and launched fighters.
“We have our answer,” Admiral Maeris said. “All fleets. Prepare to engage.”
Strike Fleet Captain Naero Maeris stood poised to lead the vanguard of the first assault wave on the three hundred degree X-ray, Yankee, and Zulu arc, from the deck of the planetoid dreadnaught The Hippolyta.
First of the Dromon Class capital ships.
Their massive 16 m quad spinal guns hot as pulsars. Ready to open fire.
They were called The Thirty Amazon Sisters. Twenty-nine more dreadnaughts just like The Hippolyta, all the ships of her design, gathered from many clans.
Together they helped Strike Fleet Six lead the main Alliance assault at the center.
The Matayan Fleet arrayed on Naero’s right. The Mining Consortium Fleet deployed on her left. Between them Naero called to her screens of escort fighters.
“Wing Commander Saemar to our port, Captain Chaela to starboard. Are the Ghost Dragon squadrons ready to enter the mix?”
“Affirmative, Sweetie. Captain Sweetie. Uh, sir.”
“Ready to scorch, sir,” Chae said. “Let the eagles dive.”
“Accelerate and commence attack. All ships in. All batteries open fire. Fire at will! Deflectors full front. Take us in flaring. No let up. Remember The Omaria!”
A million voices took up the cry, with a vengeance.
“THE OMARIA!”
Strike Fleet Six and The Thirty Amazon Sisters tore into the enemy ships likes waves of destroying fire.
Relentless.
Undeniable.
Naero directed their every strategy, their every maneuver, crushing and ravaging the heart of the enemy’s defenses like a piercing, killing dagger. All the other Spacer fleets closed in and shredded the rest.
They took fire, shields fluctuating. They rocked and wheeled and kept moving, destroying targets, key flagships, entire elements. Rapid-fire quad guns pulsing and blazing. Pulverizing all in their path.
The enemy tried to cut her off on her starboard flank.
The Matayan Fleet, under Prince Ellis, decimated the exposed pincer move. The miners under Admiral Nevano Kinmal, threw back an enemy counterattack on Naero’s port side at the same time.
A score of Triaxian battleships mysteriously lost power and were quickly vanquished…and subsequently captured.
While the battle quickly degenerated into a rout and a slaughter, Naero checked in on her secure line with Baeven.
No sign yet of Jan or their former brother Danner. Baeven would continue to use his considerable resources to locate them both.
That remained a priority.
“All ships,” Naero commanded, “regroup, tighten our formation, and arc back through sector Zebra 173. Let’s cut another swath, people. Fresh ships up front, damaged ships fall back into the fixer clouds to refit.”
She punched in the ship designations in a flash on her hand comp. “Fighter screens, optimize your intercepts. Continue feeding us data. The following six cruisers and fourteen destroyers, maneuver to guard our back door, convex tile formation Charlie-Golf-4. They’re sure to hit us hard from behind once we come about. Make them pay. All ships, good work. Keep fighting. Fight well. Keep it tight.”
56
The battles of the fierce Annexation War did not end at Heaven-7.
It took the Alliance more than six long months of decisive, determined fighting to finally defeat and annex Triax and its several hundred worlds. Strike Fleet Six served in the thick of things until the bitter end.
Although they had to be persuaded, the other Gigacorps eventually abandoned Triax to its fate. They withdrew their illegal aid, refusing to lift a finger to help Triax any further after a certain crucial point. After the final horrific defeat, the tattered remnants of Triax’s once vast fleets fled among the other Corps.
The oldest and worst of all the Gigacorps fell to ruin at last, and its trillions of slaves rejoiced in true freedom at its collapse.
Most elected to become part of Joshua Tech. Some joined the Mining Alliance. A few even elected to join the newly formed Matayan Republic.
Amid the joy of such great and terrible victories, Naero still suffered greatly from her own many personal losses. Her parents. Gallan. Numerous other family, friends, and acquaintances from the course of the war.
Jan was still missing. Their former brother Danner was worse than dead to her, and no word reached anyone–not even Baeven–concerning their fates among the remaining Corps.
They had vanished, entirely without a trace. Without even a rumor.
Baeven remained her best chance to find her brother. If he couldn’t find Jan, it could not be done. Of that she was certain.
Naero did her duty with her friends and her fleet, but in the aftermath, she took leave from her Clan for a while and made an attempt to lose herself. Searching for somewhere she could hole up and find some kind of peace and solace, even if it was only for a time.
All wars were costly beyond measure. The Annexation War especially so.
Naero understood deep inside that if she was ever going to be any good to herself, or Jan–or anyone ever again–she first needed time to heal and recover on her own terms. In her own way.
She left word for her aunt and Intel not to worry.
She promised to return safely. She knew they would all be furious, but she desperately needed to get away.
For the sake of her own sanity.
Om was still somewhere in her mind, attempting to reform. Whether he could find a way to do so or not remained to be seen. She could feel him, but as usual, she couldn’t do much to help.
He had sacrificed himself, saving them all from that mind control sliver.
She shuddered, just thinking about the damn thing lodged in her brain.
Her own terrifying abilities seemed dormant now, still completely burned out.<
br />
Yet she lived in fear of them most of all. They were part of her, and even the memory of them was tempting, intoxicating, exhilarating.
Better than any drug ever possible.
The seductive, corruptive rush of pure power.
Were she and Jan really like Danner? Is that what they would become?
In some strange way, their outcast former brother was now better off than her.
She still suffered from the constant temptation, the allure of the same absolute power that had driven him mad. Parts of her still yearned and even lusted for the abject freedom and chaos that such absolute power offered.
A thirst and hunger that could never be sated.
Somewhere, there had to be some kind of help. Perhaps the Spacer Clan Mystics. She just wasn’t sure.
What she wouldn’t give to be just a normal person once again…but she doubted if she’d be able to sustain that for long.
Finally, she did manage to find a place to hide, a place where she could run away from everything she was and everything that had happened, for at least a little while, to think and heal up.
For a few precious weeks.
Naero awoke from her usual strange and troubled dreams.
She turned over and kissed Emperor Ellis’s beautiful closed eyes until his eyelids fluttered open, beneath the stunning vista of an immense open view screen on his flagship, oceans of stars twirling above their vast bed.
His broad smile flashed open at her, his voice groggy as he licked his lips.
She licked them, too. Soon they were kissing.
They pulled apart briefly, all but breathless; the huge chamber dark, shaded, and serene.
“What time is it, my lovely one?” Ellis asked her.
“I think…it’s time for you to love me again, my sweet prince.”
“Most gladly, my heart.” Ellis smirked rakishly. “But you do know, full well of course, that it is ‘emperor now?’ And by the powers, did you not tear me to tatters enough last night? Again? It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”
Naero laughed and kissed his face slowly, teasingly avoiding his lips, no matter how he sought hers.
“Whatever happens, you will always be my sweet prince.” She poked at his broad chest. “And your black heart cannot burst until I am finished with you.” She played with his long hair with her free hand.
He stretched back among the pillows and sighed, one hand rose to caress her face.
“Naero, you are a fusion fire that I love being incinerated by.”
She kissed his fingers. One by one.
Unfortunately, their time together neared its end.
She would desperately miss the comfort and joy she had found with him. Intensely so.
He looked up at her sadly, sensing her thoughts.
She stopped him when he was about to speak.
“It’s quite all right, my prince. These past few weeks have been incredibly sweet.”
“For both of us, my heart.”
“But we both knew from the outset, going into this, that it could never last. We both understood that. But both of us are strong. We’ll be fine.”
Ellis turned away, his countenance darkened. He blew out a breath. “The fools at court are already lining up rows of mewling, scheming wives, concubines, and mistresses for me to choose from, like boring political appointments.”
Naero giggled. “Good, eager Matayan girls of excellent breeding. More than happy to keep their young, virile emperor happy and content. Even if it does take a herd of them to take my place.”
“Impossible. None can do so. A thousand could not.”
“Very gratifying.” Naero grinned, turned his face to her, and kissed him on the forehead. “Oh, don’t be sullen about it. Pick some you like. Find the ones who can truly love and help you and your people. You will try to have some fun with your new harem, won’t you, my sweet prince?”
Ellis smiled. “I do love it when you call me that. I will miss it. Whatever shall I do? There won’t be anyone like you at court, N. Who’ll be there to kick my bloody ass when it damn well needs it?”
She climbed on top of him, arching her brows.
“Just send word. I’ll come rushing in for a sparring match. It’s going to be all right, Ellis. Things are changing rapidly, but we both know your people aren’t quite prepared for you to have a spack empress, or even a spack mistress just yet.”
“How I despise that vile word,” he said. “I wish it had never been made.”
“But we both know I’m right. We’ve had our fun, and it’s been grand. But we both have important things to do. You have a new republic to run.” Naero sighed.
“Whereas I have to face the music and pay off my Clan debts to Aunt Sleak, before I can even hope to start my own life. You know she still blames me for the loss of her ships?”
“How is that even possible? It wasn’t your fault. It was Triax–and in any case, your lost brother betrayed you all.”
“Please, don’t remind me,” Naero said. “No one can find Jan or the outcast. Not even Baeven. But that doesn’t erase my debts. And Spacer Intel still blames me for Baeven escaping from them.”
“Well, you did help him get away, right?” Ellis pointed out.
“Yes, of course, but that’s all beside the point.”
“Look, this is silly. You know I can give you all the credits you need. Why won’t you take them?”
“Very kind of you, and sweet,” she told him. “But no. This is a matter of Spacer honor. Among Spacers, it doesn’t mean anything if I don’t do it on my own, by my own wits and abilities.”
“Is there anything I can do, my heart?”
Naero grinned wickedly and kissed his mouth long and deep.
They broke for air.
“If you don’t mind, my sweet prince. I don’t want to waste our last hours together…merely gabbing.”
His eyes and his broad smile widened.
“Granted.”
57
Naero clung to the edges of her tiny bunk panel, let out a long deep sigh, and stared down at the floor of her small, spartan quarters. Recalling sweeter days.
Haisha. Time to get started.
A mist shower and a new set of flight togs didn’t change her disposition.
Even she wasn’t prepared for the storm of anger and dismay unleashed her way upon her abrupt return, just as sudden as her disappearance.
Spacer Intel was still in panic mode, with Klyne freaked out completely–especially when she finally revealed that she now controlled the entire Kexxian Data Matrix.
On top of that, Aunt Sleak was ready to shoot her for desertion and avoiding her debts to Sleak and Clan Maeris.
Plus, Naero felt pretty sure that Aunt Sleak somehow guessed how and to where she’d managed to drop out of sight for so many days.
Naero’s new punishment duty called; best get to it.
She’d been busted all the way back down to being a just a regular Spacer once more. But in a way, she didn’t mind one bit.
She would miss The Shinai, the fleet; miss her Clan and all her friends.
Nobody saw her off. It was just after four bells and everyone understood she was being punished. They were all still sleeping.
She walked through the quiet Joshua Tech starport, the night sky ribbons of stars, muted dark washes of pink and purple. The smell of starships wafting from every bay. The hum of various engines all around her.
She could tell what makes and models they were just by listening to them.
A lumbering mining freighter groaned starward.
Back to being a civilian, the new merchant ship she’d be serving on was called The Bolabba. An independent with a non-Spacer crew. They owed Aunt Sleak a lot of creds, and like Naero, they were working off their debt.
How bad could it be?
She reached the location and just stared.
Aunt Sleak had out done herself.
Naero wasn’t even sure The Bolabba was a starship.
&nbs
p; It was an ancient, black bulbous nightmare of some unknown origin. It looked like a bloated, gigantic Frenarian toad with its head cut off, and that was being way generous.
It had staggered in with the Shadow Fleets and then been left behind, still shot full of holes from repeated fighter attacks. But it looked as if it had been falling apart well before that, to the point of being salvage for scrap.
Could the damn thing even fly?
Let alone jump?
Even salvagers on Boon-3 would pass the wreck by. It was hardly worth melting down or sending fixers in to collect components.
Aunt Sleak and Zalvano appeared around one side, both of their faces set. Naero snapped to attention and saluted crisply. They had resumed their civilian roles as merchant fleet captains of Fleet Maeris–minus a few ships.
Stripped down from all her own rank bands, Naero returned to being just a regular Spacer. And that was fine with her.
“I promised Klyne I’d find the worst duty I could cook up to keep you in line,” Aunt Sleak told her. “This is it.”
Naero nodded. “I’d say you’ve outdone yourself, sir.”
“I have.” Sleak smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “First you have to help get this heap up and running again. Second, I hear the captain’s a major son of a bitch, and this crew will not cut you any slack whatsoever. Let’s get on board, shall we? Time to join your merry band.”
They squeezed onto the ancient scrap heap. No sign of any crew. Junk and debris everywhere. Bare wiring. Missing floor, wall, and ceiling panels everywhere. Weird musty odors.
They’d be stuck for months just getting her flying again.
Zalvano forced a cabin panel open. By hand. It got stuck half-way. “I think these are your new quarters. You can stow your gear in there.”
Naero had a hard time seeing where. The filthy, greasy little storage cabin was stuffed full of panels from top to bottom. She kept waiting for rats or bugs or some kind of vermin to scurry out.
Naero clung to her small duffle. “I’ll do that later, sir.”
Zalvano called forward on his com. “Be advised, Captain Maeris is on board. We’re making our way to the bridge.”
Spacer Clans Adventure 1: Naero's Run Page 39