Spacer Clans Adventure 1: Naero's Run (44 page)
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.
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.”
Naero hung her head. She just had to get through the next three years. Serve out her time.
Despite Zalvano’s warning, the bridge was dark when they walked in. It sounded like a gang of thugs fought and cursed further in out of sight, smashing and trashing everything with clubs.
Zalvano actually drew his blaster and fired into the celling to interrupt the chaotic madness.
“All right, you scum. Fall to attention. Get some lights on, damn it. Captain Maeris is here to inspect this hole.”
Aunt Sleak strode forward. Naero trudged in behind, hesitant to even look up.
Pale yellow work lights flickered on.
Naero lifted her eyes.
Her friends stood there to either side.
All of them saluting her.
Chaela and Saemar, Tyber and Zhen, even Tarim.
All five of them shouted, “Welcome aboard, Captain.”
Naero’s mouth fell open. She turned to her aunt and Zalvano.
They just grinned.
Aunt Sleak knelt and activated the glowing, golden vertical rank bands that shot back up both her arms. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, but I think you can handle it, Captain Maeris.”
“But you said the captain was a–”
Aunt Sleak smirked again and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You come from a long proud line of them. Serve your crew, your fleet, and your Clan well. Good fortune to you, Captain. Safe journey. Launch when you’re ready. Sign the contracts and pay me a cred when you get the chance.”
“But I thought I was being punished?”
“Who says you’re not? I still get fifty-percent off the top for the next three years. Can you live with that?”
Naero grimaced; that was a lot of creds. “I guess I’ll have to.”
“Good. Now get your asses to work.”
Her friends clapped and cheered. Naero hugged Aunt Sleak, then Zalvano.
Tarim spoke up, once the brass had left.
“Orders, Captain?”
Naero thought her face might pop, she grinned so hard.
“Hop to it, crew. Get this crate in the air.”
Chaela became first mate and pilot; Saemar co-pilot and navigator; Tyber her tek and engineer; Zhen her medical officer; and Tarim, her gunner and security.
The Bolabba
barely ran two hundred and fifty tons, with one main cargo bay and loading hatches fore and aft. Ship’s boats consisted of one transport and one sloop. For defense it had one top pulse turret, and one bottom missile turret.
In her absence, her friends doctored the ship to make it look worse than it was, all for dramatic effect.
Now they put her back to rights.
First, they re-attached the missing front nose section of the ship. The missing head of the toad, housing all of their com, nav, and sensor arrays packed into its streamlined length. After that, their ship looked much improved.
Once they and their fixers put things in order, Tyber proudly boasted, “Now she’ll manage Jump-7.”
Naero gaped again. “Jump-7 on an old junker like this? How is that possible, even with the fixers?”
Baeven stepped out of the engineering room, wiping his hands. “I’ve taken the liberty of installing a few modifications of my own here and there, with the help of your crew, of course.” He winked at Tyber.
Naero ran to Baeven and hugged him.
“Consider it your birthday present, Naero. You’ve more than earned it. Tomorrow you come of age. Your mother would have been so extremely proud. Your father too.” Naero kissed him on both cheeks.
“Thank you, Uncle Kean.” His face grew very grave.
“I have not earned the right to that name again yet.”
Naero took both his hands and looked him in the eyes.
“To me you have.”
He looked down for a moment and smiled sadly, shaking his head. “Perhaps one day. Let’s stick to ‘Baeven’ for now, shall we?”
“Sure.”
“Your ship should be ready to launch by morning. You’ll be needing this.” Baeven placed a large crystal bottle of expensive champagne in her hands.
“Goody. The crew and I will have fun sucking this down.”
Baeven chuckled. “No, it’s not for imbibing, Naero. As captain, you must name your ship, and christen it with this by smashing the bottle against the nose of your vessel as your declare her new name.”
“Seems like a waste.”
“Just do it. It’s an old custom.” His tone grew serious. “What of your new abilities? The voice in your head from the Kexxian Matrix you told me about? Have any of them returned?”
Naero shook her head. “Not yet. Nothing. I’m beginning to wonder if I burned them all out completely somehow.”
“It is possible, but I doubt it. Such abilities are unpredictable and dangerous to everyone around you. If any of those powers do return, you’ll need to be tested by the Spacer Mystics. Perhaps they can help determine exactly what they are.”
“I thought the Mystics wanted you dead?”
Baeven smiled. “It’s a growing club. They’ll need to wait their turn. Yet, perhaps they can help you with your problem. Are you still having the strange dreams?”
Naero nodded. “Every night.”
“Contact the Spacer Mystics through Klyne; I’m guessing they’ll be more than intrigued by your case. Well, I do happen to be a wanted man still, so I’d better be on my way. This is your time, Captain Maeris. Use it well.”
“Of course. Will we see you again, uncle?”
“Most certainly. If you’re anything like the rest of the blasted family, you’re bound to get yourself into some dire peril and require my assistance at some point in the future.”
Naero laughed, hugged him again. Baeven departed.
Early the next morning, Naero signed the contracts and changed the codes of her ship’s registry. Just before they departed, she went out with her crew.
“I name you,
The Flying Dagger!”
She smashed the big bottle against the nose cone, in a splash of delicious-smelling liquor and sparkling shards.
“First ship in the merchant fleet of Naero Amashin Maeris and friends. May you always speed true!”
They climbed aboard, sealed up, took their flight positions and prepared to launch. Naero lounged in her green captain’s gel chair, behind her two pilots.
“Plot a course, Captain?” Chaela asked. “Our hold’s full of trade goods your aunt sent over. Where to?”
Naero smiled. “Wherever the deals take us, my friends. Take her up Chae. Just get us up there.”
The Flying Dagger
launched into a clear blue sky from the Yalana-6 starport, as the sun rose over that continent.
Naero drew her energy cutlass and saluted the heavens.
“To my parents and Gallan, in their memory and to their honor,” Naero shouted.
As one, her crew raised their fists and echoed her tribute. They belonged to the stars, and the stars belonged to everyone.
That’s what Spacers know.
THE END
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