Spacer Clans Adventure 2: Naero's Gambit

by Mason Elliott

  “Naero Amashin Maeris.”

  “You agree to be tested?”

  “I do.”

  “I am Klyne, the instructor. My assistants are Adept Iselle, and Adept Makita. We shall refer to you as Adept Candidate Naero. Follow our instructions. Respond only if asked to respond. If you require any medical attention, it will be administered at the end of the testing. Until then, you are expected endure and continue to do your best. If you understand, say yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “The testing will begin. Defend yourself.”

  Without warning, Makita’s attack smashed into her.

  She blocked one or two out every four or five blows.

  A snap wheel kick sent her flying twenty meters, nearly winding her.

  The only thing that saved her at all, once again, were the experience and knowledge she gained from her training sessions with Baeven.

  Makita proved stronger and faster than her, but he still paled in comparison to the outcast’s terrifying prowess.

  Makita charged her.

  Naero met him part way.

  She took several punishing strikes, but flipped him hard to the ground.

  He swept her legs.

  They tangled on the ground, wrestling, slipping out of holds, twisting like snakes. Pummeling each other all the while.

  They broke, crouched low, and launched themselves at each other again, like Telurian fighting blue cranes.

  Naero landed one kick on the side of Makita’s head.

  He clipped her under the chin, grabbed her leg and ankle and swung her hard into the floor, stunning her.

  She struggled to get up.

  For a few dizzy moments, she couldn’t.

  She rose up and staggered back into her fighting stance.

  She half-smiled.

  “Come on.”

  Makita bowed his head just slightly and drew back.

  “Defend yourself, “Klyne said again.

  Naero whirled to face Iselle.

  Too late.

  An invisible force slammed into her arms and torso, flinging her back.

  She rolled with the strike and came back up into her stance.

  Iselle fought her from a distance, punching and striking with her hands in rapid combinations.

  Naero struggled to advance, to close the distance between them, while heavy, unseen blows rained down on her from every direction, knocking her one way, and then the other.

  “Telekinetic combat,” Klyne called out. “Try to sense and block the blows. You cannot see them. Reach out with your battle senses. With your mind. Feel them coming. Counter and deflect them. True masters can fight thus without even moving, simply by concentrating.”

  At least Iselle still had to physically move in order to project her attacks. That was some help.

  Closer. Get closer.

  Iselle thrust both hands out violently.

  A wall of force drove Naero slowly back. She pushed against it, slowing it even more.

  “Resist. Focus on the energy before you,” Klyne told her, “before it smashes you into the far wall. Fight back. Defeat it.”

  She rolled to one side and then the other. The barrier felt solid.

  Naero leaped up four meters, felt the top, and flipped herself over it.

  Iselle withdrew a step, cupping both hands loosely on the sides of her face.

  Spinning orbs of pure telekinetic force shot out rapid fire.

  Naero barely perceived them where they warped through the air, making an explosive popping sound.

  She tried to dodge them. One whirred past her head like an invisible ball at high speed.

  The next clipped her left shoulder, spinning her aside.

  Another knocked one leg out from under her.

  She kept her feet and ducked, weaving to either side in turns.

  Iselle directed her attack at Naero’s feet.

  She lost her footing, slipping and sliding on what felt like a bunch of invisible ball bearings cast beneath her.

  She tried to roll back to her feet, but panes of force battered her from all sides, keeping her off balance.

  It felt like a rubber ball, bouncing around in a box that some one shook.

  The sides of the box rapidly closed in.

  They tightened all around her, threatening to crush her.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Iselle released her without warning.

  Naero sprawled gasping, face down on the floor.

  “I’m somewhat surprised,” Klyne noted. “Preliminary tests demonstrate no psyonic aptitude or innate talent to my trained senses whatsoever. That in itself is very rare. After your battle with the former Danner entity, we simply assumed you would exhibit some kind of psyonic ability.”

  “I burned myself out dealing with him. I’m a nud once more.” She admitted it openly. “None of my former abilities have returned.”

  So she wasn’t psyonic anymore. Not even a teknomancer. Disappointing, but not the end of the universe.

  “Yet I sense something incredibly strange within you,” Klyne said. “What could it be?”

  Was it Om? He was still inside her somewhere. He had not emerged again either.

  “Take your place at the center of us once more. “

  Naero did so, resisting an urge to massage several bruises.

  Klyne suddenly appeared directly in front of her, sitting lotus fashion just like her and the others.

  “I’m going to attempt to merge directly with your mind telepathically, one of my gifts. I’m also an Auralcognitor. Once I link to your mind, I can sense any type of psyonic energy field you might have, active, passive, or latent. I might even be able to trigger or bring them out to the surface. There might be some discomfort. Shall we proceed?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do as I do. I will show you how to place your hands to effect the mind merge.”

  Klyne cupped his left hand firmly behind the base of her skull.

  Naero followed his lead.

  He placed the fingers of his right hand on precise spots on her face.

  Thumb on her forehead, directly between her eyes.

  Index finger on her left temple.

  The next two fingers curled slightly in front of her left ear. His smallest finger hooked at the point of her ear and jaw.

  As soon as Naero placed her right hand the same way, she gasped slightly.

  Thin hairs of what felt like burning hot energy threaded their way slowly through the layers of her awareness.

  She could feel Klyne connecting with her thoughts. Joining their two minds.

  The dull ache continued to grow.

  “You should be feeling the initial discomfort. Hold still. Keep focusing. Almost there. Almost...”

  A spike of pure agony exploded within her skull.

  Naero screamed, transfixed as if by lightning.

  Through the torment, a voice awoke in her mind full force.

  Protocols unlocked and engaged. We...are.

  interface...partial

  Om awoke in confusion, reacting instinctively with fear and vast power.

  Threat detected...Protect all access.

  Neural net...INTRUSION. UNWARRANTED.

  LEVEL 1.359 DEFENSIVE RESPONSE

  Om lashed out through her.

  An intense blast wave of white-hot psyonic energy fanned out rapidly from the epicenter of her immolated mind.

  Naero continued to scream.

  As if far away in the distance, Klyne and his two adepts shrieked.

  *

  Naero blinked, her eyes and mouth frozen open.

  She lay with her head to one side, in a puddle of her own mixed blood and spittle.

  More pain when she attempted to move.

  Blood continued to stream from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth. A bloody mess.

  Something like a fusion grenade blew her head open.

  She reached up with her hands to make sure her skull was still intact.

  Some kind of n
oise.

  Warning alarms sounded.

  A ship. Yes. they were on a ship. The Spacer Intel Ship Kathmandu. She was...being tested. For the Mystics.

  Something went very terribly wrong.

  She focused, getting to her hands and knees.

  Other voices. Groaning. Whimpering.

  Makita lay sprawled in a broken tangle, blasted across the room. His gray clothing shredded and scorched into tatters. He choked and coughed.

  To the other side, Iselle fared little better. Blasted, scorched, a yellow-white bone of her forearm sticking out of her wrenched flesh. One side of her face blistered, her red hair burned, some of it still smoking. She trembled and convulsed in pain and terror.

  Naero looked around for Klyne, finding the instructor in a burned, bloody heap, lying beneath a dark red smear on the far wall. His hands charred black. Missing fingers.

  Naero could not walk. She couldn’t even stand.

  She crawled to Klyne as quickly as she could.

  He still lived, just barely.

  Then she noticed the intense effects of the blast. All around the room, less than a meter up.

  A massive ring of Cosmic force sliced into the duranadium hull of the smartwalls, punching a deep crease right through them where they buckled, all along its full diameter.

  The force of the strike disrupted all systems. The entire training room compacted, crushed, and heavily damaged.

  Rescuers struggled to force their way through the various ruined doors and access panels.

  12

  What had she done? Naero shuddered. Intense ripples of guilt and embarrassment washed over Naero.

  How had she lost control?

  Of what? She didn’t know what she or Om we’re capable of.

  Please, don’t let them die. Don’t let them die. Don’t let them die.

  Klyne looked worse off than the others.

  If she had contact with Om again, perhaps he could assist them. She called out to him in her panic-flooded mind.

  Om, can you affect repairs on these others?

  He felt more confused and out of whack than she did, exposed to all of the stimuli of the open world for the first time in over a standard year.

  What…is happening? They attacked us. Why should we help them?

  Om, Haisha! Please, focus and get it together. They were testing me. I agreed to it. They weren’t trying to kill me or hurt me permanently. You should not have attacked them–or the ship we’re on.

  So much to process and absorb…These others…had your permission to do this, testing? You granted them this access?

  Yes. Now I need to know. Can you heal them?

  Through you I can, but you have yet to develop any of your true biomancer abilities.

  Biomancer? I thought before that I was a teknomancer?

  You have many abilities that you have yet to awaken and master. But I cannot fully affect repairs on all three of these others in our current state. Our energy levels are far too low.

  Screw that. I want you to heal them as much as you can. Immediately.

  I will try, but you cannot command me to harm us or allow harm to come to us by my actions or by refusing to act.

  Anything I can do to help?

  It would assist us greatly if you could intake biomechanical fuels to replenish our form’s reserves.

  Naero crawled over to a working wall and activated programmed panels. She located and yanked out bins of energy bars and lix packs.

  One by one, she crawled back over and sat next to the Intel people, one hand resting on them, the other hand stuffing her gullet with as much food and lix as she could choke down.

  While Om did whatever he could for them.

  Biomancing was weird. She could feel the electrical impulses and energies snaking through her, like thousands of microscopic filament anacondas, trying to eat their way out of her body through her arm and hand.

  It. Hurt.

  She almost blacked out a few times before the end.

  The Intel rescue teams finally blasted through the crumpled doors to the training room with shaped micro charges.

  Naero grinned.

  She knew exactly how to do blast holes through bulkheads and doors like that.

  By then, Klyne, Makita, and Iselle rested comfortably on the floor around her. Still unconscious and injured, but at least they were completely stabilized and out of immediate danger.

  Naero let out a satisfying belch of her own, so weak she couldn’t move. Barely able to keep her eyes open. Was she dreaming? Hallucinating again?

  She babbled out loud.

  “Om, I think we’re about to be in serious trouble. You just can’t do stuff like this.”

  I tapped into your abilities, Naero. You possess all these powers and much, much more. I can only trigger them in our defense at great need. You must learn how to use these powers...before they destroy us, and everyone around us. I can help you, but you must find the way.

  Pudgy General Tobias Ingersol squeezed through the breach first. Strategy savants were among the few Spacers who ever got fat.

  The guy always looked constipated and angry.

  A bit more so today. Thinning, dark stringy black lines of greasy hair smoothed back. Piggy black eyes. A thin nose and bluish lips like two drowned worms.

  Naero felt a little punchy and loopy. She still couldn’t stand up.

  She had never really taken the time to study Ingersol. Intel strategy savants were normally unpleasant. They sat in planning rooms crunching numbers and didn’t get out too much.

  An Intel strike force popped in right behind the general, all of them amazed at the damage.

  “Hey, guys.” Naero tried to wave, but couldn’t get a hand to lift up.

  “What in the blazing hell happened in here, Maeris?” Ingersol still gaped at the squashed walls of the Intel warship’s main training room.

  “Mystic testing,” Naero said, her speech slurred and groggy. “I think I passed.”

  “Get those medbeds in here. No, carry them out and put them on them. Get them all to Medical, ASAP!”

  “Thanks, Om,” Naero mumbled

  “You’re delirious, Maeris,” Ingersol said. “I’m not your mom.”

  “Huh?”

  Rest now, Naero. Om was inoperative for long while, but he has never left you, and he will be here to protect us. Om does not require rest.

  “Just don’t kill anyone,” Naero said, her speech slurring.

  “Why would I kill anyone?” the general said, looking rather startled.

  Something just not right with the man. Why couldn’t she put her finger on it?

  Naero no longer had the strength to explain, or even shake her head.

  *

  Ingersol kept Naero under heavy guard in a secure, shielded cell within the infirmary. An empty white room with nothing but her and a medbed in it.

  More of a dangerous prisoner than a patient.

  She recovered quickly and chafed at being kept locked up. Yet her incarceration also gave her time to catch up with Om.

  She worried a great deal about Klyne and asked about him repeatedly.

  When they informed her that he would recover fully–after regenerating a few fingers and learning how to re-use them–Naero felt very relieved–and still guilty.

  Makita and Iselle avoided her like they would any dangerous freak.

  Understandable, since she nearly destroyed them.

  Then, even Om chose to go strangely silent on her after a while.

  Now that we have renewed our direct link, I must return to my efforts to fully access all of our protocols and abilities. That is the priority now. There is still much damage to repair. New links to form. Doing so will require most of my full attention.

  I will be here, at your call, if you need to confer with me. I am very happy with this turn of events, Naero.

  Me too, Om. Glad to have you back. Do what you have to do and let me know if I can help along the way.

  A call
came in over her wristcom. The one that still had the neutron detonator. The call came directly from Klyne.

  “Hey–”

  “Just listen, Naero. We don’t have much time.”

  “What’s–?”

  “Listen! Intel has taken this matter out of my hands. Your little display rattled everyone–including the Mystic High Masters. They’re demanding to test you on their own as a grave threat. They’re sending you directly to Janosha itself.”

  One of the three, secret Mystic homeworlds.

  “Is that…bad?”

  “It almost never happens. Almost no one ever goes there this soon, except for a few of the highest level adepts. The ones being groomed to become masters themselves. Even Intel has never been there in force, except for a few chosen adepts, very close to the three High Masters. And they are deathsworn never to speak of whatever they see there.”

  “Was Baeven one of those adepts?”

  Klyne hesitated. “Yes. And he was also the only one to ever escape from Janosha, against the will of the High Masters.”

  Naero grinned. “That sounds about right.”

  “That was only part of the reason why he became an outcast, and why the Mystics still have a death sentence on his head.”

  “Very well, then. What do I do?”

  “I’m not sure. Janosha is the homeworld of High Master Vane. He is beyond contrary, the most difficult, demanding, and abrasive of all the Three. Chaos practitioners usually are somewhat anti-social. Vane has take that to an art form.

  “Unlike the other two High Masters, Vane is unforgiving, brutal, unpredictable, and a harsh taskmaster.”

  Naero laughed.

  “Can’t be any worse than Aunt Sleak.”

  “Don’t bet on that. Vane has absolute power over his adepts–including the power of life and death. He has executed several of them over the years, without question or explanation.”

  “Maybe that’s why Baeven got the hell away from him.”

  “Cute. Being a Maeris isn’t going to earn you any points with Master Vane either. And you’ll still be very vulnerable. You’re burned out. Or, at least we thought you were. But at best, you can’t control your abilities.”

  “Hah. I don’t even know what they are.”

  “Be on your guard, Naero. Learn and develop everything you can on Janosha, but do your best not to provoke Master Vane. Hold that curt tongue of yours that gets your family into so much trouble. In raw power, only the two other High Masters combined can match Vane. You will be under his direct authority utterly. And after this little incident, he will most surely decide your fate.”