“Even in her condition, your mother somehow got to her feet as the hull sealed. She fought them. She fought six assassins on her own, without battle armor or weapons, until your father and I rushed in and put them all down.
“I only got to shoot one of them.
“All of us wept and grieved. But it was too late for little Danner. Only Janner being alive kept your parents from going insane. That’s how Janner’s twin, your brother, perished. And that’s why no one ever talked about it.”
Naero swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you for telling me; we’ll need to tell Jan someday.”
“Sure. But for right now, we need to keep moving. Get off of Boon-3 somehow.”
“Right. I-I’m going to rest some more. Let me know if anything important happens.”
“Don’t worry. I will. What’s going on with you, Naero?”
“I…don’t know yet.”
Still hours later, Om woke her via a short electric jolt to her system. Naero sat bolt upright and cried out slightly.
Tarim was gone. She checked the time. It was late. From the distant muffled sounds, they were still docked in the Starport at Boon-3.
They hadn’t lifted off yet.
What is it, Om?
Long and short range scans detect multiple threats approaching.
Describe. Nearest to farthest.
Enemy stealth ships–
Triax has stealth ships too?
Yes. Larger and not as efficient, but they serve the same purpose.
How close and how many?
They have landed approximately forty-thousand troops around the starport.
Haisha! Forty thousand?
Please, if you could cease interrupting me.
Sorry.
They are closing in, stunning the local population into submission in mass waves as they advance. They will reach our position in approximately twenty standard minutes.
Where are the Joshua Tech and revel mining defense forces?
Gathering all their ships to engage the Triax and Matayan battle group that rapidly approaches this system.
The enemy had found them again. But how?
Do they have some way to track us, or perhaps the Kexxian Matrix itself?
Unknown. We are about to be overwhelmed, and we are still very weak.
42
What are our options Om?
Priority. We need to finish repairing this ship in order to have any chance at escaping.
Our ship still can’t fly? They have to be pretty close by–
Negative. And the parts your friends have acquired remain defective.
That did not sound good.
Naero staggered to her feet and ran straight to engineering.
Klyne, Aunt Sleak, the engineer, and Captain Bully all looked exhausted, still fumbling with the rigged parts, trying to get them to function.
“We’ve got trouble,” Naero said.
They all blinked at her.
She gasped and leaned against the hull for a moment. Om’s thoughts flooded her mind, a rush of tek data and instructions for repairing the ship.
Om. Slow down. I can’t follow you that fast. What are you babbling about? What the hell is a fixer?
“You’re still sick,” Aunt Sleak snarled. “Get your ass back to sickbay.”
“There’s no time to explain. Let me fix the ship, or we’re all dead.”
“Give her a shot at it,” Klyne said.
They moved out of her way.
Grab that tek-analyzer. Let us re-configure it into a low-level Kexxian fixer.
A what?
Trust me; let me work through you. This is the simplest form of Teknomancy.
Teknomancy?
Focus…please.
Naero opened herself to Om and that tsunami of tek info.
Tendrils of light and ribbons of shadow shot into the linked device from her hand as she grasped it.
Pain and jolts of energy pulsed through her. Naero sweated and gnashed her teeth.
To the amazement of everyone looking on, including Naero, the analyzer broke apart and re-configured in a matter of instants into a floating orb of shifting components and optics.
Kinda cute, actually.
Now we can get to work.
Om told them, rapid-fire, what to do.
Aided by the bobbing fixer, Naero had the power core working in two long agonizing minutes.
Then they moved on to the jump drive.
That took longer.
From what she could see, none of the parts on hand would ever work. Not in a million years.
She effected repairs while the fixer popped in and modified the parts and electronics, re-configuring what they needed in a flash. It absorbed the defective components and spit them back out, ready to function properly.
“What is that thing? How are you doing this?” Klyne asked. “Haisha, we barely had Jump-4 capability. The jump drive didn’t even work. Now the scans say you’re giving us Jump-6. In a matter of seconds!”
“I’ll explain later.”
She didn’t understand it all herself yet.
With the jump drive coming back online, Naero calmly informed them about the enemy strike force and battle group closing in on them.
The Bristol jumped off of Boon-3 two minutes later, blasting back into space. Jumping as soon as it cleared the planet.
An audible groan rose up from the advancing Triaxian forces.
Dozens of ships tore off in swift pursuit.
Within the space of one quarter of a standard hour, the enemy completely vanished from that sector, almost as quickly as they had arrived.
A good portion of Boon-3 and its population around the starport still lay stunned, wherever they dropped, en mass.
Naero and her friends emerged from their hiding places.
“I hope Captain Bully and his crew know what they’re doing,” Tarim said, “leading that enemy strike force away from us.”
“They volunteered,” Klyne said. “They did get a new ship out of the deal, and they hate the Corps as much as we do.”
“For however long they last,” Aunt Sleak said.
“They’ve got a fighting chance, at least,” Naero said. “I sent my fixer with them. It was putting the finishing touches on their jump drive and updating their shields, even as they jumped.”
Klyne opened his mouth. “What is…how did you–”
Naero rolled her eyes. “You need to understand: I’m linked with parts of the Kexxian Matrix. Our current tek is child’s play compared to that. With a little effort, I can create these simple Kexxian fixers, AI-based orbs that can understand our tek in a heartbeat. Their primary function is to fix things and keep them working. Within certain parameters, they can even improve upon them.”
Everyone stared at her like she was a total freak.
Perhaps she was.
“Sounds good,” Aunt Sleak said, catching on. “Everyone give her your comps and analyzers. You heard me. Hand them over.”
In moments, Naero had an armload of the devices.
“Now whip us up a batch of those floaty things and let’s find a way off this rock,” Sleak said.
Naero quickly discovered that she could only create about three fixers an hour without completely exhausting herself.
Creation, much like giving birth, still took a lot out of a person.
Then she had a eureka insight.
Om, can you program the fixers to re-configure other fixers?
Certainly. The process will take somewhat longer.
Fine, fine. Oh, and give them all some protocols. I don’t want any of them falling into the wrong hands. They’ll need our authorized permission to act. They can’t ever work for the Corps or our enemies in any way, and they shouldn’t do any direct harm or damage to people or property on their own. How’s that sound?”
Acceptable. Expect the first prototype in approximately one standard hour. Units should double exponentially after that, as long as sufficient raw materi
als and energy are available. How many units are desired?
Oh, stop after a hundred.
One hundred standard fixer units. Very well.
43
In a matter of hours, they were working among a growing cloud of dozens of bobbing fixers.
Klyne and Aunt Sleak purchased an old three-hundred-ton hulk, stranded on the planet’s surface for decades.
They filled its holds with junk components and scrap materials according to Naero and Om’s directions.
Three hours later, The Blue Phoenix lifted off under its own power. They removed their newly re-configured ship to a remote location, away from any lingering Corps spies and informants.
Four hours after that, they departed Boon-3 entirely, and immediately jumped to their next location.
They met in the new conference room, while the fixers finished reconfiguring their new quarters on board. In their haste to escape, Naero and the crew decided to leave such secondary concerns for later. The primary goal was to keep moving.
Aunt Sleak looked extremely pleased with their progress.
“These new Kexxian fixers are a marvel. We’ve discovered a new form of nearly miraculous construction. Ships. Buildings. Equipment. There’s almost no limit to this. Anything we can conceive of within the range of our current tek and then some, they can make, faster and better than any current manufacturing process known to us.”
“I agree,” Klyne said. “These methods alone will revolutionize our societies as we know them, but they must be controlled. What if criminal elements–or worse, the Corps–got a hold of them? Within a few months and years they would out-produce and overwhelm us.”
Jan mused. “No one faction can ever completely control tek for very long, Klyne. How do you and Spacer Intel propose to do so?”
“For as long as we can. I left Intel people to work with Joshua Tech and the miners with these new fixers. Our allies are in desperate need of warships to defend their systems. Once this program ramps up, they can have all they need–in a matter of weeks. That is a stunning development.”
“They’ll need crash programs to train all of the crews required to fly them,” Tarim noted.
Klyne waved one hand. “Already in place. Joshua Tech’s recruitment programs among the miners and even the Matayans are flooded with volunteers for the new defense forces. The bulging populations of the recently annexed worlds know very well what is at stake. Their new freedoms won’t last very long if they can’t defend them.”
Naero shook her head. “Triax and the Corps won’t give them that time. They’re ready to fight this war now, and they’ll attack in force while they can, to retake those systems before they can defend themselves.”
Prince Ellis grew impatient. “I must return to my people. I can help lead them. All my life I have trained for this. My uncle, the Prime Minister will need my assistance. The Emperor and my brother, his heir, still cling to Triax and the old ways because they know nothing else. They can’t see what a dead end it is for our people. And they can’t be allowed to win. This is my fight, and I must join it.”
Surprisingly, it was Aunt Sleak who spoke up.
“From our Intel reports, you may very well get your chance,” she told him. “Prime Minister Adrin has placed his half of the Matayan Fleet to protect the Matayan Worlds, reinforced by a Joshua Tech Fleet.”
Jan sighed, studying the forces in motion on his comp. “They’re still outnumbered. Along with the Emperor’s forces, Triax has at least two more fleets on the way, and elements from many other allied Gigacorps Fleets nearby. That’s overwhelming superiority if they choose to unleash it, and Joshua Tech has no viable reinforcements to send in.”
Naero turned to Klyne. “You must summon the Shadow Fleets here, to this crucial battle that’s forming. There’s just too much at stake.”
Klyne frowned. “They’re already en route, but even they won’t be enough, even if they do arrive in time. We are still outnumbered by the current Gigacorps naval forces in range, ten or twenty to one. And if the Spacer navies join in, the other Corps navies will also pour in.”
Aunt Sleak studied the numbers. “The strategic and tactical facts are unavoidable. We are heading into battles we must fight. But we can’t win. We’re going to lose the Matayans and the miners, and there’s a good chance that Joshua Tech, our best ally, will be crushed and lost as well. We cannot afford any of that, but we are not in any position to prevent it either. And the hands of the Spacer Clan Navy are tied by treaties. They have to remain neutral to avoid an all-out war on all fronts.”
Naero called up the interstellar map, and the various forces and their proximities.
“Private Clan forces,” she observed. “That’s the only solution.”
“What about them?” Klyne asked.
“Like Clan Maeris, all of the Clans have their own private fleets and warships to escort and protect their worlds and shipping interests,” Naero said. “Look at their numbers, and they’re everywhere.
“They are the fighting equivalent of one third of the Spacer Naval Fleet. We need to put out an emergency call for volunteers from the Clans to join this fight.”
“Impossible,” Aunt Sleak said. “That would open up strategic holes everywhere for the Corps to exploit, making all of our space vulnerable to direct attack, instead of this one area.”
“Spread the regular naval fleets out to make up for it,” Jan suggested. “Their hands are tied anyway, and both sides know it. But Naero’s right. The private Spacer Fleets are free to act, if someone could convince them to do so.”
“Good luck with that,” Aunt Sleak said. “Perhaps if your parents were still alive, they might manage to make such a call to arms. They were popular and well known enough that the Clans might have listened to them, but they’re not with us any longer, thanks to our enemies.”
Aunt Sleak looked at Naero and put her hand to her mouth. “That’s the answer. You’re the one Naero. You have to do it.”
“What? Who’s going to listen to me?”
“You don’t know; you’ve been on the run for so long,” Aunt Sleak said. “Vids of the wake for your parents and your speech had some of the highest ratings among our Clans and moved trillions of our people to action. A storm of outrage swept through the Clans at the deaths of your parents and the loss of The Omaria’s exploration fleet. You’re the perfect one to make such a plea.”
“I–I can’t. Why would they listen to me. What will I say?” Naero said.
“Say what needs to be said,” Aunt Sleak told her. “Speak from the heart, like you did for your parents. You need to be the voice of the Alliance, calling for aid to come to our assistance, on the eve of a battle we cannot hope to win on our own.”
“I’ll...I’ll try my best.” Naero was still in shock.
“Let’s get it out there,” Klyne said. “Every second we wait plays into Triax’s hands. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it now.”
Naero stared down at her simple flight togs and gear, and held up her hands.
“What should I wear? I just look like a regular Spacer. Shouldn’t I dress up or something if I’m going to address all the Clans?”
“No,” Aunt Sleak said. “That’s perfect. That will appeal to the warrior heart in all Spacers.”
She undid the gold clasp holding back Naero’s long, raven-black hair and arranged the thick, luxuriant mane around Naero’s athletic shoulders.
“My sister Lythe–your mother–was always so proud of her hair. It was her trademark. You have been blessed with its beauty, too, and you’re her size. You’re built just like her. You look like her with your hair down the way she wore it. Our people loved her and your father deeply and honestly. They’ll respond to you, their daughter.
“The Clans are still intensely outraged by their loss and the way they were taken from us. Show them the courage in your heart; speak to their hearts, Naero. Tell them what is at stake here and why we need their help so desperately.”
Naero
gulped in air. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can. You are a Maeris of Clan Maeris. What’s more, you are the blood of The Annihilator and The Invincible Cyclone. Just keep the love of your parents and all that they taught you and stood for in your heart. The love for your people and freedom. The words will come to you. Wait, just two more details.”
Aunt Sleak unbelted her jeweled sword from her own waist, knelt, and put it around Naero’s slender hips, adjusting the clasps.
Then she pweaked Naero’s glowing rank insignia on her arms to blazing gold bands.
The rank of captain.
When she stood back up, Aunt Sleak kissed her on both cheeks. “Consider it a battlefield promotion.”
By then, Klyne was ready with the vid crew.
They tried a few takes for testing and sound, and then motioned for Naero to go on.
Naero did not hesitate. She put her hand on her sword, drew herself up and faced the cameras with the love for her parents and her Clans blazing in her fierce heart, and fire in her eyes.
“This is a direct call to arms and battle. I am Captain Naero Amashin Maeris of Clan Maeris, daughter of Lythe Ivala Maeris and Tarthan Wallace Ramsey. I am part of a desperate alliance with our friends at Joshua Tech, the Mining Revolt Worlds, and parts of the reformed Matayan Empire. Worlds who desperately seek to break free from the tyranny of Triaxian subjugation.
“Within the days to come, decisive battles will be fought between our Alliance, Triax, and five other Gigacorps waiting in the wings. We are heavily outnumbered. Massive fleets are already poised to pour in and overwhelm us.
“Due to current Interstellar Treaties following the last Spacer War, no Spacer navies can take part in these battles in any way without violating those treaties and causing another all-out war. But the political result is that our just cause remains cut off and outnumbered thirty to one.
We desperately call upon each of the Clans to send private ships and volunteers to aid us in our time of great need. Keep in mind that if we fall, and Joshua Tech and its allies are destroyed, nothing will stop the Corps from massing a full invasion into the Spacer Extents to crush the Clans, one by one. Once they finish with us, they will come for you. We must fight them and stop them, here and now at the strategic battles around Nuratine-5.”
Spacer Clans Adventure 1: Naero's Run Page 32
