Ima lifted her eyebrows. “Impressive. We’ve tried to do something similar, but our teks couldn’t get them to function properly.”
Naero nodded. “We had a lot of trouble with it too. I’ll send Ty over to have a little training session with your teks and knife fighters. He’ll teach them what to do.”
Ima stood up. Their time was up. Both of them had other duties to attend to. “Next time, N. Let’s try sparring in zero-G. That’ll be fun. Bring some of your best blade fighters, and I’ll bring a few of mine.”
“You bet. Let’s plan on it.”
“Oh, that reminds me. We’re also having a little problem with our shield buffering on our power core on board The Warhorse. My people are stumped, and engineering was never one of my strong points. Do you think your guy can check it out and give us some tips?”
“Sure. In fact, he actually helped develop the new shielding profiles and adaptive parameters for the Alliance. I’m sure he can sort out what your bug is.”
“Thanks. Later, N.”
She waved after Ima as she ducked out. Then Naero gathered up her own gear.
“See ya!”
16
Naero spent another evening with Tarim, in her quarters, having a fine dinner. They enjoyed a pasta and cheese dish with a sweet red veggie sauce and really excellent, garlic-cheese bread. They sipped a nice red wine.
Dessert was a yummy citrus cake. This evening, they chose to engage in an in-depth discussion concerning basic, Spacer politics and governing philosophy. Naero had two different holoscreens pulled up with highlights of Spacer political history.
“Since I’m living among Spacers,” Tarim said. “I always want to understand your people more, and how they function, both as a culture, and a society. All of you take every part of your culture and your ways so much for granted. I look at Spacers and their ways, and all I have are more questions.”
Naero scooped another bite of cake into her mouth, chewed slowly to savor it, and then swallowed happily.
“Tarim, I’d be happy to answer and discuss any philosophical questions that you might have. Spacers as a people are pretty practical and straight forward. We don’t want to waste a lot of our time, or our lives on duplicity, or what my dad always called–bullshit.”
Both of them laughed. “But you don’t even seem to have an active political system. You have a Council of Elders, who serve at the pleasure of the Forty-Nine Spacer Clans–apparently only when they need to. You rarely have elections of any kind.”
“The Elders and the Clans only pass new laws when there is a need for them. The legal system we have now is simple, flexible, and fair, and has served us well for over two centuries with occasional modification. Because we have specifically designed it that way, and agree to keep it that way.”
“Adorable, N. Why haven’t the rest of us thought of that.”
Naero flung up her hands. “That’s what we don’t understand,” Naero said. “You probably would have by now, if it wasn’t for the Corps.”
“But I’ve always been curious, though. Corps or not, all other humans seem to be constantly going at each other. Why do Spacers work together so much better than landers? That’s a fact, and it’s a huge difference.”
Naero grinned. “There’s a great deal of variety of experience, attitude, and lifestyle among the Forty-Nine Clans. Somewhere among all of that diversity, people can eventually find a good fit for themselves. And Spacers are very open and understanding about that need for individual freedom, and yet the overall baseline of stability, which makes such freedom actually possible.”
Tarim crossed his arms. “And it also doesn’t hurt that you seem to have non-existent crime, and very little infighting among yourselves. I admire that too.”
They were suddenly interrupted by a call on Naero’s Comstation. A minor matter, she dealt with and turned back to Tarim.
She put her feet up on her table after a fine meal, leaned back in her flexible gelchair, and stretched her arms and legs in opposite directions, groaning happily. “Tarim, this is how it is with Spacers. From the very beginning of Spacer society, Spacers could not afford to betray one another. They had so many enemies–the odds were so heavily stacked against them as it was–that honor and adherence to one’s word became paramount. If you look at our basic history–”
Tarim nodded, pulling back from both of her holoscreens. “I have. To save us some time, I think I have a good idea of the basics. The Forty-Nine Spacers Clans evolved from Spacer families or cultural groups, who all scattered out into space to find freedom. There were many other groups and families at first. Most of them died, but there were survivors. Each of those groups that survived out of the crucible of the past six centuries, make up the Forty-Nine Clans.”
Tarim stretched and yawned. “Uh, I think I ate too much pasta; fighting a food coma. So, as the foundation of their society, all Spacers agreed to strictly follow a basic code of conduct and laws based upon honor. Honor is paramount to Spacers. I get that.”
“Correct,” Naero said, “but you have no idea how much that code of honor, and the belief in honor, guides and binds Spacers together in a common cause, fellowship, and a system of conduct and belief. They are required to respect each other–demanded to, really.”
“So…what if a Spacer does break this code?”
“In the old days–back on Old Terra among landers–betrayal, crime, and breaches of honor were all too commonplace, and had to be dealt with harshly in space by Spacers–either by ostracization or even execution. Being part of the Clans quickly became the difference in Space between life and death—and life was already harsh and unforgiving. In many ways, ostracization was a far worse fate than a quick death.”
Tarim chuckled. “That’s why people say that Spacers can be assholes at times, but never criminals?”
“Yes. Exactly. It’s quite true. Spacers can still be jerks–it’s not illegal to be a jerk–but the criminal element and the criminal impetus was very quickly weeded out among Spacers. The Clans strove to create and sustain a self-governing society, where Spacers worked together for the mutual benefit of the individual, the family, the Clan, and the society as a whole. They all needed each other very badly, and they could not even begin to survive or accomplish anything, if their people were constantly trying to screw each other over. The freedom to behave irresponsibly could not be tolerated—if Spacers were to even have a chance to survive.
Tarim shook his head and held up his hands. “You make it sound so simple, and yet no one else ever has been able to do it.”
Naero slugged down some more Jett. “In order to establish and maintain these basic concepts of Mutual Benefits and Sustained Existence, everyone, as Clans, and as individuals, had to sit down, discuss, and agree to uphold a certain basic philosophy and a specific code of conduct and honor. It had to be something that everyone could agree to live with…and live by.”
Tarim finished chewing his last mouthful of cake. “And those who could not adhere to that code and accept that general philosophy, were eventually removed from the general population, in one way or another?”
“Yes. That was vital, Tarim.”
“N, I still don’t see how Spacers maintain their system. Your people just do it. You trust each individual Spacer to a very high degree. No one else can do so with their people.”
“Then answer me this. Is it really so hard to be a decent, honorable person, Tarim? You are a lander, and yet you do the same thing we do–every day. You may feel out of place among us, but I don’t see any desire on your part to rob, or rape, or kill, or exploit, or commit crimes. You uphold your own code of honor, just like we do. Maybe we’re not all so different; we don’t have to be. Joshua Tech. The Miners–by the Powers–even the bloody Matayan Corsairs are seeing the wisdom of our ways. Any lander or sentient of any species can freely choose to do what we do–and it is really not that hard. Honor earned and deserved is honor given–or withheld, when the need is there.”
&nb
sp; Tarim knitted his fingers together, carefully following her train of thought. “So…The individual has a right to be free within the limits of a reasonably free society, that all people discuss and agree upon. Neither the individual, nor the society, nor the state exist in a vacuum. Personal freedom does not grant any entity license to exploit, enslave, or destroy others, for anyone’s sole benefit.”
Naero clapped. “See? Was that so hard? You’re more of a Spacer than you know.”
A call came in on Tarim’s comunit this time. He stood up quickly. His eyes brightened.
“It’s Shalaen. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take this back in my quarters, N. She sends her warmest greetings.”
Naero smiled. “Give her mine, Tarim.”
He grinned. “Thanks for dinner, and the continuing education, N. Very interesting.”
Naero nodded. “Like I said, Spacers don’t have a perfect system, by far. But it functions overall, and you are now part of it. Have a great night, my friend.”
Tarim left her quarters. Naero turned back to some of her fleet work to attend to. She also pulled up a selection of top, random dumptunes off the galactic net and listened to some hot, new music.
She reminded herself that she had another sword practice with some of her captains, coming up very soon.
17
Naero had another vital epiphany one day, after a certain incident.
The Alliance proceeded along its chains of stepping stones. They jumped on three Triaxian fleets in what appeared to be a lackluster enemy defense of Vaelos-1.
Vaelos-1 was just a minor Triaxian system. Definitely not a big cog in the Triaxian wheel.
Naero was even surprised that they found three fleets there. No attack drones to speak of, and very few cloakedmines.
As soon as they commenced their sudden, surprise attack, something strange happened.
These Triaxians either jumped out of system immediately–in complete and utter panic–or they broke in confusion, tried to surrender, or even fought briefly among themselves.
Naero and the other Alliance captains were stunned.
They brought some of the Triaxian officers and captains together to question them, for intelligence purposes, after the landers had all formally surrendered to the Alliance.
Yet some of these landers were so distraught, they were besides themselves.
One admiral and several captains got on their knees and begged her.
“Please, spare our families down on Vaelos-1!”
“Shoot us, cut our throats, push us out of airlocks like we’ve heard you spacks do to your captives. But please, for the love of humanity, don’t eradicate our populations on our world, the way you did at Heaven-7 and all the others!”
“We hoped that if we surrendered quickly, that you would at least show some of our civilians mercy. Please, please spare them.”
Naero and her officers blinked.
For an instant, they did not know what to say.
These terrified men and women were in total earnest. Naero could tell that they actually believed what they were saying, sobbing and blubbering in abject fear. Not for themselves—but for their people.
For what they thought the spacks were going to do to them all.
Naero licked her lips before she spoke.
How could she begin to undo generations of propaganda and brainwashing?
“Admiral, I want you and your officers to hear this and really take it to heart. The Alliance forces are warriors–not murderers. Our mission is to take down Triax Gigacorps and free your worlds, not ravage them. We are liberators. Not conquerors. You got that?”
The admiral and the others stared back at them in pale shock and disbelief.
Naero went on. “We know that your worlds are deep in the core of Triax, and all that you hear about Spacers and the Alliance is the propaganda and fear-mongering that the Corps spin on INS. You’ve been lied to. For centuries.”
Shalaen joined them in the conference room at that moment, at Naero’s request, slipping past them and glowing as she always did with a pale blue light. Her child-like face was beautiful and serene.
And all of them–Spacer and lander, parted for the angel who walked among them.
She placed her small, gentle hands on each of them as she passed, and stirred and calmed them with but a touch.
“Captain Maeris speaks the truth. For generations, the tyrants who have oppressed you and your peoples have taught you to fear and hate without just cause or reason. To fear and hate those who mean you no harm or ill will. Those who would trade and share with you as friends, as your brothers and sisters, if you would only choose to live with them in peace and harmony.”
One of the Triaxian officers broke down and wept, visibly shaken.
“It…it can’t be true. You’ve invaded and crushed our fleets, destroyed dozens, hundreds of our worlds. Killed trillions of our helpless people with atomics, poison gas, gene plagues, and bio-weapons. Waves of death drones—just like what you did to Heaven-7!”
Naero caught her breath.
“No matter what you think, or what you have heard, that was not us. What happened on Heaven-7? That wasn’t the Alliance. That was all Triax’s doing, every bit of it.” Naero stood side by side with Shalaen.
“And it is Triax who refuses to take Alliance prisoners, and executes our captives, without right, cause, or honor. Vile practices which we have never shared or followed. Once this war is over, any captives on our side shall be released and sent home, safe and free. While Triax continues to murder our people unjustly each day.”
Shalaen attempted to speak once more, over their murmuring and denials.
“And as far as the death and destruction on Triax worlds,” she began.
One enemy officer shook with suppressed rage and fury. “I have seen the vids. How can you stand here and lie, and deny your many atrocities against us? Helpless people. Women and little children. Slaughtered in the streets! Cut down by gleeful spack invaders. Gassed to death. The flesh melted off their bones by spack bioweapons! I have seen the evidence. We all have! Many times over.”
Shalaen folded her hands in front of herself calmly.
“You have been grossly deceived and misled by Triaxian propaganda. All of you and your worlds. Such terrible things have indeed been done–but again–not by us. Only by the bloodstained hands of your own rulers. They turn around and blame it all on us, on spacks and the Alliance, as they have always done. It is a plot to smear and demonize us.”
The man winced in shock. “But why? Why would they do these things to their own worlds, to their own people?”
Shalaen shook her head. “Captain Maeris, speak true. Does the Alliance use such weapons and tactics against civilian populations?”
Naero stiffened at the mere suggestion.
“Never. They are not even in our arsenal–though we have put a stop to their use, whenever and wherever possible. And we have captured and confiscated many such weapons of mass destruction on numerous, liberated Triaxian worlds, where they were set to go off and scorch these worlds with senseless death and destruction in the wake of Triax’s cowardly retreat.”
The poor shattered man shook his head in denial. “No. It cannot be true. It must not be true. These things come from you, our enemies. I can’t believe it.”
Naero pulled up holos in the very air around them and on the conference room viewscreens. She displayed numerous lethal and deadly weapons and devices.
“Look at all of those production markings. Look closely; Triax does not even bother to hide the evidence. It is easier for them to merely deny the truth, or silence anyone on their own worlds, who in any way discover the real truth. These production marking and the materials they are constructed out of are clearly Triaxian. They do not come from the Alliance, because we do not make or use such weapons against civilians, especially against worlds that we seek to liberate. We are not destroyers and killers. How would that serve us?”
Another haughty
Triaxian officer stepped up beside his fellow captain.
Naero bristled. She did not like the slightly crazed look in this man’s eye.
“Filthy, lying spacks. Kill us and have done with it. And you bring that stinking mindwitch from the miners to try to twist our brains? We know the truth.” He waved a trembling finger at the evidence all around them.
What was this guy so nervous about?
“Those vids mean nothing. All of that can be faked. Every bit of it.”
“If so,” Shalaen said calmly. “Then they can also be faked by Triax, by your leaders as well. Let us show you vids that we have tried to broadcast among your worlds. To warn them about Triax. We can show you how Triax Intel twists these vids around, edits them, and uses them as propaganda and lies to demonize us, making us and our forces appear to be murderers and aggressors. Let us show you the proof.”
The man continued to shake his head, and look jittery.
“No. You’re lying. All lies, just as they said you would.”
Shalaen held out her hands to them.
“We are not the liars. Take my hands. Let me prove it to you.”
“No. Get away from me. Stinking mindwitch!”
The man drew a hidden plasteel dagger, razor sharp, and plunged it straight down at Shalaen’s breast.
Even the Triaxians moved to stop him. Too late.
Shalaen did not blink.
The dagger point halted a breath from her heart.
Buried in Naero’s iron left forearm, defending her friend faster than eye could follow.
An instant later Tarim had a pistol nudged into the man’s temple.
They all froze in place.
Tarim’s icy voice commanded.
“Drop. The knife.”
Naero’s small, powerful right hand crossed over like a clamp of steel. She kept her eyes locked with the attacker’s, stepped the man back, and calmly stripped his fingers away from the hilt of the dagger.
The lander stared and swallowed hard at her fierce, enhanced strength.
Citation Series 1: Naero's War: The Annexation War Page 11
