“We do,” Chae and Remy said in unison over their links.
“Then by the authority of the Free Spacer Clans given to me by my rank as captain, I now pronounce the two of you married—husband and wife, wife and husband. Let your life together be long, and filled with joy. Remy, you’ll have to kiss her when she gets back. Fortune favor you both!”
“Who’s kissing who?” Chae shouted with a laugh, right as she launched.
“Wahoo!”
The links broke off. Naero turned in her command chair, studying her scans and setting her forces for the battles ahead.
36
Rats always fled from an impending disaster. Such was widely known.
The same phenomena seemed to be occurring, directly connected with the impending fall of Triax Gigacorp.
Naero and the rest of the Alliance fleets were quickly becoming caught up and distracted with heavy interdiction duties.
At times the prosecution of the the actual hot war even ground to a standstill.
Basically, they spent more and more time pursuing and intercepting a tide of countless private Triaxian vessels, laden with stolen wealth from a decadent, fallen empire. Strings of transports loaded with loot, and even slaves. Vessels of every shape and size, fleeing in all directions, simply adding to the chaos and uncertainty.
Triax even took advantage of the situation to scatter their agents and terrorists into rear areas, using the fleeing hordes as camouflage to hide their numbers. To use and old metaphor, they hid and lost themselves by becoming fish, among numberless shoals of other, panic-stricken, fleeing fish.
The Alliance fleets soon found themselves overwhelmed.
Joshua Tech, the Matayans, the Miners, and the newly liberated worlds offered a partial solution when consulted.
Secondary fleets of other private ships, non-warships, and vessels basically unsuited for combat on the front lines, assumed responsibility for inspection and interdiction duties. They were guarded by older military vessels that served best by patrolling the rear areas.
This shift of forces freed up elite and frontline elements from getting bogged down checking cargos, manifests, and IDs.
Smugglers, military, and paramilitary personnel attempting to flee off the grid, without surrendering, were still captured, and held for inspection and trial, as needed.
By now, the new Alliance worlds had their own military courts and tribunals up and running. These were fully capable of prosecuting individuals, or entire system bureaucracies. Contraband was captured and converted into anything that might help the war effort, and or the local systems improve their conditions.
Many other factors had to be considered on liberated worlds. Conditions on many Triax worlds were found to be quite deplorable, as some might readily expect. The miners were never surprised by such facts.
Therefore, teams of fixers were controlled by Spacer tek handlers to improve water, food systems, and living conditions everywhere they went–under the protection of the Alliance Defense Forces. They leap-frogged from world to world, and system to system, as possible and as needed.
As more and more worlds became liberated each day, Triaxian fanatics and terrorists continued their attempts to sow chaos and destruction among them. But they did so against the sweeping tide of change and freedom. And free peoples craved and demanded order, fairness, justice, stability, and peace.
Local forces on many liberated worlds found their hands full seeking out and neutralizing the lethal mix of atomic, chemical, biological, and conventional threats and agents used by the Triaxian terrorists. Intel stepped in the assist.
Such terrorists found themselves falling increasingly out of favor, and the locals on each liberated world hunted them down and slew them without mercy.
Yet only the total defeat of Triax would bring a final end to the unpredictable, sporadic murder of billions of civilians. Until that time, efforts could only continue to prevent and limit such terrible occurrences. Not stop them completely. The war must conclude.
*
Spacer Topeka-Naero Nelson transferred in on board the destroyer The Star Witch to work in logistics, as a supply loader on transports. She had a long, bright green pony tail and hazel eyes.
She was brash and loud. She exchanged rude jokes and gestures with her mates, and routinely invited anyone who had any kind of a problem with her to chomp on her lily-white butt and chew with gusto. She gambled and won and lost, she brawled when brawling was required.
The work was hard for glifter teams, and the hours long, especially on the rim of battle with ships always in need of re-supply.
She slept when and where she could.
And though some thought her young and innocent at first, anyone who mistakenly tried to snuggle up to her or cop a feel without her permission–got a swift boot in the crotch and a stout whack upside the head.
Topeka-Naero didn’t take any crap–not from nobody.
She earned the respect of many in just a few short days.
But loaders were always full of poop, bragging about who they could trounce, and who they could bounce–as they put it.
They remained the top bullshit artists of all the Spacer ranks and jobbers.
And Topeka-Naero slung it thick and fast with the best of them.
Not an hour went by that someone didn’t start talking trash about either fighting, sex, or some combination of the two.
“She’s not so tough. I could beat that slank down with one hand secured behind me, and my ankles strapped together.”
“Why, an hour with me, and I’d drain all the juice right out of that lucky bloke. He’d black out with a smile, dry up, and blow away like dust and flakes on the wind–after I was done with him, he would.”
Naero chimed in. “I’d like to spar with this uppity fleet captain of ours, I would. She acts all tough and all that, but one punch from me and I’d lay her out, but good.”
Every one suddenly paused and just stared at her.
Then they fell over themselves laughing.
Topeka-Naero blushed and snapped at them.
“Go on, now. You scum can’t laugh me down. I stand by my words. I can take her!”
Even more laughter.
“You stupid little twit,” another loader said. “What kind of drug-induced smoke are you puffing out of your orifices? You, a gangly chit like yourself, take the mighty fleet captain herself down?”
Her new mates all piled in.
“Haisha! Not in a gazillion years,” one loader said.
“Are you illegitimate? Can’t ya read, ya moron?” another asked.
“Belay that. Why gal, don’t you know who her parents were?”
“Did someone slip wild-cherry flavored blast inta yer mother’s tit-milk somehow? Why…your brain is cooked. You must be daft, gal.”
“I still say I can take her. Make the challenge. Get me a match with her. She comes around the ships to practice. Send word that I want to scrap.”
“Calm yourself. Save your sand for the Tri-asses and pound it up them.”
“Tri-asses?,” Topeka-Naero said, scratching her head. “Why in the heck do you call ‘em that?”
“It’s just a play on Triax, gal.”
“Because, as everyone knows, anyone who’s a three-holer is filled to the very brim with thrice as much crap! That’s our enemies for you; damn and blast them all!”
Everyone had a good laugh at that, even Topeka-Naero.
One of the older loaders pointed his finger at her and cocked his bleary eye. “So, lass. You be a sweet little gal, and don’t be a challenging the good fleet captain none, or bothering her or any of the officers. They’ve got better things to do than finding time to stove your fool head in.”
“Yeah, ya silly git.”
Topeka-Naero pouted and muttered and fumed to herself for hours after they put her in her place.
42
When the time came for Strike Fleet Six to back off the line, Naero was more than ready for shore leave this
time.
And so were many of her people. Everyone knew this could be it, coming up.
The last few weeks had been extremely rugged, but the next few promised to be the worst they had ever seen.
For Naero, she chose to get away to an isolated mountain retreat on some backwater world–all by herself this time.
She gave others–even her closest friends–plenty of warning, not to bother her.
This time, she wanted to be completely alone with her thoughts and feelings.
Naero lived like a hermit, for two glorious weeks. She turned off all com devices and channels, except the ones to Baeven and Spacer Intel, and the one for her callback link. The latter, duty required that she leave it open.
Then she slept, cried, took long walks and hikes, and stayed up at night slugging down Jett and Spacer poteen. She gorged herself on sweet blue, mystery-meat Spum and junk food. She went a few days without washing, until she couldn’t handle her own stink any longer.
Then she bathed naked in a beautiful, freezing mountain waterfall.
There, where no one could see her, she broke down and cried again within that cleansing, icy-cold water. She wept for all of the senseless loss she had witnessed thus far.
And all that was yet to come.
That was the real truth and paradox about even a just war.
It was all both necessary and senseless—all at the same time.
Naero stayed up at night sometimes, thinking and musing, scribbling poetry. She thought about her life thus far.
She stayed out on the roof one night and watched the stars wheel overhead, of course caused by the planet’s own rotation. She always found that phenomena so weird. No wonder landers were so messed up and thought everything revolved around them.
And for the first time in her life, she got so drunk one night that she actually threw up. First time for everything.
She put on her battle gear and unleashed her fury on a dense, dark-green bamboo forest that blotted out the sky and sun. Swords. Knives. Guns. Bombs.
She cut down, kicked, and blasted bamboo to bits until she lay spent and breathless among a wide swath of wreckage.
On the fourteenth night—her last—Naero went up to a high mountain top in the keen, thin wind under the stars, and meditated in one of the deep modes she had learned from her parents.
She did so in order to cleanse her thoughts and emotions–to prepare herself. She practiced with her twin katanas in ritual, meditation sword forms her father had taught her.
When the recall summons sounded on her comunit, Naero felt more than willing to return to duty.
Now, she was ready.
In for the final push.
38
Naero took one more run at going among her crew.
Telline–Telli Barrett worked on the battleship The Athena as a galley server, dishwasher, swab, and whatever else was needed. She had grey eyes and a long, pink French braid of hair.
Spacer galley food was always top notch, so nobody ever dared call it slop, unless they wanted to start a fight. But Telli-Naero served meals regularly on the line for a handful of days.
Telli-Naero was an outright, unabashed flirt, and winked at and grinned and pouted, breaking hearts every chance she got. When guys or gals got fresh, or wanted to bunk up, she got a dreamy look in her eyes, sighed, and let them know they didn’t stand a chance. Telli was saving herself for her guy–a handsome fighter jock with the 77th Starfighter Wave.
Naero learned a lot from working in a galley. Everyone had to eat, so she met almost everyone on the ship, three times a day or more. Three hundred and eighty-five Spacers from every walk of life.
From stunning Captain Vanna Fae and her perfect mane of white gold hair and mirific azure eyes, down to the other dishwashers and swabs.
Everyone ate and gabbed. Everyone fretted and worried about the final phases of the war, trying to survive, and muster out to get back to their lives, families, and friends.
That seemed to be the general consensus.
All of Naero’s people–and most likely everyone in the Alliance–were utterly tired of the war by now, and every cursed thing that went with it.
But they had also come this far together, and every one of them was completely determined to see things through.
Triax must be destroyed.
If chatter did pass over or touch upon the Alliance leadership, or Fleet Captain Maeris, it was usually positive.
Except for the whispered gags and laughter about those whacko digital porn vids, still making the rounds out there. They were a rude joke.
And they still riled and embarrassed Naero completely, but she didn’t let it show, whenever mention of them was made.
Then one day, someone commented that it must have been nice to grow up rich and pampered, like Captain Maeris must have been. What with her wealthy celebrity parents and their fame and all.
Another crew got upset and set them right.
“You got that all wrong, mate. I know it for a fact. I know Naero Maeris. I worked with, N–”
“Who the hell is, ‘N?” another crew cut in.
“Her mates call her that. It’s a nickname; short for Naero. Now if you please let me finish what I was trying to say originally, without so many interruptions…I worked on board one of the Maeris merchant fleet ships under her Aunt for nearly three years. I can tell you whatever you want to know about them both.”
“Oof!” someone exclaimed. “I wouldn’t want that duty. Working for the steel dragon herself? Everyone’s heard what it’s like to serve under Admiral Sleak Maeris, the captain’s lady aunt. She looks like a vid model, but she breaks backs, balls, and necks as easy as breathing! Little wonder that her niece is a hard driver as well.”
“Why, you’ve got bugs in your skull. Yes, they’re both hard drivers, a plain fact to be sure. Everyone knows that. But I’ll tell you what. I never made better pay and profit shares than under the Admiral. And they’re both fine officers, as well as being easy on the eyes. I worked for the Captain and her aunt when Naero was a two and three striper, right after she did her two years of tactical training with the Spacer Marines–right around up to the time her folks got themselves killed out there, exploring the Unknown.
“And when you say Captain Naero grew up pampered and rich, then those bugs in your noggin’ must have gobbled up all your brains. She’s our gal. She’s a Spacer–through and through–just like the rest of us, by the Powers! Born and bred. She’s one of us, I tell you! Her parents were gone most of the time, and spent all their money on their exploration fleet that got wiped out. Naero and her younger brother–Jan, that tail chaser. Why they practically grew up working for their hard-nosed aunt. And she was tougher on them than anyone else the whole time.
“Captain Naero worked hard through the ranks, and earned her stripes well. She did everything, and never blinked or complained. And she never had credits to throw around. I never saw her do so anyway.”
The man sighed deep suddenly. “My friends, I wish you could have been at that wake they held for her parents. Look it up in the Clan Maeris archives, if you want a real eye-opener. The good Captain loved her parents dearly; that much was very clear. We all loved them, for the people they were. But when Naero spoke at their wake–I tell you true–it was like poetry. She stood there in the light, all beautiful like her mother, and when she wept–why, we all fell to our knees and wept with her. And when the time came to cheer, we damn near blasted a hole through the hull.
The man rose up proudly. “That’s the kind of person our Fleet Captain is. And I’ll strike down anyone who says otherwise. She’s one of us. She’s our blood–through and through–and she always will be. By the Powers! The other officers tell us that she calls every one of us—her lions, her swords of light. That tells you what she thinks of us. And that’s why every one of us would follow her, straight into perdition, whenever the need arises.”
Telli-Naero sniffed and wiped her red eyes.
“Why Te
lli, I didn’t mean to upset you, dear girl.”
“No, it’s all right. I have seen that vid–the vid of that wake they held for her parents–just like you said. I remembered watching it. It does make you want to both cry and cheer.”
He patted her on the back. “You just bet it does. Now enough of such foolish talk about the captain being spoiled and pampered and all that. Has anyone heard how soon we’re going back into the mix?”
Telli-Naero took her dustvac back into the kitchen.
She saw a young cook sitting alone, Eugene Blooding. Dark curly hair and moustache, fit, stocky medium build.
He had a loaf of warm shuma bread, sitting in front of a tub of butter with a knife. He’d tear off a hunk of bread, butter it, and then dip it into a bowl of what looked to be a strange black gravy.
Then he’d pop it in his mouth and chew in what looked like ecstasy.
Yet he still manage to look rather melancholy.
“Hey, Eugene. Whatcha got there?”
“Aww, nothing much. I was feeling a little homesick and sorry for myself, so I made a mess of my family’s secret black gravy. If we was to get ourselves killed in one of the final battles, I wouldn’t want to go on the next journey without tasting some of it again. It is mighty fine indeed.”
“Can I try some?”
“Sure. Pull up a chair and join me, Tell.”
He looked at her again, with sudden concern as she did so.
“You all right, Tell?”
“I’m just fine.”
“You’re eyes are red. You look like you’ve been–”
“I’m fine, I tell you. Someone just told me a sad story, that’s all. It got to me.”
Eugene sighed sadly himself. “Plenty of those to go around.”
Telli-Naero knew very well, as everyone in the kitchens did, that Eugene was still mourning the loss of his own gal, a pretty medtek on a cruiser that got destroyed, not three months before. Only a few others on that lost ship got away.
Citation Series 1: Naero's War: The Annexation War Page 28
