She stared at his fixins. “How do I do this?” she asked.
“Easy. Do like me. Butter a hunk of bread, and just dip in it. Good stuff.”
Naero followed suit.
So good!
Haisha. The taste was…incredible…fabulous even.
She had never made love to anyone yet, but from descriptions from her friends–especially Saemar–eating this yummy black gravy had to be the next closest thing. Akin to experiencing a taste bud-numbing orgy of flavors in her mouth.
The gravy was that good.
She couldn’t even speak for a long while.
All she could do was stuff her face.
Finally the bowl was empty, and her face and hands a complete mess–like she was an infant, finger-painting with gravy.
Eugene laughed. “Dang, girl. I know it’s good, but you went plum wild. You got it all over you.”
She wiped the residue off on more bread and devoured that as well.
“Eugene…I don’t know how to thank you. This was so fantastically delicious! As you would say, thank you kindly.”
“You’re most kindly welcome, Tell.”
“Eugene, that black gravy of yours is some of the best stuff I have ever tasted. I might even like it better than Spum, and I love Spum more than life itself. Thank you again, so much. You’ve really brightened my day. Why…I could kiss you!”
Eugene’s eyes went wide and then they sparkled a little.
“I’d be right pleased as punch if you would, Tell. A pretty little thing like you? Haisha, I don’t mind telling you. Shoot, I could use a kiss or two, before we go into these final battles. It’d be nice to get some kind of love before we–.”
Telli-Naero tackled Eugene, right in front of everyone, bore him to the floor, and wrapped herself around him like a python.
She gave him a long, deep kiss, and left him gasping and blinking on the ground.
She stood up and smiled over him, hands on her hips while he caught his breath.
“You and I are going to stay in touch, mister. One day, I’m going to have my own ship. And you, are going to come and cook for me, and make that stuff every day.”
Eugene struggled to rise up.
“I’d sure be right proud and h-happy to d-d-do that,” he stammered.
The entire kitchen burst out laughing.
Everyone thought she was joking, but Naero meant every word she said.
44
Naero held a last planning session with her officers, including Captain Hayden. They mostly spoke about the final phases of the war and how everything was winding down.
It was certain that there were still plenty of deadly fighting and challenges ahead of them, though.
After the actual planning session ended, Naero had dinner and drinks brought up for them all. The bells sounded, and the watches of the night grew rather late.
Naero made her rounds and lifted a glass to her abani, Jeremiah. They sat down for a bit as things broke up.
“So, now that we finally have some time, tell me about your family, abani–my brother.”
He smiled, and proudly showed her some pics and vids of his son.
“This is my little boy, Jason. He’s a great kid. I can’t love him enough. I see him every chance I get, but you know how that is.”
“I don’t yet, but I can imagine. He has your brown eyes. I bet he has a lot of fun with his daddy.”
Naero poignantly thought of her own father.
Jeremiah smiled and nodded wistfully. “We have such a great time. We goof around and laugh and laugh. He loves to laugh and giggle, the funny little bugger. He makes Ronnie and I laugh until we’re all fit to bust. He’s going to be a great big brother to his little sister Lydia, when she comes around. And that won’t be long now. With any luck, this war will get over with and I’ll be there, this time.”
“You call your wife Ronnie?”
“Short for Veronica.” He smiled sadly and got a far away look in his eyes. “She has the prettiest hands and feet. Sometimes at night when things are quiet, she lets me put lotion on her hands and feet and massage them. She has flat feet, so her arches can hurt her sometimes. That’s kinda of how we met. I took her boots off when she was exhausted and gave her a great foot rub. Well, one thing led to another…”
Naero smirked at him. “I can think of worse hands to end up in. That actually sounds pretty sweet and romantic, Jeremiah. She’s a Marine too?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty standard. Both of our families are. She’s a First Leftenant, also with Third Division. She’s a mek trainer. But she’s on maternity leave right now. She hates it some days, but frankly I’m glad one of us is sitting this war out.”
“So, you’re going to name your new little girl Lydia? Where does that come from?”
“My mother’s name. She was a Marine Colonel. She died in action on Vaetarra-5.”
Naero snapped her head up at the mention of a very famous Spacer Marine battle. “Vaetarra-5? The Clans and The Death Eyes lost a lot of good people during the course of that action.”
Jeremiah nodded. “That they did, and my mom was one of them that went down fighting to the last. I was seventeen at the time. When they told me she was gone, I was already well on my way to becoming a Marine myself, just like her and the rest of my kin.”
Naero rested a hand on his powerful forearm. “I lost my mom too. I can relate. Don’t worry, they’d both be proud of us and what we’re doing. Never forget that.”
Hayden nodded. “I know that. I’ve tried to live up to the examples she set for me.”
Naero sat back and looked him in the eye.
“You’re an excellent leader, Jeremiah. A fine warrior, and one of the bravest I have ever had the pleasure of fighting beside. I never have any doubts or worries with you and your Marines backing us up.”
Being with Hayden was like being with her lost, best friend Gallan.
Hayden lifted his glass to her. “N, I could say much the same for you, my friend. I’m proud to know you. Your people love and respect you, and with good reason.”
Naero lifted her glass and they clinked them together before draining them.
*
Tarim challenged Naero to a final, all out simbattle between their two practice fleets, while they still had time to do so.
Naero hesitated somewhat.
She wanted her friend to be sure he knew what he was asking for.
“Tarim, you’ve been progressing very well, but let me warn you. You’re still pretty much an amateur at space fleet combat. Are you sure you really want to challenge me full on…in a real match?”
Tarim nodded vehemently. “From the beginning, it was never my goal to equal or surpass a master such as yourself, N.”
“But you’ve seen first hand what I’m capable of…repeatedly. In actual combat?”
“Again, I don’t intend to win. That is not my goal. I know you are going to trounce me. But at least once, I want to feel what it is like to experience the command of a space fleet battle in real time, with no limits. To make it as real as possible. This is the only way. And if I am to face defeat, why not have it be at the hands of the best opponent I can possibly find?”
Naero nodded. “You honor me, but don’t think because we are friends that I’m going to take it easy on you. If you want me to come at you full on, that is exactly what you are going to get.”
Tarim put his hands behind his back and bowed his head slightly.
“Then bring it. I would never expect anything less. I know very well how formidable an opponent you are. In fact, I am counting on just that. I will do my best as well.”
“Very well then. We’ll make use of the isolated bridge simulators that the junior officers utilize. A real contest is not like the vid games we’ve been using for our various sims, Tarim. We won’t be in the same room, we won’t be able to hear each other call out orders to give each other clues or hints about our strategies.”
Tarim looked eager. “Yes, I
understand. It will be much more like a real fight. I will be on my bridge, commanding my ships against you and yours. And we will need to respond to each other with all our instinct, skill, and cunning, in real time. Even if it is only once, that is the exact experience I seek.”
Naero smiled and shook his hand.
“Good luck to you then, my friend. May fortune favor the bold.”
Tarim sighed slightly and grinned. “Indeed. It always does.”
Once they were in place and the AIs set up, everything was ready.
The signal went up, and the sim commenced.
Naero’s standard blue fleet of fifty ships drew the lot at random to be the defending force.
“Defensive formation India-Whiskey-6.”
Scanners picked up Tarim’s red fleet jumping in and approaching from the exact opposite direction, forcing her to take the time to re-position her ships around the planet they were defending.
A pretty simple Delta-Mike-3 formation for Tarim.
Something strange, however, about the scanner readings on his carriers and fighter waves.
What was the clever little bugger up to? A mirage strategy perhaps?
She positioned her fighter screens. Tarim his.
They prepared to engage.
Battleships fired at extreme range. No reason not to. Minimal results.
If he was going to pull something…
Ahhh, here it was.
Risky.
Tarim divided his fleet into two forces. The superior half–in Foxtrot-Yankee-2 formation—acting as a head on holding force. The other inferior half–with only two bigs–moved in as a small strike fleet in Delta-Sierra-5, carriers naturally hanging back.
Naero countered effortlessly.
“Delta-Delta-2, forward cones on the flanks. Cruisers and destroyers, concentrate consecutive fire with all battleships on the lead forward enemy elements. Fighter waves 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 and 10–hit all five bigs hard. Get those shields down!”
Naero plotted the course of the battle and its variations thirty moves ahead–in a matter of instants.
Even Tarim couldn’t make it this easy for her.
Seconds later, red battleship-1 was in flames. Red battleship-3 withdrew.
The beginning of the end for Tarim’s red fleet, even with his strikers sweeping in and and doing moderate damage.
All just a matter of time and various responses now.
Then five more red carriers jumped in, as close as they could.
Too close, in fact. One red carrier came in too hot–too close to the blue starboard outward elements.
The resulting explosion took out red carrier-5, blue destroyer-19, blue missile frigate-4, and blue gunship-1.
But the other additional four red carriers deployed additional fighter waves that quickly enveloped her entire starboard flank.
“Spiral back in Kilo-Tango-9, raking fire on the remaining bigs. Fighter waves, reduce those enemy squadrons. All ships, concentrate all secondary batteries on repulsing enemy fighters.”
How in the hell?
Tarim could overload and increase his starfighter contingent to these levels, but how could he possibly double the number of his fricking carriers? The sim wouldn’t allow that, unless he hacked it.
He didn’t.
Five scanner deception drones collapsed when fired upon.
Tarim’s five phantom carriers–the ones holding back–simply vanished.
That sneak! He did pull off a mirage attack.
It made things a little tougher and more interesting, but she was already countering nicely.
Naero stuck to her strategy and her guns. First, his other three bigs.
Then his cruisers, and finally those damn carriers. The real ones.
Tarim conceded–43 seconds later.
They rejoined each other outside the simchambers.
He thanked and hugged her.
“That’s it; I’m satisfied, N. I’ve accomplished and learned all that I’ve wanted to know and experience. I won’t feel so ignorant and left out now among your people, when they discuss such things.”
“Our people, Tarim. Nice to hear you say it. Our people.”
“It still does not make a Spacer. Nothing ever will.”
Naero put one hand on his, and the other on his handsome face.
“That doesn’t matter. I say you are one of us, Tarim. You are. My personal bodyguard. My friend. My brother. You will always be one of us. And I will take it extremely personally if anyone ever treats you or says otherwise.”
Tarim bent down and kissed her hand.
“Thank you, N. I can never thank you or…our people enough, for all that you have done for me.”
“And is that why you stay around? To protect me? You know of course, that Shalaen and I are sisters. When all is done, I want you to be with her, even if it takes you away from the rest of us.”
Tarim nodded. “I will go willingly, N, when she allows it. For the time being, my beloved insists that you are in more danger than she. Until she says otherwise–she has commanded me to protect you.”
Naero blinked. Another eye-opener.
Interesting.
45
In the rapidly shifting haze of war, it became truly difficult at times to tell friend from foe. And thus great care had to be taken, especially in the very heat and ferocity of battle, to avoid tragic friendly-fire incidents.
That remained just one of the many hazards of complex ship-to-ship space battles.
Despite all the risks of war, one by one, the enemy systems leading up to the final Capital Class World of Najindo-9 continued to fall to the Alliance.
Alliance fleets converged like sharks, smelling Triaxian blood in the dark waters of space.
Everyone on the Alliance side was weary and fed up with Triax’s brutal tricks, games, and delays that only further held off what was deemed by now to be the inevitable.
Triax Gigacorporation was going down in flaming defeat. One of the worst defeats in any interstellar naval history. And yet in their utter hubris and their twisted madness, they would never admit to the folly of further combat and senseless resistance. Unbelievably–even at the very end–the insane sons of bitches still clung to the last tatters and shreds of their vile powers and absolute tyranny.
Their last pockets of fanatics and zealots seemed more than willing than ever to lay waste to and destroy further life–heedless in all directions–out of nothing more than what appeared to be pure maniacal hatred and spiteful denial.
And it became very clear that it would still cost many more lives to drag and burn the mad wretches out of their last shitholes.
Triax as a sick, diseased monolith never even entertained the possibility of surrender.
They meant fully to go down in utter flames and despair to the very last, and drag as many others into death, destruction, and sheer hell along with them. They remained entirely devoid of any honor or semblance of sanity.
Against such a mad and determined foe, the duty of the Alliance remained clear.
To put an end to Triax’s multitude of evils, for all time to come. To fall upon them with all fury and final vengeance, and see the task finished.
To blast Triax straight to hell.
This was the beginning of the end at last.
Naero and the other strike fleets now went into battle with entire fixer clouds developed to neutralize mines, drones, and entire enemy ships. They performed all of these functions, as well as doing their best to minimize damage and keep Alliance ships from being destroyed, or first captured and then destroyed.
Many Triaxian ships did try to surrender, especially mercenary ships and naval vessels and crews that simply wanted out of the war.
But it remained tricky dealing with surrender ships.
By now, the enemy admirals had suicide devices attached to the power cores of all the remaining Triaxian vessels under their direct command. Enemy ship captains who wanted to give up had to pretend to keep fighting, while I
ntel agents and or fixers slipped on board to disarm such devices, and prevent the Triaxian high command from blasting any defectors to atoms.
This became a deadly cat-and-mouse game.
Even then, defectors could still be attacked directly and taken out before they could retreat to the rear zones of battles, boarded, and pacified. The same thing with enemy fighters who wanted to surrender.
Sometimes battles were so heated that any defectors were simply ordered to jump into a neighboring surrender system, where they could give up away from the front. Some captains simply fled the war zone entirely, going rogue, and fled into the other Corps areas to start a new life, and never looked back.
Either way, every ship that refused to keep fighting helped the Alliance greatly.
They riddled the dwindling, Triaxian lines with fear and doubt.
But then the enemy also tried to use the defector situation against the Alliance.
Some Triaxian ships only pretended to surrender, and then started fighting again once they were in a better position to cause much more damage.
Pretenders were usually shown no mercy, because of the destruction they could cause, especially in rear areas. They were routinely destroyed, and all further attempts at surrender ignored.
Word quickly spread.
At first Naero sent escorts to deal with any pretenders if they tried anything.
When that became unfeasible, and enemy ships began defecting in entire waves, Naero instituted a frontline policy that all enemy vessels had to agree to shut down their power cores, have them secured, and get towed, once they reached a safe staging area. Some suspect enemy ships were even told to dump their cores outright.
Such practices caught on with the entire fleet and continued to be modified on the fly.
With each new system pacified, the crumbling chains of Triaxian tyranny and subjugation dissolved and fell away.
After the fierce fighting, secondary elements, older and lesser warships continued to be stationed in the rear areas to further the transition process.
As they learned from past efforts and mistakes, many of the Triaxian populations had been heavily brainwashed to expect subjugation, genocide, and mass destruction of their worlds at the hands of hated spack invaders and their rapacious brigand allies.
Citation Series 1: Naero's War: The Annexation War Page 29
