Aunt Sleak wasn’t on her flagship, The Slipper. She’d taken one of the shuttles back up with Captain Volaski to The Dromon, for a meeting with the other ship captains.
The big planetoid vessel couldn’t enter an atmosphere, but it had great conference, training, and communication facilities. Naero patched through a com to Aunt Sleak once more. This time, a response actually came back.
Her aunt’s piercing gray eyes focused on her through the comlink screen
“Naero, I heard about Chaela and the Omni run. Good work, but we’re still down one crew. Zalvano said you got that Triax shipment straightened out?”
“We’ll have it by tonight.”
“Looks like a full run. If nothing else comes up, I’ll see you and Janner on The Slipper for dinner tonight. I might have some more news by then, I hope.”
“I think Janner...has plans. I might go with him.”
Aunt Sleak glanced away. “Oh? You two better clear it with me first.”
“Janner’s got some little rich girl who wants to seduce him on her mother’s Corps yacht tonight.”
“That’s a surprise. That boy thinks he’s a player, and yet he has no taste.”
“I agree. The entire fleet’s invited, by the way.”
“Sounds like fun.” Her aunt glanced back and sighed. “There’s been too much gloom and doom after the news concerning The Omaria. My sister loved life; she wouldn’t want that. Perhaps we could all use a little distraction, and let the Corps foot the bill. Why don’t we go along, and show these Triax flunkies some Spacer style?”
Naero blinked, floored again. Aunt Sleak didn’t usually hit the social circuit very often anymore. She always looked good, but she could dazzle like a quasar given the right opportunity.
Fix her up and she looked like a zillion megs. When the time came, she enjoyed showing off and making the landers drool.
But such high-level Corps shindigs were rumored to be pretty depraved and decadent. Naero had heard all the stories, and seen some vids.
She had never actually bothered going to one before.
Aunt Sleak actually grinned, quite unsettling, really. “Meet me on The Slipper in two hours, Naero. I’ve got an Akoran number that you’d look great in. If you’re bold enough to wear it, of course.”
“Okay... Oh, and Aunt Sleak, a couple of things happened today that I want to talk to you about.”
“Can it wait? I’ve still got a lot–”
“I was attacked today, but that’s not–”
“Who and why?” Sleak demanded.
“Just a couple of lander thugs. I took them down easy.”
“Good. I’d expect that, especially from you. A Spacer onworld is like a walking target sometimes. That’s just the way. So what’s the problem?”
“It was a weird afternoon all around. After the attack, some rich Corps guy landed in a sky limo and offered me a hand, then a lift. Very odd.”
“You refused.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. Before that, I met a Corp Lady at the loading docks of all places. Named Drianne; she seemed to know you and wanted you to contact her. Like everybody else today, she and her Matayan bodyguard seemed overly interested in me.”
“Drianne Imiviel of Triax Corp. I heard she was in system. Did business with her, a long while ago. Nothing ever went wrong that I could blame on her, but a couple of deals left a bad taste in my mouth. Your father knew her, I think.”
“Dad knew her?”
“I think he wasted a little time with her before your mother got a lock on him. I’d bet a hundred megs that it’s Drianne’s yacht we’re invited to tonight. She always has some kind of game going. Maybe I can find out something from her. Tell your brother to guard more than his pants.”
“I will. Do you think there’s any connection between Drianne and the attack on me, or the limo guy?”
“Who knows, at this point? I wouldn’t worry about it too much. We ship off tomorrow. I’m kind of glad. This all sounds too weird. It doesn’t feel right. The sooner we’re back in deep space the better.”
“Oh, I almost forgot, there was this other guy before all of that. He said he wanted to talk to both of us, and Janner, about mom and dad. Said his name was Baeven.”
Aunt Sleak choked on her own breath.
For another instant there was silence.
Then her eyes narrowed to slits, the way they only did in battle.
“Naero, don’t say another word.”
“What? Who is–”
“Shut up. Take my private shuttle up to The Dromon. Go straight to my quarters there and arm yourself. My personal guards will protect you. I’ll release the entry codes to you en route.”
“I don’t understand. Why–”
“Do as I say, Naero. This is a primary direct order. Tell Janner to go to my private quarters on The Slipper and stay there until my security escort arrives. Get going, now. Out.”
Icicles knifed up Naero’s veins.
Very little could rattle Aunt Sleak like that.
All she did was mention some guy’s name.
She contacted Janner immediately and gave him the orders. Janner fumed and argued and demanded explanations, but Naero had none to offer. He gave in.
Naero left The Shinai and boarded The Slipper, in the next starport docking bay over to the right. The Slipper was Aunt Sleak’s flagship, a 500 ton Omni Corps Corvette, originally designed as a superfast blockade runner.
When Naero arrived, Aunt Sleak had the entire fleet on priority one security alert, one level below battle stations. The crews had armed themselves and conducted patrols and sensor sweeps of all ships and the docking bay.
This was going to throw their scheduling off; it might even cost them serious creds.
Aunt Sleak’s Second met her there, dashing Captain Zalvano of The Shinai, along with a three-Spacer fireteam in assault armor and heavy plasma rifles.
They escorted her personally to Aunt Sleak’s onboard, private shuttle.
The trim little Joshua Corp craft sat only four people and carried little cargo. More of a fighter than anything else.
The fireteam pulled back in prep for launch.
Zalvano went with her. A class act. He was in his early forties, rugged, handsome, smart, and completely fearless. Deep, dark violet eyes; his long black hair gathered behind his neck in a golden clip. Lines of steel and silver ran through its length.
Common knowledge held that he and Aunt Sleak were lovers. Naero could understand and respect that. Zalvano was Sleak’s honorable partner in every other way. The captain of The Shinai had a strong hand; he was good with his people. He possessed a strict but generous nature, and an ironic sense of humor that grew on a person–with time.
Zalvano smiled. “Hey spacechild, want me to–”
“Not a chance,” Naero said.
Aunt Sleak had never even given her or Janner a ride in the craft, let alone let them pilot it offworld.
Another alarming turn of events, but Naero still couldn’t help being excited.
She sank into the plush, fragrant gel chair of the pilot’s station and ran her hands along the perfect controls.
They secured their flight helmets.
Then she powered up, feeling the energy race through her. She felt so befuddled, she almost forgot about her insanity.
Once they had clearance, Naero eased the craft out of its pod on The Slipper and lifted off from the docking bay, and then the starport itself. The controls were uniform, but handled more fluidly than the GV’s and other bulk shuttles and transports. Naero vectored toward The Dromon’s codes and punched it.
Zalvano opened his mouth to warn her.
The burst of speed and the resulting g-forces mashed them into their flight seats.
Too late.
Even through the atmosphere the acceleration felt incredible, far beyond the performance of the ambling GV’s. Both Naero and Janner had pushed them to their limits, even with modifications.
What responses! This was defin
itely elite fighter speed. Auto controls and scans popped up online as needed. No warnings.
They cleared the atmosphere in moments.
What an awesome ride. Naero had practiced in stunt simulators for various fighters throughout history, but even holos couldn’t prepare her for the sheer rush and exhilaration of the real thing.
Irpul-4 vanished behind her.
Naero couldn’t help but think of her father.
Her father was her ship. Whatever ship she flew.
The hull was his strength wrapped around her to keep her safe. His might sustained her through all the extremes the universe had to offer, protecting her. He carried her to places of wonder and beauty, peril and truth.
His eyes were the viewscreens she looked out of. Through his gentle, laughing eyes, she saw the universe and learned its ways and complexities. As she grew, like a true explorer she lived a grand adventure.
Guided by her father, doors, hatches, bulkheads, blast doors and iris valves opened and closed around her, teaching her the lessons, knowledge, and wisdom they contained.
When she was still tiny, her father taught her to fly through space. He became her drive, her wings, her lift.
She rose up safe in his big hands and faced the universe grinning, wise, and fearless.
He held her high, so very high aloft.
She laughed and lifted her head, arching her back, pointing her toes, spreading out her arms. Like him, he taught her how to become a ship.
Her heart a fusion drive.
In his mighty hands, she jumped from star to star, from system to system. Making runs, coming in for landings. Setting down on beds and chairs and tables that transformed into starports and landing zones. Then blasting offworld for her next port of call.
All under her own power.
Naero pitied landers. The vast majority of them never even got up into space.
She loved it so, like all Spacers. The only thing that made her truly feel alive, and free. Under the Gigacorps, most landers never knew much freedom of any kind.
“Decel,” Zalvano warned. “I know you’re having fun, but pay attention or you’ll overshoot your rendezvous.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, and powered down to compensate. “Decel underway. Just got a little taken.” She was still half-tempted to blast off and really head out for a ride.
“Sure you don’t want me to take it in?” Zalvano smiled at her once more. He knew what she was feeling. Her parents taught her what all Spacers knew.
Onworld, they were only half alive.
In space, everything became clearer, richer.
“Pretty trim, isn’t she?” Zalvano said. “I take her out every now and then. She cost your aunt a load, but she’s worth it.”
“I’m gonna have one like this or better someday.”
“Probably better. Some of her’s nearly obsolete already. Sleak’s about to refit her. But she’ll still beat most of the Corp stuff out there. Only the best military rigs could touch her. Check out her offensive and defensive specs while we’re on approach.”
Naero called up the O&D systems, just as he suggested.
Her lips parted. “Whoa, baby!”
The little shuttle wasn’t just fast. She was armed like a heavy fighter. With level two shields, she was practically a light assault ship.
The immense, darkened form of The Dromon loomed up before them all too soon. Naero switched off the auto approach and landing sequence and took the shuttle in manually, setting down on the planetoid landing pad all too soon. A bubble dome popped up over them, filling with a rush of air.
Naero powered the little craft down and they got out. She tucked her flight helmet back into the seat and patted the little ship with no small affection. “You and me could be friends.”
“I think she likes you,” Zalvano said.
“Naero,” Aunt Sleak blurted in over her com. “You got up here quick enough. Don’t slack now. My quarters. ASAP.”
“Better not keep her waiting,” Zalvano said, raising one eyebrow.
Naero nodded to him and hit the deck running, still struggling to ignore her own internal madness
Time to find out what was going on.
11