Part of her felt embarrassed on several levels.
Until she saw what other people were wearing. Some no more than holographic screen tattoos or body jewelry. She’d seen vids and clips of Corps fashions from hundreds of systems and usually just giggled and considered them a joke.
Experiencing the true range and madness full force was both shocking and a bit overwhelming.
They went all the way from austere to exhibitionist.
This wasn’t her game at all. She still didn’t understand how exactly to walk that fine line between looking sexy or like an Arabalan prostitute.
Aunt Sleak was an old hand, it appeared, and had fashion moxie to spare. Which was also somewhat surprising.
Perhaps Naero simply needed to trust her suddenly flamboyant aunt and follow her lead.
They passed through the reception hall, and the crowd parted to get a better look at the arrival of the renegade, unpredictable Spacers.
If Naero turned heads, Aunt Sleak made them gape. That amazingly tight body of hers.
Her aunt wore a long semi-opaque gown of Ovadi EM-silk. It collected the low-level electromagnetic pulses around her and radiated harmless, miniature lightning bolts all about her body, teasing onlookers with brief glimpses of the sleek, fluid form beneath. It didn’t show much top or leg, but it was dazzling.
Zalvano, Janner, Gallan, Tyber, and the other Spacer men struck dashing, virile figures in their impeccable black Sovani-styled evening jackets, jeweled throat and chest bands, tight leggings, and high boots. All the Spacers looked superb, but were stunning to a lesser degree.
Aunt Sleak was clearly the main attraction.
Janner seemed to be the most pleased of them all, eating up the attention and envy that seemed to erupt all about them wherever they went. His gaze roved over the crowd, looking for something hungrily, and earning not a few hungry glances in return.
Zalvano, on the other hand was a study of class, calm, and reserve. When his glance did stray a few times, it went to Aunt Sleak, and then he would linger and only smile slightly. He looked very pleased with the universe.
Aunt Sleak followed her own instincts, nodding to a few persons as she made her way through the party into the main ballroom.
The spacers waded through thousands of people; landers danced, cavorted, and sang. The primary rectangular chamber stretched almost the length of the entire top section of the ship; the ceiling more than thirty meters high, set with holos that periodically flashed and displayed the skies of various worlds.
At last they reached the thickest part of the crowd. Persons of import and their retinues made way. A final barrier of personages parted and Naero caught sight of Lady Drianne and her daughter Devi.
Devi wore a short skirt of some clingy material that was so radiant it looked white-hot. It ended just under her ribs, exposing the rest of her from there on up.
If the wild young girl had implants, they were damn good ones.
Even Janner blushed. She spotted him and bounced through the crowd to take him by the hand. “Oh, Jan, I’m so glad you and your people could make it.”
Janner gulped for air. “Me too,” he said, a fog over his eyes.
Devi giggled and looked them all over. “You guys look great. That’s your aunt? Mother will shit. C’mon and meet her!”
Naero wanted to slap the little bimbo silly. Other than the obvious, what could Janner possibly see in the girl? Their aunt was right. She’d have to have a talk with him about developing some serious taste in women.
Lady Drianne looked like a queen holding court. Perhaps she was. Her flawless body was draped in a filmy gown of what looked to be either gold foil or liquid gold. As she moved, it split, tore, and reformed, more than skin-tight against her slender, yet ample body.
The competition between Lady Drianne and Aunt Sleak erupted almost immediately, like two Schedarian wasp queens maneuvering for their death strikes.
Sometimes they killed each other.
Naero quickly appraised the two while they exchanged opening civilities. Lady Drianne had a slightly prettier face. Aunt Sleak the slightly better figure. Some of the drooling hangers-on about them looked torn as to which one to leer at.
Naero suddenly caught sight of the middle-aged merchant from the sky limo. He wasn’t watching them at all, but listening intently to a group of businessmen and businesswomen talking animatedly with some high-level Corps military officers nearby. He said very little, and suddenly stifled a yawn.
It was then that their eyes met. Recognition brightened his gaze along with surprise. He nodded to her in salute with his glass, excused himself from his circle, and disappeared into the crowd.
“My dear Sleak,” Naero heard Drianne say. “How good to see you. You look well. Why, I was stricken with grief when I heard about the tragedy involving Lythe.”
Naero turned her attention back to the Corps princess. Aunt Sleak only nodded.
Lady Drianne slipped in like an old friend and took Sleak’s arm in hers.
“But come now, let us talk business. I have numerous lucrative proposals for you. We’ve always made good profits together.”
Janner had already disappeared with Devi. Zalvano stayed with Aunt Sleak and Drianne. Naero wandered off a bit with Gallan and her friends, declining several offers to dance or to indulge in one of the nearby drug or pleasure suites.
“This crowd is mostly humans and near humans,” Gallan noted, “punctuated by an occasional non-human.”
Most of the latter were relegated to the positions of servants or guards. She saw an Ejjai in person for the first time, a matriarchal race of hyena-like humanoids. By all reports they were tough, vicious fighters.
A servant came by with a tray of wild-looking drinks.
Naero impulsively chose a tall, clear crystal-goblet with what looked to be a pale wine or liqueur, fruity by the smell of it. A small holo of a flaring sun floated in the liquid, which smelled of warm citrus.
“Hold it,” Zhen said, quickly scanning the drink. “Okay, it’s safe.”
Fast-absorbed endorphics rushed through Naero’s body with the first sip, radiating mild, harmless pleasure from the center of her abdomen. The slight tingling sensation felt very nice.
She’d still rather have a borbble of Jett. Triax probably had an entire room of it somewhere. She just had to locate it.
Tyber and Zhen danced in their matching orange and black outfits like they were a dance team. Gallan danced with Saemar.
Naero felt a different tingle of warning in her mind as she watched her friends dance. Again, it was like someone trying to speak to her.
The same feeling she had on the loading dock before the accident washed over her, but not as intense, yet. Her crazy delusional eye even throbbed.
In a mirror wall, she caught sight of Lady Drianne’s Matayan bodyguard following her, back in the crowd.
She turned immediately and blew him a kiss.
The man’s face darkened into a violent sneer again as she made him. He turned his face away as if to ignore her, but he did not move off. She was about to walk up and ask him to dance when a figure stepped up beside her at the edge of her vision.
The limo merchant again. Still dressed soberly, although wearing a slightly fancier head wrap and jewels. “Perhaps I intrude,” he said, “but I would not provoke that Slayer, if I were you, miss. No good would come of it.”
So, Drianne’s bodyguard was a Slayer, a Matayan warrior with more than a hundred kills, whether in the military, as a gladiator, or perhaps as an assassin. He had a ring of at least ten stars tattooed on his broad chest.
Leave it to a Triaxian princess to hire the best she could find.
“I was just wondering if he would like to dance,” Naero said. “It might help pass the time, since he’s been assigned to watch me. Do you think he might try to kill me right here at his boss’s party?”
The man studied the Matayan Slayer for a moment, almost as if he knew something about him or his kind. That
made Naero a bit more nervous.
“No, I don’t think so. He’s probably fantasizing about it, but he won’t act–not without orders or provocation.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
He hesitated and smiled. “Just a business man, looking for profits where he can find them. Your name young lady?”
“Naero. Naero Amashin Maeris, of Clan Maeris. My aunt is Captain Sleak Maeris.”
“Ah, yes. I have heard of your illustrious aunt and her equally illustrious family.”
Illustrious?
“And you?” Naero asked.
“My friends call me Adrin, but I have very few remaining friends these days, times being what they are. I detest family names. I wish I had no family affiliations, but alas. I am honor bound to do their bidding, and serve their common good.”
“I know how that is, I guess. What business are you in?”
“Oh, a little bit of everything really: ships, smallcraft, computers, terraforming teams, medical supplies. I’m the diversified end of the family–the respectable end.”
“Dealing in ships sounds exciting.”
“Not really, especially after thirty years or more. But the profits are often good, and that keeps the family happy. That allows me to mostly avoid them and go where I please. My ship and I will depart for Epsilon Sextanis-6 later tonight with one of the merchant convoys, to pursue a major transaction.”
That was the fleet’s destination as well. Naero suppressed a nervous shudder.
“Unfortunately the family leaders will also be there. They can be so very annoying.”
“Perhaps we’ll run into you there,” Naero said. “Aunt Sleak might be able to do some business with you. Here’s her call number.” She handed him a com chip.
Adrin took it gladly. “Very good. Warn your aunt about the increased Corsair activity in that area. Several freighters have been lost. Triax increased the naval patrols for show. Nasty business.”
“We’ve heard. Our fleet is well protected,” Naero said. She took a moment to smile and wink at the Matayan Slayer.
“If you harass that fellow enough,” Adrin said, “he might gut you and then claim blood-feud self-defense.”
“In his dreams.”
The older man smiled. “You think you’re that good?”
“Pretty sure. I’ve trained all my life, with better than him.”
Adrin smiled. “Too bad for him then. He appears to hate you quite intensely. He’d love to get at you with his blades.”
“Of course. Matayans hate all Spacers. The feeling’s mutual.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Adrin said.
“Been that way ever since the Spacer Wars, even with the breaking of the Matayan Cartels.”
He smiled again. “Perhaps things will change one day. I get around in various circles. I’m not so certain the Cartels are as dead and buried as some claim.”
“I know. Corsairs, rebels. Gigacorps keep enough of them around to do their dirty work. We know that. They used to be independent, like Spacers. Now they’re just Corps slaves, and it galls them even more. It wasn’t our fault that their allies absorbed them when they were weak. They blame us; they always blame us.”
“Who was it that weakened their empire so that the Corps could absorb them?”
“Spacers, of course. But they attacked us first. They paid the price. We make sure anyone who attacks us pays that price–as high as we can make it. We’ve never desired domination and control of everything like the Corps do. Space is too big. There’s room for everyone to thrive and make credits, and we’ve proven that over and over again.”
“Very admirable.” He raised his glass, containing something thick, blue, and cold. “I salute you again. Good luck to you, young lady. Smashingly alluring gown you have on. I’ll say good evening, and...mind the Slayers.”
Naero smiled and shook her head slightly. What a character. She’d have to learn a bit more about Adrin. He seemed harmless enough, but something strange about him attracted her interest. What was it?
“Mistress Naero...”
She slowly turned at the voice.
There stood Baeven, looming over her in full Menkaran evening robes and veil. Menkarans were always huge.
“Good evening,” he added. “You should have taken my advice and waited for me at your ship.”
The Matayan Slayer watched them with renewed interest.
What should she do? Avoid him, or try to get more info out of him?
Because of the general roar of the crowd, she moved closer to Baeven so that they could speak more discreetly.
“Is it true that you’re a traitor to our people, an outcast?”
He didn’t even blink. “The outcast part is at least, but of course there are reasons. Only an outcast can go where I go, do what I do. Shadowforce has been wrong many times. Even the Mystics. No one sees everything clearly. Not even me.” He met her glare. “Our people might owe their very salvation to an outcast when all is done. Remember that, spacechild. I see that your aunt’s opinion of me has changed little. Does she still intend to kill me on sight?”
“She didn’t say so. She’d even be willing to listen to you, but only under secure conditions.”
“Of course.”
“She still hates you.”
“Hate I can deal with and understand.”
“Is it true that you were with Spacer Intel, part of Shadowforce?” Naero asked.
“On occasion.”
“And you trained with the Mystics?”
“Once you begin it, such training never ends,” Baeven said. “It is a lifelong pursuit. You are adept enough for one so young. Perhaps I could recommend you to them.”
“I’ve had some martial training, but I’m not a psyon.”
“Everyone is psyonic to a certain degree. The trick is finding a way to train one’s gifts.”
Naero trembled. Not her. And those who failed at training with the Mystics went mad, or were slain. She did not trust this man, whatever his background, but there was still something about him, something wild and untamed that she instinctively liked.
Baeven had information she wanted. She’d find a way to get it from him. “We broke the chip. You said you had more info concerning my parents?”
“Indeed.”
“Let me find Jan and we can–”
“Your brother is somewhat...occupied at the moment with youthful indiscretions. I tried to approach him, but he wasn’t very interested. He’ll be safe enough where he is, for the moment. This really isn’t the place to discuss your family business in any case. We are all about to be in very real danger very shortly. Myself included.”
“What are you talking about? Why did you take a chance on coming here?”
“To warn you and to rescue you if I could. No, don’t look around and give us away.
“Even now, an elite team of terrorists has been allowed to infiltrate Lady Drianne’s yacht, to take her and many Triaxian officials here hostage.
“I said, don’t look about. I’ve made most of them. They’ll strike in minutes if I cannot tip their hand. I tried to get here sooner, but it takes time to fabricate a convincing cover at such short notice.”
Naero laughed and took a sip from her drink again. She pressed a silent buzz signal on her com band.
“I’ll get Aunt Sleak, Zalvano, Jan, and my friends. We’ll head for the shuttles.”
“There isn’t time. And for some reason...you appear to be their primary target. If you rush to leave, that will only arouse suspicion and trigger their actions sooner. At best you can alert Clan Maeris with an onguard signal, as you just did.”
“Then what do I–”
“Let me try a few things. I’m doing my best to disrupt their plans. What is known to only a few is that the terrorists have been infiltrated by Triaxian Intelligence. The attack will fail, but most likely your aunt and her second will be cut down in the confusion. You and most likely your brother will disappear, never to be seen aga
in.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Indeed. Return to your aunt. Warn her. Two teams–one Triaxian, and one Matayan–will strike during the chaos. They want you alive at all costs, Naero.” He stared at her intently. “But they will kill you if necessary.”
She rested a hand briefly on his arm. “Be careful.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “If I can rattle them enough, Triax Intel will abort their mission and pull back in confusion. When I duck into this pleasure chamber, decline to join me. Return to your aunt; you have a few minutes still. Protect her as best you can.”
“What about Jan? And you?”
“I’ll see to your brother’s safety, spacechild. And make sure you disarm the neutron detonator placed on your aunt’s shuttle, if I don’t have a chance to do so on my way out. The rest is up to you and Clan Maeris. Use the confusion to make good your escape.”
“Wait, the shuttle’s set to explode?”
“The Corps always have a back up. It’s S.O.P. Just look after your aunt. Our enemies are quite determined to get her out of the way for some reason.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Baeven smiled, almost sadly.
“You don’t.” He opened the door to the pleasure chamber, steamy, musky scents of oiled bodies and strange chemicals wafted out. He motioned for her to join him.
Naero shook her head and turned away, trying not to filter back to Aunt Sleak too quickly. Part of her wanted to rush over to protect Jan.
Lady Drianne’s Matayan Slayer just finished listening to his wristcom when she spotted him again.
He ignored Naero completely, charging straight after Baeven.
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