“
A moment, young woman,” the Corps lady said. “I may need a report from you. Now, Mr. Farris, it seems that you’ve given certain shipments priority, and not just Corp-haulers over indeps. It appears that this cleverly veiled series of priority shipments matches investments made by other family and friends and acquaintances of yours, scattered over thirty or forty systems.”
Lady Drianne pressed a radiant jewel on her
wristcomp.
Farris looked as if he
’d been shoved out of an airlock. Naero yawned. Wasn’t anything any other dock alpha wouldn’t do.
She grew mildly curious as to why Triax
Corps chose to roll over on this guy. He’d either gotten too greedy or hadn’t given the right supers a big enough cut. Either way, he’d torped off someone high up in Triax.
“
We’ll talk, in your office, in one hour. Have your records ready for inspection.”
Two other Triax personnel and a bot joined them from just outside the doorway, stopping behind Lady Drianne. The foremost looked clerkish and efficient, no doubt the inspector. If the lady was a shark, this guy was a piranha.
The bot and the other person behind them were of interest. Bodyguards. Only the lander elites could afford bots. With their strong, independent need for competency and self-sufficiency, Spacers never relied on them.
This
bot was a class eight Triaxian sec-bot, with some apparent modifications. It moved about fluidly, rearing up on four of its six legs. Its various recorders and scanners clicked and whirred, very insect-like, but it seemed focused on Naero for some reason. Lady Drianne spoke to the clerk.
“
Inspector Cho, take my sec-drone and escort Mr. Farris. Make certain that he does not leave us, harm any records...or himself. Mr. Farris, your second? Mr. Farris?”
Farris looked dazed, then he punched up a micro-button on his finger band.
“Hassan,” he said in a horse whisper. “Get up here right away. I don’t care what you’re doing. Get up here. Now!”
Farris drifted off in a fog, muttering to himself, flanked by the sec-bot and the clerk.
The second bodyguard stepped out of the shadows.
N
ot too ugly...for a Matayan goon.
He loomed
tall and meaty, with a thick face and a bright, intricately braided blond horsetail. It clashed with his Corps primate suit.
Only
blooded Matayan warriors could wear their hair long. Their nobility wore two or more braids to note their rank.
Naero wondered how many stars this chunk
had on his chest, one for each ten kills. Ten stars earned the formal title of Slayer. Like most Matayan killers, he looked like he enjoyed his work.
The form of a
battle blade under his jacket was more than an ornament. She guessed he had several other concealed weapons on his person–just like herself.
Naero
gave him her best girlish grin. In return, he locked eyes with her, glared, and curled his lips into an ugly sneer. If it came down to it, she might be able to take him with her speed, but it would be a tough fight. This guy was definitely a serious threat.
Lady Drianne finally turned back to her.
“You’ll have your goods tonight...miss?”
“
Maeris. Naero Amashin Maeris.”
She looked pleased.
“With Sleak Maeris? When did she have a daughter?”
“
She didn’t.” Naero could never imagine her aunt even holding a child, let alone one of her own. “I’m her niece.”
“
I know your aunt well; give her my regards. I’ve brought plenty of associates with me to assist the new Acting Dock Manager. Triax apologizes for any inconvenience.”
Naero cursed to herself.
“Associate” meant “slave” in Triax lingo. Floaters and migrants culled from the Corp’s systems, expendable freeze-ship labor, shunted about here and there. People were a cheap commodity. But the Corps didn’t waste anything, or anyone.
“
Thank you,” Naero said. “I’ll tell my aunt you said hello.”
“
Tell her to contact me. I might have something of interest for her fleet. Perhaps we’ll meet again, Mistress Naero.”
“
Perhaps,” Naero said. She left the loading dock, her gopher shift almost over. By now she had plenty to talk to Aunt Sleak about. And she wasn’t even back yet.
She didn
’t have to glance behind to know that Lady Drianne and her Matayan goon stared after her, watching her leave. Her entire day continued to get creepier and more sinister.
Why did it suddenly seem like everyone was so interested in her?
That thought made her very uncomfortable.
She needed
to make sure that she actually made it back to the fleet.
8
Naero
carefully headed back toward
The Shinai.
The
strange events of the day had her so paranoid that she wasn’t at all surprised when three local thugs stepped out in front of her to try their luck.
“
Hey, spack, gimme some.” They attempted to block her way.
Naero made a point of rolling her eyes. She didn
’t have time for amateurs.
“
Give you some what? Looks like you three morons already have diseases.”
They stopped laughing.
She could buzz away with her gravwing, but this could be fun.
The leader stepped forward, rusty knife in one hand, an old stunner in the other.
“You’re mine, little slit. I’m gonna split you wide open while you’re still wiggling.”
“
Take her down,” the ugly lander girl said, circling. She held a plasbaton like a club. “I wanna see some spack blood.”
The third–
the biggest, smelliest, and stupidest looking one–had a face covered with boils, a weighted length of chain, and some spikeknucks.
“
Oh, we’ll see some blood.” He laughed in anticipation. “Loosen’ this gash up for me, Dren. I think I’m in love.”
Naero almost laughed.
“You lander guys can’t think up any better lines?” She wasn’t about to give losers like them any satisfaction.
They rushed her from three angles. Naero
kick-flipped off the near wall, darting away so fast that all she needed was to shove ugly-girl out of her way.
She ran them the length of the
alley, just fast enough to keep them chasing. When she had them winded and they looked about ready to give up, she stopped. They charged her with a final burst of energy.
Naero
half-grinned.
The
m red-faced and puffing; her not even breathing hard.
She kicked the leader
’s forearm so fast he nailed himself with his own stunner. He gaped in surprise and fell upon his own knife in his other hand, still twitching.
Naero
spun and slammed him into big oaf. The two goons went down in a tangle.
Somehow the stunner went off again.
Naero ducked the whir of ugly girl’s plasbaton and blocked a knee. Two palm heels to the face and a jab to the throat staggered the lander.
Naero flipped her hard over one hip and left her moaning on the plascrete.
Something whipped around her ankle. Big oaf’s weighted chain. She could smell his approach, a thick wafting wave of filth and unwashed male stench. He came at her like a crab. He lifted his spikeknucks to tag her.
Naero half-stepped forward and side-kicked with her free leg, broke his nose again, splattered boils, and shattered one eye socket. A spin-heel kick to the temple put him down for good. She shook the chain off her ankle
, resisting the hidden urge to finish them.
“
Amateurs,” she muttered. “Ugly and dumb.” These landers weren’t worth killing–not that she’d ever taken a life.
R
ank scents of fresh human blood and other bodily fluids filled the air. Naero hadn’t broken a sweat. She brushed herself off, wiped her feet clean with some rags, and punched up the portcops to pick up the trash.
It
did feel rather good to work out part of her anger and frustration on some random goons.
Then a
skycar descended at the opening of the corridor alley in front of her. Things just kept getting weirder.
At first she thought it might be a portcop patrol car
. Instead she saw a big holo-spolymered limo with eight doors.
That worried her
a bit.
The limo whispered
a few centimeters off the ground. A door snapped open and a well-dressed foreign businessman leaned out. Polished shoes, gloved hands upon a jeweled cane. His face marked him in his forties, but he was probably older. His long, oiled, dark hair and short beard were immaculate, a scarlet holosilk turban covering most of his head. He could be a merchant prince, or perhaps even a Corps diplomat.
“
Excuse me, miss,” he said, his elocution precise and powerful. “My driver spotted trouble. Are you in any need of assistance, my dear?”
She waved.
“No thanks. Just a misunderstanding.”
“
I see.” He smiled, his admiration apparent. “Have you notified the authorities?”
“
On their way. Thanks for your concern.”
He bowed his head to her.
“Not at all. Can we lift you anywhere? We’re headed to the docking bays.”
Did she look that dumb?
“
That’s all right.” Cheap thugs were easy to hire. This guy could have set the whole thing up. “Thanks once again.”
“
Safe journey then,” he said.
That threw her a little.
Usually, Spacers were the only ones who said that to each other.
This guy
was obviously a lander, but he’d picked up a bit of their lingo somewhere. Before she could respond, the older gentleman pulled himself in and tapped with his cane. The door snapped shut. The skylimo rose straight up.
Another spasm of pain ripped through her head. Naero clutched her skull with both hands and leaned her weight against a
chain link fence to stay up. For some reason, she recalled her dream where the handsome green guy with the flowing golden hair rammed a sword into her brain.
Then she considered how she needed to find a boyfriend at some point in the near future.
More pain from that damn psy helmet. Zhen said she might suffer such attacks for weeks, perhaps even months. Possibly even hallucinations and bouts of delusions bordering on temporary insanity.
Great. Something different to look forward to, at least.
Good thing it hadn’t hit her during her little tussle with the locals. That might have been bad. She hit her gravwing and zipped back to the starport.
She was already completely frazzled from the loss of her parents. A little induced madness might be a welcome distraction from that pain.
Searching for Jan back on
The Shinai
, Naero walked in upon Janner and the usual: a gaggle of half-dressed lander girls.
She
gritted her teeth, smiled, and shook her head.
Janner was certainly grieving
. In his own way.
She wondered how many of the
se bimbos believed everything Jan spoon-fed them about his exploits.
W
hat a bunch of crap.
Yet she
could see why these spoiled little landers went for Jan, with his long dark hair and their father’s lanky good looks. Who better to torp their wealthy Corps parents off than a flashy Spacer punk in flight togs and blades?
Naero giggled.
If they only knew how tame and mundane Janner really was. His favorite areas of study: advanced math, stellar physics, and navigation. She shook her head.
Yeah, what a rebel.
One of the girls, the alpha female of the pack apparently, kept herself glued to Janner’s side like a Centauran weasel in heat. She was a long, slender doll-like thing with green hair, white skin, and blue eyes. She wore a black, light-absorbing dress that was way too short, black heels, and white lacy tights whose patterns shifted and flickered as she moved.
Haisha
, Jan, get a room for a few hours. How embarrassing.
Lander
girls.
A
lthough an intensely sensual people, Spacers showed little affection in public, and discreetly reserved sex for their private lives. Behind closed doors.
Th
e respected norm.
But a
t Jan’s age, self-control and professional behavior weren’t Jan’s strengths. She knew he indulged himself way too much.
Na
ero had been tempted herself with a few cute Spacer boys here and there. But so far she hadn’t found a worthy candidate. She told herself that choosing a lover, especially one’s first and maybe last, was serious Spacer business on the most personal level.
Her mother and most Spacer woman–except Saemar–had very strong opinions on the matter.
She felt heart ache again. Never more would she be able discuss such things–or anything–sitting in private with her mother on their beds, brushing their long hair before they slept.
The
searing memory of how beautiful her mother had been at such times ripped through her soul.
As usual, romance for Naero would have to wait. She
kept herself too busy on purpose, and never got too close to any Spacer. Most landers she hardly even looked at.
Jan finally
noticed her standing there.
Always the opposite of her. He wasn
’t that picky.
“
Hi, Naero,” he said with a dreamy smile.
The lander pack appraised her sultry looks and athletic form as a potential threat.
He let them burn for a while. “How’s biz, sib?”
They relaxed and smiled again,
figuring out she was his sister.
“
You haven’t been bringing unauthorized personnel on board again, have you Jan?”
“
Don’t get twist on me. I told them the rules. He put his arm around the pack-leader. “Meet Devi. Her mother’s some Corps princess here on business. She’s invited me and our whole fleet to a big Corps party on her parents’ yacht tonight. Wanna come with?”
“
Maybe. Have you seen Aunt Sleak?”
He frowned and waved one hand.
“Cutting deals, like always. I think she’s on
The Slipper
.”
“
You think?”
“
Hey, I’m not on duty. Excuse me. My entourage grows restless.”
“
But of course, my prince.” She bowed to him on her way out. Then she transferred to
The Slipper
, shaking her throbbing head again.
Perhaps another mist shower would relax her.
Naero ducked back into her cabin for a quick one.
Closing her eyes. Letting the mist wave over her. Just breathing in and out.
She looked up and lifted her hair to check that big zit on her forehead in the shower mirror.
It ached, swollen, inflamed, and painful.
When she squeezed it slightly, dark red blood squirted and it split open.
Spasms of pain ripped through her head.
Naero gasped.
A third, bloody violet eyeball stared back at her in the mirror. She could even kind of see through it in a blurry way, but it moved on its own power, roving and glancing here and there beyond her control. It’s independent actions alarmed and disoriented her further.
A new fricking eye.
Sticking out from her forehead.