Read Spacer Clans Adventure 1: Naero's Run for Free Online Page B

the sides of his maw yellowed and blackened from years of addiction to the synthetic root and the low stim dose it released.
    The sharp pungent odor of harstick permeated the man right down to his glands and the very air about him.
    Naero secretly despised most landers.
    He nearly threw the trade loading packet into her hands.
    “ You spacks have two hours to deliver and vacate my dock,” he snapped. Old Corps military by his tone and his contempt for Spacers. The most hateful landers called them ‘ spack s,’ a dehumanizing insult from the wars.
    She ’d encountered such tiresome attitudes on her merchant runs so often that they hardly bothered her anymore. But today, such insults grated on her.
    “ Let’s see what we have,” Naero said. She opened the packet and took out their agreement and inventory exchange chips. She plugged them into her handcomp and double-checked them while the dock captain waited. The precise location for each inbound and outbound package lit up on her filtered display, logistics flowing to the loaders.
    “ Looks in order.”
    “ I know it’s in order, spack.” He spat out a vile gout of black juice and goo to one side, almost as if vomiting. The stench was putrid
    “ My people are waiting. Get on it, spack. You’re burning my simulated daylight.” He turned and walked away; the foul stench faded with him.
    Naero stared after him for an instant and mildly shook her head. Was the guy trying to piss her off? Not a good idea. Not today.
    “ And a pleasure doing business with you and the Corps too,” she said. “As always.”
    She turned back to her crew , most of them young and headstrong like her. Naero activated her gravwing and rose a few feet off the ground to help oversee their stop and drop. Her unit hummed slightly and the short wings deployed, flexing and adjusting with the gravfield.
    The last Spacer War with the Corps hadn’t been that long ago. Resentment and even outright hatred between Corps landers and Spacers were still all too common. Naero found it useful to maintain an ironic sense of humor.
    “ All right, loaders. The pleasantries are over, so let’s get to it. You’ve had your little inbound nap time. So get your asses in order and do some work. Stay on schedule.”
    A spattering of honks, salutes, beeps, and “yes, sir, commander sir” filtered back in her general direction. The loader crews formed up and took their assignments like a hive of black-and-yellow striped bees buzzing off in various directions.
    The hum and drone of glifters filled the air. Insectoid grav-assisted bot arms attached to a protective cage and lift harness.
    She floated around another GV, just in time to overhear Saemar and Chaela, whispering to each other while prepping their glifters.
    Her mates ke pt their voices low.
    “ Any more word? What kind of run were her parents on?” Chaela asked, her long, blond braid swinging to one side when she bent over.
    S aemar shook her pretty geisha-like face and whispered back, “Not much else so far. Some kind of deep space exploration mission with a sect of the Cumi.”
    Both of their faces reflected shared grief and anger.
    Naero considered zipping forward to let them see her, but what could she say? Her mates and the crew would continue to speculate about the loss of her parents and the exploration mission among themselves, even if they said nothing around her and Jan.
    Out of respect, everyone kept their distance and didn’t broach it in front of them.
    Even her best friend Gallan seemed quiet and uncertain of what to do or say.
    Naero didn ’t know herself. Stumbling upon them gossiping made her realize just how much she was still in shock. But perhaps they had heard something more. Anything.
    “ Any more details?” Chaela asked.
    Saemar shook her head again. “Few deets and just a lot of spec, sweetie. There’s talk Intel may have been–”
    “ Shadowforce?”
    “ Shh...” Saemar frowned and climbed into the straps of her