Caretakers (Stag Privateers Book 2)

by Nathan Jones

  “What if they specifically know we're the Last Stand?” Lana asked.

  The elfin woman shrugged. “Then they probably would lure us in and blow us into subatomic particles. But how could they possibly know who we are? Huffing clairvoyant dust from a magical space whale?”

  Lana gave her friend an uncertain look. “That's not really a thing, is it?”

  Belix laughed. “Oh, Lana, you're just the best ever.”

  The station's guns didn't shoot them as they followed the assigned course and docked at the designated berth. The place had a different construction from Midpoint's: rather than a donut shape, it was a long spindle with spokes sticking out at regular intervals. Only the top half of the spindle itself was dedicated to foot traffic, customers, and tourists, while ships looking to buy or sell trade goods were directed to the lower half where business was carried out.

  The Last Stand, or the Capitulation she supposed, was only there to refuel and take on supplies. Ali must've marked their ship as modestly wealthy, because they'd been directed to dock nearer the top of the spindle than the middle. Not in the priciest, high class areas, according to Dax, but certainly in the more upscale area where Ishivi wouldn't get a second look.

  Once the docking clamps had hold of them, Aiden ordered Fix to guard the ship in their absence over the comms, then briskly stood and led the way to the forward airlock. Lana grabbed Dax's hand and hurriedly followed, eager to get off the ship and see another station; this would be only the third place away from the Last Stand she'd visited in her entire short life since waking up as a Blank Slate.

  But at the airlock, rather than leading the way through the captain suddenly paused and turned to them, expression serious. “I probably don't have to tell you this,” he began, “but a good captain trusts his people know what they need to, and still tells them anyway.”

  Belix rolled her eyes. “Here we go . . . space tourism for dummies, courtesy of our fearless leader.”

  Aiden ignored her. “In the usual scummy spaceports we frequent, part of blending in is making it clear we can defend ourselves if we're messed with. Here, where weapons are outlawed and security is tight, defending ourselves is assumed to not be an issue, so if we act more dangerous than your average freighter crew we will stand out.”

  Lana jumped slightly as he turned to her. “Lana, you just keep being your usual wide eyed, innocent self and you'll do fine.” He paused. “Although we should probably address your lack of a past, even if it probably won't come up. We need to at least give you a last name.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. She hadn't really given much thought to what her last name should be, even though she probably should've. Maybe because it didn't seem significant, since she didn't know who her parents or any other family were. Assuming she had any.

  Now that she was on the spot, her mind was completely blank of any ideas for one. “Can I, um, use Dax's last name?”

  Belix snickered. “Only been together a month, and you're already ringing the wedding bells?”

  Lana felt her face flush. “Whether we are or not, why not use his name?”

  “Because Constructs don't have last names, for one,” Barix said, not quite mockingly. “Unless we wanted to pick out something for the gunner while we're at it?”

  “Unnecessary and counterproductive,” Dax said, tone surprisingly curt. Maybe because either of the last names he could claim, Ishiv or Thorne, would mean being officially recognized by parents who refused to do just that.

  Lana looked around. She couldn't pick either of those last names either, since the Ishivs wouldn't consider her worthy of their name, and Belix's taunts about weddings made her feel awkward about even considering using Aiden's. And her mind was still drawing a blank.

  But like he had with her first name, the captain came to her rescue with her last name as well. “No need to waste all our time agonizing over a throwaway name. Just use Ensom . . . it's common and nobody will blink an eye at it.”

  As if that settled the matter, he turned to look at Ali. “Back to the discussion at hand . . . blending in. With her companion programming, Ali doesn't need lessons in acting mundane. She could probably put us all to shame.” He grimaced as he turned to Belix. “As for you, if you can just walk around without looking like you'll happily liquify the insides of anyone who looks at you funny, I'll call it good.”

  Even beneath her eyewear and hood, the elfin woman seemed to give Aiden a look that, to Lana at least, was exactly what he was talking about. “You think I can't act demure and feminine?” she demanded. “How do you think I find lovers at every port? Easily, I might add.”

  The captain smirked at her. “I assumed it involved holding a cauterizer to the unlucky station rat's head.” He turned to Barix before she could respond. “As for you, just keep being your usual weak, defenseless self.”

  The slight man didn't look amused. But again, before he could respond Aiden turned to Dax. “And finally, I suppose it'd be too much to ask that you actually show some emotion and don't act like you've got a dipstick up your exhaust port.” He waved vaguely. “Just hold Lana's hand and let her smother you with affection, and try to stick to the back of the group.”

  Lana fought a surge of annoyance; did the captain really need to be such a jerk about this? “What about you? I have a hard time seeing you fitting in.”

  Aiden gave her a lopsided grin. “Luckily I'm the captain . . . I can get away with looking just the right amount of dangerous.” He turned away briskly, calling over his shoulder as he stepped through the airlock. “Remember, people, fit in! We're just your average freighter crew, enjoying the sights of a new spaceport as we refuel and pick up supplies and run a few errands.”

  Ali was quick to catch up and walk beside him, comfortably giving the impression they were just your typical happy couple. Grumbling, the twins followed behind. Lana took Dax's hand and they trailed at the back of the group.

  After a few seconds she squeezed his hand. “Well, I liked at least one part of his orders,” she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “The smothering you with affection part.”

  He smiled down at her, obviously having to make an effort to relax his discipline to show his feelings. “I'm just happy I finally get to leave the ship on one of our stops at a port. Especially with you . . . thanks for insisting on it.”

  Lana grinned and jauntily swung their held hands between them, quickening her pace to catch up to the others. “Let's go have some fun.”

  Chapter Five

  Blending In

  Insisting the gunner come with her to the station was expected, and shouldn't interfere with the Dormant's attempts to slip away and report in to her handlers. And with the security restrictions the captain and companion were implementing on the ship, it was all the more important she do so when the opportunity presented itself.

  Now more than ever, the task force needed to know their quarry had moved to another galaxy; how long would they spend chasing their own tails otherwise?

  While Lana fawned over her boyfriend and happily gawked at the station, as if it wasn't like thousands of others across the universe, the Dormant searched for an opportunity to get some privacy to report in. Or, failing that, planned to make an opportunity.

  Although when they reached the checkpoint leading into the station concourse, she receded and let the Blank Slate come back to the fore; granted, with her skills she could probably play a less suspicious role getting through the security, but her main consciousness would provide a more convincing one, genuine to how the others saw her.

  Lana couldn't help but stiffen as they rounded a corner and she saw the two combat androids hulking to either side of a junction up ahead. To her relief, she saw they were letting other visitors to the station pass without so much as stirring from their position, as if rooted to the spot. Even so, the sight of the large DM logos on their chest and backplates stirred unpleasant memories of the combat android who'd smashed into the engine room, nearly killing her and Belix.


  She must've unconsciously tightened her grip on Dax's hand, because he casually draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side and nuzzling her hair just above her ear. The display, out in public like this, was unexpected enough that she was momentarily distracted from the danger up ahead. She shied away slightly at the ticklish sensation, suppressing a giggle, and then leaned in against his side and draped an arm around his waist.

  “You know the high end area has a zoo?” he asked her as they strolled up to the junction. He kept talking, encouraging her to keep her eyes on him, as they passed the Deek robots. “An actual zoo! With some pretty big animals, even.” He shook his head in disbelief, silvery hair whipping around and tickling her face. “All that food, life support resources, and the room they take up, out here in space where all three are at a premium. It's incredibly inefficient!”

  “We'll have to go,” Lana agreed, then almost jumped out of her skin with a shriek she barely managed to suppress as the combat android to the right abruptly spoke up, just as Aiden, in the lead, started to pass.

  “Remember, citizen,” it said in a dull, efficient voice exactly like Fix's, “by order of the Deconstructionist Movement, it is prohibited to speak of superstitions of the flawed past such as religion or mythology. It is prohibited to speak of past events before the advent of the Deconstructionist Movement. It is prohibited to speak seditious sentiments against the Deconstructionist Movement or its allies, the Ishivi, or any affiliated groups. It is prohibited to speak sentiments deemed immoral or offensive by the Deconstructionist Movement. A list of such may be provided if needed.”

  It abruptly paused, and Aiden replied in a bored, slightly impatient tone. “It most certainly isn't needed.” Lana could only guess this was standard procedure for newly arriving guests, and the people up ahead who'd passed by without being stopped had already heard it.

  The combat android continued relentlessly. “Please state your understanding of these terms.”

  “Understood,” the captain said curtly, stepping past. Ali murmured the word as well as she followed. The twins spoke it in unison in a singsong voice as they passed the robots, and Dax said it in his usual monotone as he and Lana approached.

  Which just left her. “U-understood,” she stammered, trying not to freeze in horror at how scared and surely suspicious she sounded. She expected the androids to both immediately swivel and reach for her, or maybe just raise their arms and fry her with their cauterizer attachments.

  But they didn't. She and Dax continued on past the two robots, and in spite of herself she felt her shoulders slump in relief. Although she still had an uncomfortable itch between her shoulder blades, as if she could feel their eyes, or sensors or whatever they had, on her watching as she walked away.

  Her boyfriend resumed his earlier lighthearted chatter about the zoo as they entered the concourse, which was similar to Midpoint's but far cleaner, less crowded, more organized, and in some way more . . . wholesome. Not to mention the people seemed a lot friendlier and less dangerous.

  Finally, when they were well past the combat androids, he patted her shoulder. “Well done passing your first Deek checkpoint.”

  Lana felt her cheeks flush at the praise. “It's your first too, isn't it?”

  He floundered. “Well yeah, I guess. I suppose my DNA-encoded memories and conditioning just prepared me better for it.”

  “I wish I had them, then.” She suppressed a shiver. “I was sure they were going to pick up how nervous I was and get suspicious.”

  Belix, who'd hung back to listen in on their conversation, laughed easily at that and reached up to pat Lana's cheek reassuringly. “If combat androids went after anyone who got skittish at the sight of them, they'd be massacring every last person on this station.”

  “Especially once they started killing people and everyone else freaked out,” Barix added cheerfully. “Sure, every now and then they'll make a mistake, get a false positive, but the Movement learned their lesson from previous mistakes, eventually, and came down hard on ERI until they programmed in better screening protocols.”

  Lana glanced around, worried that someone might hear them talking so frankly about the Deeks like this. But nobody seemed to be in earshot, or to care what they were talking about for that matter, and she relaxed.

  Belix patted her cheek again, then turned away and waved airily over her shoulder at them. “Well, have fun everyone. I'm off to hunt down some prime genes to add to my collection.”

  Lana knew the elfin woman well enough to guess how she planned to collect those genes. All part of the Ishivi breeding program to find the best genetics humanity had to offer, adding them to their own superior genes in a generations-long quest for perfection. Or at least as close to it as possible.

  Barix had more than once tried to get Lana's own genetic material for his collection, even after she'd begun her relationship with Dax. But thanks to listening to the advice of her other crew mates, she'd always firmly turned him down. More than ever once she learned the specifics of Ishivi society, especially their practice of turning the products of their breeding program that they didn't consider genetically perfect enough into Constructs.

  Like what they'd done to Dax.

  Aiden nodded impatiently at Belix's farewell, draping an arm around Ali's shoulders. “You've got four hours, have fun,” he called after her. As the elfin woman walked away, he turned to Barix and Lana, only peripherally acknowledging Dax. “In the mood to try better fare than heavily processed ship food?”

  She hesitated, glancing at her boyfriend; he just shrugged, not seeming to care either way.

  That fit his disciplined personality, but she knew for a fact that once she'd convinced him to eat something besides that nasty canned meat he'd had for every meal before meeting her, he enjoyed the various better food alternatives as much as she did. He'd probably enjoy having something hot and fresh and higher quality, like those skewers of meat she'd had at Midpoint.

  “That sounds great!” she told the captain.

  “I agree!” Barix said in a mocking mimicry of her enthusiasm. “Why spend what little time we have finding and buying top of the line food products to eat on the ship at any time, when we can get nasty spaceport food made with cheap, overly processed ingredients, and overloaded with toxic flavorings and preservatives and simple carbohydrates to fool you into believing it's delicious?”

  Aiden rolled his eyes. “You're not fooling anyone, Ishiv . . . we all know you love this stuff.”

  Like with Midpoint, they didn't have to travel far along the concourse to find shops and kiosks eager to sell them things. Aiden immediately headed for a place that sold some kind of spicy fried seafood in a bed of steamed vegetables. It looked, and smelled, delicious, and since Lana hadn't had any of the other foods on offer around her she decided she'd start with that one, too.

  She did a double take when Aiden ordered a dish for Ali. The companion didn't need to eat, obviously, but apparently she'd been designed to be able to in order to blend in with humans. Which Lana supposed she needed to do under their current circumstances.

  So Ali did, showing every sign of enjoying each bite.

  Which led Lana to wonder what happened to the food afterwards, and she had to hold back a laugh at the idea of the companion using the facilities. She looked away, distracting herself from the absurd mental image of the perfect woman seated on a toilet by looking at a wall of wanted posters nearby. Apparently they were ubiquitous to every spaceport, not just seedy ones like Midpoint.

  She was about to look away again when she froze, eyes on a partially obscured notice near the corner. It featured the prominent image of a beautiful face that looked hardened by a lifetime of suffering and cynicism, framed by reddish-blond hair and with defiance glinting in large hazel eyes.

  The others were bantering ahead of her, focused on their food and conversation. None of them were looking in the direction of the wall filled with notices, thankfully. Or at Lana, as s
he gaped at a face as familiar as if she was looking in a mirror.

  Only just like the first time she'd seen a mirror, the face that looked back at her was that of a stranger. Lana's expression abruptly flashed blank, her brainwashing instantly coming to the fore to process the wanted ad, searching for a way to neutralize it before the others saw:

  WANTED

  20,000 DMC chit reward offered for

  information or assistance leading to the capture of

  Jaziri Irsham

  guilty of industrial espionage, hacking restricted allnet nodes,

  cyber theft, and involvement in numerous confidence schemes.

  INFORMATION ENCLOSED.

  Annoyingly enough, plastered across the sign were large disclaimers that said: NOTICE VOIDED. Which was fairly obvious, given that she'd been apprehended by the Movement already; that was why she was here in the first place. That wasn't the annoying part, of course, it was the fact that the station authorities had just tagged the notice instead of tearing it down.

  Now it was a problem she was going to have to deal with. One that shouldn't have been a problem, if the Last Stand hadn't broken from pattern and gone to the galaxy where she'd used to operate. Her handlers hadn't anticipated that.

  Lana's crew mates discovering her past identity posed a critical threat to her primary objective, that of keeping her cover intact until she was triggered. They'd immediately notice major discrepancies, such as that she'd been well known, wanted, and finally captured by the Movement, and yet the logs of the ship that had been carrying her had labeled her random street trash from a scummy colony. Then there was the fact that none of Ali's searches into her past had picked up any of this information about her, when they should have.

  They'd also notice that her background made her strongly suited to cyber espionage, and her appearance made her equally suited to conventional spying. They'd wonder why the Deeks simply scoured her mind rather than subjecting her to Dormant brainwashing and putting her to work.