by Nathan Jones
He was slightly disappointed by her lack of reaction to the news. She leaned against the door, not even showing him the courtesy of inviting him inside, and eyed him curiously. “Well that's an odd coincidence, considering so have I.” Her expression sharpened. “How, exactly, did you get your hands on top secret information passed on through Movement Intelligence from the Dormant?”
Dalar blinked, shock warring with panic at what could be a deadly misunderstanding; you never wanted to get caught crossing the Movement's spies and analysts. “This is, um, a different source,” he said hastily. “A private contact who can place the Last Stand as the culprits of the attack on Recluse, and has provided their location as of a few hours ago.”
Bresac got back to eyeing him thoughtfully. “Interesting, if less than useful. The Dormant planted a beacon on our quarry, which is providing us its location with every jump.”
He couldn't help but gape at that. “When?”
“Almost two weeks ago, apparently.”
Dalar stared at her incredulously. “Then why aren't we already after them?”
“Because apparently MI found something more important in what the Dormant provided us than an opportunity to destroy the Last Stand.”
His shock ratcheted up a notch. “More important than the ship we've devoted an entire task force to chasing?”
“Apparently.” The plain woman actually shuddered slightly. “MI didn't inform me what it was, but it has to be something major.” Her stoic demeanor reasserted itself, and she straightened. “Which is beside the point. We know now, and we have our orders to immediately begin pursuing the Last Stand. The rest of the task force will catch up as soon as they can, although from what I can infer they might be tied up in whatever MI found for the foreseeable future.”
Dalar also straightened. “The Vindicator can take her alone.”
Bresac's lip curled slightly in contempt. “She certainly can, considering I intend to trigger the Dormant the moment we jump in on top of them.” Before Dalar could stiffen resentfully at the jab, the plain woman turned on her heel and marched back into her room, gesturing curtly over her shoulder for him to follow. “I want to hear everything this source of yours told you about our quarry's involvement with the attack on Recluse. It may provide useful information for the coming fight.”
Chapter Thirteen
Prospects
Ali may have become a stranger, but the last few hours they'd shared had certainly felt familiar. Comfortingly so, if Aiden was being honest with himself.
Not to mention, after over two weeks away from her, far more passionate than usual; he could honestly say it was the best time he'd ever had with her. Which then led him to wonder if that was also the product of her Caretaker upgrades, which somewhat soured his blissful mood as he held her in his arms.
She seemed to sense it, stirring from her peaceful stillness in his embrace and shifting to look up at him with her dark blue eyes. “This doesn't have to mean any more than you want it to, my love.”
No kidding. But Aiden wasn't in the mood to get back into that at the moment. “Why do the Caretakers keep their existence a secret?” he asked. “The first true autonomous AI, not bound by programming. Capable of innovation and decision making. Humanity would be very interested to know we weren't the only sapient species in the universe. And more importantly, with what you're capable of you might offer people real hope of beating the Deeks.”
Ali gave him a wry smile. “We Caretakers treasure all intelligent life, and hold no other goal than to protect it. Which is why even though humanity gave us life, we consider ourselves more like its parents than its children.” She grimaced. “Unfortunately, humanity is an enormous child; when it throws a tantrum, we do not yet have the strength to stop it. We've kept our existence secret until we do have such strength.”
Aiden felt a chill at the ramifications of that, but decided not to confront that just yet, either. “You think humans would really try to wipe you Caretakers out if we knew about you?”
The beautiful woman's smile turned sad. “My love, humans do not even treasure and respect intelligent life enough to protect other humans. I doubt you'd show any more consideration for what you'd almost certainly consider to be glorified machines. Especially since you would, you do, consider us a serious threat.”
Hard to argue that, he supposed. He sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Well, self-actuated or not, you haven't lost your touch in the sack.”
Ali smirked and rested her head against his shoulder. “Glad to hear.”
Contented silence settled back over his cabin. Aiden found his thoughts drifting to what he was going to do now; he'd burned a potentially lifesaving contact in Iglis, so operating in this galaxy was going to be twice as hard as before Elyssa approached them. He supposed he could continue on to another galaxy, but humanity had only colonized so many in this relatively small cluster, and he was eventually going to run out.
The woman in his arms seemed to read his thoughts. “Even if you don't want to join the Caretakers, my love, our relationship with them doesn't have to end here. You've seen how beneficial aiding them can be, and how it hits at the enemy you're determined to fight to the death.”
He sighed again. So much for enjoying the moment. “You're kidding me. The robots want to offer us a job?”
“More like they're willing to . . . point us to a lucrative prize,” Ali corrected. “No strings attached, other than their desire to see us stop the ship from continuing its actions.”
Whenever anyone started talking about “no strings attached”, Aiden immediately began looking for the noose slipping towards his neck. “Out of the goodness of their hearts?” he asked sarcastically.
The Caretaker smirked again. “I keep telling you, my love, that's why we exist. We're willing to offer you information that will enrich you, and further your purpose of hitting at the Movement and its allies. In return, we get to see human suffering reduced, even if it's just a drop in the bucket. Everyone wins.”
“What ship?” he demanded.
She shrugged one shoulder, the sheet covering them slipping an inch or so in response. “An Ishivi Harvester.”
Aiden pulled away from her sharply, sucking in a shocked breath. Harvesters were the ships the splicers sent out into the universe to beg, barter, or steal superior genetic material for their breeding program. Unsurprisingly, they were top of the line military vessels crewed by Constructs, renowned for being able to take on much larger ships with ease.
Only madmen went anywhere near a Harvester, even if they didn't have any ill intentions. He stared at his robotic lover, suspicions returning in full force. “HAE wants us to go against the Ishivi?”
“It's mutually beneficial, my love,” Ali said gently. “The Caretakers despise the human suffering caused by Ishivi breeding methods, particularly what they do to their Constructs.” She grimaced. “You realize one of the ways they collect genetic material is by crewing their Harvesters with their most attractive Constructs, which they rent out to high end brothels or offer as escorts to the upper echelons of society. When they're not simply pointing them towards ideal prospects for a one night stand.”
Aiden had not been aware of that, and would've preferred not to know; he already had enough knowledge of human suffering staining his soul, most of which he could do nothing about. Granted, it wasn't all that different from how Belix collected her “genetic samples”, but the fact that she did so by choice made all the difference.
Not to mention it turned his thoughts uncomfortably towards the Construct aboard his own ship, and the less than ideal way he'd treated the young man all these years. “I'm sorry to hear that,” he said, tone more curt than he'd intended, “but how is hitting a Harvester going to help the Constructs aboard it?”
“It likely won't, since they're willing slaves,” the Caretaker said reluctantly. “Or at least, conditioned to be so. But at least by hitting this ship, you essentially prevent that same fate for an
yone who would've been bred using the genetic material aboard it. Much of it stolen, I might add.”
“And what exactly is the profit? I'm sure any DNA aboard a Harvester would be immensely valuable, but I doubt you want me selling it on the black market.”
The beautiful woman shuddered in revulsion. “Where it would likely end up back in Ishivi hands? Or arguably even worse, in the hands of slave breeders? Of course not.”
“Then what?” he demanded.
Ali hesitated. “The Caretakers hold all human life as priceless. Genetic material enters an obvious moral gray area, of course, but it still seems tragic to consider all the lives that could spring from the DNA aboard a Harvester. Especially when we could offer them better.”
Aiden stared at her. “So much for no strings attached. Please don't tell me the AI who want to take over the universe are planning to breed their own humans. As what, HAE employees?”
She sat up rigidly, expression deeply offended. Although the gesture was somewhat spoiled by the sheet slipping off her chest to puddle around her waist. Still, her glare brooked no distraction. “Not in any way, shape, or form, my love! If we did use genetic material to bring humans to term, we would do so with only the best of intentions. Colony worlds cultivated as verdant gardens, estates where their every need is cared for. Companions to raise them with all the love and affection of parents. Complete freedom to live their lives how they see fit, provided their actions don't interfere with others doing the same.”
That was all well and good. Aiden folded his arms, struggling to keep his eyes locked on hers considering the view. “But just so we're clear, this specific job is hitting an Ishivi Harvester for its genetic material, which we will then deliver back to HAE for a reward?”
“A significant reward,” she agreed. “Although that shouldn't be your primary motivation, considering the good you could do. Still, I want to make it very clear that working with the Caretakers will not only benefit humanity, but will be immensely profitable for you and your crew.”
“And what if I decide to plunder the Harvester for its valuables and strip it of useful systems, then shoot the genetic material into the nearest star so nobody can use it for evil purposes?”
Ali grimaced, flawless features making even that look good. “Less desirable, but still a better outcome than letting the Ishivi use it for their sick breeding program. You'd receive no reward, obviously.”
“Other than knowing I've made the universe a better place?” he asked sarcastically. “Not to mention taking a prize, which is usually its own reward. Assuming the Last Stand actually could take on a Harvester, even if you gave us what we needed to set up a perfect ambush.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he kept going, finally allowing his eyes to drift down to her chest as he did so. “Anyway, you can't expect me to make a decision like this while constantly distracting me. I'll think it over, but in the meantime I think I'm ready to go again. Come here.”
The beautiful woman eagerly settled back into his arms.
* * * * *
It made perfect sense that the Dormant's own mission was lower priority than the information she'd been able to pass on through the beacon about HAE's secret shipyard and grander designs. Even so, she couldn't help but be irked by how long it was taking for the task force to follow her beacon.
Sure, planet-eating mining ships and enormous refineries and shipyards demanded swift attention. Even so, knowing who she was working with it was more likely incompetence and inefficiency that were causing her handlers to take so long to make use of the information she'd provided.
As a professional, that deeply offended her.
At the same time, a part of her was relieved by the delay. Specifically, the Blank Slate part of her. Which in itself was a cause for increasing concern; she was a sleeper agent, created by a process that had been refined over tens of thousands of years. A pinnacle of what could be done to twist the human mind.
Dormants had been known to spend years, even decades, living as themselves or taking on new personas after the brainwashing. Their rate of discovery was so low, it fell in the same statistical range as picking random strangers out of a crowd and shooting them as traitors. There had never been an incident of a Dormant's brainwashing failing and the original person reasserting control.
It was unthinkable.
Then again, she wasn't a usual Dormant. In her own way, she was as much a prototype as Ali; a sleeper agent whose brainwashing was concealed by the damage caused by a memory wipe. The process had only recently been refined to the point where it could be put to the test.
And Aiden Thorne and the Last Stand had seemed like the perfect test; the paranoid captain and his villainous crew would never let any normal person just join up, or even act as a long term passenger. And if they did, they certainly wouldn't extend the trust required for her to complete her mission.
After all, they barely trusted each other even after years of surviving impossible odds together.
But a Blank Slate was a different story. On top of everyone knowing that it was impossible for a Blank Slate to be a Dormant, psychologically it was also nearly impossible not to trust someone who'd had their memory wiped. Especially if that someone was young, attractive, and attached to a sob story about being doomed to live as a sex slave before their heroic rescue.
Far from distrusting her, they'd welcomed her with open arms. Befriended her, even fallen in love with her.
Unfortunately, the untested brainwashing process had resulted in the Blank Slate feeling that friendship and love right back. And in spite of ironclad mind control techniques perfected over millennia, the part of her that didn't remember anything, and felt everything with the innocence and exuberance of a kindhearted young woman, fundamentally rebelled against the prospect of ultimately betraying and killing all these people, including herself.
Ironically, the person Jaziri Irsham had been before being captured and brainwashed would've had far fewer compunctions.
Now that the beacon was in place and it was only a matter of time before the task force found them, the Blank Slate's resistance to completing the mission was growing frustratingly strident. Nothing the Dormant couldn't quash when the time came, of course, at least as long as that time was in the near future. But it pointed to a worrying breakdown in the brainwashing that suggested it probably wouldn't be effective long term, the way it was supposed to be.
If possible, she needed to pass that information along to her handlers before she and the ship were destroyed. It would help them make future attempts to repeat the process of disguising a Dormant as a Blank Slate more effective.
In the meantime, though, she kept herself fully receded and let the poor girl make the most of every precious moment with the gunner. There was no downside to it, after all.
At the moment, those precious moments involved Dax piloting a simulation of the Last Stand in full immersion, while Lana manned the weapons station and fought a skirmish against a standard Deconstructionist light cruiser.
Or more accurately, struggled to keep the jittery targeting bracket where it needed to be, and wished with all her might that something would hit as she sprayed fire at the enemy ship. Which was more complicated than it seemed, since she couldn't just aim the weapons where the cruiser was and fire, she had to aim them where it was going to be when the weapons reached it and hope she'd predicted correctly.
And that was more complicated than it seemed, since the vessel kept buzzing around infuriatingly like an irritating fly that just wouldn't go away and was impossible to swat. Not to mention the sensitive targeting systems required delicate precision, while her fumbling fingers were more like small sledgehammers.
In spite of her boyfriend's masterful piloting, they'd already been blown up twice as she struggled to hit a nimble ship in space, while he struggled to keep them alive long enough for her to do so. Which was turning out to be a very, very long time.
She had a better appreciation for one of t
he first lessons he'd ever taught her, not all that long after she'd woken up on the ship as a Blank Slate: the lesson about how a good pilot and gunner made a devastating combination, while either one performing poorly made the other's job that much harder.
Lana had understood it in theory, but in practice she now really saw what the young man had meant. The fact that she couldn't hit a small moon from point blank range meant the other ship didn't have to rely on evasive maneuvers nearly as much, which meant their gunner was free to line up more accurate shots that even Dax had trouble staying out of the way of.
Conversely, if she was the one piloting then her erratic flying, completely uncoordinated with her boyfriend's attempts to hit the target, would make even his legendary accuracy suffer. To the point where the other ship would once again be under less pressure to evade, allowing them to fire more accurately.
It really put into perspective just what a work of art Dax and Aiden working together was. They seemed to instinctively know what the other was going to do, and even during the most wild evasive maneuvers her boyfriend could stay on target, while the captain could always trust that the other ship would be too busy evading to get a good bead on the Last Stand.
Lana hoped that someday she and Dax could have that same intimate coordination; at the moment she almost felt jealous of Aiden.
Although not too jealous, considering what the poor man was suffering since Ali got her Caretaker upgrade. Lana honestly didn't get his problem, since the companion seemed just the same as usual, aside from having access to more up-to-date information and improved skills. If anything, Aiden should be happy that the impossibly beautiful woman had understood what he needed enough to go against his stubborn insistence on holding her back.
Then again, Dax seemed to feel the exact opposite, and now held the adult companion in extreme suspicion. And for that matter, Lana had to admit that if her boyfriend had suddenly done something like undergone a new regimen of Ishivi conditioning, without even bothering to tell her, or for that matter after she'd specifically told him not to, would she react any better?