by Nathan Jones
Caretakers
Book Two of the
Stag Privateers series.
by
Nathan Jones
Copyright © 2019 Nathan Jones
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The events depicted in this novel are fictional. The characters in this story are also fictional, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is entirely unintentional.
by Nathan Jones
POST-APOCALYPTIC
BEST LAID PLANS
Fuel
Shortage
Invasion
Reclamation
Determination
NUCLEAR WINTER
First Winter
First Spring
Chain Breakers
Going Home
Fallen City
MOUNTAIN MAN
Badlands
Homecoming
Homeland
Mountain War
Final Stand (upcoming)
SCIENCE FICTION
STELLAR MERGER
Boralene
Ensom (upcoming)
STAG PRIVATEERS
Last Stand
Caretakers
Stag Uprising (upcoming)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Author's Note
Links to books by Nathan Jones
Chapter One
Interim
Aiden Thorne, captain of the privateer light cruiser Last Stand, was in the bridge early the morning after their escape from Brastos 4 and the task force it seemed was hunting them.
Not too surprising given the unpleasant events of last night, after he'd discovered his new crew member Lana sneaking out of the gunner's room. It hadn't taken a genius to put together that the Blank Slate, who he'd rescued from a Deek slaving ship with zero memories a few weeks ago, was sleeping with the young man.
Then, even worse, he'd lost his temper and hit the gunner.
Sleep hadn't appealed after that, especially since he'd sent his prototype adult companion Ali away in a huff. Only to realize that, after over a year of sleeping peacefully cuddled up to the impossibly beautiful and realistic robot, he felt oddly restless without her pressed comfortingly against him; the bed felt cold and empty without her warmth and softness in his arms.
Rather than lay awake moping, and given the lack of alternative options, he'd chosen to report for his shift early and update his logs on yesterday's failed attack. Mostly analyzing the tactics the Deconstructionist Movement ships and hired mercenaries had employed to try to trap his ship.
He could admit he was usually very enthusiastic when it came to studying the Movement and recording his findings. Less generous people, to name no names aside from that they ended in “ix”, might even accuse him of carrying his interest to the point of obsession. Even certain robotic lovers had gently suggested he might be a bit too zealous in his studies.
Aiden couldn't see how that mattered, since he was also committed to continuing his war with the Deeks, the common slang for Movement members, until they finally caught him and killed him. Given that, simply spending a lot of time learning about his enemy to better destroy them seemed completely reasonable and indeed beneficial.
Especially at times like right now, when it kept him from thinking about a specific young woman he'd allowed himself to develop feelings for, only to discover that she'd gone and thrown herself at someone else. Or, equally unpleasant, that when he'd found out about it he'd punched that someone else in the face.
Completely unprofessional. He was ashamed both as an officer of the Preservationist Fleet and as a gentleman.
He was also, if he had to admit it, not looking forward to the morning shift beginning, and having to be in the same room with Lana and the gunner after what had happened. It wasn't that he was nervous, of course; he'd been in countless battles, many of them fleet engagements, destroyed dozens of ships, and even faced down Deek frigates and won the day.
But the prospect of having to meet Lana's big hazel eyes, or endure the gunner's disciplined, nonjudgmental silence, wasn't an appealing one. Or, for that matter, having to contemplate the relationship they were apparently now in.
When he heard the light tread of footsteps entering the bridge he silently tensed, expecting the ordeal had begun. But, absurdly, to his relief it was just his science officer, Barix Ishiv. Absurd, because that was probably the first time he'd ever been relieved to see the slight, arrogant Ishivi.
Maybe the first time anyone had.
The man's light brown hair was still tussled from sleep, gray eyes squinting blearily at the path to his workstation. To top off his exhausted appearance, he was carrying a steaming drink in a foam mug. Which was against formal rules for bridge operation, although given the increasingly . . . lax enforcement of nonessential rules over the years the Last Stand continued its privateering mission, most of the time Aiden overlooked these kinds of slip ups.
Which he did now, turning back to his analysis of yesterday's battle as the short, slightly built purebred settled in at his workstation, second from the end on the right side in the semicircle facing the large three-dimensional main display, which filled the center of the circular room.
Silence settled, which Aiden was more than content with.
But apparently his crew member wasn't. “How are you doing this morning, Barix?” the Ishivi said sarcastically out of the side of his mouth in a high pitched voice, then continued normally. “Oh great, great, thank you kindly for asking! Only my room was completely trashed by a stray shot in yesterday's fight, so I had to sleep on a couch in the lounge. Except, for some reason it was occupied late into the night by two people who shall remain nameless, aside from the fact that they rhyme with “Fauna” and “runner.”
The slight man raised his voice, obviously building up to a good rant. “Who once again spent hours hogging the place, watching insipid romances and dramas and void knows what else, which under most circumstances I find incredibly amusing since neither of those two have the slightest idea what drama or romance even is, but they still waste all their time, and more importantly my time, with it. And meanwhile I just sat around at my station on the bridge twiddling my thumbs until they were finally done.”
Aiden cut in, not in the mood to hear about the Blank Slate or her surprise relationship with the gunner. “Should I have the ship's computer play a sad song while you recount your tragic tale?”
Barix ignored him. “Then when they finally left, sneaking away without so much as letting me know the room was finally available, I discover it's a complete mess, the couch cushions and pillows tossed all over the place. I don't know if they were wrestling in there or something, bu-”
Aiden made a strangled sound at that, and the Ishivi paused to look at him suspiciously. “What?” the slight man demanded.
“Nothing,” he replied hastily. He really didn't want to talk, or think, about what they m
ight've been doing.
“It was! I had to get Fix in there to clean it up, which meant it took even longer to get to sleep.”
The combat android could pretty much clean anything as good as new, but Aiden still resolved to avoid using that couch in the future. He wouldn't be able to think of anything but them around it now. Thanks a lot, Barix.
Today was shaping up to be about as great as yesterday. Or early this morning. Whatever.
It only got better from there, because a few minutes later Lana finally swept onto the bridge. Although her full lips were pressed together in a thin line and she pointedly avoided looking at Aiden, she acted casual as she dragged her portable terminal over to its usual spot beside the gunner's workstation, on the left end of the semicircle.
But rather than settle down and get to work like he hoped she would, instead the Blank Slate strode over to plant herself in front of his station.
In spite of her . . . nocturnal activities, Lana was looking far more composed than when he'd seen her slipping out of the gunner's room last night. Her porcelain skin glistened slightly and was flushed with heat, her long reddish-blond hair still slightly damp, as if she'd recently come out of the shower. Although she'd taken the time to brush her hair until it shone, and pulled it back in a cute but practical ponytail. She was wearing a clean uniform, her slender curves making the drab garment far more interesting.
Not that he should be noticing, especially now; not only was she formally a member of his crew, a subordinate, but now that he knew she was in a romantic relationship with someone else it was even more unprofessional.
Still, it was impossible to ignore that Lana was one of the more beautiful women he'd seen. Maybe not to Ali's level, but then again nobody could be. Especially considering the adult companion had been customized to his specific preferences.
Although in spite of the young woman's delicate features, at the moment she looked anything but vulnerable as she confronted him, her bearing so rigidly disciplined she could've been the gunner. Her lover.
“I just wanted to formally inform you,” she said stiffly, “I'm in a relationship with Dax.”
Barix choked on his drink, spraying it all over his workstation. “You what?” he spluttered. Or maybe, knowing him, he'd said 'eww, what'. “How, when . . .?”
In spite of her clear anger at Aiden, Lana looked as if she was biting back a satisfied smile, and he had to wonder if she'd timed her announcement for when the slight man was taking a sip.
“Seriously!” the Ishivi continued, wiping disgustedly at the mess he'd made with his sleeve. “The Captain would be nauseating enough, if understandable. He does have that animal magnetism, heavy emphasis on “animal”. But the gunner? I literally didn't think he had it in him . . . you might as well be riding Fix!”
“You seriously want to comment on anyone else's virility?” Aiden snapped, glad for an excuse to turn the discussion away from Lana's new relationship. He turned to Barix, sneering. “I'd wager half my earnings from our next job that you haven't been with a woman, at least one who didn't require a healthy payment of chits for the pleasure, in all the time I've known you.”
The slight man glared murder at him. “I'd be happy to take that wager.” But then, suspiciously, he wasted no time trying to turn it back on Aiden. “And you're one to talk, Captain. After all, you just lost out romantically to the human equivalent of a plank of wood! That has to be humiliating. If you hadn't stolen Ali, would your achievements with the ladies be any more notable than mine?”
That, that wasn't . . . Aiden bit back a curse. That was due to circumstances, not inability; privateers running for their lives didn't get many opportunities for shore leave and casual hookups. And they rarely had a chance to see the same person twice in their travels, unless they went out of their way. Which was a stupid and dangerous thing to do, with the combined might of the Movement dogging his every step.
Aside from Aiden's history with a certain venomous woman who spent most of her time in the engine room, who he heartily wished he never had to see again.
Whatever his excuses, he took too long scrambling for a response to that verbal sally; judging by Barix's smug little grin as he lifted his drink for another sip, it was obvious the man knew it.
Lana cleared her throat impatiently. “If I could interrupt your endless bickering to get back to the point, sir. Now that we've formally reported our relationship, I'd appreciate it if you didn't physically attack Dax again.”
Barix sprayed his drink across his workstation a second time. “He did what?” he spluttered. “Just what sort of excitement did I miss last night? Are you telling me that while I was tossing and turning on the couch, the living quarters were turning into some sort of low class allnet entertainment?”
“Your quarters are now livable again, Barix,” a clipped voice said from the entrance behind Aiden. “Fix has completed all possible repairs on them, at least until we're able to get to a spaceport.”
Lana lit up with what could only be called joy, further confirming that the gunner had arrived. Aiden couldn't help but tense as the young man made his way to his workstation, looking every bit as emotionless and professional as usual, almost like an automaton.
As if he hadn't spent the night engaging in a very human activity.
In stark contrast to Lana's confrontational attitude, the gunner seemed to have no interest in doing anything but his duty while on shift. Aiden couldn't help but be relieved like that. Now if only the man's lover would do the same.
He looked up at the young woman, who'd turned her attention back to him. Or more accurately her glare. “I'm not hearing a response, Captain,” she said. “Can you assure me you won't punch my boyfriend again like some kind of jealous thug?”
Aiden flinched, fighting a new surge of shame. “You have my assurance,” he said through gritted teeth.
For a moment he wasn't sure that satisfied her. She continued to glare at him, and he had to call on a lifetime of practice keeping his face composed as he stared back. Finally, he noticed her doing her best not to fidget and nodded stiffly. “You've made your point, Miss, um, Lana.” She really needed to pick out a surname. “Thank you. If that's all, then I expect you and the gunner to behave with all professionalism while on duty, and with appropriate decorum in public during your off duty hours.”
Lana's face showed her relief. But also, for some strange reason . . . disappointment? “Yes, sir.”
Aiden turned back to his display, trying to make it clear the discussion was over. “I trust at least one of you has taken the necessary measures for birth control?”
The question obviously embarrassed the young woman, especially when Barix snickered. “We have.”
He grunted. It might not have been appropriate to broach that in a public setting; he probably should've had Ali address it in her capacity as the ship's medical officer. Maybe he wasn't as cool and composed as he tried to convince himself he was.
Still, he kept his tone even as he continued. “Good. In that case, no offense, the less I hear of this the happier I'll be.”
Lana once again did an impressive job of mimicking her lover's rigid discipline, standing ramrod straight and saluting crisply. “Sir.” Turning on one heel, she made her way to her terminal by the gunner's station.
Biting back a sigh of relief that that unpleasantness was over, Aiden got back to his analysis of yesterday's battle. As he did, he tilted his head to engage his communicator to Ali's frequency. “Ali, please report to the bridge for your shift.”
That was the closest he'd come to telling his adult companion that he was remanding his order to keep her distance, while he sorted out his feelings about Lana's relationship with the gunner. Apparently his feelings were sorted, and he was kind of missing Ali's familiar presence.
Especially since she was all he had, unfair as it probably was to her to think of it like that considering her immense value. Not to mention the great amount of satisfaction she'd provided him since he'd s
tolen her over a year ago.
Ali's voice came back, warm and full of relief. “On my way, my love.”
* * * * *
Lana had to admit there were perks to being a Blank Slate, with only a few weeks' worth of knowledge under her belt. For one thing, it meant that in order to earn her place on the crew, she had to work full time learning how to operate the ship's systems so she could be useful.
The current perk of that was that she had an excuse to leave the excruciating awkwardness on the bridge, between Aiden's sullen silence, Barix's malicious sniping, Dax's stoic focus as he carried out his duties, and Ali's somewhat fluttery attempts to ease the tension and raise everyone's spirits. Especially her human's.
So Lana quietly excused herself, staring longingly at Dax for a few seconds in lieu of any more intimate, unprofessional gestures, and prepared to make her way down to the engine room to get training from the engines officer, Barix's twin sister Belix.
Speaking of the slight man, as she turned away from her boyfriend she noticed that Barix was smirking at her. “What?” she demanded.
The Ishivi shrugged casually, half an eye on his display. “Nothing. I just think it's cute that you're treating the Construct as if he's human.”
Lana stiffened in outrage, on the verge of screaming at the smug little man. She took a steadying breath, shot him a look of the most withering scorn she could manage, and strode from the bridge.
They could all say what they liked. They'd been around Dax for five years, and after just a few weeks she already knew him better than any of them. Knew that he was the best person on this ship.
She made her way down a short corridor lined with escape pods for the crew, through the galley, and down another corridor to the engine room. Just past the door, she nearly shrieked in surprise when Belix practically ambushed her, throwing her arms around her eagerly and practically jumping up and down.
