by Nathan Jones
The surge of relief that swept through her at his comforting presence hit her so sharply, she began to cry in spite of herself. She clutched his hand as if it was the only thing keeping her from flying off into the deep, black void of space, reluctant to let go as he gently pulled free of her grip so he could remove her gag.
“Dax!” she nearly shouted the moment she could talk. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing Ali's medical expertise can't fix,” he said with forced cheerfulness, taking her hand again and giving it a reassuring squeeze. With a slight grimace he shifted his other arm, which was in a sling. “A week's healing has already got me well on my way to recovery.”
Lana tensed in spite of herself. “It's been a week?”
He nodded, his expression its usual blank mask but eyes full of sadness and pain. “Eight days, actually.” He opened his mouth to say more, hesitated, then shut it again, a hint of guilt joining the other emotions in his eyes.
A week. So much time, to be unconscious and immobile on this bed. She was surprised she didn't ache from inactivity. But then, maybe Ali had been stimulating her muscles or regularly turning her over or something. And come to think of it, the distant pain in her hand was much reduced, although she still couldn't seem to move her fingers or even feel them.
But none of that mattered at the moment. She stared anxiously at her boyfriend, or more likely former boyfriend considering how she'd betrayed him, looking deep into his eyes. “Why am I awake? Are we-” she cut off sharply, about to ask if they'd reached some place where Aiden could kick her off his ship, but unable to bring herself to.
Not yet; better to save that pain, to put off dashing this fleeting moment with the man she loved. Perhaps the last she'd ever have with him. The thought made the tears streaming from her eyes sting even more sharply, and she couldn't keep her shoulders from shaking in silent sobs.
Dax took a deep breath. “I needed to talk to you.”
Well there was certainly plenty that needed to be said between them. But had he woken her up because he'd missed her, or because he wanted to break things off after what she'd done, what he'd learned she was? Lana was afraid to ask, but also afraid not to. “Ali said you were avoiding me,” she whispered. “I was afraid you hated me.”
The young man gave her a sickly smile and squeezed her hand. “Never, Lana. No matter what happened, what might happen. I know you, and I love you.”
Her entire body shuddered as she cried even harder. “But I almost killed you,” she nearly wailed. “I've got some . . . some monster inside me that nearly destroyed this ship and murdered everyone I care about. How can you love that?”
“Because it isn't you,” he said simply. “And I'll find a way to help you get rid of it, I swear it.”
That was going to be a trick, when Aiden planned to dump her at the first opportunity. “It was bad enough when they'd just wiped my mind,” she whispered, sniffling. “But this? It's so, so much worse. I don't even feel in control of myself anymore, when at any moment I could stop being me.”
“I know,” Dax said gently.
Lana gave him a sharp look, angry for a moment, and then her expression softened. His Construct conditioning may not have made him a traitor without him realizing it, but it was something he'd had to learn to overcome in order to open up to her. Something he still struggled with to this day.
She supposed that out of everyone on the crew, if anyone could understand what she was going through he could. “I'm so sorry, Dax,” she whispered. “I'd never hurt you. I never would!” Even though that was obviously a lie, given she actually had, she meant it with all her heart.
He struggled to wrap his arms around her in spite of the fact that she was bound to a medical bed, holding her in the comfort of his strength and self-control. And, somehow, she felt like he passed some of it on to her. She let herself give into the torrent of emotions surging through her, clutching him desperately. As if she was hanging over a bottomless cliff and he was the only thing keeping her from falling.
Maybe he was.
“I know you wouldn't, Lana,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry they did this to you.”
She couldn't bring herself to say anything, didn't want to risk anything that might take his comforting presence away from her. He seemed equally reluctant to end the embrace, awkward and uncomfortable as it was, as if he feared the same.
Finally, though, she worked up the courage to make a final request of the man she loved. Aiden was going to throw her off the Last Stand, and she would've insisted on leaving anyway since she was such a threat. But before she was forced back into unconsciousness, perhaps not even allowed to wake up until after she was safely off the ship, she wanted to share one last thing with Dax.
So she spoke, forcing the words through trembling lips. “Dax? Would you, would you kiss me? One last time?”
The young man drew back, expression stricken. “Last time?” he asked quietly, showing more hurt than she'd ever seen from him.
“Before I have to leave you forever. For your own safety.”
Dax's face crumpled in anguish and stubborn denial. But in spite of whatever protests he wanted to raise, Lana couldn't help but notice he said nothing. As if he, too, realized she was a traitor against her own will, and it was no longer safe to be around her.
He nodded and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers as she did her best to meet him halfway in spite of the restraints. The kiss they shared was urgent, almost desperate, full of longing and sorrow and grim acceptance of how things had inexorably changed between them.
Or at least, that's what Lana felt from it. She felt torn between hoping he felt the same, and wanting to spare him the same pain she was feeling right now.
She wished this moment, bittersweet as it was, could last forever. But Dax finally leaned back, breaking the kiss. Lana lifted her head to follow him, desperately wanting to keep this last intimacy they'd share going. Maybe he felt the same, or maybe he took pity on her, because he leaned forward again to continue the kiss for a few more precious moments.
Then he reluctantly settled back in his chair. “I can't keep you awake for much longer,” he said apologetically. “Captain's orders. But are there any questions you have? Anything you want to say?”
“Just that I love you,” she whispered, tears once again spilling from her eyes. “It doesn't seem fair, does it? You were just getting to know me, I was just getting to know myself and rebuild some identity after losing everything, and now that's been taken away too. I don't get to have anything.”
Dax looked surprised. “They didn't tell you?”
Lana gave him a wary look. There was something else? Maybe, probably, even worse than all of this? “About what?”
He solemnly rested his hand on hers again. “Once Ali knew you were a D-” he stuttered slightly on the word, then took a deep breath and forced himself to continue, “a Dormant, she was able to comb through her databanks with a revised search. She found out who you were.”
An equal mix of excitement and dread surged through her. “She did? Who am I?”
Dax hesitated, looking pained again, and her dread ratcheted up a notch. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asked gently. “From what I've been able to learn about who you were, your life hasn't exactly been a, um . . .” he trailed off, flushing. “I guess I could just say you weren't exactly a fairytale princess. Which isn't really a surprise, considering you had to learn to live in this universe controlled by the Movement just like the rest of us.”
In spite of her eagerness to know the truth, Lana also felt herself hesitating. What could she have been, to make the young man so reluctant to talk about it? Had she been some sort of monster before she was turned into a Dormant and had her mind wiped, too? A murderer, or a Deek soldier, or, or . . . she didn't really know enough about the horrors of the universe out there to even guess what she might've been.
But it was her past, her life. Painful or not, shameful or not, it was who she was. Or at least
who she'd been, before she'd been given this second chance. Even if it was a heartbreaking, twisted second chance as a weapon of betrayal.
Lana did her best to shift her hand so she could squeeze Dax's, letting her resolve show. “I want to know. However bad it is, hearing it from you is better than learning it some other way.”
Dax nodded, squeezing back firmly to brace her for what he was about to tell her. Or maybe himself. “Your name is Jaziri Irsham. You actually lived in this galaxy, born in a different sector on a planet called Ilis 2, where . . .”
End of Caretakers.
The story of the Last Stand and her crew continues in
Stag Uprising, Book Three of the Stag Privateers series.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading Caretakers!
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Links to books 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:A Best Laid Plans Standalone
MOUNTAIN MAN
Badlands
Homecoming
Homeland
Mountain War
SCIENCE FICTION
Boralene
Last Stand
Caretakers
