Zane: Alien Adoption Agency #4

by Tasha Black

  6

  Sarah

  Sarah headed out the door, wondering how she could stop to ask Zane about feeding the Lachesian octopus without letting go of her anger.

  But as soon as she reached the lawn in front of the house, she could see that the creature had already taken care of its own needs. Six of its tentacles were hugging the remains of something too far gone to struggle, as the other two shoved it into the octopus’s beaky maw.

  By the time Sarah neared her, there was no sign that the octopus had been eating at all. Except that she wasn’t glowing like she had swallowed a string of holiday lights anymore.

  “Don’t approach her from the front,” Zane’s deep voice called out from the doorway.

  “Why not?” Sarah asked, turning back to see him striding toward her with Bowen on his hip.

  “She just ate, and sometimes they eject part of the prey if they can’t digest it,” he told her. “Go on, take the whelp and get into the carriage. I’ll harness her.”

  Sarah took Bowen from Zane and headed for the carriage. She was dying to ask Zane if he was coming with her after all to help her track Caldwell. He hadn’t had much time for a change of heart, but she could always hope.

  Bowen was so warm and sleepy. He snuggled against her chest as if he forgave her for upsetting him earlier.

  She felt a wave of gratitude that almost brought tears to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Bowen,” she whispered to him. “I’ll try to do better.”

  Zane had the octopus harnessed again in no time, and swung himself up into the carriage beside her.

  “Giddyap,” he told the creature.

  The carriage began to roll behind the half-floating octopus.

  “What time is it?” Sarah wondered out loud.

  “Early evening,” Zane told her.

  “I thought it was early evening when my ship landed,” she said.

  “That’s the cloud cover,” Zane said. “You’ll get used to it. Some people say it’s romantic.”

  Sarah looked out over the murky landscape. “Seems more foreboding than romantic.”

  Zane nodded, but it looked like he was trying not to smile.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re so serious,” he told her. “I’m not used to it.”

  “You think women should have heads full of spun sugar?” she asked. Seemed about right that a big lug like this one would hang around a bunch of giddy women.

  “Not at all,” he said. “I spend most of my time with the other warriors.”

  “You expect me to believe that Invicta warriors spend all their time giggling like schoolgirls?” she asked.

  “Well not when you put it that way,” he said, sounding a little affronted. “But when you’re in the trenches, it’s best to have a sense of humor.”

  She nodded.

  “Sarah,” he said gently. “Parenthood is going to be a long road. I’ve only known your son a few weeks and it’s already changed me. It might help if you lighten up your outlook a little. Focus on Bowen.”

  “You aren’t going to help me,” she said, hating that her voice broke and gave him a glimpse of the tears she was struggling to contain.

  “Sarah,” he said.

  “I thought you changed your mind when you came out here,” she said. “I thought you were coming with me to help me find Caldwell.”

  The despair threatened to overwhelm her, and she had to focus on her breathing, just like in the first days after the bank.

  “I didn’t change my mind, but I am coming to help you,” he said. “I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m just going to try to keep you safe.”

  She wanted to scream at him, but she buttoned her lip. She had just promised the baby she would try not to upset him again and she wasn’t going to begin motherhood by going back on her word.

  Instead of continuing the conversation, she looked out over the countryside as they traveled.

  Now that she was really looking, she could see there were other dwellings hidden among the trees and carved into the hillsides.

  “Are those cave houses?” she asked Zane without meaning to.

  “They’re called dugouts,” he explained. “It’s a simple way to make a frontier home without having to chop down trees.”

  “Wouldn’t it be cold in there?” Sarah asked.

  “They use blocks made of sod for the part that isn’t in the hillside,” Zane explained. “The soil insulates, and there’s usually venting for a fire pit.”

  Sarah nodded, taking it in. It was strange to see a regular aluminum plated door on a wall made of earth, but the frontier was a difficult place if you were low on funds. Why not let the mountain provide shelter?

  “Do you feel lucky to have such a nice house?” he asked. “Puts it in a whole new perspective, doesn’t it?”

  “I can’t believe that giant house is mine,” Sarah agreed. “But it won’t stay that way if we don’t work on our security.”

  “I’m a dragon warrior,” Zane pointed out.

  “But there’s only one of you,” she replied firmly.

  The country around them had begun to give way to a small town. It had a large open plaza with posts to tie up carriage animals. Large clay-brick buildings with some sort of bound grass roofing lined the street.

  There was a general store, a saloon, a bank and then a building that looked completely out of place.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the dome-shaped edifice at the center of town that looked to be made of some kind of graphene-laced polymer. It would have stood out as far too high-tech for the city she was from. Out here, it was like seeing a dog wearing a diamond tiara.

  “Oh, that’s the courthouse,” Zane told her. “It was shipped in from Athena’s Belt in prefabricated pieces. The founder of the Lachesis colony was a big fan of Old Athena’s Belt architecture, so he had it brought in and assembled. The other buildings are made of local materials. That fluffy looking roofing on all the stores is the same floating moss we have in the trees back at home.”

  Home.

  It was funny to think of that gigantic log building as her home - their home. But Sarah felt an odd pang of longing at the idea.

  Zane pulled up the carriage and tied it to a post, then offered Sarah his hand. She took it and felt the rush of awareness that happened every time they touched.

  “Do you want me to take him so it’s easier for you with the cane?” Zane offered.

  It was only then that she realized she had hopped out of the carriage without her cane, and she hadn’t even noticed.

  “I-I don’t think I need it,” she said wonderingly.

  “The lower gravity helps a lot of people with joint pain,” Zane said. “Should we bring it anyway, in case you get tired?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Thank you.”

  He leaned past her and plucked the cane from the carriage floor.

  It was impossible not to notice his size, his delicious scent, and even the warmth that seemed to pour off him.

  She wondered what it would feel like to run her open palms down his chest.

  He straightened and she could see his blue irises flash gold for a moment, as if the dragon had been peering out at her through his eyes.

  Somehow, the idea was thrilling rather than frightening. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she pressed her lips to Bowen’s fluffy head and closed her eyes to focus herself.

  He’s a guard. And he’s not here for me. He’s here for Bowen. We both are.

  “Excuse me, my lord,” a man’s voice said.

  She opened her eyes and turned to see a middle-aged man in a beautiful Myrrish suit waiving a brochure in their direction.

  “I hope you won’t think me presumptuous,” the man said, his eyes twinkling under a wide brimmed hat. “But I can see by the carriage, and the cut of your wife’s gown, that you are a man of taste.”

  Sarah wanted to grab him by the collar and ask him what her ridiculous dress had to do with her husband’s t
aste. But Zane wasn’t even her husband, and the man was obviously just talking nonsense because he was selling something.

  “What’s this?” Zane asked, nodding at the brochure without taking it.

  “I can see you are a gentleman who gets right down to business,” the man exclaimed. “I like that. Now, this, this…”

  He gazed down fondly at the brochure, as if it were a child or a favorite pet and he was at a loss for words to describe it.

  “It’s the best value in the sector,” he said suddenly, looking up at them. “Maybe the whole system.”

  “It looks like a brochure,” Sarah snapped. It had been a long day, too long for all this.

  “It is, my dear,” the man said. “This is the description and layout of Lachesis Valley, a development of exceptional homes for exceptional owners, located in the gravity-light valley of Lachesis moon.”

  “A housing development?” Sarah echoed. “People here are living in log cabins and dugouts.”

  “Some people are,” the man said with just the tiniest air of snobbishness. “But people like you and your husband don’t have to. I see you came to Lachesis because of your infirmity.” He nodded at her cane. “The Valley offers four different models, each with one-story living and absolutely no stairs needed. My guarantee to all my customers is that your new home in the Valley will allow you the comforts you need to live as if you were young and whole.”

  Young and whole?

  “I took a bullet in the leg trying to save my daddy from a bank robber,” Sarah spluttered.

  “That was very brave of you,” the man allowed, looking a little shocked. “A daughter like that deserves to live in style and comfort,” he recovered quickly.

  “We’ll think about it,” Zane said, grabbing the brochure and trying to steer Sarah away.

  If she hadn’t been holding Bowen she would have been sorely tempted to yell at the man. How dare he accuse people of not being whole just because they needed a cane?

  “You’ll want to decide quickly,” the man said, holding onto the brochure in an attempt to keep them in his thrall. “When Lachesis reopens immigration to off-mooners again, you won’t be able to get a spot on my waitlist for love or money. Right now, I have a special where I’m waiving the lot premiums on two of my best sites.”

  “Thank you,” Zane said firmly.

  The man let go of the brochure and they started off.

  “Come by and visit my model homes any time, little lady,” he called after them. “Ask for Moar Talfox.”

  Sarah didn’t look back.

  The plaza around them was bustling with life. Just ahead of them, a line of people and droids stood in the brick dust. Some were chatting and playing some sort of game with bottle caps, others just stood, looking around hopefully.

  A cart drove up and the driver shouted something. Two men and a duster droid hopped in, and then it drove off.

  “What was that about?” Sarah asked.

  “They’re hired hands, waiting for work,” Zane explained. “Most of them are saving up for their own farms. Lachesis is a place where you can get a fresh start at any age.”

  “So, they just stand here in the plaza most of the day waiting?” Sarah asked.

  “Unless they get hired,” Zane said.

  “Excellent,” Sarah replied, heading straight over to the men.

  7

  Zane

  Zane watched in awe as Sarah marched straight up to the line of men, Bowen still on her hip.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said in a crisp, bell-like voice.

  Everyone turned to her, a few wrinkled faces broke into smiles at the sight of little Bowen.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Sarah said. “He goes by the name of Jericho Caldwell back on Terra-7, but he might have another name here. He’s a tall, skinny man and he’s missing the ring finger on his left hand. He would be a bit of a newcomer, like me.”

  Suddenly, shoes were shuffled and droids began whirring into their back-up programs. No one would make eye-contact with Sarah.

  “He’s no good,” she went on, a note of despair in her voice. “He killed my father in cold blood, and he’ll get up to mischief here too. Does anyone remember seeing someone who fits his description? I’ll pay good money for information that leads to his capture.”

  She waited long enough, looking up and down the line, that Zane felt embarrassed for her.

  But there were no takers.

  She turned on her heel at last and headed back to him.

  “Why won’t anyone help?” she demanded. “Doesn’t anyone here care?”

  Bowen’s eyes went wide, and he squeaked and waved his little hand as if he also wanted answers.

  “Come on, let’s keep walking,” Zane said in what he hoped was a calming way. “I’ll do my best to explain on the way.”

  She set her chin, but she started walking with him.

  “A lot of people come to a new moon to get away from things that happened in their old lives,” Zane said carefully. “It’s tough to ask a man to turn in another when they both have their demons.”

  “He killed my father,” Sarah said. “Am I supposed to believe the Alien Adoption Agency sent me to a moon full of murderers to raise this boy?”

  “I’m just saying that people may not want to get involved,” Zane said. “You just got here. They don’t really know him, or you. Maybe give it a little time?”

  But Sarah caught sight of something else, and she was already marching off.

  Zane glanced up at the facade of the building she was approaching. The saloon.

  He sighed and followed her, the string between his heart and hers already pulled too tight. He stepped into the large, open room, dim, even compared to the overcast sky outside.

  “You can’t bring a baby in here,” the matron said, scowling at Sarah as she approached the bar.

  “Darned skippy I can,” Sarah replied. “Don’t worry. He won’t start any trouble.”

  The woman barked out a laugh and stepped aside, apparently Zane wasn’t the only one who could see there was no point arguing with the feisty little Terran.

  “Keep her out of trouble,” the matron muttered as Zane followed Sarah.

  “Yes, madam,” he muttered back, wondering how exactly she thought he was going to do that.

  The saloon was thick with strange smoke and the mingled scent of sweat and belt grease.

  Workers, droids, and even a few merchants sat at small wooden tables. Many were eating bowls of a steaming stew and sloshing wooden cups of sweet-smelling brew as they talked.

  He caught up to Sarah as she reached the bar. She had found them two stools at the center, between groups of grizzled patrons.

  “This might not be the best place to start,” he told her quietly.

  “Nonsense,” she replied. “A no-good miscreant like Jericho Caldwell would hightail it to the saloon first thing after landing. We’ll get to the bottom of things quickly here. If anyone here is man enough to share what he knows.”

  She said the last part loudly enough for their seat mates at the bar to hear it. One or two turned around and treated them to a display of dirty faces and neglected dental hygiene.

  “Hello, neighbors,” Sarah said, before Zane could beg her to stop. “My name is Sarah Flynn, and I’m looking for the man who killed my father. His name is Jericho Caldwell. He looks like a rat, but with more fleas, and he’s missing the ring finger of his left hand.”

  She paused for a moment and took in the murmurings.

  “I’m prepared to offer a reward for information that leads to his capture,” she went on.

  The room went quiet, but no one approached.

  “I’ll be here at the bar, if you change your minds,” she said, undaunted, and turned back to Zane.

  “There,” she said, with satisfaction. “Now we wait.”

  Zane was pretty sure she could wait here until the local sun went supernova, and no one was going to give her one byte of information, but
he hated to break her good mood.

  “Shall we have a drink?” he offered.

  She looked torn, but she nodded and sat down on one of the stools.

  Bowen was wide awake, looking around at the other patrons with his large blue eyes.

  “Hey there, little feller,” the woman behind the bar said, resting her cyborg arm on the counter to smile at him.

  Bowen squeaked at her and then hid his little face in Sarah’s neck.

  “How old is he?” the barkeep asked.

  Sarah glanced up at Zane in a panic. Gods above, she didn’t even know the baby’s age.

  “He’s just old enough that we’re too sleep deprived to remember,” Zane joked weakly.

  The barkeep slapped her towel against the bar and hooted. “D’ja hear that, Evarn?” she asked one of the old timers next to them at the bar.

  “I heard it,” he said, tipping his visor.

  “What can I get you two?” the barkeep asked.

  “Surprise us,” Zane said.

  “But not with strong spirits,” Sarah added.

  “Coming right up,” the woman agreed.

  “Your name is Evarn?” Sarah asked the man beside her.

  “Yes, miss,” he said.

  “That’s lovely,” she told him. “I know people here seem to keep to themselves, but you don’t know anything about the man I asked about, do you?”

  “Don’t mention that bastard’s name around here,” Evarn hissed.

  “He did come to town,” the barkeep murmured, setting down two steaming wooden mugs in front of them. “Like you said, he’s no good, you can smell it on him.”

  “Bad tipper, eh, Rose?” Evarn asked with a wink.

  “Now that you mention it, yes,” she said. “Anyway, he was going by Jay Caldwell, missing that finger though, just like you said. He started doing jobs for the Sons of Sirius.”

  “The who?” Sarah asked.

  “Hoverbike gang out of Hesiod 8,” Evarn explained.

  “He had a falling out with them over a girl,” Rose confided. “Started something up with the leader’s woman is what I heard. Then lit out for the unclaimed territories when it got too hot around here.”