Aiden suppressed an involuntary shudder. She really didn't get it. This was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong person. Why couldn't she just be the companion he'd loved and depended on for the last year? “No, we really don't,” he said, words coming out cold and flat.
Ali's voice became anguished. “You're hurting, my love. More than I've ever seen. I want, I need, to comfort you.”
“You can't!” he shot back harshly, frayed emotions on the verge of overwhelming his control.
She leaned forward just a bit, voice hesitant. “I know it feels that way, but just letting me be here for you will help. It's human nature to want someone to hold at times like this.”
Aiden finally allowed his eyes to settle back on Lana, unable to bring himself to look at his lover. “You're not understanding me, Ali. You can't. Whatever I need, it can't come from you.”
The Caretaker's voice became even more anguished. “Aiden . . .”
“Don't you get it?” he whispered, his sight of the Blank Slate, the Dormant, suddenly obscured by tears he had to blink away. “She was my friend. I trusted her. I trusted her! I brought her aboard this ship, came to care for her like a daughter, and she betrayed us and nearly killed us all.”
“It wasn't her, it was what they did to her,” Ali said, gently but firmly. “She's still-”
“Would you listen to me?” Aiden shouted. “I let a complete stranger into my circle, and this is what happened. I'm not going to do it again.” He finally found the courage to meet his lover's, his former lover's eyes, refusing to be drawn into their deep blue depths. “Whatever you are, Caretaker, you're not Ali. It was stupid of me to try to pretend otherwise.”
He turned away from her miserable expression, suddenly needing to be away from here. “I let my pilot's yoke do my thinking for me, but it won't happen again.”
Without waiting for a response, he stalked down the corridor. But after a few steps he paused and looked back. “I mean it, Ali. Quit trying to “comfort” me, quit throwing your body at me. In fact, why don't you change your appearance to reflect what you've become? Either way, stick to being a crew member and representative of your precious Caretakers. If I can even trust you that far.”
The robot nodded, expression becoming reserved and professional. “I understand, Captain Thorne. If this is what best ensures your continued wellbeing, of course I'll do it.” She hesitated, then added. “Although I . . . regret this outcome.”
No more than he did. But what other choice did he have?
After a brief pause Ali spoke up again. “At some point, we're going to need to talk about what the Caretakers expect from you, now that you've aligned yourself and this ship with them.”
Of all the things she could say after he'd just rejected her . . . was she completely heartless? Well yeah, actually, she was. Just so convincing it was easy to forget that. “At some point,” he growled. “Not now.”
He continued down the corridor, leaving behind two of the people he'd cared about most, now untrustworthy strangers who could betray him at any moment.
Who next, the gunner? He'd been conditioned by the twins, after all, so it was anyone's guess how deep his loyalty ran. And speaking of the Ishivi, he already barely trusted them as far as he could throw them, their tiny rodent-like size notwithstanding.
But this was nothing new. He'd been alone on this ship before Ali came, then Lana. And now he was alone again. Everything else was just a distraction from his war against the Movement, anyway.
That was what mattered. The only thing that mattered.
Chapter Eighteen
Second Awakening
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked around, recognizing the instruments around her as being medical in nature; not what they did, but what they were called.
This all felt very familiar, although in her fuzzy state she couldn't remember why. In fact, she couldn't remember anything, wasn't really aware of anything but a distant throb of pain in her right hand, heavily dampened by painkillers.
Then the drug that had been used to keep her unconscious finished clearing from her system, and with it her mind cleared as well. And then, against her will, her memories returned. Not all of them, of course, but everything since coming aboard this ship.
Especially the last moments she remembered before waking up here.
Lana bolted upright, or at least tried to, realizing with horror that she was completely restrained with straps. That shattered her hopes that it might've all just been a bad dream into the awful realization that it wasn't.
She really had done all those things. Or, well, not her but something inside her, controlling her like a puppet. She'd sabotaged the shields, and hit Belix, and sent Ali into space. She'd tried to kill-
“Dax!” she screamed against the gag she'd been fitted with, thrashing against the straps and struggling to turn her head enough to look around. Hoping against hope to see him standing there beside her, back ramrod straight and disciplined expression belying the warmth in his eyes.
What had she done to him? She couldn't remember! If she'd hurt him she'd never forgive herself.
A familiar voice from somewhere past her head spoke gently. “I believe you were trying to call for your loved one? He's already back on his feet, broken arm set and on the mend. I'm reasonably confident he'll regain full use of it, in spite of the severe damage to the elbow joint.”
A shape, equally familiar, moved into view, and Lana felt a massive surge of relief that left her limp in her restraints. Not only was Dax alive, but so was Ali.
Although the Caretaker's features were ravaged, probably by exposure to vacuum: her skin showed numerous small fissures and scars, and was now slightly waxy. There were also hints of
