Lana glanced around, worried that someone might hear them talking so frankly about the Deeks like this. But nobody seemed to be in earshot, or to care what they were talking about for that matter, and she relaxed.
Belix patted her cheek again, then turned away and waved airily over her shoulder at them. “Well, have fun everyone. I'm off to hunt down some prime genes to add to my collection.”
Lana knew the elfin woman well enough to guess how she planned to collect those genes. All part of the Ishivi breeding program to find the best genetics humanity had to offer, adding them to their own superior genes in a generations-long quest for perfection. Or at least as close to it as possible.
Barix had more than once tried to get Lana's own genetic material for his collection, even after she'd begun her relationship with Dax. But thanks to listening to the advice of her other crew mates, she'd always firmly turned him down. More than ever once she learned the specifics of Ishivi society, especially their practice of turning the products of their breeding program that they didn't consider genetically perfect enough into Constructs.
Like what they'd done to Dax.
Aiden nodded impatiently at Belix's farewell, draping an arm around Ali's shoulders. “You've got four hours, have fun,” he called after her. As the elfin woman walked away, he turned to Barix and Lana, only peripherally acknowledging Dax. “In the mood to try better fare than heavily processed ship food?”
She hesitated, glancing at her boyfriend; he just shrugged, not seeming to care either way.
That fit his disciplined personality, but she knew for a fact that once she'd convinced him to eat something besides that nasty canned meat he'd had for every meal before meeting her, he enjoyed the various better food alternatives as much as she did. He'd probably enjoy having something hot and fresh and higher quality, like those skewers of meat she'd had at Midpoint.
“That sounds great!” she told the captain.
“I agree!” Barix said in a mocking mimicry of her enthusiasm. “Why spend what little time we have finding and buying top of the line food products to eat on the ship at any time, when we can get nasty spaceport food made with cheap, overly processed ingredients, and overloaded with toxic flavorings and preservatives and simple carbohydrates to fool you into believing it's delicious?”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “You're not fooling anyone, Ishiv . . . we all know you love this stuff.”
Like with Midpoint, they didn't have to travel far along the concourse to find shops and kiosks eager to sell them things. Aiden immediately headed for a place that sold some kind of spicy fried seafood in a bed of steamed vegetables. It looked, and smelled, delicious, and since Lana hadn't had any of the other foods on offer around her she decided she'd start with that one, too.
She did a double take when Aiden ordered a dish for Ali. The companion didn't need to eat, obviously, but apparently she'd been designed to be able to in order to blend in with humans. Which Lana supposed she needed to do under their current circumstances.
So Ali did, showing every sign of enjoying each bite.
Which led Lana to wonder what happened to the food afterwards, and she had to hold back a laugh at the idea of the companion using the facilities. She looked away, distracting herself from the absurd mental image of the perfect woman seated on a toilet by looking at a wall of wanted posters nearby. Apparently they were ubiquitous to every spaceport, not just seedy ones like Midpoint.
She was about to look away again when she froze, eyes on a partially obscured notice near the corner. It featured the prominent image of a beautiful face that looked hardened by a lifetime of suffering and cynicism, framed by reddish-blond hair and with defiance glinting in large hazel eyes.
The others were bantering ahead of her, focused on their food and conversation. None of them were looking in the direction of the wall filled with notices, thankfully. Or at Lana, as she gaped at a face as familiar as if she was looking in a mirror.
Only just like the first time she'd seen a mirror, the face that looked back at her was that of a stranger. Lana's expression abruptly flashed blank, her brainwashing instantly coming to the fore to process the wanted ad, searching for a way to neutralize it before the others saw:
WANTED
20,000 DMC chit reward offered for
information or assistance leading to the capture of
Jaziri Irsham
guilty of industrial espionage, hacking restricted allnet nodes,
cyber theft, and involvement in numerous confidence schemes.
INFORMATION ENCLOSED.
Annoyingly enough, plastered across the sign were large disclaimers that said: NOTICE VOIDED. Which was fairly obvious, given that she'd been apprehended by the Movement already; that was why she was here in the first place. That wasn't the annoying part, of course, it was the fact that the station authorities had just tagged the notice instead of tearing it down.
Now it was a problem she was going to have to deal with. One that shouldn't have been a problem, if the Last Stand hadn't broken from pattern and gone to the galaxy where she'd used to operate. Her handlers hadn't anticipated that.
Lana's crew mates discovering her past identity posed a critical threat to her primary objective, that of keeping her cover intact until she was triggered. They'd immediately notice major discrepancies, such as that she'd been well known, wanted, and finally captured by the Movement, and yet the logs of the ship that had been carrying her had labeled her random street trash from a scummy colony. Then there was the fact that none of Ali's searches into her past had picked up any of this information about her, when they should have.
They'd also notice
