In spite of her hurry she drifted over to look at the notice, and her shock turned to alarm as she realized what it said:
WANTED
2,000,000 DMC chit reward offered for
information or assistance leading to the capture or destruction of the
Preservationist light combat cruiser
LAST STAND
or the incarceration or death of any of its crew.
Details attached.
Lana lifted a trembling finger to touch the wanted poster, which dissolved into stark lines of text flowing around the familiar images of Aiden, the twins, Dax, Ali, and even Fix.
She started reading at the top: “The Last Stand and its crew are wanted for dozens of counts of piracy, murder, grand larceny, terrorism, and rendering aid to Preservationist cells across this galaxy. It is captained by the notorious war criminal Aiden Thorne, guilty of, among other atrocities, the unlawful summary execution of prisoners of war after the Preservationist surrender with the Jiron 3 Accords.
Since the end of the war, the ship has engaged in basic piracy and terrorism, disrupting the peace of entire planetary systems in its reign of terror. It is currently believed to be responsible for the destruction of at least 12 ships and the capture of 47, as well as the destruction of two DMF military bases and the attack on several communications relays-”
Lana's attention was yanked away from the notice by a harsh voice speaking behind her. “Well, look what we have here.”
She whirled, heart in her throat, to discover that while she'd been engrossed in her reading a group of people had approached down the corridor and were now moving to surround her.
Or perhaps more accurately, a gang; in that odd way she'd found, she could recognize and name the two cauterizers, three stun clubs, one kinetic force multiplier, and four knives of various designs the seven grubby people around her carried between them. And those were just the weapons she could see.
She looked around desperately, realizing at that moment that leaving the crowded concourse to move faster had also taken her to an area with fewer people; aside from her and the gang moving to cut off her escape, the corridor was deserted.
The largest of them, the one who'd spoken before, stepped closer. He looked as big as Fix, with a long scar under one eye and lank, greasy hair hanging down to his shoulders. Rather than a uniform, he wore some kind of suit, surprisingly well fitted to his large frame but dirty and wrinkled.
“It looks as if you're lost, miss,” he said jovially. “Lucky we found you.”
Lana felt the hairs at the back of her neck rising. Even though she had no memories with which to form a basis of comparison, she had a strong feeling this situation was about to go very, very wrong. She tried to edge around two of the grubby people in the opposite direction, speaking politely. “Thanks, but I'm not lost. Please excuse me.”
The gang's leader lunged forward and grabbed her. By the throat. Lana froze again, staring up at his grimy features in terror as he leered down at her. “Lucky for us, I meant,” he said with a chuckle. “Would you look at that sweet face, boys! We'll fetch a good price for her.”
“After we've had some fun first,” a man off to one side said, prompting laughter from the others that didn't seem at all friendly.
Lana's stomach clenched in terror, but all she could do was struggle to breathe around the crushing grip on her windpipe. This couldn't be happening. Aiden had warned her, and she'd ignored him, but she hadn't believed this could actually happen. Not in a crowded place like a spaceport.
But then, what did she know? She was just a Blank Slate, so what made her think she was a better judge of a seedy spaceport than an experienced starship captain? And now she was about to pay for her foolishness by finding herself in exactly the same situation Aiden had rescued her from.
Probably even worse, from the looks of things.
Although no one seemed to be in sight she tried to shout, but it only came out as a feeble croak. Even that was enough to make her captor glance over his shoulder. “Let's get her back to the ship,” he said, starting down the corridor dragging her along by his crushing grip around her throat.
Lana kicked and struggled feebly with every step, but her efforts only drew derisive laughter. Then, although she tried to continue struggling, her limbs abruptly grew still and a detached haze settled over her panic. As if someone else was doing it for her, she shifted the skewers she'd been holding, which she'd completely forgotten about, so she held one in either hand. Twisting slightly, she maneuvered to slam one of the sharp metal sticks into a pressure point on her assailant's arm, then the other into his throat. In fact, she was already planning the next dozen moves of the fight as-
“Gentlemen,” a familiar voice said from behind her.
Lana's hands flopped back down, suddenly under her control again, and she got back to her helpless flailing. The man holding her paused at the interruption, whirling to face whoever had spoken and swinging her around with him.
She found herself looking at Barix; the short, slight man stood in the center of the corridor with his hands clasped at the small of his back, smiling and at ease.
“What do you want, Ishivi?” the gang leader snapped.
Lana pled with Barix with her eyes but he ignored her, his own clever gray eyes focused on her captor. “I couldn't help but notice that your new acquisition bears some attractive genetic markers,” he replied in the same amiable tone. “Would you consider selling her? For, say, twenty chits?”
The grubby people around her laughed. “Is that a joke, splicer?” the leader demanded. “She's probably worth a thousand.”
“I disagree. I think it's always a risk, snatching a person out of the middle of a crowded station and making them
