Hunted

by Theresa Beachman

  “Follow the yellow lines.” The gruff command came from behind.

  He expected to be taken to a holding area, but he found himself in a linking corridor to crew quarters.

  This made little sense. “Where are we—?”

  An ear-stinging blow rang across the side of his head. Hell. Heath staggered and spat blood. He bent over, waiting for his vision to stop pulsing.

  “Move.” The guard shoved him forward once more.

  Dragging in a breath, Heath forced his legs to walk. “I’m moving, I’m moving.”

  They hustled him up a gloomy corridor, and into a shambolic room. Filing cabinets lined every wall from floor to ceiling. The air was ripe with the smell of decaying paper, a scent Heath hadn’t encountered since his childhood trips to the library.

  A small table stood in the center of the space and sitting behind the table was a star liner officer. Three empty chairs were arranged on the near side of the desk. Heath recognized the gold insignia of a ribbon-tied scroll on the man’s rumpled breast pocket. The quartermaster looked up from a stack of paperwork. Despite the advances in cybernetics, his second eye stared resolutely out the port window as if it had other important things on its mind that needed consideration. A nameplate was propped on the front of his desk. Sith.

  “Ah. Buke’s delivery. Put him there.” Sith pointed with a chewed pen to the chairs, flashing an impressive array of gold-capped teeth.

  Heath was manhandled into the chair and his restraints attached to the sturdy legs, which pulled him down in an uncomfortable slouch.

  A small vid screen sat beside the desk. The quartermaster clicked it off and then shuffled the papers in front of him into a less deranged pile.

  But it was too late. Heath had already seen the gambling channel.

  The Games Master.

  The scrolling bets.

  The listing for today’s hunt.

  Isa.

  32

  They’d locked her in?

  Isa took a step back, her finger pressed to her temples.

  Was she missing something?

  She palmed the pad again, stepping backward and forward a few times, in case there was some wonky movement sensor that wasn’t picking up her presence. She ran her hands over the smooth surface, the tension across her shoulders ramping higher with every second.

  Damn. Right. Think.

  They’d locked the door, but there was a comms button. Isa exhaled a slow breath and wiped damp hair from her sticky forehead. The comms button beeped an irritating monotonous tone for several seconds before anyone responded.

  “Yes?” The voice was male. Disinterested.

  Isa resisted the urge to explode in a full-on tirade. “Um…yes, hi. My door won’t open.”

  There was a long, drawn out silence and then the voice replied, “That’s correct.”

  Correct? “No, it’s not correct. I wish to leave. I need to talk to Buke. Can you send someone down to open the door? Clearly there’s a fault.”

  Sweat dampened under her arms and her heart beat a little faster. Something wasn’t adding up, and it wasn’t a damaged circuit.

  They locked the door on purpose.

  She glanced up, searching for any cameras. But if there were any, she couldn’t spot them.

  She walked back to the open balcony. Dust and noise from below buffeted up again in a warm draft of air. She peered over, her nails grinding against abrasive stone. The building dropped away in an endless column of polished rock.

  Isa backed into the room and took a few deep breaths. She didn’t want to sound like some hysterical woman, no matter how close to the truth it was.

  Another firm press to the comms button. Confident, like she meant it. Yeah, right. “I wish to speak to Buke.”

  “If you’d like—”

  “I want. To speak. To Buke.” Isa rapped her skull on the cool wall and closed her eyes.

  “Isabella.” His voice curled from the comms unit like honey. Had she told him her full name?

  “Buke. My door’s locked. Open it, please.” She shifted from foot to foot. Not bad. She sounded determined. Like she meant business.

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. What was it with these people? “I want to leave the room now. I have to…” She squeezed her eyes tight and opened them again. “I have to talk to Heath. Before I return to Earth.”

  There was a lengthy sigh on the other side of the intercom. “I think there’s been enough of that. Why don’t you just relax and enjoy our hospitality? Shall I have something delicious sent down for you to eat? Our chef here is quite skilled—”

  Isa hit the door with the heel of her hand. She was seconds away from kicking it, however infantile that would seem. “Open the door.”

  “I’m sorry,” he purred. “I can’t do that.”

  There was a click and the light on the comms went dead. Isa hit the button again. “Buke, I want out. Open the door. Buke? Buke?”

  Isa kicked the door, stubbing her toe.

  Shit.

  Isa slid to the floor, her back against the door, letting her head sink to her knees. She ran through her options. Who was she kidding? She had none.

  They arrived for her an hour later. Buke was first into her room, all crisp white shirt and preened beard. He smiled as guards flowed around him, filling the space with the threat of violence. Isa straightened to check the doorway behind Buke, but even more guards blocked the narrow exit.

  His smile was insincere, wafer thin. “You look much better now you’ve cleaned up and changed your clothes.” He made a sweeping gesture at her new outfit.

  Platitudes. Did he think she was that stupid? “Why are you keeping me here? Why couldn’t I leave?”

  Buke walked to the dark vid screen on the wall and keyed in an access code to switch it on. He swiped through several channels until he came to the one he wanted and stepped back.

  Isa knew the face on the screen. It was a Games Master. The sound was off but his lips were moving at speed. Behind him in large letters was the text: Tonight’s Special!

  And underneath that, her picture.

  It was grainy, from her undergrad days, when she’d been studying physics in London. How? Her knees threatened to buckle, and she grabbed for the nearby dresser.

  “This is your purpose now.” He beamed. “I’m so glad you’re not going to miss it.”

  How did she not see it before? Buke was a liar. He already knew her name because he put her on Heath’s ship.

  “You brought me here to hunt me.” It wasn’t a question. She just needed to say it out loud.

  He dipped his head in acknowledgment and swiped the screen off. His thugs stepped closer, securing her wrists in front of her body, their body armor rank with the stench of oil and sweat. But she barely noticed, she was still processing the implications of what she’d just seen.

  “Why?” She kept her question short. If she said any more, he would hear the tremor in her voice and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  He shrugged. “Money.” Isn’t that always the case? “It’s the only thing that makes exploitation worthy. Eases the bad taste.”

  “Bad taste?”

  One shoulder lifted in a bored shrug. “My exaggeration. I enjoy this. Unlike Heath.”

  Isa swallowed.

  Something unsavory glinted in Buke’s eyes. “You’re my property. Like all my animals, I had you tagged before we put you in cryo-sleep, which made finding you a little easier. Although,” he winked at her, “the two of you kept me on my toes. I was thinking Heath wanted to keep you all for himself.”

  Buke bowed at the still-open doorway. “Shall we?”

  “You—” Isa lunged at him but her hands were snug at the back of her waist and hot emotion soured her accuracy. A bodyguard snagged her, and she hit the floor in a heart-stopping jolt. Large hands pulled her roughly back onto her feet.

  Buke had tricked her.

  Not only had he stolen her from Earth for his sick interpl
anetary hunt, but also he’d tricked her into leaving Heath.

  Blinded her to the truth.

  She was Buke’s pawn.

  And Heath? He’d been protecting her. He’d made bad decisions, but he’d tried to make them right.

  She averted her gaze, unable to look Buke in the eye. Ice crystallized in her bloodstream. What had she done? She’d left Heath. Turned her back on him.

  Buke pounded his cane on the tiled floor with impatience. “Come. The crowd awaits you.”

  Crowd. Her stomach tightened, and a chill cloaked her shoulders.

  His men parted as he approached the door, creating a gap in their black armor. “Let’s not keep my clients waiting. There’s a lot of money riding on tonight.” He paused and smirked. “Don’t worry. The fox always gets a head start.”

  Coarse hands pushed her from behind and Isa stumbled after him, her mind reeling.

  She was frog-marched out the room and bundled into a motorized buggy that raced down endless corridors.

  When the buggy stopped men wrestled her out the vehicle and into a brilliant white room. Isa blinked, the light was startling and painful after the subdued glow of the corridors. She took a few faltering paces. A soft shushing noise whispered behind her. The door. She spun, but it had almost vanished, its outline melding into the walls. Another second and it disappeared. She ran forward sliding her palms over the glossy wall, but it was as if the doorway had never existed.

  Her heart fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird as she shifted back to face the room.

  Where there’d been emptiness, an older woman waited.

  She raised her arms in greeting, her arms draped in gauzy robes the color of blood. Her mouth was wizened like a shrunken apple left too long in the sun. “Welcome.” The woman stepped closer. Her eyes were dark, mirrored pools of darkness and her lifted arms were a sham; there was no warmth there.

  There had to be a way out of here. Isa skirted the woman, searching the space, but it was featureless. No way in, no way out, just glowing whiteness radiating all around.

  “I am Agatha. I am here to prepare you.” Agatha’s loose lips made a smacking sound when she spoke.

  Isa stiffened, her skin crawling.

  Oblivious, Agatha gestured for Isa to follow.

  “Can you help me escape? I’m not supposed to be here.”

  Agatha smiled benevolently, exposing shiny gums and empty tooth sockets. “You can leave soon. The time is fast approaching.” Agatha drew closer and grasped Isa’s wrists. Her breath washed over Isa, reeking of damp undergrowth. It took all of Isa’s restraint not to snatch her hands back. The old woman chuckled and delved under her robes, producing a vicious curved knife. With a flick of the blade Isa was free.

  As she rubbed the pink marks on her wrists something rumbled. Overhead, panels were retreating, exposing a glass dome with panes colored shades of saffron and fiery crimson.

  Isa pushed her sleeves up. She needed a door—not a window.

  “Here.” Agatha was holding a small hand laser. She handed it to Isa, aiming at the holster that Isa already wore on her hip.

  Of course. A leaden weight settled in Isa’s belly. They were giving the fox a fighting chance. She slotted the weapon in place with damp hands.

  When she looked up, the room was changing again, the wall was shifting, bulging. Agatha made a walking motion with two fingers on her palm. Steps. They protruded out of the wall, creating a spiral staircase that curved around the room from the floor to the glass roof.

  Agatha held a finger to her lips and handed Isa her knife. She motioned for Isa to conceal it behind the hand laser.

  Isa nodded her thanks and forced a smile but a dry wedge obstructed her throat. She’d seen what lived in the wilds of Resu. A knife and a hand laser would not get her far.

  “May the Gods be with you,” Agatha intoned removing a small bowl scented with grass and herbs from a recess in the wall. She dipped her thumb in the paste and daubed a spot on Isa’s forehead. “Fight well.” She gave a crisp nod and backed up a few steps.

  Isa touched the sticky goop on her forehead. “This is a mistake. Buke made a—”

  A glass wall materialized out of thin air, separating them.

  Isa rushed forward, slamming into the barrier, her heart a thundering roar. The tiny sliver of hope she’d been clinging to that this was all a big mistake vaporized. They meant this. They were going to send her out there to be hunted.

  Agatha waved from the opposite side of the barrier.

  “Wait!” Isa pounded the glass. “Wait. I need your help—”

  Hot desert air hit her back, lifting loose hair at her temples. Her belly clenched as the refined air of the room whisked away. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look, not wanting to take the next step.

  She inched around, raising her head to the sky. The pink light of dawn replaced the flame-colored glass. Resu’s sky loomed wild and terrifying above her.

  Now that she could leave, she didn’t want to.

  Isa removed her knife from its sheath. The curved serrated edge glinted in the overhead light. She lifted the curtain of hair from her neck and prodded the penny-sized disk behind her ear she’d noticed cleaning her hair in the hot springs.

  Buke had told her he’d tagged her, and she’d witnessed the evidence. The Games Masters had tracked her escape with Heath. She took a deep breath and positioned the blade against the hard lump. She was going to die. But if she’d learned anything in the last few days, it would be on her terms. She wouldn’t make it easy for them.

  Isa sliced down in one swift motion.

  33

  Sith glared at Heath with his good eye and stretched back in his chair. He crossed his grasshopper-long legs.

  “The pilot that lost the ship of valuables.” He pulled on his lip. “You don’t look as stupid as I thought you would.” One eyebrow cranked higher than the other. “Anyone who loses Buke’s cargo has to have shit for brains.”

  Heath grimaced. “I didn’t lose anything. We hit a meteor storm.”

  Sith’s eyebrows knotted in an expression of whatever. He leaned forward, cheap plastic creaking under his weight. Before he spoke, a male voice was loud in the room.

  “Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Me.”

  Heath jerked around, not believing his ears. “Jack.”

  And behind him, poker-faced, stood Angie. Heath blinked, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him.

  “Heath!” Angie’s face lit up. She stepped in his direction but guards maneuvered her to a seat.

  Jack held his tied wrists up in a symbolic high five as he took a chair on Heath’s other side and slumped.

  Heath rounded on Sith. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Angie leaned toward Jack across Heath’s lap. “With a little effort, you might not look like something the cat dragged in.”

  Jack slouched lower. “I only do it to make you look good.”

  Angie rolled her eyes and faced Heath. Another rare smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I knew you were okay.”

  Jack grunted. “She’s gone all lovey since the crash. Definitely dislodged a few screws—”

  Sith tapped a field pad on the desk. “If we’re finished with all the pleasantries…”

  Some constriction in Heath’s chest eased. Angie and Jack were alive. And still bickering. He couldn’t help but be happy for a moment.

  Sith cleared his throat. “There are arrangements to confirm for the weapons delivery to Earth.”

  Jack scowled. “Let me guess. Buke?”

  Sith’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Who else? We will escort you to Thanos to pick up a freighter, fully loaded.”

  Heath dug his nails into his palms. Abducted humans. Now weapons. Buke had no boundaries.

  Sith continued, “There will be no room for mistakes. Any deviations from your instructions will lead to… consequences. Do you understand?”

  Heath worked his jaw, his fists balling behind his back. Buke could
go fuck himself. There would be no more deliveries. Anger swirled in his mouth but he nodded not trusting himself to speak.

  A pleased expression crossed Sith’s angular features.

  Heath tipped his head at the vid screen and exhaled. “Humor me. Put the feed back on.”

  Sith’s mouth curled, his expression becoming predatory.

  Something slithered in Heath’s gut. He knew what he’d seen and part of him didn’t want it confirmed. But he had to know.

  Sith spun his chair around to face the screen. His good eye scrutinizing Heath as he spoke. “Vid screen activate.”

  The pirate channel blared back to life, the colors harsh and gaudy. The cameras panned across four middle-aged men preparing weapons. They were all stripped to the waist, weapons strapped to their hips while they checked rifles and oiled crossbows.

  “They’re the favorites.” Sith raised a straggly eyebrow. “Many like to revert to traditional hunting methods on Resu.”

  Jack inched up in his chair. “Why are we watching this?”

  Sith ignored Jack, his eye zeroed on Heath. “It’s a real coup for Buke.”

  “It’s barbaric,” Heath muttered.

  Sith shrugged. “Buke supplies the market. He doesn’t create it. Those two keep upping the bets to remain in the hunt. They want her real bad.” He swigged from a steel cup.

  The screen flickered and shifted back to a commentator. Numbers scrolled top to bottom across the screen to his right—bets flying in from across the galaxy. The commentator’s mouth was moving but Heath didn’t hear the words. He focused all his attention on the image behind the commentator. Isa. Probably taken not long after they’d been separated. Her hair was wild, her clothes disheveled and dirty. She was clutching his backpack to her shoulder, her eyes wide and distrustful.

  “Oh.” Jack pushed back in his chair. “Been busy over the last forty-eight hours?”