The God Hunters

by Gordon D Lanyon

  “The staff could be a weapon,” I said, “but the vest and belt look a little too ‘girlie’ for me to wear.”

  A short bark of laughter escaped Meeta while she smirked at my consternation. “Looks are deceiving. The belt powers the vest which will provide a degree of shielding for you against powered weapons and certainly anything projectile. You simply depress the clasp on the belt to power the shielding. Power is limited, however, so don't activate it until you must. Once activated shielding is automatic. The belt will take up to three direct hits before going into reset mode so that it can recharge itself. The amount of protection provided varies with the weapon used against you of course. It will adequately protect you from guns and knives.”

  For protection the belt and vest didn't seem like much but I was out of my depth and any protection was better than none. I experimented with the staff. It seemed too short and the dangerous dual blades on Brenal-Tik's staff appeared to be missing. I swung it back and forth cautiously, finding it too light to act like a bludgeon. I wondered what I was missing.

  Meeta nodded, a worried look on her face. “Yes, that is a weapon, though it may not seem so at the moment; one far more dangerous than you think. So dangerous I wonder if you should take it at all.”

  Belle seemed to find this amusing because she jumped onto the top of Meeta's case and rolled on her back. I could have sworn she was laughing at me. “How smart was she?” I wondered, not for the first time.

  “If it's so dangerous, why does it seem like a stick I'd use to roast marshmallows over a fire,” I asked chagrined. “It seems too light to use as a weapon.”

  Meeta's image grew grim and her lips pursed. “Think the word "kill" and let your Beast out just a little,” she instructed.

  Ok, I thought, that already sounded a little dangerous. Taking a deep breath I did as instructed and the staff almost leapt out of my hand. “What the hell,” I muttered, gripping it more tightly. It had transformed and was now six feet in length with glowing hooked blades at either end. It had also put on weight. I swung it experimentally admiring the heft and balance. Suddenly this had stopping power.

  “The staff is not just something to stab or hit things with,” explained Meeta. “See how the ends glow? It is an energy weapon which can cut through the strongest metal. Physical contact with an adversary also triggers an electric shock strong enough to paralyze.” Meeta's image shrugged. “Its effect on Fusto whose physiology has been altered to the extreme though is uncertain.”

  “OK,” I said, suitably impressed. “But why not a gun? Something I could just point and shoot?” I replaced the staff in its holder and the drawer retreated into the wall. These were toys for later. “Kailex is dangerous. And Fusto,” I let out a heavy breath, “He's a tank. I'm not sure that tricked out staff will stop him before he gets to me.” I thought about it for a moment. “If he gets hold of me I think it's game over.”

  Meeta nodded. “There's much you don't understand but the most important thing to know is that you are in the middle of a game. Yes I know,” she admonished before I could say anything, “it's your life, your world. So not much of a game in your mind. But you play before a wider audience than you can imagine. Guns would bring a quick end to the hunt and are therefore not allowed. They’re also less bloody, less primitive and the hunt's appeal is to the primitive. These are the only weapons and protections I can provide.” Meeta looked away and began fiddling with the console in front of her. Her distress obvious. She wanted to do more but couldn't.

  I felt for her but couldn't stop myself from asking anyways. “I saw Kailex use a weapon. Why does he get them and we don't? We're supposed to be the good guys. Surely we deserve the same advantages.”

  “He is the Hunted,” said Meeta simply. “He has no restrictions. It’s expected he’ll do terrible things to survive. In fact, the Keeper hopes for this. That’s the way the Game’s been played for centuries. On HomeWorld it’s not uncommon for citizens to live a thousand years unless killed by a freak accident. Such lengthy existences can become terrifyingly boring. The Game helps fight the tedium. The hunt reinforces the belief that living matters. It must. Otherwise why do the Hunted fight so fiercely to survive? Before the hunt was established I’m told the average age was around 500. After that people just seemed to lose interest and fade away despite all the medical wizardry available to them.”

  I shook my head in wonder. “This isn’t a game. Real people have died here.”

  Meeta sighed and slumped slightly on the screen. “I know. I feel what you feel but I'm bound by the same rules as Kat. I can do no more. I would be destroyed, as would Belle, and Kat, and you,” she added softly.

  “When this is over, I'm going to want to talk to this GateKeeper of yours.”

  Abruptly the clear light in the room became a soft oscillating white. Meeta's eyes widened in surprise. “Nicholas, SHIP informs me we have guests crossing our outer perimeter.” Her image made a throwing gesture and another screen came to life on the wall to her right. It showed a contingent of twenty armored men advancing cautiously forward. Not all were men, I realized. One of them was Walker. She‘d taken the forward position, obviously leading. For a moment I just watched, admiring her precision. Her movements were quick and she was almost invisible as she picked her way through the available cover. Her men were hard pressed to keep up with her.

  “Can't they see the cameras?” I asked. The video was crystal clear, and live. It showed their progress from multiple angles. There had to be cameras everywhere.

  “None they will see,” answered Meeta. “Nano technology,” she explained. “Smaller that a single cell but fully capable of recording or even defense if needed.”

  “Don't hurt them,” I instructed, worried for Walker. She wouldn't know what she was walking into. They’d have no way to deal with level of technology Meeta could deploy against them.

  Meeta laughed, obviously agreeing with my assessment. “I don't need to activate defensive measures. Their devices can‘t locate us. SHIP exists in ‘pinched space’ which they have no way of accessing. We’re perfectly safe and so are they.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I know that woman. She helped me save that kid I told you about earlier. She's just doing her job.”

  “I see.” Meeta seemed to be reading some screens in front of her. “Nicholas please examine the collar of your shirt and let me know what you find there,” she instructed.

  Dutifully I pulled the collar out and gently worked the material until something small and metallic popped out into my hand. It looked like a water pearl with a hook. I remembered my scuffle with Walker and how she'd leveraged her grip on my collar while forcing me to the ground. Jesus! Knocks me to the ground and plants a tracking bug on me. My appreciation of her skills went up another notch. I was an amateur at this. I held the bug up for Meeta to inspect. The image looked down and frowned, then down again as she checked her instruments.

  “Destroy it,” advised Meeta. “As long as it continues to signal them these policemen won’t leave.”

  “These aren't regular police,” I corrected, watching the men sweep carefully forward. “These guys are highly trained. Probably part of some elite force. They’d be dangerous if they could get to us.”

  “Yes,” agreed Meeta after a moment's hesitation. She frowned at her instruments. “Puzzling. There‘s an anomaly in their midst. One like you. The woman leading them has undergone genetic manipulation. Remarkable!”

  Meeta gave her console serious consideration. “Readings indicate that despite its crudeness, the genetic manipulation was successful. Something almost impossible to achieve at your current tech level. She must be a biological natural like you. They think they made her when all they did was wake what was there. Hmmm. All is not good, however. I see some instability. She’s more dangerous than she realizes.” Meeta looked up. “My advice would be stay away from her.” Meeta noticed my reaction. “Ah, it was her that put the tracker on you?”

  I no
dded.

  “Well, she's dangerous. She has control now but her Beast is unstable. More difficult to control than even yours. There‘s a strong chance it will become dominant. Besides, just being close to her is dangerous for both of you.”

  “Why?” I was surprised by Meeta's certainty.

  “If you’re close enough, your Beast will sense hers and be attracted to it.” Meeta's face hardened. “This is not an attraction based on the animal instinct to mate. It's the attraction between predator and prey. Instinctively you‘ll want to feed. Both of you will want this. Your Beasts will struggle to emerge, to dominate. Even if you manage some level of control this urge to kill and feed will not abate. It‘ll grow stronger until one of you succumbs. On HomeWorld, Hunters are quarantined for this very reason,” Meeta ended dryly. “This is why Hunters died out as a species. The best hunts for them were those where they hunted one another.”

  “Good to know,” I replied. “But I don't believe she's tracking me because I look like a MacDonald's happy meal. She's after me because she's a cop. She thinks Kailex and I are the bad guys and I'm not so certain she's wrong.”

  I tried to calm my rising anger. “I'm still trying to figure out this whole crap storm. I know Kailex is an escaped criminal from your world who’s fled to mine. I know you were sent to stop him by people who don't seem to care if he’s stopped at all. I know your Hunters have free rein to mind rape hosts and basically condemn them to a terrible death.” I paused, breathing heavily. “So, in truth, Walker's completely right. We are the bad guys. Not just Kailex. Kat, me, you and especially your superiors. If not for them, the bad guy wouldn't be here and I‘d still have my life!”

  To her credit Meeta made no effort to deny my accusations.

  I held up the tracker. “I don't think I'll destroy this just yet. I have an idea how we can use it to our advantage.” I thought about the toys I'd put away but dismissed them for now. I needed practice time with them first. They were dangerous and I was still getting used to being a predator.

  Chapter Twelve

  The building below was nondescript, square, blocky, slightly run down without signage which spoke volumes about its current solvency. If it was a business, it wasn't doing well. She checked her phone, confirming the location of the blinking red dot. He was there. Nick. She turned the name over in her mind. At least he’d told the truth about that. It was how he‘d been referenced in the stack of reports she'd read back at Castle.

  Irritated, she snapped the safety on her gun off and on. She wondered why he bothered her so much then remembered the stress on his face as he strained to lift the concrete imprisoning the girl. It had been the face of a man trying to do the right thing. She'd been certain she was looking at a good man. But there were other memories that came just as quickly. The video of him killing the security guards. He’d been under fire but there’d been no hesitation, no compassion for the lives taken. He’d killed when he could have run.

  A part of her wondered what she'd have done. Violence came so much more easily now. She shook herself. It was over. He’d had his chance and he ran. Only the bad ones ran. Her phone vibrated gently. She placed it to her ear without checking. There was only one person who'd be calling now. The Major.

  “Are you in position?”

  The voice was cool, professional. He was in his element. She was the hammer he used to get things done. He’d been investigating these alien intrusions for years without much success. That was causing problems. He had things in play now even she didn't know about. She shuddered. There were things she did know about because she was part of them. Things that made her wonder if they hadn’t already gone too far.

  “Yes.”

  She didn't elaborate. He didn’t appreciate long stories when a simple yes or no would do. She reviewed the plan in her head; a straight ‘breach and capture’. With these, timing was everything. The Major already knew her operatives were in place from his satellite feeds so he hadn’t called because he was worried about tactics. Something else was bothering him. Her. She nodded. That was it. She’d made contact with the enemy and past experience indicated such contact could be bad. He was worried. She was physically in the right place, physically ready, but what about mentally? The hostiles they pursued displayed 'talents‘ only a fool would discount, and the he wasn't a fool. Normally he‘d just give the command to go, now he was talking, taking up valuable time. He’d called to evaluate her. A last check for signs she'd been compromised.

  “I'm fine!” she snapped into the digital silence. “Let's just get this done.”

  There was a long pause, then, “The perimeter appears secure. Wait twenty. We can't afford mistakes and you don't know what's in there. He may not be alone. I want this one alive and talking Walker. I'm sending backup.”

  That caught her attention. What backup? “Respectfully sir, we have enough men. Permission to go?”

  She didn't want any more men. Too many was as bad as too few. They got in the way. The men she had were enough. Unless... she considered the other type of backup he could send and dismissed it. Even he wouldn't send them. Not yet. They were unstable, difficult to control. Another part of her whispered, it wasn't their fault.

  “Negative.”

  The Major's voice came back as cool as before but now with the snap of command. “I'm sending Red One to take point. You will follow with your men and do clean up. Wait 15. Mark it now.”

  She stood there shocked. So that was the way it was. He didn't trust her, or maybe he was just being careful? She could understand careful, but sending in Red One? Deploying them was not a ’careful’ move. It was a sign of desperation. It was out there, way out there.

  “Say again,” she repeated tonelessly into her phone, “Red One to take point?”

  She couldn't keep the shakiness from her voice. He’d let them out on a mission. She thought again of Henry. There had been others like him since then. Her mind flipped through everything she‘d endured in the last two years. What had been done to her? She barely suppressed an involuntary scream. She was a monster covered in human skin, barely able to keep it together. The others? In her opinion, they needed to stay where they were.

  “Red One on point.” There was a testiness in his voice she’d seldom heard. “You and your men are on clean up. Is that clear enough for you? You know how much I dislike repeating myself.”

  She'd never heard a warning in his voice before but it was there now. For the first time in a long time she clearly heard the anger and the hurt he kept buried deep inside. She felt her own hurt wake. The two of them shared the same wound. They both had issues from their pasts that had brought them to this point. Because of that she tried to forgive him.

  “Sorry sir. Wait 15. Cleanup. Ready to proceed sir.” The Major was old school. In play operations had a strict chain of command that needed to be followed. Discussion time was over.

  She debated with herself what she should do next. In her opinion Red One was every bit as dangerous as those she pursued. Letting them out was ridiculously risky. Field Agents could override command if they had good reason. Her boots were on the ground. She was in the best position to make the right decision when things got ’fluid’. No one ever overrode command of course. Even If you were right you'd probably be court martialed, or worse. In this case, definitely worse. This was black ops. Everything that happened now happened in the shadows. In the end though, it didn't matter. She was responsible and she already lived with a lot of bad decisions.

  “Going dark,” she whispered into the phone, then killed the connection. She'd just cut him out. There was no going back now. In minutes she'd know whether she'd done the right thing. Switching to ear comms she gave the order to breach.

  She watched with pride as her men blew the door and entered the building, fanning out to cover and flank any possible opposition. Flash charges proceeded them all the way. A smaller detail lay in holding positions covering exits. All the power was killed and flares were lit so there was no possible pla
ce to hide. Cries of “secure” echoed throughout the building. Within thirty seconds every corner had been covered and checked. She knew, because she was right behind the lead men, her own gun drawn. After several minutes she turned in a slow circle, the tracker’s red dot in front of her. Nothing! He should be right in front of her.

  She signaled and one of her men threw the power switch turning the lights back on. Her men had regrouped with the main force in the largest room, basically the building's center. Somehow the place seemed larger from the inside than it had from the outside. She stood with her men in an empty room that looked like it had been a warehouse at one time. Now it held nothing. There were no counters, no boxes, not even a rug to cover the concrete flooring. She checked her phone in puzzlement. The red dot blinked right next to her blue dot. According to the tracker he was standing right beside her.

  “What the hell?” she muttered. Then her phone vibrated. She had a call.

  The voice at the other end was apoplectic. “Status!” Just one word, but barked with such military crispness she winced.

  “A successful breach, Sir,” she'd already decided to add all the suck up "Sirs" she could possibly fit into her conversation. “No casualties.” Now for the bad part. “Unfortunately we've raided a building that appears to be empty despite what the tracker is telling me,” she finished, waiting for the inevitable wave of invective that was sure to follow. When it came it was an awesome stream of cursing that spoke of a long military career.

  “You say your tracker is still reporting back,” he asked at last.

  “Yes,” she replied, relieved he was finally getting back to the task at hand. “But the location marker is fading in and out as if it finds him and then loses him almost immediately.”

  “You've checked the floors for the pin? He may have discovered it and sent you on a trip to find a goose.”