Hunter

by Sharon Partington

I didn’t reply.

  “Your arrival has caused quite a disturbance in our little community,” he said. “It’s not often we’re given the pleasure of rehabilitating such a dangerous threat to galactic security. I believe that is what the judge declared you, isn’t it? A threat to galactic security?”

  The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Listening to you spout bullshit, is that part of my rehabilitation?”

  He smiled coldly. “Such defiance. You obviously have severe authority issues. We’ll have to do something to correct those.”

  He powered up the stun-lance at his belt then unclipped my leash and nodded toward the corridor leading away from the guard station. “Your new home awaits. Please, proceed.”

  I felt him behind me, an ominous, threatening presence that made my skin crawl.

  An elevator waited at the end of the corridor. The doors slid open at our approach and he motioned me inside. We began to descend, the flashing orange bar above the door marking our progress. The drop seemed to last forever. Finally, the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened into a long, gray, concrete walled corridor lit by a continuous string of white fluorescent lights, steel doors spaced evenly along its length. Midway down the corridor, Healey ordered me to stop. He unsealed one of the doors on the left and shoved me inside. The lights came on as I entered revealing a narrow metal bunk covered with a coarse gray blanket, a table with a single metal chair, and a sink and toilet bolted to the wall.

  Great. All the comforts of home.

  He followed me inside and I waited for him to remove the restraints and go. Instead, the door slid shut with a solid click and I gasped at the bolt of electric agony that drove me to my knees. It left me doubled over, retching, struggling to breathe. Healey grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back, forcing me to look into frozen, sadistic eyes.

  “Now, Brassan,” he hissed, “I think it’s time we began your rehabilitation.”

  ◆◆◆

  Time was a different concept on level thirty-nine of the Blackgate, measured by the scrape of meal trays sliding through the slot in the door and lights out. Exercise consisted of two hours a day in an enclosed outdoor yard surrounded by the worst psychos, drug lords, and criminal assholes in the galaxy. What little shade there was had already been claimed by those inmates higher up the prison food chain. I spent the first couple of weeks working out the pecking order.

  Healey hadn’t been kidding when he said my reputation had preceded me. My personal body count was impressive enough to earn me some respect even among these degenerates and I was left pretty much to myself, which suited me just fine. There were one or two little rat-bags who attempted to befriend me, no doubt thinking I’d leap to their defense should the situation arise. I squashed that notion quickly and violently. Fuck them all—I just wanted to do my time, and survive to see the next lights out.

  The heat and dust in the yard made the daily exercise sessions something to be endured rather than enjoyed. Guards with laser rifles manned a narrow catwalk around the perimeter of the wall, but inmates were left to fend for themselves if trouble developed, and the guards made bets among themselves as to who they thought would survive the fights. A lot of money changed hands up on that catwalk as the bodies were carried out on hoverboards.

  I never knew when Healey would show up to give me my “lesson.” Sometimes he came a couple of times a day, other times a week would go by before he put in an appearance. The uncertainty kept me off balance and always on edge.

  “Behavior Modification” he called it. “Rehabilitation.”

  I tried fighting back in the beginning. I even had the satisfying pleasure of breaking the fucker’s nose, but that only made it worse. Assault on a guard was a no-no of epic proportions whatever the provocation, and I was tossed into Isolation while I contemplated the various ways in which I might adjust my unfortunate attitude.

  The guards on level sixty were in a frightening league all their own. After my first few days down there, I developed a whole new appreciation for Alden Healey and his stun-lance. He might be a sadistic son of a bitch, but at least he wasn’t totally fucking insane.

  Escape was never far from my mind, but though feasible enough in theory, it was next to impossible in practice. Individual cells sat forty levels beneath the desert floor, auto locked, with no exterior windows. Trips to and from the exercise yard were spent leashed to the guy ahead and behind, and the walled yard was topped with a high voltage energy barrier designed to deter the adventurous. Meals were eaten in the cells and showers were a weekly event taken in the company of armed guards.

  Prison nights were worse than the days. Laying on that rock-hard mattress, obsessing about Gina. The circumstances surrounding my arrest played in a continuous loop through my memory. During the day I could bury my fury in prison routine and the fight to stay alive, but once the lights went out, it was just her and me. Her betrayal was an open wound I couldn’t stop picking at. We’d had a connection, she and I. An intimate and emotional history. She’d used that against me, and it was something I couldn’t forget or forgive.

  It was hard to keep an accurate count of the days. Without the visual reminders of sunrise and sunset my internal clock had nothing to ground itself on, and one day blurred into another. The only variation came in the number of times Healey appeared to give me my “lesson,” or in how many prisoners died in the yard. Weeks. Months. Those words had no real meaning. The universe outside the Blackgate had receded to a small, distant place far beyond my reach and I felt lost in this nebulous gray area where time didn’t exist.

  Somewhere in that timeless gray fog, the auto-lock on my cell beeped, and the world outside flooded back in.

  “Your lessons have been cut short, Brassan,” Healey said. “You’re being transferred.”

  Doubt niggled at me. What was this? Some new variation of his twisted little game? “Transferred where?”

  He unclipped the restraints from his belt and secured my hands in front of me. His only answer was the high-pitched whine of the stun-lance as he powered it up and motioned for me to leave the cell.

  Questions buzzed through my head. I wasn’t supposed to be transferred anywhere. So far as I knew, I was destined to live out the rest of my life in that bloody cell. And the rest of my life wouldn’t be that long if Alden Healey had his way.

  There was something vaguely familiar about the transport driver waiting in the central holding area. I glimpsed blond hair beneath the helmet, and for one brief, ridiculous moment, I thought it was Gina. He turned blue eyes to look at me and I lowered my gaze to hide my surprise.

  Not Gina. Her brother, Kenny.

  Healey handed over my leash without comment and Kenny turned his gaze back to the guard who scribbled a number across the top of a sheaf of papers and passed them back.

  “We expect confirmation of the prisoner’s arrival at the Arcturon.”

  Kenny nodded once and folded the orders, slipping them into the courier’s pouch at his belt, then he prodded me toward the main doors and exit. We passed into the heat of the courtyard, beneath the guards and cannons. My eyes watered and I squinted against the glare of the desert sun.

  I was dreaming, I had to be. Any minute now, I’d wake up back in my cell.

  I resisted the urge to bolt, waiting for the voice that would stop us. Waiting for the blast from the lasers that would cut us down.

  Kenny opened the rear door of the transport and motioned me inside then locked it behind me. I wanted to ask how he thought we could ever get away with this, but the blast proof partition between us discouraged conversation.

  We drove to the gate and I kept my eyes glued to the floor as we approached the main checkpoint. The sentry examined the orders and I heard him and Kenny talking but couldn’t make out the words. The guard returned to the guardhouse and I closed my eyes against the painful tension in my gut. Sweat trickled down my collar, sticking my coveralls to me like a scratchy, chaffing, second skin. The heat ma
de my head throb, my throat felt dry and tight, and I struggled against the urge to puke.

  It would end right here. They’d never let me go.

  The sentry returned with Kenny’s orders and waved us past. Beyond the energy barrier waited the open desert and freedom. Kenny urged the transport forward, the barrier flickered off, and we drove through. I watched it flicker back on behind us.

  We were out. Jesus....

  The intercom crackled. “Hey, Cap. The master code for those restraints is zero-nine-zero-zero-one if you want to get them off.”

  I fumbled with the code. “Sure it will work?”

  “It had better,” Kenny replied. “I paid enough for it.”

  The lock released on the second try, and the restraints fell off with a clunk. I rubbed the circulation back into my wrists as I stared out at the desert. The sky was a dusky mauve and heat rose in shimmering waves from the broken rock and sand. It was hotter than the ninth circle of hell and just about as hospitable.

  I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

  We’d almost reached the main road when a vehicle emerged from the haze of dust and heat behind us. My heart leapt to my throat and I struggled against the panic that rose to choke me as I recognized the prison vehicle on our tail.

  They’d figured it out and sent a detail to get me back!

  Kenny glanced at the approaching vehicle in the rearview mirror. His eyes met mine and it was clear we both had the same thought.

  “This crate won’t outrun them,” he said. “There’s a blast rifle under the seat. Stand ready.”

  I drew out the rifle, sliding the energy beam to max as I watched the vehicle draw closer. I thought about my recent past, and a core of grim determination mixed with a rush of cold fear and desperation settled over me.

  Whatever happened in the next five minutes, I’d die before I let them take me back to Alden Healey and his stun-lance.

  The prison vehicle came up behind us—not the police vehicle I expected, but a supply truck. It passed us by, turning west at the junction with the main road. I powered down the rifle and closed my eyes as an enormous tide of relief swept through me.

  It wasn’t a dream. I was really out. Jesus....

  The transport bumped and rattled through the desert until we reached a small canyon where a hover-car waited. Kenny stopped and hopped out. A moment later, the back door opened and he stood there with this stupid, shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Hey, Cap. Good to see you again.”

  ◆◆◆

  The safe house sat in the middle of a block of warehouses close to the Azrian spaceport. It wasn’t big, only three rooms, but after spending what my stir-crazy brain estimated to be close to a year in a nine by twelve foot cell, it seemed almost luxurious.

  Kenny pointed me in the direction of the single bedroom. “You’ll find clean clothes in there, and there’s a shower across the hall. Don’t toss the prison blues, you’ll need them when we leave.”

  “What’s going on, Ken. What am I doing here?”

  “Explanations later. Shower and eat first.”

  I nodded reluctantly and headed for the bathroom where I stripped off the coveralls. It was a very freeing experience, seeing them in that filthy little pile on the floor, and I shivered. Despite Kenny’s admonition, I hated the thought of wearing them again.

  The hot water pounded the remaining tension from my shoulders and back. It was the first shower I’d taken in months without a dozen other guys and a couple of guards for company and I enjoyed every solitary, steam-filled minute. When I emerged half an hour later I almost felt like a human being again.

  A narrow cot and scratched wardrobe filled the small bedroom, and the single window gave a terrific view of the building next door, but there were no auto-locks. No guards. Faded jeans, white socks, and a white T-shirt lay on the bed. I dressed, then sat for a moment listening to the sound of Kenny moving around the other room.

  Smells drifted through the closed bedroom door: fried mushrooms in butter. A steak grilling.

  My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled in anticipation. Real, honest to Christ, food. Not the prison slop I’d subsisted on for the better part of the past year.

  In spite of the distracting smells wafting from the other room, my mind couldn’t help chewing over Kenny’s possible motives for getting me out of prison. Call me an ungrateful bastard, but I suspected he hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted something. I’d learned from experience that the Brianis, as a general rule, never did anything for anyone unless they expected something in return.

  Quid pro quo.

  The beauty of my escape lay in the fact that no one knew I was free. That gave Kenny a huge advantage.

  What was he up to?

  Dinner was ready when I came out of the bedroom. Kenny didn’t say much as I ate; he just leaned against the counter watching me. When I was done, he poured us each a glass of rum and pulled up a chair to sit across from me. He looked a lot like his sister—the same blue eyes, the same blond hair. It was a reminder I didn’t need.

  “So. How’d you know?” I asked.

  He snorted. “It’s not exactly a secret. The Doranis have been crowing for months about how they snatched the mighty Hunter out from under the nose of the Galactic Federation. Of course, they left out the part our Gina played in their little triumph.”

  “So, where is your Gina? She and I need to have a conversation.”

  He shrugged. “Last I heard she was on her way to the Lyrian system to pick up a shipment of dream crystals.”

  “Dream crystals? Antonio Briani running drugs? I thought that’s where he drew the line?”

  “It is,” Kenny’s fingers clenched around his glass. “Or it was. Dad doesn’t run the show anymore; Gina retired him.”

  I remembered what Antonio Briani had said to me once, when I asked him if he’d ever retire. I’ll retire when I’m dead.

  “When did she do that?”

  “A couple of months before she invited you to that party onboard Bellissima. The Doranis caught her with a load of plasma weapons destined for the rebels on Andros Prime. They were all set to impound the ship and turn her over to the Galactic Federation when she offered to cut a deal. Her cargo for the most wanted man in the galaxy.”

  “Me.”

  “Yep.”

  As easy as that. No remorse. No second thoughts.

  Betraying bitch.

  “What about you? No room for you in little sister’s organization?”

  “She offered. I refused. I’d have killed her with my bare hands if her crew hadn’t dragged me off the ship at Norbrand.”

  “So, what happened between her and your dad?”

  Kenny shook his head as he poured me another drink. “She set him up, Gage. Did him cold. She’d been bugging the shit out of him the past few years, trying to get him to include drugs in his cargo. He always refused. He said some things weren’t worth the risk. About a year and a half ago she came to him, said she had this crystal supplier all lined up. He’d pay us a quarter of a million credits a run, all dad had to do was say the word. Man, he flipped. Called her a sneaky bitch, making deals like that behind his back. Said that so long as Bellissima was his ship ‘there was no way she was going to run crystal shit for no fucked up Lyrian drug lord.’

  “About three months later, Gina said she’d arranged a meet with a weapons buyer at the abandoned lunar base on Ries Four. When dad went down to close the deal she sent a Sorrellian T-forty-one into the base’s main shield generator. The size of the crater was almost as impressive as the light show. After that, she ran everything. Including the drugs.”

  “Sounds like your Gina’s been a busy girl. What about the orders and prisoner transport you used to spring me? Where did those come from?”

  “I called in a few favors. Gina may have been our father’s favorite, but the old bastard did teach me a thing or two.”

  “Uh huh. Not that I don’t appreciate a
ll the trouble you’ve gone to to save my ass, but how much is this going to cost me?”

  “Gina crossed the line, Gage. And since she’s directly responsible for your unfortunate incarceration I thought I’d offer you the chance to even the score. Didn’t you say that you and she needed to have a conversation?”

  I chuckled. “You want me to kill her? Not that I haven’t thought about it, but why not do it yourself?”

  “I’d never get close enough, not after our last family discussion. But you can. Everyone believes you’re locked away in the Blackgate, the most secure correctional facility in the galaxy.” He smiled. “No one ever escapes from there.”

  I thought about the past year. The hours I’d spent nursing my rage, trying to stay sane in the nerve shattering silence while I waited for Alden Healey to beat me to death. Outmaneuvering the assholes in the exercise yard as we engaged in the daily prison pissing contest. Wondering if maybe today was the day they’d carry me out on that damn hoverboard.

  “All right. You find her, and I’ll do it. Hell,” I added, with a grim smile, “all things considered, I’ll even do it for free.”

  Chapter 5

  We continued the “prisoner transfer” charade at the Azrian spaceport. Tyrian Six is home to not only the maximum security Blackgate but several medium and minimum security facilities as well. The Ministry of Justice operated a satellite office at the port and officials were very particular about who left the planet and under what circumstances. Transports of various sizes, from various jurisdictions, cluttered the docking platforms and there were uniforms everywhere. Most were the gray and blue of the Dorani Sector Security Force, but I recognized others as well, including the red and black of the GSF’s Military Police. I wasn’t the only prisoner under escort; security restraints and stun-lances appeared to be the accessories of choice.

  Kenny’s ship was docked midway down the concourse. A medium sized Galaxy Class cruiser, it bore the insignia of the Terran Home System Security Agency.

  How much had it cost him for that little deception? Add that to the forged transfer documents and prisoner transport, and this thing bloomed into a fairly big-budget operation. He said he’d called in favors to mount this adventure; he must have held some serious markers.