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DLSIJ Press
www.dlsijpress.com
Copyright ©2004 Michelle O'Leary
First Published by DLSIJ Press, March 2003
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Heart of Stone
"Wait for it,” her father murmured in her ear, his bulk a warm presence at her back. His arms steadied her as they perched on the wide branch, her rifle tucked against her shoulder. Rain slipped into her eyes and she blinked frantically, keeping the cat in her sights.
It was at the edge of the clearing, crouching in a wild abundance of green foliage. She knew it was there by the shifting of leaves and the occasional exposure of striped fur, but she didn't have a clear shot. A Nacrid cat, a huge beast known to be one of the best predators in the galaxy.
But not the best, Regan thought as she chanced a quick glance at the other end of the clearing. Her mother was even less visible than the cat, a shadow among shadows in the rain drenched jungle.
"It knows,” she whispered to her father, counting on the endless patter of raindrops to cover her voice.
"Just wait,” he responded.
Regan reminded herself to breathe, listening to the throb of her heart and the susurration of rain and wind, as she watched the cat through her sights. It was a beautiful animal, striped black over grey, pure power in its sleek limbs and clear cunning in its grey eyes. She was glad she'd insisted on a tranq gun instead of a true rifle. Killing such a perfect creature of Nature would be a crime.
Movement caught her eye, and she glanced up with a gasp as her mother stepped out into the clearing—making herself vulnerable.
Her father growled, but Regan didn't need the reminder—she was already focusing her attention on the cat again. The appearance of her mother had galvanized the beast. It slunk forward, ears flat against its head as it came to the last of its green cover.
Regan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing her grip on the rifle and clearing her mind of everything but the target, as she'd been taught. It would attack now, she knew. She just hadn't realized how fast it would be.
One second it was crouched in the green; the next it had burst from cover in a blur of grey and black, streaking towards her mother. A little zip of panic raced down her spine, but she squashed it, reacting with quick calm to shift her rifle ahead of the creature, leading the target a bit. As it bunched its muscles for a final spring at her mother, she squeezed the trigger.
The rifle fired, but nothing seemed to happen. Regan watched in horror as the cat continued its spring, white claws and teeth flashing in the gloom and its roar shaking the jungle. At the last moment, her mother seemed to disappear from in front of the beast; she dropped so swiftly. Twisting underneath the airborne cat, Mea drove both feet into its chest, launching it away from her.
It sprawled in the green with a snarl, before struggling to regain its feet. The tranquilizer seemed to take effect then, plunging it face first into unconsciousness.
Crouching in the middle of the clearing, Mea lifted her face into the rain and smiled up at them, before saying, “End program."
Regan's heart was still hammering away at light speed when the jungle dissolved around her, becoming the blackness behind her VR hood. Gasping, she pulled it off of her face, twitching against the wires as she was lowered to the training room floor. Her legs felt like rubber, so she didn't bother to stand, instead sinking to her knees and trying to control her breathing. Just a virtual reality program, she tried to tell her racing heart, but it had all seemed so real. The jungle, the rain, the cat ... the threat to her mother's life.
"You okay, kid?” her father asked at her side, his warm hand settling on the back of her neck.
"Yeah,” she said, shooting him a quick, shaky grin. “Just thought it'd gone to hell at the end there."
"Like I'd let Oscar eat me,” her mother murmured in amusement, as she unhooked the wires from Regan's suit. “No faith, sugar."
"Oscar?” her father scoffed, giving Mea a disgusted look.
"I tried Wilber for a while, but he never comes to that name,” her mother said with a teasing grin.
"No wonder it tried to eat you,” Stone snorted.
Regan snickered, sinking down into a cross-legged position and rubbing absently at the tingling itch of the VR suit. She knew they were giving her time to recover, and she was grateful for it. It hadn't been the first time they'd taken her to see the Nacrid, but this was the first time she'd been a part of the hunt. The intensity had been both terrifying and exhilarating. She wondered if a hunt would always be that way.
"Feel better, baby?” her mother asked with a gentle lift of her lips, green eyes warm as she brushed a strand of hair away from Regan's face.
"Yeah, I'm okay, Mom."
"Good,” Mea said, her expression changing to what Regan liked to think of as her teacher's face, both stern and patient. “So tell me what happened. Take me through it step by step."
Regan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she tried to put her thoughts in order.
The experience unrolled in her memory in flashes of bright color and rich sensations. She closed her eyes and started at the beginning.
"Our mission today was to bring down a Nacrid cat. We entered its territory, scouting to fix its position. It was in its lair. Mom stood watch to make sure it stayed there, while me and Dad picked out a good position downwind for an ambush. We found a tree with a clear spot and climbed up in it. It started to rain, which wasn't good—"
"Why not?” Mea interrupted.
Regan opened her eyes, blinking at her mother and chewing on the inside of her lip for a moment, before she answered, “Rain's good for covering smells and sound, but it got in my eyes and made the rifle slippery. Plus, it made it hard to stay in the tree."
"So why stay?"
This time she didn't hesitate. “Because it was high ground, safer and harder for the cat to get at us. Better hiding spot, too, off the ground and covered by leaves, plus it put our scent further away from the ground."
"Good,” Mea said, nodding. “Keep going."
Regan felt her chest expand at her mother's approval, but she did her best to hide it. “Mom, you were the bait for the trap, luring the cat our way. The plan was to get it out in the open so I could shoot it down. But the thing wouldn't break cover; it knew we were there.” She paused, biting her lip while her brows pulled together in a frown.
"How did it know?” Mea asked, watching her with shrewd eyes.
Regan grimaced. She knew that question was coming. “I don't know,” she muttered, looking down.
"So why did it finally break cover?"
"Because you came out in the open. It could see you clear, and ... and...” Regan scrunched her brows together, knowing the lesson was right there in front of her, but frustrated that she couldn't see it.
"Don't break your brain, kid,” Stone rumbled with amusement, giving her a gentle poke in her side. “It ain't that hard."
She made a face at him, because for her father these lessons were always clear—he'd lived and breathed survival all his life.
"What was the cat thinking?” Mea asked, her tone as patient and relentless as time.
Regan nodded, acknowledging the prompt, and closed her eyes again, putting herself back in the clearing. She was in the tree, her father bracing her. Her mother was down below, standing like a
sacrifice in the open. And the cat ... the cat...
"Oh,” she breathed, opening her eyes and seeing a smile form on her mother's lips. “It wasn't thinking—that's the point. It's instinct. It didn't smell or hear us, but it knew we were there all the same, because it was a clear space, and clear spaces mean danger, especially since you'd stopped on the other side. It was going to go around, wasn't it?"
"Yes,” Mea confirmed, eyes crinkling at the edges. “But it didn't. Why not?"
"Because you made a target of yourself. You made it too easy..."
"I baited the trap with something it couldn't resist. I used the cat's instincts against it, overruling the danger it sensed with the temptation of easy prey. This works with all predators, especially human ones. Always assume the target knows there's a trap, and always make sure the bait is enough to draw them into it anyway."
"But, Mom, it was such a risk,” Regan said softly. “What if I didn't hit the thing?"
Mea grinned. “Never set up a trap in the first place without knowing the odds are in your favor. Why do you think Bay was up there with you? If you hadn't done it, he would have. Besides, I've been playing with Oscar for years. I think I know his tricks pretty well by now."
Regan gave her mother a disgusted look. “You could've told me that,” she grumbled. “Scared the crap outta me when it jumped at you."
"Trusting the other members of your hunting pack is also important. I didn't doubt for a second that you'd put Oscar down for a nap,” Mea said with a wink. “But you haven't told me what we were really doing there. Forget traps and bait. We could have done those with any scenario. Why the Nacrid? What's the real lesson we want you to learn?"
Folding her hands together, Regan stared down at her linked fingers and thought about it. Why the cat? What was so special about it? “Because it's a true hunter,” she muttered at her fingers, thinking hard. “It's the most basic kind of hunter, the purest kind. I need to learn how to use my instincts, and the Nacrid can teach me that."
"Good,” Mea said. “What else?"
What else? Regan looked up into her mother's eyes, confused. What else had she learned? Traps and bait and instincts ... Oh.
"You want me to think like both hunter and target."
"Like predator and prey,” her father agreed, ruffling her hair. “Why?"
"So I can figure out how they'll react to what I'm doing, and plan ahead."
"Anticipating their actions in advance. Very good, sugar,” Mea said, a warm smile on her lovely face.
Regan smiled back, a glow filling her as she looked from one to the other, basking in their approval. How she loved these two people, these parents of hers! But even as the thought crossed her mind, a shadow crept over the glow. Mea was her mother in truth, the adoption complete and binding, her love a steady, reliable shelter. But though Stone had said over and over that he was here to stay, there was nothing binding to keep him here. The two of them had mentioned a hunting partner contract, but those were yearly things and not signed yet. There'd been no mention of a marriage contract or Stone officially adopting Regan.
Looking from one to the other, Regan felt the old, familiar fear tighten around her chest. She wanted to believe Stone, she did. But his past record wasn't too good on that score.
"But we did make one mistake,” Mea broke in on her thoughts, and Regan blinked, trying to remember where they'd been in the lesson.
"What mistake?” she said blankly.
"Think about it. What did we do when we entered the Nacrid's territory?"
"We ... we searched and found the cat in its lair."
"What didn't we do?"
Regan thought about it, chewing on her lip, but her concentration was blown. She gave up with a shake of her head.
"We didn't look for more. That was another reason the two of you ended up in a tree, a precaution against an unexpected attack. Always know your retreats, and make sure there's a clean exit. But we didn't have one."
"Except ‘end program,'” Regan said with a cheeky grin.
Mea smiled back, but her eyes were solemn. “Can't use that one in real life, sugar."
Regan nodded, vowing to remember next time. “Can we go again?"
Mea chuckled, rising to her feet. “I don't know where you get the energy. And here I thought I would be the one wearing you out with these lessons. It's dinner time—let's go eat and pick this up tomorrow."
"'Kay,” Regan agreed without protest. Her stomach had perked up at the mention of dinner.
As they made their way towards the hatch leading to the next level, she glanced between them again and cleared her throat. As casually as she could, she asked, “So you're really gonna be partners, right?"
"Yup,” Stone responded without hesitation, his expression untroubled. “Soon as we get there, we'll sign."
Mea chuckled. “Well, since it'll be in the middle of the night on Belata when we get there, we should probably wait until morning. You know how cranky Mike is when you wake him up."
"He'll live,” Stone said and hoisted Regan up the ladder.
With a secret smile of relief, Regan clambered up to the next level. A year's partner contract was better than nothing.
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"Where are you two going?” Mea asked, staring at Warren and Regan as they stepped out of the hatch of the Starfire.
"We're coming with you,” Warren said, slinging an arm across Regan's shoulders. The android's expression was too bland, and Regan's eyes twinkled with secret amusement.
Mea eyed them suspiciously. “Why?"
Warren glowered at her. “Why the hell not?” he snapped. “You keep me cooped up on that ship any longer and I'll blow a circuit. Besides, it's a pretty big occasion, and I think Regan should be there."
"All right,” Mea said in a placating tone, waving them towards the transport. “Be my guest.” She followed them down the ramp, shaking her head at Stone when she reached him.
"What's with him?” Stone asked, jerking a thumb in Warren's direction.
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “He's in one of his moods."
"Great,” he muttered, climbing into the transport after the other two.
Mea agreed silently, boarding the craft and sitting next to Stone, across from Warren and Regan. The two looked like conspirators. The girl was smiling, her dark eyes twinkling with something that could either be happiness or mischief. The android was gazing out the window, his expression one of bland disinterest.
On any other day, Mea would call them on it, grilling Warren until he caved and told her why they really wanted to go to this meeting with Uncle Mike. But she had discovered, to her immense surprise, that she was nervous. Not about her own part in the signing, but about Stone's. She had no qualms about the partner contract herself—there wasn't another pair more ideally suited to be hunting partners, as far as she was concerned. But what did Stone really think about making a commitment to her? A commitment of any kind?
She loved him more than her own life. He was the other half of her, and she'd told him so on many occasions. But he'd told her that he didn't know what love was. And the most he'd ever committed to as far as their relationship was concerned was that he needed her to survive. But for how long? When they'd first met, he hadn't known how to be part of a real society. But he was learning. Would he decide at some point that he didn't need her anymore?
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked unperturbed, arms folded and expression stoic as he watched the scenery pass by the window. It was his usual expression, but there was no telltale tension around his mouth or across his shoulders. He looked ... relaxed. She wished she felt the same way.
The trip to HQ passed in silence, but Regan was still wearing her smile when they arrived. She practically bounced out of the transport, and Stone lifted his eyebrows at Mea as they rose to leave.
She shrugged again. “We need to let her out more?” she hazarded, and his lips quirked in amusement.
Uncle Mike's do
or was open when they arrived at his office, and they found him grumbling to himself at his desk as he rummaged through a stack of digital pads.
"Good morning,” Mea greeted him as they approached.
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?” he growled, shooting her an aggrieved look before continuing his shuffling. “But then again, you weren't woken up by a pair of self-centered hunters who don't know enough to do business at a decent hour."
"Those inconsiderate bastards,” Mea drawled. “Whoever would do such a thing?"
"Oh, sit down, you pain in my ass,” he grumbled without looking up at her.
"Love you, too, Uncle Mike,” she said sweetly, sitting in the chairs that were placed in front of his desk.
Stone sprawled in one next to her, but Warren and Regan moved to the seats along the wall. Front row seats to the show, Mea thought with a pang of alarm, but chocked it up to signing jitters.
"They were right here last night,” Mike snarled as he searched through the pads. “Where the hell ... ah, here they are.” Fisting two pads, he shoved the rest out of the way without ceremony, swearing absently when one pitched over the side of the desk and crashed to the floor. Shifting one digital pad to his other hand, he looked between the two with a frown of concentration pulling at his bushy brows.
Mea watched him with vague concern. It wasn't like Mike to be so disorganized or to stall as he so obviously was doing. If she had to guess, she'd think he was nervous. The thought sped up her heart rate. She looked at the pads in his hands with growing alarm. What's going on?
"Ahem. So here we are, contract signing time,” Mike said in a distracted tone, not looking up at the two of them. “I've got your partner contract here.” He shoved one of the pads towards them and then tapped on the other in his hand with a thoughtful frown. Clearing his throat, he shot each of them an enigmatic look before looking back down at the object in his fist. “And,” he said with slow care, “I've taken the liberty of drawing up a marriage contract as well."
Mother of God, Mea thought as her heart began ricocheting off of her ribs. “What?"
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