His swearing gained volume until he was shouting, and Ema raised her own voice, sounding exasperated and at the end of patience.
"What did you want her to do, Stone, force you to stay?"
"Yes! I mean, no. Fuck!"
Her laughter drove him out of the infirmary, and he stormed up the corridor to the control room, vision tainted red by a haze of fury. Ignoring the tremor in his hands, he quickly initiated launching protocol.
"You wanna play, Hunter; we'll play," he muttered in a guttural snarl, but the ship's systems would only let him get so far, and then he was pushed out. With a curse he started over—and got the same result. Just as he was trying a third time, the intercom clicked discreetly to his left.
"Ahem! I hate to bring this up because you seem just a little bitter, but Mea locked you out of the systems this morning. She said you could take anything else but the ship."
He let out another string of curses and looked for something to throw.
"Well, am I getting an education today! I don't think that last one's anatomically possible, though—"
He found a digital pad on one of the seats and flung it at the intercom, turning away even as it exploded with a satisfying crunch.
"Temper, temper…"
Her voice followed him out of the control room, and he seriously considered going back into the infirmary and smashing her crystal. But if it wasn't Mea's neck he was wringing, it wasn't worth his time. Stalking down the corridor to his quarters, he decided it was past time he shook them off the back of his neck and got the hell out of there.
"Way past fuckin' time," he muttered under his breath as he yanked a carrysack out of the wall and started shoving clothes into it. When that was done, he marched to the mess hall and pilfered some field rations before heading back to the control room and the weapons stashed there. Seething with pent up anger and frustration, he outfitted himself with nearly every kind of equipment and weapon there was in the receptacle. When he was satisfied, he swung without hesitation into the corridor and down to the hatch.
When the hatch opened, Stone was rocked back on his heels by a wall of intense, baking heat. The sunlight was a sullen orange color, but the shadows were all wrong for it to be a sunset. Stepping out onto the ramp against that heavy heat, he looked up and found out why. There were two suns; one a red giant and the other a smaller yellow, the giant chasing the other across the sky like a huge, malevolent and bloody god. Their combined force was an angry orange, making the air shimmer with dense heat.
It suited his mood just fine. Stalking down the ramp, he left the port without a single look back, feet kicking up little puffs of dust from the landing pad.
Stone was watching the two suns battle it out on the horizon several hours later when Mea's transport darted into his line of sight. He was on the roof of the tallest building in this port city, which wasn't saying much—it was only a three-story. All the buildings were low and long as though flattened by the force of the suns, radiating out from the spaceport like disjointed spokes on a wheel. As far as he could see, Xerxes was a rocky desert, flat at the port, but rising to the north into a huge mountain range thrust into the sky like broken, accusing fingers.
This building was the location he'd chosen after he'd calmed down a little and his brain started working like it was supposed to. This was where he'd decided to watch for their return so that he'd know when she started hunting him again. In his mind it was definitely when and not if. She'd put herself, family, and friends in danger and had spent too much time and effort on this little game of hers to just drop it. He'd become expensive prey, and she couldn't afford to let him go now. He was positive that she'd be hunting him again.
But this time, he'd be ready. She wasn't the only one who knew how to hunt, and this time he was armed to the teeth with every gizmo and gadget in the hunter playbook. Let's see how she likes being stalked for a change, he thought with a feral grin as he watched her transport dock with the Starfire. Maybe he'd take her prisoner for a while.
He relished this thought for a second, his heart taking on an eager pace at the possibilities. He straightened, starting a final check on his weaponry when a silver flash caught his eye. Lifting his head, he stared in puzzlement at first, confused by what he was seeing. It looked like the Starfire was lifting off. Just then the yellow sun lost its battle, dropping below the horizon with a suddenness like death, and the world was bathed in crimson light. The Starfire turned and flashed with reckless speed across the bloody sky like a scalpel over an open wound. As Stone tracked its progress, reality hit home.
She was leaving. And that was only the first of the blows reality was dealing out just then. They rained down on him like an avalanche. She was letting him go. She'd been telling the truth. He was losing them both.
One last bright gleam and the Starfire was gone. The now familiar pit opened its jaws at his feet, and this time there was no scrambling back from the edge, no escape. The ground didn't crumble—it disintegrated, and he plunged into endless darkness, swallowed whole by the realization that he'd been running the wrong way.
Do you really think you're better off alone? He finally had the answer.
Physically, he staggered, catching himself against the abutment at the edge of the roof, but barely aware of this, eyes still fixed on the sky where they had gone. Everything he could have wanted, everything that might have made him whole. Gone.
Pain. Sharp claws stabbing through his chest and ripping him open. The sensation was so real, he looked down at himself to see if his guts were pooling around his feet, but there was no wound, no blood except that of the dying sun. It was only despair in the plunging darkness of his mind that was shredding him like a ravenous animal.
Dazed, he turned away, moving slowly like a man in a dream—or a nightmare. Shouldering the carrysack, he descended to the street. Directionless, he wandered for a while, not noticing the strange and alarmed looks he got from passers-by.
Eventually he ended up at a bar. The place became dead silent when he walked in. He didn't notice. Slumping onto a seat at the bar, he stared sightlessly past the bartender. The man sidled uneasily up to him, waiting for his order. He didn't notice that either.
After a long, thick silence, the bartender cleared his throat nervously. "Need a drink, mister?"
Slowly Stone's attention focused on him, and the man's forehead beaded with anxious sweat. "Yeah."
Clumsily the bartender pulled out a creditor, and Stone put his thumb on the scan plate.
"And keep 'em comin'," he added in a hoarse voice.
When the man saw the amount of Stone's credit, he cheered visibly, smiling. "What's your poison, sir?"
"Don't care. Something strong."
"Strong I got." He moved away to make the drink, eyeing Stone over his shoulder. "Ya look like a dog done shit in your shoe. What'd ya lose, your best friend?"
"Heaven," Stone croaked, attention sliding away again into that dark place. "I lost heaven."
If he had looked up, he would have seen the man pause and stare at him with something like sympathy in his eyes. Moving back to Stone, the bartender placed a drink in front of him and spoke solemnly, "Welcome to hell, mister. Welcome to hell."
Chapter 22
Conley found him at the bar ten days later.
"You look like shit, convict."
It took a second for voice recognition to seep through the darkness and catch Stone, but when it did, he leapt to his feet, looking around behind Conley wildly.
"Where is she?" he rasped, voice rusty from disuse.
"I came alone." The older man eyed him speculatively for a second before placing a firm hand on his shoulder and pushing down. "Sit."
He sat, but only because his brain was swimming with alcohol and sudden hope, making the room roll. Conley lowered his big frame onto a seat next to him as the bartender rushed over.
"Hey, you know him? Could ya get him the hell outta my bar? Don't mind his credit, but he's done scared away half my
regulars and he's startin' ta stink up the—"
Conley shoved a heavy finger into the man's chest. "Stop talking now," he rumbled pleasantly, and the bartender's mouth snapped shut. "Go get me a beer."
The man backed cautiously away from that finger and opened his mouth again, but Conley cut him off. "No, I don't care what kind."
When he was gone, Conley turned his head to look at Stone again with the same glint of speculation in his eyes. Stone stared right back, clenching his hands into fists to hide their shaking.
"Why are you here? Where are they?" he asked as calmly as he could.
Conley acted as if he hadn't spoken, studying him for a long moment. "I hope she was right about you," he finally said, absently accepting his beer from the bartender and waving the man away without taking his eyes off Stone. Then he sighed and seemed to age about a decade, slumping wearily against the bar. "She'd better be right about you."
Something in his eyes sent a stab of alarm through Stone.
"What the hell happened? Why are you here?"
Conley looked away and downed the beer in three long swallows, then stared down into the empty glass. He was silent so long that Stone started to seriously consider strangling him.
"Twenty-two years it's been since I found her," he said conversationally to the glass as though he was picking up a story that he'd started a few minutes ago. "I can't believe it's been that long. Just seems like a few days ago. Her parents were miners, but not Guild. They had their own cozy, little family business, but that meant they had to stay out of the main commercial lines—had to go pretty far out to find 'roids the big sharks wouldn't take from them. Too far out. Got them in trouble."
"Drop the family history and just tell me what the fuck's going on!"
Conley shot him a cold look from under bushy eyebrows. "How 'bout you let me do this my way, Stone. Might just open your eyes about my Mea girl." He went back to studying his empty glass, and Stone ground his teeth in angry frustration, but kept silent. "We were on a hunt, Warren and I, when we got the distress signal. Since it was so far out, we decided to answer, figuring that nobody else was going to pass that way for a while. We figured wrong. As we got closer, we saw another ship leaving the asteroid Mea's family was mining. Suspicious, but I didn't want to chase them until I knew the status of the distressed ship. We landed, checked the ship out. Nobody home. They'd been there long enough to set up an artificial atmosphere in the tunnels and caves, so we were able to start searching right away. We weren't far into it when we heard singing—"
He lifted his head and stared off into space, mouth pulling down at the corners.
"It was the clearest, most angelic little voice you ever heard in your life. Like a little piece of heaven. We followed that voice, and I remember thinking things must be okay, if the girl could sing like that. God, I was so wrong. I've seen some pretty god-awful things in my life, but what we saw when we walked into that cavern is just about at the top of my list. Her father was strapped over some kind of drilling instrument. He'd been raped, beaten, half skinned—you could see bone in places on his back. Her mother was laying in the middle of the cavern, also raped, beaten, face sliced in so many places, you couldn't see features anymore. Both dead. Blood everywhere.
"And there was Mea, sitting with what was left of her mama's head in her lap, singing them a lullaby. Most heart-wrenching thing I ever saw. She wasn't even crying. Never found a scratch on her, and she never told me why. Maybe she hid until they left or maybe they just left her alone, I don't know, but the only blood on her was from her mother. It just about ripped my heart out to look in those big green eyes and tell her she'd have to leave them."
He paused, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Stone's heart was pounding out a rhythm of dread, and he felt frozen from head to toe. Something had happened, he was sure of it, but he couldn't seem to speak into the silence, to demand an answer.
"I tracked them down and killed them all, a lot more quick and humane than any of 'em deserved. Didn't even bother to put them into custody. First time I'd ever used the sanction to kill for something other than defending myself, but I didn't regret it, not then and not now. When I told her it was done, she just looked at me and said thank you. First words she ever spoke to me. And I swore to her—"
He pulled his hand away from his face and pounded it on the bar top, turning red glowering eyes toward Stone.
"I swore I would never let something like that happen to her again! Never!" Then he put his face in both hands, fingers digging into the flesh around his eyes. "I should never have given that mission to her."
Stone's paralysis broke, and he lunged at the older man, grabbing his shirt in both fists and nearly sending them both to the floor.
"Tell me!" he snarled into Conley's face, tensing in expectation of violence, but the director just looked at him with sorrow in his eyes.
"Mission went bad," he said simply. "They've been taken by slavers."
They? Stone gaped in disbelief at the other man.
"Both of them?"
"Yes, Mea and Regan. Warren's been deactivated and possibly dismantled. They left Ema alone."
He let go of Conley, straightening slowly. Shock and dread throbbed painfully behind his eyes. "Are they dead?"
"No. They're holding them as hostages, so they claim."
That was all Stone needed to hear. Snagging his carrysack and hoisting it to his shoulder, he headed toward the door with long, hard strides.
"Wait! I need your help—"
He didn't wait, nearly jogging toward the port even though the suns were an unbearable force of heat and light on his abused head. His eyes still hadn't adjusted—he hadn't given them the opportunity, and now it felt like hot pokers were being stabbed through his eyeballs even with his goggles on. Conley caught up with him in short time.
"I suppose I can talk and walk at the same time," he grumbled, shooting Stone an annoyed look out of the corner of his eye. "I need your help because I can't send any of mine in after them. I'd just be giving them more 'hostages.' They've figured out the composition of the metal alloy that hunters have on their bones. Hunters aren't the only ones who have metal grafted to their bones, you know—half the military has done it and most of the grunts that work for the Miner's Guild, but our alloy is the most flexible, strongest, and least likely to be rejected by the body. The composition is supposed to be a trade secret, but—"
He shrugged, squinting up at the suns balefully.
"Somebody leaked it. Now they have a way to tell the hunters apart from the rest of the rat race. They tagged Mea right away, and if I send one of mine in or I go myself, they'll know in a heartbeat. Short of an all out war, the Hunting Corp is helpless on this one. That's why I need your help. They won't know you from Joe Rat."
He paused, eyeing Stone closely. Stone tried very hard not to look like he was about to pass out from heat stroke, even though his head had started throbbing sickeningly and his brain felt several sizes too big for his skull.
"I know it means you'll be in danger. What'll it take to get you to go after them? If it's within my power to get it for you, it's yours."
"Conley, I'm already going. I may as well use you to get me there," he muttered, trying not to sound as nauseous as he felt. He didn't look at the other man, but he heard the relief in his voice.
"Thank you. I wasn't sure—" The older man cleared his throat, and Stone saw him shrug uncomfortably. "Anyway, I was hoping you'd say that, so I've already instated you as a hunter, full authority, including sanction to kill—ought not to be too hard for you. Been there before, haven't you, convict?"
Stone ignored his bitter dig, concentrating on walking in a straight line and not puking on the man's shoes. Apparently his silence was enough of an answer.
"I haven't forgotten what you are or what you did to my girls. I warned you what would happen if you hurt Mea, but if you get them out of there, consider your death sentence suspended."
The moment
called for sarcasm, but Stone just wasn't feeling up to it. Instead, his sun-baked brain zeroed in on a different part of the man's speech.
"What did she say?" he muttered through clenched teeth, staring desperately through the cruel light and heat haze at the street that continued on endlessly in front of them. Where the hell was the port?
"It wasn't what she said—didn't say anything, actually—it was how she looked. You put a stake through her heart, convict, and if the situation wasn't so damned desperate, I'd be ripping you into tiny pieces for it."
The older man's tone was conversational, but Stone could feel the anger baking off of him like a third sun. That and hearing what he'd done to Mea didn't help his nausea any. They walked on in silence for a few minutes while Conley got his anger under control and began watching Stone without a hint of pity.
"What were you trying to do back there, drink yourself stupid or dead?"
"Already been stupid."
"No argument here," Conley scoffed, then muttered something low and angry. "Give me the damned bag before you fall on your face. You're no good to me flat out with heat stroke, you numb-headed, piece of…" The rest was lost as he grumbled irritably under his breath.
Stone ignored his insults and gratefully let the carryall slide off his shoulder. He was past pride, concentrating on just putting one foot in front of the other.
Suddenly the endless walk was over, and Conley was shoving him up the ramp of a ship. When he stepped through the hatch, the cool relief inside made his head reel, and he staggered. Leaning on one wall, he pressed his overheated forehead against the cold metal gratefully and thought he might just stay like that forever.
"The infirmary's just around the corner. You can lie down."
Stone ignored him.
The Huntress Page 20