The older man sighed impatiently. "Don't make me carry you, convict."
It seemed he still had some pride left after all. He straightened and moved off down the corridor, only occasionally bracing a hand on the hull as he went. Stepping through the door that Conley pointed to, he immediately went to the EMU's table and laid down on it with a relieved groan.
"This one is not in good shape, Director," a mild voice said in tones that could have been either male or female. "He is suffering from mild heat stroke, dehydration, intoxication, malnutrition, and sleep deprivation. He won't be ready for cryogenics for at least—"
"He's not a target, Min."
"Ah. My apologies."
Stone shut his eyes against the light, barely noticing the needles pricking his arm. He was feeling better by the second, and urgency was starting to gnaw at him again.
"I will do what I can for him, but when he wakes up I will require him to eat and drink. I'll give you a list of what he needs—"
"What I need is to be on the move. If you don't start this ship, Conley, I will."
He didn't hear the director's answer, though. Even as he spoke, he could feel the world pulling away from him. Drugged again, was his last thought as he lost consciousness.
"You people gotta stop doing that," were his first words when he finally woke up.
"Doing what?"
"Knocking me out." He rolled slowly to a sitting position, testing his head and stomach for any lingering aches. His stomach complained only of hunger, but his head still throbbed dully. He would count himself lucky, though, if all he had out of a ten-day bender was a mild hangover.
"It was medically necessary, Mr. Stone."
He raised his eyebrows at the "Mr." but said nothing. He still couldn't tell if the voice was male or female.
"Thanks for fixing me up."
"I wouldn't call you 'fixed' just yet. You need to recuperate. The mess is across the way—you can't miss it. I want you to eat bland foods and drink plenty of fluids, but no alcohol." There wasn't any disapproval in the AI's tone, just firm professionalism.
"I could really use a shower first."
Ema would've had all kinds of things to say about that, but this one said only, "This infirmary is equipped with a sanitary," and a door slid open to his right.
Stripping quickly, he stuffed his ripe clothes in the sanitizer before stepping into the small stall. He'd expected hot water and grimaced in disappointment when the shower turned out to be sonic. Funny how somebody could get used to little luxuries so quickly. Like Regan's smile or Mea's touch.
Snarling his pain and anger, he hurried through cleanup, aware by the thrumming in his heels that the ship was on the move, but needing more info anyway. Yanking on his clean clothes, he stalked out of the infirmary and searched the small ship for Conley. He quickly found him in the tiny control room.
"Where are we?"
"We're about five and a half days from where we need to be." He shot Stone a tight smile. "Got some time to kill. You look better—smell better, too. Have you eaten?"
Stone didn't answer, trying to come to grips with the idea that he'd have to leave Mea and Regan in slaver hands for five and a half more days.
"If you don't eat, Min'll pester the hell out of you."
"Can't this thing go any faster?" he asked hoarsely, trying not to picture them in chains.
"Not without blowing the engines. Come on, we can discuss the plan over food."
Conley stood up, which forced Stone back. There wasn't a whole lot of room to maneuver in the tiny space. Reluctantly he led the way to the mess, fighting to keep thoughts of whips and pain away.
"They may not survive five and a half days," he muttered low, but in the close confines of the mess, Conley heard him.
"The girl will be okay, I think. She's smart enough to keep her head down and behave. It won't be easy on her, but I think she'll live. It's Mea I'm worried about."
His voice was calm and conversational, but a glower lowered his eyebrows and his hands shook as he pulled two plates out of the warmer. There was no table in the small room, so they activated seats and sat at the counter to eat. Afterwards, Stone would have no memory of what it was that they ate. He just shoved it woodenly into his mouth, bite by bite, knowing he needed it, but not tasting any of it.
"She's—not going to cooperate," the director continued, stabbing his food aggressively with a fork. "She probably should go along with it, do as she's told, and bide her time—but she won't. They put a darkness in her when they killed her parents, and she will kill any of them that come near her, especially since they have her daughter. They should keep her alive—they're barbaric, not stupid—but she might push them too far."
"If you knew she'd react like that, why'd you send her?" Stone snarled, not bothering to soften the accusation in his voice.
The older man's face darkened, but he answered calmly enough, "I knew how she'd react to being captured. I didn't know she would be. In case you hadn't noticed, she's the best there is—and I say that as her director, not the man who raised her. The chances of her being captured were slim, as far as I knew. They probably still had a hell of a time, even if they did take her by surprise." He heaved a sigh and ran a hand over his face. "And I thought she was ready. Warren said that she'd told Regan the story of her parents and was even singing the lullaby to her. She controlled herself so well with those slavers on Belata. Didn't kill a one of 'em. I thought she'd be ready for this step—that she was finally healing."
Stone had nothing to say to that. They ate silently for a few minutes.
"So what's the plan?"
Conley shoved the food away from him with a grimace and took a large swig of his coffee before answering, "They're expecting me to retaliate. Even if they don't know about my relationship with Mea, they still know how I get about my hunters. If I don't react overtly, they'll be suspicious of every outsider, expecting a spy. So when I got the word, I ordered every hunter ship in the area to converge on their planet and blockade it from any space traffic, coming or going. I spoke to their leader directly, demanding their return. I won't get into the details of what was said, but nobody used any nice words. I was very public with my outrage. Hopefully they'll concentrate on me beating my chest and they won't see you coming.
"Having said that, I've actually made it hard for you to get to the surface without them noticing. Maybe impossible, so we're going to be obvious. I put your name on the manifest of one of the hunters in the blockade. According to his records, he picked you up as a target a couple of days ago. We're going to stage your escape from him down to the surface. You'll steal his transport and dodge the blockade to get planetside. I hope you're a good pilot, 'cause my hunters will probably fry your ass if you're not."
Stone shot him a sour look and Conley met his gaze blandly.
"More coffee?" Without waiting for a response, the older man took his cup and refilled it.
"What's to stop them from being suspicious about me coming from a hunter ship?"
"I'm counting on it. They'll take you right into their fortress and straight to Maulkin, their leader. Saves you the trouble of trying to sneak in. Then it's up to you to convince them you're just some poor jerk with the good fortune to escape."
He drank his coffee in silence for a minute, mulling this over. The director was quiet, watching him.
"Maybe offering them info on you hunters would get me on their good side. I'm gonna need to be awful friendly with 'em for them to let me run around lookin' for Mea and the kid."
"What kind of info?"
"I don't know, something important. Like maybe codes."
"Did you ever get any codes aboard the Starfire?"
"No."
"An escapee from a hunter ship wouldn't have any either. Maulkin won't buy it—he's smarter than most slavers and ambitious besides. That makes him dangerous. No, they won't buy any juicy info from you. What they would buy is greed. The real Stone was a merc smuggler—act like one." A
sudden grin lightened his eyes. "Offer to take the Starfire off his hands for a reasonable price. They're gonna have to junk her without Mea's codes to fly her, anyway."
"What makes you think they don't have the codes?"
Conley's smile faded, but he didn't look angry, expression almost gentle when he answered, "Mea is the only one who knows them. And torturing Mea is not the way to get her to tell you anything. She wouldn't give them up unless they threatened Regan, but I don't think they're to that point yet. My hunters and I are a bigger concern to them right now than one lousy ship."
Stone nodded his acceptance, unable to unclench his jaw to speak. The thought of them torturing Mea or threatening Regan made him want to howl.
"After we get you in, though, you're on your own. I've got no idea where they'd be keeping them or how you're going to get them out of there. We can talk about different scenarios, but basically you'll have to improvise. It all depends on how they're being held and where they're being held. I've got schematics of the fortress that Mea bought from a smuggler on Xerxes. From what she said, the little prick drove a hard bargain for 'em, too." He grimaced and drained his cup, then raised his eyebrows at Stone. "We've got a lot of planning to do and you've got a lot to learn before we get there. You ready to get started?"
"Christ, yes. I was startin' to think you'd never shut up."
Conley snorted as they got to their feet. "Ain't that some shit. Criticism from a convict."
Chapter 23
It wasn't exactly the start of a beautiful friendship, but over the next few days, Stone and the director found ways to work together without killing each other. Concentrating on the details of the rescue plan helped smooth the way for a kind of understanding between them. Stone spent long hours studying the schematics of the fortress until he had them memorized and practicing his piloting skills until Conley was satisfied he wouldn't get his ass shot off. He also studied everything he could find on slavers themselves, trying to get a feel for the enemy.
Neither one slept very much, and Stone watched the other man's face grow more haggard and haunted as time went on. He hoped his own face wasn't betraying him as much, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it did. Every once in a while, Conley would give him a sharp, appraising look and tell him he needed exercise. They'd go into the cargo bay—the only place on the ship that had enough open space—and go at each other until they were both dripping with sweat.
At first he was just relieved to have some outlet for his frustration and fury, but he started to realize that the man was teaching him as well. The gray streaking the older man's hair was deceptive—he still moved as quick as a cat and as deadly. He pulled his punches, but Stone still had to visit Min more than a few times. Towards the end of the voyage, Stone reluctantly admitted to himself that he liked the other man, this hunter who raised Mea. He didn't try to kid himself that the feeling was mutual, though.
By the time they arrived, Stone felt as prepared as he was going to get for the rescue mission. That wasn't saying much, considering the odds against his successfully rescuing them both.
"There it is," Conley announced unnecessarily as they decelerated toward the small planet. A loose string of ships dotted the space around the planet like a pack of wolves waiting for the prey to bolt from the bushes.
"Good. There are more here than I'd anticipated."
Conley activated the viewscreen and a young man's sober face appeared. His light blond hair, bright blue eyes, and youthful face made him look like a babe in the woods, and Stone muttered something to that effect under his breath. Conley must have heard—he shot Stone a sharp look.
"Director, good to see you. We haven't had much trouble since the merchants got wind of the blockade and stopped showing up. The slavers haven't tried anything for days. I think they've been waiting for you, Sir."
"When's my ship scheduled to arrive?"
"Not for another six hours, Sir."
"Good. Plenty of time to get this bitch started. Permission to come aboard, Hunter."
"Permission granted, Director." The boy looked flattered that his boss would even ask permission.
Stone muttered another derogatory comment under his breath, but this time Conley ignored him, busy maneuvering the small ship along side of the hunter's. Once they were in position, they left the control room together and made their way to the hatch. The blond was on the other side waiting for them with a welcoming smile.
"Hunter Estand Kef'Isted, Baynard Stone," Conley introduced them.
He and the boy nodded to each other. Stone noticed the kid eyed him like he was some kind of new and dangerous species—both wary and fascinated.
"Kef's a hell of a shot, so run like you mean it on the way down, Stone."
"I'll only singe him a little." The hunter grinned like a shark, and suddenly he looked a lot less like a babe in the woods. Turning, Kef led them into the ship.
Stone eyed the young hunter suspiciously, wondering if his big-eyed, greenhorn routine was camouflage. After dealing with Mea and Conley's convoluted schemes, he wouldn't have been surprised by it.
They went over the plan again with the young hunter, who listened with grave interest and chimed in with a couple of details of his own. He'd entered in his logs that one of his cryotubes was malfunctioning and he'd had to confine the prisoner elsewhere. He'd also programmed the transport with an evasive pattern that would match his attack pattern and make the escape look very real without as much danger to Stone himself. He also reminded them that he could keep the transport warmed up for the return trip to save time.
"Very good, Kef. I like the pattern programming, but I hope to hell that they don't have access to those logs. That would put a whole other twist on this situation."
"I doubt they do, Sir, but I've been taught to be as thorough as possible without wasting time."
His expression made it clear that it was the director he was referring to when he spoke of being taught. His flattery didn't seem to have much effect. Conley just nodded and then turned to Stone.
"We've gone over everything a million times. Now we've got to put the wheel in motion. Give me time to get away from the ship and then have at it."
Then he stuck his hand out. Surprised, Stone clasped it, only to get his hand crushed in a painful grip. Conley's eyes were like flint.
"If you don't bring them back, don't bother coming back."
"Count on it."
The older man pumped his hand hard once as though they'd made a deal and then let go, face softening a little.
"Luck to you."
Stone nodded, refusing to acknowledge the pained throbbing in his hand. The man had a grip like a vice. The director turned away, leaving him alone with the kid, who watched his boss leave with speculation on his round face.
"Doesn't like you much, does he?"
Stone folded his arms and ignored him. The hunter's blue gaze was shrewd when it turned to him.
"Dangerous man to piss off, Bay."
That name coming out of this kid's mouth instead of Mea's stung him fiercely. He turned his head slowly toward the hunter and growled his words, "So am I. Shut up and do your job."
The young man inclined his head in acknowledgement, but didn't look at all worried. "Let me show you the transport. It's pretty standard, but no sense having you mistake the eject for the accelerator. This way."
Kef led the way down the corridor to the docking bay and then gave him a cursory tour of the transport and it's controls. It was pretty standard and Stone sent him on his way, more than a little impatient to get under way himself. Every minute they delayed was another minute Mea and Regan might not survive.
"I'll signal you when the director's far enough away," the hunter said as he left.
Stone grunted in response and then turned to the controls, deliberately thinking of nothing but the startup procedures.
Thankfully, Kef didn't take very long. The docking bay doors began to open and that was all the signal Stone needed. He shot out of th
e bay before the doors were fully open and began the run planetside.
The kid was good, he had to hand it to him. Even with the evasion pattern, Stone was still making quick adjustments to keep out of the hunter's line of fire. And his life got a lot more complicated when the other hunters decided to join the chase. He was dripping with sweat, muscles clenched painfully when he finally made it through their net and dropped low enough in the atmosphere for them to break off and return to their orbits. He didn't know how it had looked to the slavers, but it sure as hell had felt real to him. Like a mouse running from a whole slew of hungry cats.
The slavers were already waiting for him when he landed. When he stepped out of the transport, no less than ten men were there with guns trained on him.
"Arms out, no sudden moves."
He did as he was told, eyeing the leader carefully. The man had a hard face and voice, but he didn't think that this was Maulkin. He slung the gun over his shoulder and stepped toward Stone, running a scanner over him cautiously.
"No metal, no weapon, no bugs. Who are you?"
"Baynard Stone."
When he said nothing else, the man narrowed his eyes and held out the scanner. "Prove it."
Slowly, Stone placed his thumb on the scanning plate, and then just as slowly returned his arm to it's outstretched position. Not a single gun wavered while the man studied the information that Stone's genetic imprint had called up.
"All right, get him inside. Maulkin wants to see him."
Three men surrounded him, and the one behind prodded him sharply in the back with the barrel of a gun. Suppressing the urge to mule kick him in the balls, Stone moved forward as docilely as he could manage. They herded him toward the fortress, which was built right at the edge of the spaceport.
Ordinarily he would have said that that was the most dangerous location for a headquarters, but he'd seen the place from the air as he'd flown in, and it was built like a mountain. He didn't think anything would destroy it short of a blast from a planet-killer. It had been built very recently, too—the metal on it was still shiny and the colors bright. The newness and seeming invincibility of it made him nervous. It spoke of long-term plans and determined aggression. This was no half-hearted rebellion against the Planetary Coalition.
The Huntress Page 21