The inside was as ominous as the outside. The schematics hadn't shown the military precision and organization of the interior or the starkness of the halls and corridors. The slaves that scurried by them seemed out of place in this utilitarian facility. Their subservience would have made what they were obvious, but they also all wore the same shapeless, colorless robes, and they seemed to have tattoos on the backs of their hands. Stone had never been to a slaver planet before, and he watched them curiously until the man behind him poked the gun into his back again.
"Move it."
Grinding his teeth and promising himself retribution later, he lengthened his stride. It took them a while to reach their destination, and Stone occupied himself with comparing his memory of the schematics against the reality. Thankfully, so far they'd been right on. There were no signs of Mea or Regan, but then he hadn't expected any. At one point, they stepped from one corridor to another and entered a different environment entirely. The decorations and architecture screamed credit. The people walking the halls were of a different sort altogether—they dressed in outrageous, expensive looking outfits, and their expressions were arrogant and haughty. They either ignored him and his escort or eyed them disdainfully. Behind most of them trailed slaves, sometimes only one, but usually several.
By the time they reached Maulkin's suite, Stone's skin was crawling with revulsion. This place was just another kind of prison and Maulkin just another head warden. Already predisposed to disliking the slaver, the sight of him made Stone tense with a violent hatred. This was the man who held his woman and his little girl, and it was all he could do not to tear that smug smile off the man's face along with his lower jaw.
"Well, well, well. Baynard Stone, I presume?" Maulkin's tone was warm and cultured, but his dark eyes were bright with malice. He was all in red, the vest open in the front to show off darkly tanned bare skin. His brown hair hung in incongruous curls to his shoulders. Like a backdrop behind him were huge viewscreens showing the orbiting hunter ships.
Not trusting his voice just yet, Stone merely nodded. Hopefully the man would think he was afraid.
"What is it that you do for a living, Mr. Stone?"
"Smuggler," he stated shortly, watching the slaver like he would a venomous snake.
Maulkin's smile grew a tiny bit. "Not a spy?"
"No."
"I see." The man turned toward the viewscreens, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You gave us quite a show, dancing with those hunters. It almost looked as though they were truly trying to blast you to bits." Eyebrows raised inquiringly, Maulkin glanced over his shoulder at Stone.
"They were. I escaped."
"Interesting." He turned his head again to study the ships. "You'll have to explain to me how that's possible. As I understand it, all hunter targets are frozen in cryotubes."
"Tube malfunctioned." Irritated by the man's obvious relish for this game of interrogation, Stone decided to go on the offensive. "Hunter seemed pretty pissed—something about you taking one of their own. That true?"
Slowly, the slaver turned toward him, eyeing him with a glitter in his dark eyes. He was no longer smiling. "It is. What interest is that of yours, Mr. Stone?"
"Is the hunter ship the silver one out there?"
"Yes." The man lowered his head like a bull about to charge, and Stone realized he was on very dangerous ground.
Flashing the slaver a smile that was more like a baring of teeth, he continued, "Pretty piece of hardware. I'd be willing to take it off your hands for decent credit."
For a long moment, Maulkin's face remained expressionless. Then he tipped back his head and laughed heartily. "Spoken like a true merc!" His eyes told Stone he wasn't buying it, though. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not ready to let it go just yet."
"What about the cargo on board? Anything marketable?" Stone pressed and Maulkin gave him a patently false, gentle smile.
"There was plenty aboard, but nothing I'm willing to part with." Then his expression became speculative. "Although—the girl we might deal on. She's coming along nicely and will make a very tractable slave, but I have more than enough slaves in my household. I have use of her yet, but after this is over, we might come to an agreement."
Stone could see he was waiting for him to ask what "this" was, but that wasn't how a smuggler would act.
"Girl? How old?"
"About ten-ish, petite, cute in a coltish sort of way. She's been a model slave so far, needing only the lightest discipline to learn her duties. Unlike her mother." He chuckled fondly, watching Stone with sharp, glinting eyes. "My little hunter she-devil. She's been a source of great entertainment for everyone."
The implication in his intimate tone when he spoke of Mea was clear, and Stone had no idea later how he kept from tearing the man's throat out with his teeth.
"Would you like to see her?"
There was no goddamned way in hell he was going to be able to control himself once he saw what they'd done to her, so he folded his arms across his chest to hide their shaking and looked away from the slaver. Maybe the bastard would see it as fear and not fury.
"No, thanks. I've had enough of hunters to last me. Wouldn't mind seeing the girl, though."
"Mmm, as I said, she's still useful to me, but as soon as I've settled with the director of the Hunting Corp to my satisfaction, we can discuss her." Maulkin half turned to gaze at the viewscreens again. "Are you sure you don't want to see my little caged tigress? She won't be around for much longer, I regret to say. She's been so amusing, but it'll be so much more entertaining to watch the director's face when I kill her."
He must have made some sound, because Maulkin's head whipped around like a striking snake, a vicious smile twisting his lips.
"What was that, Mr. Stone? I didn't catch it."
Controlling the violence in his body was making little black spots dance across his vision. Breathing deeply, he cleared his throat, trying to keep the snarl out of it. "Seems dangerous. Maybe I should've tried for deep space—would've lived longer, I think."
"Perhaps." The slaver studied him carefully, smile fading to only a slight lift of his lips. "Or perhaps you were destined to join us here, on the eve of the revolution. Are you not also oppressed by the Coalition, hunted as you are by those that would restrict free trade?"
Stone said nothing, but after a moment Maulkin nodded as though he'd agreed.
"Just so. You'll be given every hospitality that I have to offer, but I regret that you'll not be allowed to move freely about the palace. For your own protection, you understand." The slaver turned away dismissively, stepping closer to the viewscreens. "We'll talk later, Mr. Stone."
Chapter 24
Stone was more than happy to get the hell away from Maulkin. His escort herded him down the hallway, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself, trying to concentrate on what he was going to do. Maulkin planned on killing Mea when he talked to the director. The director's ship was due in less than six hours, so he had only that amount of time to get them out of this hellhole. The first order of business would be to find out where they were—then figure out how to get them out.
His escort didn't know it, but they were about to become very helpful.
"In here." They'd stopped by a door and the prodder keyed it open. "You need something, let my men know. They'll be right outside."
His tone was barely civil, and it was obvious he considered Stone a prisoner, not a guest. Not much of a surprise when Maulkin was still suspicious of him being a spy for the hunters.
He stepped through the door without comment, realizing with a twinge of frustration that the prodder was going to go, leaving two men behind to guard him. He'd really wanted to drop kick the man. The door closed behind him, and he was pretty sure they'd locked him in. He didn't try the door control just yet, though. Instead he paced and tried to be patient.
About five minutes later, he gave up on patience. Taking off his shirt, he headed to the door. Just as he'd suspected, it was lo
cked. He flicked on the intercom, pounding on the door with a fist for emphasis as he yelled into it, "Hey! What does a guy gotta do to get a shower around here? Doesn't anything work in this backwater shithole?"
The door opened, and one of the guards looked in, expression hostile and gun pointed directly at Stone's chest.
"What's your problem?"
Planting fists on hips, he strove to look disgusted. "Your goddamned sanitary's busted. What kinda place is this, a guy can't even get a sonic?"
The guard eyed him warily a moment more, before lowering the gun and stepping slowly into the room. "Fen, get in here and keep an eye on him while I check this out."
The other guard moved cautiously into sight and then entered the room gun first.
"We'll move you to another room if it's really busted."
Stone nodded and stepped aside, loosening his muscles in readiness. Fen was watching Stone suspiciously, gun trained on him steadily. The first guard disappeared into the sanitary for a moment, then popped back out, furious.
"Asshole! You got water and sonic!"
Stone wasn't watching him, though. His eyes were trained on Fen, whose concentration wavered at the other guard's exclamation, gun dropping slightly. It was all Stone needed.
In a blur of motion he surged forward, jerked the gun out of the shocked guard's hands, and shot the other one, then clipped Fen in the chin with the heavy metal just as he started to yell. Leaning into the hall, Stone checked for any witnesses. There were none, so he dragged the dazed man completely into the room and keyed the door shut. He quickly searched the guard for any other weapons before moving on to the man he'd shot. The pulse fire had torn a hole in the guard's chest, the flesh blackened and smoking still. He was very dead, but Stone took a moment to remove his gun and pat him down for other weapons.
Fen was struggling to sit up when he returned to him. Helpfully, Stone grabbed the front of his jerkin and hoisted him to a sitting position against the wall, placing the barrel of the gun under his jaw.
"Where's the hunter?"
"H-hunter?" the man muttered groggily, and without hesitation Stone hit him in the face with the gun, snapping his head back and splitting his cheekbone open. The force of the blow made the man slump and Stone pulled him back to a sitting position.
"No games. Tell me or die."
The man's face was slack with terror, eyes glazed and shocky. Stone was willing to bet he'd never seen combat before.
"P-presentation room! She's on display in the presentation room!"
"And the girl?"
Fen's forehead creased with what looked like genuine confusion.
"Wha—"
"The girl that came with the hunter." He pressed the barrel of the gun sharply under the man's jaw and snarled, "Don't make me ask again."
"Don't know—I don't know—please don't kill me! If they brought her in with the hunter, she's a slave so she'd be in the slave's quarters, but she could be anywhere—oh god, please don't kill me!"
"You're gonna need to be more specific," he said calmly, but pressed hard enough to gouge the guard's skin.
Fen continued babbling, straining away from him and staring with buggy eyes, "Ohgodpleasedon't—holding pens! New slaves in holding pens, or maybe solitary? Maybe solitary! Hunter's girl—need to watch her—maybe solitary…"
Stone grabbed him by the jerkin again and hoisted him to his feet. The man swayed there, barely able to stand on his own.
"Strip."
After a horrified second, Fen quickly started pulling his clothes off, shooting Stone fearful looks and leaning on the wall for support. When he bent over to pull off his pant legs, Stone clubbed him in the back of the head. The guard dropped, limp as a doll. Swiftly Stone changed into the guard's uniform, then stared down at the man with a frown. It would be easier to kill him.
Grumbling to himself, he hog-tied the man and gagged him before lugging him over to one wall. Opening a clothing receptacle, he stuffed the guard into it and closed it again, thinking to himself that it'd be no great loss if the guy suffocated in there. At least he was out of the way and not likely to sound the alarm anytime soon.
He hid the body of the other guard in the sanitary before stepping cautiously out into the hallway. At the moment, it was clear. With purposeful strides, he began making his way to the "presentation room," using the memories of the schematics to guide him.
For the most part, he was ignored. Occasionally he would pass other guards and they would nod. He'd nod back casually, but wouldn't slow his stride. No one stopped him.
There was no one guarding the presentation room, and at first Stone thought that was strange—until he opened the door and saw what was inside. Tiers of padded bleachers marched up the sides of the room, flanking a huge cage set against the back wall. There were no doors to the cage that Stone could see, just bars running from floor to ceiling that were about as big around as his wrist. Mea was chained to the wall, and he could see as he got closer that the chains weren't long enough for her to reach the bars.
All this he took in peripherally while his focus—his whole being—was centered on Mea. She was slumped against the wall, forehead resting on one upraised knee and arms lax at her sides. She was naked, and as he got closer and saw what they'd done to her, breathing became difficult around a thick rage that wanted to strangle him.
She was mangled, bruised from head to toe, her fine skin covered in welts, cuts, and abrasions, hair matted with blood and sweat—and that was just for starters. Her right leg was stretched out in front of her, and it was grotesquely swollen and twisted from the knee down. It looked like someone had dislocated it. She was liberally doused in blood, and he hoped that not all of it was hers. The manacles on her ankles had cut deeply, but it was the manacles on her forearms that made his stomach clench. To keep her from trying to slip out of them, they'd driven a bolt through the manacles and between the bones of her forearms. Old and new blood crusted around these wounds as though she'd worked at the manacles anyway.
He had to swallow hard before he could speak. "Mea."
There was no sign that she'd heard him, and fear joined the fiercely flowing rage in his veins. He sank down to his haunches so that he could see her face more clearly and gripped the bars, knuckles turning white.
"Mea."
Without lifting her head, she slowly turned her face towards him, eyes meeting his dully. "My heart. Why do you torment me?"
Fear leapt up to clench around his heart and make his head pound. Her usually milky skin was pasty, her lips without color, and her eyes sunken, but what scared him most was how she was acting, as if this were only the latest of his many visits. Had she been hallucinating?
"We have to get you out of here."
She turned her face away. "Stop saying that. Go away."
"Mea, it's me, Stone. I'm here to free you."
"I know who you are. You're not real."
He could barely hear her hoarse, defeated voice, and fear clawed at him.
"I am real. Snap out of it, Hunter. I need you to be clear headed—"
Her head shot up, and she glared at him, spitting words so fiercely, she made her dry lips crack and bleed. "If you were real, you'd save her! Her, not me! She's what's important!" Her anger burned out, and she dropped her forehead back on her knee weakly, not looking at him. "If you're really here, go save her."
"I'll save you both."
She didn't answer, and he took a painful breath, struggling to concentrate on the problem and not what those bastards had done to her.
"Mea, help me. Tell me how to get you out of this cage, those chains. I know you thought about it. You've been here long enough to come up with a plan."
"Told you already. Too tired," she mumbled, eyes closed.
He gripped the bars tighter. "Tell me again. Then you can rest."
There was a long pause while his heart pumped fear like ice through his veins. The thought that she might die made madness tear at the edges of his mind.
<
br /> "Get Regan," she whispered.
"Both of you, damn it! I'm getting you both out, so just tell me—"
"Shut up, Stone." she said in a voice that was wearily toneless, but there was some exasperation on her face when she turned it to him. "I'm trying to tell you." She lifted her head to nod at the twisted leg stretched out in front of her. "He hobbled me when I killed them too quickly. Bastard said it'd make a fairer contest." She snorted. "Contest. What an asshole."
Sighing, she lowered her head again.
"It's going to slow me down. Have to get Regan first, then me if you can. Have to be quick. He'll know where I am—tracks my metal."
When she said nothing else, he urged her on, "The cage, Mea. The chains."
"Control panel on the wall. Bars lower into the floor. But only Maulkin knows the code." He swore viciously, but she wasn't finished. "The power. It's key."
At first he stared at her bent head in confusion, but when his mind finally got around the knot of panic, he saw what she meant.
"Power out, bars down?"
"And no way to track me."
"Your chains, Mea," he reminded her, and she lifted one arm slowly, staring at it as though she'd never seen it before.
The weight of the manacle pulling on the bar in her arm must have hurt like hell, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Burn, cut, or break. There's no key."
The effort seemed to exhaust her, and she rested her forehead back on her knee with a faint sigh. He wanted to hold her so badly he could barely breathe.
"Mea."
She ignored him.
"Mea, I'll be back."
"I know," she whispered in a hopeless voice that stabbed at him.
Grimly he unclenched his muscles and forced himself to step away from the cage. She seemed as unaware of him as if he'd disappeared. Feeling like a traitor, he left the room.
Chapter 25
The Huntress Page 22