The Huntress

by Michelle O'Leary

  "Pain in the ass android," he muttered, but picked up the front half of his body, amazed by how hellishly heavy he was. While dragging him toward the control room, he was surprised to hear a banging on the hatch. The slavers had rallied quicker than he'd thought they would.

  Dumping the heavy android unceremoniously across one of the rear seats in the control room, Stone dove for the pilot's chair and quickly started powering up the ship, entering the codes when prompted. The Starfire responded as sweetly as if it were sentient and knew what was at stake.

  When the proximity alert chimed discreetly, informing him that there were life signs too close to the ship to launch, he ruthlessly hit the override. He wasn't too concerned about killing off a few more slavers. When the ship was ready, he flicked on the intercom to the infirmary. "Regan, hold onto something. Ema, let me know if the G's get too much for Mea."

  "Acknowledged," Ema answered curtly and Stone launched the ship.

  They sprang into the night sky with a roar of engines that instantly vaporized whoever had been stupid enough to stand that close to a launching ship. He felt no pity.

  Stone pushed the ship as fast as he dared, trying to judge just how much gravity Mea could take. He let up as soon as he heard the intercom click on.

  "Stone— Okay, good."

  "How is she?"

  "The same."

  The com clicked off before he could ask anything else, and he grimly aimed the ship at the hunter net like a sliver arrow. Quickly he keyed the communications for a wide broadcast, a signal that all the hunters would hear.

  "This is Baynard Stone aboard the Starfire. I've got Hunter Brin and her daughter with me, so get your goddamned itchy trigger fingers away from those controls."

  "This is Director Conley. Hunter Stone needs an escort."

  With barely a pause, ships began streaming down around him like rain, too many for just an escort. He tracked them and most didn't stop, heading for Maulkin's headquarters as inevitably as death. The strength of the fortress was definitely going to be tested now. With the power out and no shielding because of that, their chances for survival were slim.

  "Remind me never to piss you people off," he muttered, but not low enough.

  "Words to live by." The viewscreen flickered and Conley's face appeared. "You really have them both?" He looked younger with hope lighting his features.

  Instead of looking at him, Stone initiated a search for the nearest starbase with a hospital or med lab. "Yeah."

  "But?"

  His tone must have given him away. The search gave a disheartening day and a half to the nearest base. He programmed the navigational and propulsion systems to that location.

  "But Mea's hurt. Bad. Might die."

  He caught sight of the other man's face and winced away from it. Pain was too mild a word for what he saw there.

  "Stand to. I'm boarding." Conley rasped, voice hoarse with strain.

  "Can't. We're on a timetable here. Ema doesn't think she can keep her stable, and she needs a real hospital. Nearest one's about a day and a half. We need every minute."

  "Send me speed and trajectory. We'll come alongside."

  Stone did so without comment, not bothering to remind the director just how dangerous that was. He wasn't going to deny the man his last chance to see his daughter if she was dying. Setting the autopilot, he monitored the other ship's progress tensely. The pilot seemed to know what he or she was doing, though, skillfully jockeying the other ship into position. When he felt the vibration of the ships connecting, he jumped up and strode quickly down to the hatch.

  Chapter 27

  When Conley boarded the Starfire, he and Stone stared at each other in a thick silence, neither one paying attention as the hatch shut, sealed, and the other ship broke away with a faint vibration.

  "You hurt?" the director asked in a harsh voice.

  Stone had nearly forgotten Mea's blood and the coag pack covering the wound at his side. He shrugged. "Minor."

  With a nod, Conley stepped forward, and Stone shifted to let him pass. Without another word, they made their way to the infirmary. The director's face went ghost white at the sight of the woman he'd raised. Regan still stood by the table, clutching it and not acknowledging their presence.

  "Michael," Ema murmured in soft greeting.

  "Ema. Status?"

  "She's stable, but I don't know how long I can keep her there. Are we on our way to a hospital?"

  "Yes," Stone answered her. "Day and a half."

  "That may be too long."

  "Just do the best you can, Ema. That's all anybody can ask."

  "You know I will, Michael."

  Conley moved forward to stand next to Regan and put an arm around her. "It's good to have you home, squirt."

  "Don't touch me," she said dully, and Conley pulled away, hurt in his eyes as he glanced over at Stone.

  "She's been through too much," he muttered and with a worried frown put a hand on the back of her neck.

  She didn't seem to notice, but after a moment she sagged against him. There was still nothing but a terrible emptiness on her face. Drawing her to one side, he made room for Conley to get in next to Mea. With a slight nod, the older man shifted into position and turned all his attention to Mea, leaning in close to gently lay a big hand on her pasty forehead.

  "Mea girl, it's me. It's Uncle Mike. I got you in some deep shit this time, didn't I?" he rasped, voice dropping to a rough whisper with his last words. "I'm sorry, baby girl."

  There was no response from her. With a sigh, he took his hand away and ran it over his face as though trying to wipe the hurt away. Then he activated a seat and sagged onto it, putting his face in his hands.

  "What happened down there, Stone?"

  "Don't know."

  "You don't know?" Conley dropped his hands and looked over at Stone with anger bright eyes. "What the hell kind of an answer is that?"

  Stone pointedly looked down at the kid, then back up at Conley before speaking.

  "Don't know exactly what happened to 'em. I know Regan was a slave, and as far as I can tell, doesn't have a bruise on her. Mea they chained and put in a cage. Don't know much past that and what I can see with my own eyes. On our way out, she got hit."

  Conley looked at Regan's unresponsive face and nodded in agreement. The details should wait until they were alone. Then he turned his attention back to his unconscious hunter, seeing for himself what they'd done. The manacles were gone from her ankles, but not from her arms. Stone supposed that Ema didn't want her to lose any more blood just now, pulling out the bars. Her knee had been straightened, but the whole leg was still terribly swollen and discolored. The blast in her side was a grisly sight, partly healed and covered with some kind of glistening goo.

  "I will rip that bastard's heart out, I swear to god," Conley said in a guttural snarl.

  "Know how you feel, but it's not gonna happen."

  The director's stare was intensely hostile, but Stone refused to look away.

  "Found Warren. He's not in real good shape. Maybe you could see what's wrong with him. I put him in the control room."

  The man wasn't stupid. Stone watched him struggle between the need to be by Mea's side and the need to have more information.

  "Won't take long."

  Conley gave a sharp nod.

  "We need to bring Warren back here. This is where his diagnostic equipment is." He got to his feet. "Come help me carry him. He's heavier'n shit."

  "Don't I know it. Damn near gave me a hernia."

  Stone maneuvered Regan to the seat the older man had just left and pushed her gently down onto it. "We'll be right back, kid."

  She said nothing. Grimacing at Conley, he left her there. Once out of the infirmary, they moved briskly up the corridor toward the control room, Stone giving the director an abbreviated version of the story as they went. Conley grunted when Stone told him about blowing the power in what could have been approval—or not. He took most of the story stoically,
but his head jerked up in shock when he heard that Regan had killed the slavers' leader.

  "Maulkin's dead? The girl killed him?"

  "Yeah. I think that might be what's wrong with her. She killed to save her mother and Mea still might die."

  Conley continued to stare at him, eyebrows raised as they entered the control room. "Pretty insightful for a convict."

  "Go figure."

  A ghost of a smile passed over the other man's face before he looked down at Warren's collapsed form. Shoulders slumping, he ran a hand through graying hair with a sigh. "You look how I feel, old friend."

  The android was seared in half a dozen places with pulse fire and what passed for skin and underlying circuits was melted into slag. His right cheek and ear were gone, leaving a gaping grin on one half of his face. His eyes were as lifeless as a mannequin's, and for the first time he looked like an android.

  "Head or feet?" Stone was impatient to get back to the infirmary.

  "I'll take the heavy end. You've had a rough day and besides, you're wounded." The director frowned at him. "I'll wrap that when we get back. Shouldn't just let it go like that."

  Stone ignored him and bent down to hoist his end of the android.

  "Stone."

  "Yeah?"

  "Thank you."

  Glancing up, he could see that it had been a difficult thing for Conley to say. The expression on his face said he'd bitten something sour, but he met the younger man's gaze honestly. Uncomfortable, Stone looked down. "Don't thank me yet," he muttered, too aware of how close Mea was to leaving them. When Conley said and did nothing, he growled harshly. "We doin' this or not?"

  After a second, Conley bent over and lifted Warren's front end without any apparent effort. They started back down the corridor slowly.

  "She was right about you." Conley gave him a tight, cryptic smile, and Stone wondered if that was good or bad. He wasn't going to ask though.

  Regan was where he'd left her, and she didn't look around to see them enter. They lugged Warren to another table, then turned as one toward Mea, drawn like metal to a magnet. Conley stood at her head and ran gentle fingers over her forehead and through her dark hair. Stone stood next to the unresponsive child, feeling useless and bitter.

  "She's so banged up. Why didn't you heal—"

  "What? Her bruises?" Ema snapped at Stone. "In case you hadn't noticed, stupid, she's got worse problems. Her body's trying to quit. Why don't you two boys stop staring at her and talk to her? Maybe she'll hear your voices and want to stay."

  "I was gonna say—why didn't you heal the hole in her side?"

  "Accelerated healing is an additional trauma that her body can only handle in small increments. Push it too hard and her body starts to break down at a cellular level. Remember how we had to wait between your healings? Same thing, only worse here."

  "Great."

  He glanced down to see how Regan was taking this, but she was still slack-faced and empty-eyed.

  There was a long, heavy silence. Then Conley cleared his throat and spoke in a low voice, "Stone, go get cleaned up. I'll see to that wound when you get back."

  He folded his arms and ignored the older man, silently refusing to leave.

  Conley wasn't so easily put off, expression intent. "Son, you smell like blood."

  He didn't have to say Mea's blood—that was obvious. Suddenly, Stone felt a burning need to get the stuff off of him, this reminder of how close she'd come to disappearing from his life forever—and how close she still was. With a sharp nod, he turned and left.

  Marching down the corridor without even glancing at the door to Mea's quarters, he entered what had been his room and headed to the sanitary, stripping as he went. Turning on the shower as hot as he could stand it, he scrubbed ruthlessly at the bloody stains on his body. Clean, he stood under a cold stream of water until he was shuddering, then stepped out. The coag pack had kept most of the water off his wound, but it now burned and throbbed painfully. Toweling off, he pulled on a clean set of clothes and headed back to the infirmary, favoring his side.

  Conley was in the middle of a one-sided conversation with Mea when he entered.

  "…you were, sitting pretty as you please right on the edge, looking at me like it was no big jet. I almost had a heart attack. You remember that? Scared the shit right out of me." He paused for a second, then lowered his voice. "You're scaring me more now, girl."

  The other man ran a hand slowly over his face, then looked up at Stone with bloodshot eyes. Without a word, he got up and gathered some medical supplies before coming back over to Stone.

  "I can do it myself."

  "Don't be stupid. Lift your shirt."

  With a shrug, he did, and Conley slowly peeled the coag pack away. It hurt like hell.

  "Sorry," the older man murmured when he saw Stone tense. "This is anesthetic ointment. It'll hurt at first, but then it'll be numb."

  The stuff burned like fire and ice in one, and he gritted his teeth until sensation disappeared from his side. Then he watched Conley clean, medicate, and bandage the wound.

  "Done."

  "Thanks."

  "Don't mention it."

  While Conley put the supplies away, Stone stepped over to stand next to Regan again. Mea still floated in the air, looking no different than the last time he'd seen her, but it was still a battle not to ask Ema if anything had changed. Reaching out, he pushed his fingers through the force field to touch her hand. The field made his fingers tingle, but he could still feel the softness of her skin, and when he grasped her hand it felt delicate—fragile. He'd never noticed how much smaller she was—she'd always seemed larger than life. The mighty, invincible huntress.

  "Mea," he murmured with an ache in his voice, aware of the darkness gibbering for him in the back of his mind. If she died, he'd let it have him and would end up dead himself. His survival instinct was too strong to let him kill himself, but he'd revert, end up in the slam again, and then let somebody there do it for him. His only problem with that fatalistic future was sitting next to him.

  He frowned, looking down at Regan. She had the same fatality on her face, and he knew the same thing would happen to her. Too much had happened to her and too many people had left her alone, himself included.

  "Did she ever tell you about the time she almost blew up the academy?" Conley interrupted his dark thoughts, and Stone looked over his shoulder to see the older man hunched over the android with tools in hand.

  "No," he said when it was clear Conley was waiting for a reply.

  "It was her first week at the academy. You remember that, Mea? You kept swearing that it was the other kid's fault—what was his name? Dag something or other. Anyway…" He paused to curse as the tool slipped. "Stone, come hold this for me."

  He joined the director, accepting the tool and putting it where ordered. Then Conley continued working with a different tool.

  "Anyway, she was in the explosives lab working after hours. Chemistry was never her strong suit, but she was determined even back then to be the best at everything. According to her, the kid surprised her and her fingers slipped, starting the chain reaction. God, what a mess! The kids were lucky to be alive—somehow, the explosives stored in the back didn't go or the whole academy would have been blown to bits." He chuckled. "I heard about that one for weeks from the prof. and the director—until she pulled her next stunt. She was a damned hellion."

  Stone settled on a seat opposite him as Conley launched into another story about Mea's younger days. He kept including Mea in the conversation as though she was just resting her eyes and any second she'd tell him he was full of shit, that's not at all how it happened. Through this running monologue, they slowly pieced the android back together, and time dragged by.

  At one point, Conley interrupted himself with a satisfied grunt and removed the VR gear he'd been wearing. "That ought to do it."

  Stone looked from him to the android, wondering what the hell he was talking about. There was still a lot of w
ork to be done. Then Warren opened his eyes.

  "Hey, Mike." His words were a little mushy—he was still missing a cheek—but his tone was as casual as if nothing had happened.

  "Hey, Sparks. How's it hangin'?"

  "Usually low and to the left, but today it's hard to say."

  The android caught sight of Stone and a half smile pulled at his features.

  "Well, well. Seth Terrik," he said with obvious relish, and Stone jerked in surprise, glancing up to see Conley grinning maliciously at him.

  "You fixed his memory?"

  "Restored it. Undid what Mea had done."

  "Isn't that risky?"

  Conley shrugged. "Warren deserves to have his past back."

  "Thanks, Chief." Warren looked at Stone with a humorous glint in his eyes. "I'd ask how it felt to be the only man to say no to Mea, but it looks like that didn't last long. So, how does it feel to come crawling back?"

  "Like shit," he muttered, looking over to where Mea hung, still and nearly lifeless.

  Curious, Warren lifted his head to see past them. "Oh god." For once, his tone and expression matched the blasted ruins of his face and body. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a thunk. "What happened?"

  "Obviously the slaver mission didn't go as planned. Mea and Regan were held captive for about ten days. Stone rescued them, and Mea was shot on the way out. She's—not doing well."

  With his only functional arm, Warren covered his eyes.

  "Stop blaming yourself, old friend. I know that's what you're doing."

  "But I should have done something—anything!"

  "Like what, fight back? Your programming would self destruct if you tried. And by the looks of it, you weren't in any shape for a rescue."

  Warren dropped his arm and looked at Conley, but the man held up a hand to forestall him.

  "No, shut up, Warren. I'm sick and tired of having this same old argument. You are what you are, and nothing's going to change that. Let's see what we can do to get you up and moving around, all right?"