The Huntress (28 page)

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 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 practiced 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 of them 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 came 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. Toward the end of the voyage, Stone reluctantly admitted to himself that he liked the other man, this hunter who’d raised Mea. He was under no illusions 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 when they decelerated toward a 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.

Stone muttered another derogatory comment under his breath, but this time Conley ignored him, busy maneuvering the small ship alongside 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. 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. 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 as his teacher. 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 let’s 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 have 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 youngster, 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 toward the hunter and growled, “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 its controls. As he’d said, 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 is gone,” the hunter said as he left.

Stone grunted in response then turned to the controls, deliberately thinking of nothing but the startup procedures.

Thankfully, Kef didn’t take long. The docking bay doors began to open and that was all the signal Stone needed. He shot out of the bay before the doors were fully open and began the run planetside.

The kid was good, he had to admit. 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 trained their guns 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 this was Maulkin. The leader slung the gun over his shoulder and stepped toward Stone, running a scanner over him. “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 then just as slowly returned his arm to its outstretched position. Not a single gun wavered while the man studied the information from Stone’s genetic imprint.

“All right, get him inside. Maulkin wants to see him.”

Three men surrounded him, and one 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 was the most dangerous location for a headquarters, but he’d seen the place from the air as he’d flown in. 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 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 had 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. So far they’d been right on. There were no signs of Mea or Regan, but 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 opulence. The people walking the halls were of a different sort altogether. They were 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 voice was cultured, but his dark eyes were bright with malice. He stood all in red, his 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, huge viewscreens showed 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 rasped, watching the slaver like he would a venomous snake.

Maulkin’s smile grew a 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 trying to blast you to bits.” Eyebrows raised, Maulkin glanced over his shoulder at Stone.

“They were. I escaped.”

“Interesting.” The slaver 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, measuring 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.

Stone realized he was on very dangerous ground. Flashing the slaver a smile that was just a humorless 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.

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 the man 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.”