HeartStorm (HeartFast Series Book 3) (15 page)

           
"Why don't you spread your wings, Udo? Launch yourself a couple of parsecs into the next solar system?"

            He shrugged. "Too afraid right now, I guess."

            "Afraid of what? That shield of yours can protect you from most anything, can't it?"

            "So far, yeah."

            "Then what else worries you?"

            "I'm afraid of running out of oxygen. What if I get too far out, and there's no place for me to restock?"

            His father smiled. "I'll let you in on a little secret we flit pilots learned. Look for a planet where you can see water on its surface. If it has water, the chances are good it has a breathable atmosphere."

            "How's that?" Hunter asked the man he idolized.

            "Water's made of oxygen molecules," Vall Vosstien commented. "Finding water means there's a good chance you'll find at least some sort of oxygenation."

           
The advice had been sound, and had saved his hide on many occasions when he needed to glide through the universe.

            A rainbow of color greeted him as he entered the Carnesium system. A massive globular nebulae lay parallel to the space station like a giant carpet of glittering paints. The star base itself was spindle-shaped, rotating at a sixteen degree angle like a top on its axis. Quickly, he zoomed into the nearest landing bay, its door kept open to receive incoming craft. Once he reached the airlock, he melted through the titanium door to emerge into a receiving room. Dropping his shield, he strode out into the hallway and hailed the first uniform walking by.

            "Your commander, who and where is he?"

            It took the young ensign a moment to collect himself. When he did, his eyes grew round with surprise. "You-you're Master Hunter! Of the Guardians! Oh, great stars!"

            "Your commander, who and where is he?" Hunter repeated. "It's urgent!"

            "Uhh, he's probably on level seventeen where base headquarters are located."

            "Which way is level seventeen?"

            The ensign pointed upward.

            Giving the young man a curt thank you, Hunter wrapped his bubble around him and shot into the ceiling, going rapidly from level to level until he reached one where the profusion of uniforms was too many to ignore. As he had below, he disbursed his aura and tagged a passing blue shirt.

            "Your commander, who and where is he?"

            This time the old woman smiled as she raked her eyes over his form. She tilted her head. "Come with me."

            She led him through an outer ring of offices, most of which were empty except for the largest one in the corner. It's open portal bore the title
Regent Direction Targian.

           
The woman officer paused in the doorway and cleared her throat.

            "Yes? What is it?" The voice was raspy, metallic. The unmistakable sound of an implanted translator.

            Hunter sensed pride in the woman's voice as she announced, "Master Hunter of the Guardians is here to speak with you."

            She stood aside to let Hunter in, and at first glance he realized why the regent used the device. He was a Co De Verial, one of the rare humanoid species who lived beneath the waves of a planet that was ninety-nine percent water. A mask covered the regent's nose and mouth, with a tube extending over the man's left shoulder to where it was attached to his tank. Hunter could discern the hum of the tiny motor which fed oxygen into the liquid the regent breathed.

            The man rose in greeting. "Master Hunter. Can I assume you're here with regards to your ship and fellow Guardian?"

            Hunter frowned. "Fellow Guardian?"

            "Yes. The man who identified himself as a new member of the Guardians. He referred to himself as Vengeance."

            The moniker jabbed him in the gut. Wincing, Hunter replied, "Yes, he's why I'm here, but the man in question is not a Guardian, and never will be. His real name is Aginthon DiMackerlyn, and we have cause to believe he may have stolen something very valuable from us."

            Targian bobbed his head. "Your ship."

            "Not just our ship. My newborn daughter."

            A gasp behind him told Hunter the woman had not left. Targian came around from behind his desk.

            "Come with me," the regent ordered, sweeping past the female officer to lead Hunter into another section on the same floor. This time Hunter recognized the familiar surroundings as the central core and command headquarters.

            Targian strode immediately up to a man bearing the insignia of a communications director. "Master Dotharbith. You were the one who gave clearance for the Guardian Transport to dock?"

            The director glanced curiously at Hunter. The man immediately recognized him. "Yes, I did. Why? Is there a problem?"

            "Let me guess," Hunter ventured. "You gave him clearance because he was in a Guardian Transport, and not because of who he said he was. Am I correct?"

            The director paused. He was beginning to realize something was amiss, and he may be responsible. "We received a full recognition and registry for the vessel. We had no idea who the man piloting it was, but we took him on his word. After all, there's no reason to distrust or believe a Guardian would lie to us."

            "Where is the man now?" Hunter asked tersely.

            "Umm, probably somewhere on base. Why?"

            "He isn't a Guardian," the regent informed him.

            "Do you know if the man had someone with him?"

            "Another Guardian? He didn't say if someone was with him."

            "I need that man detained, but don't try to arrest him. Just...stall him," Hunter said. "Use extreme caution. If he thinks you're on to him, he'll disappear on you."

            "Disappear? How?" Targian asked.

            "We believe he's an M'golifian."

            "I'm not familiar with that species," the regent admitted.

            The communications director said differently. "I am. I've had dealings with his kind in the past. If you surround him with a strong negative electrical charge, it'll dampen his ability to vibrate his cells and vanish."

            "Do you have a way to do that?" Hunter asked.

            "It should be pretty simple," Dotharbith told him. "I'll notify Engineering and have them send up a portable unit."

            "We have to find him first," Hunter commented.

            "How can we when we don't know what he looks like?" Targian questioned.

            "Don't you have security cameras in the corridors?"

            Instead of answering, the officer went over to a display board and brought up a series of small vid transmissions. Several of them blinked out as he dismissed the feeds, finally settling on one.

            "This is the scope facing the docking bay where he was instructed to land." Dotharbith reset the timer. "Let's see if we have a good picture of him."

            They watched the screen as the clock in the bottom right-hand corner ticked off the seconds. After a while, the communications director frowned. "That's odd. He should have emerged from the bay by now."

            On a hunch, Hunter instructed, "Slow the playback. Show milliseconds."

            The director reset the feed a second time, until the numbers crawled.

            "There!" Hunter suddenly barked, pointing at the screen. "Back up one frame at a time."

            Dotharbith manually reversed the video, when a figure suddenly appeared. But it was a partial shot, taking in three-quarters of the man's face and right shoulder for a split-second before DiMackerlyn went off-screen.

            "I don't get it," the director muttered, readjusting the vid. "How..."

            One moment the corridor was empty, then there was the brief glimpse of the man. One or two micro frames, and that was all.

            Dotharbith gave an exasperated sigh. "He must have materialized into the corridor, which is why we only got this incomplete sighting. Sorry, Master Hunter."

            "Yeah, but it's something you can give to your men. At least they'll have an idea what their target looks like," Hunter reassured the man. Inwardly, though, disappointment welled within him. From what they could see, there was no telling if the man was carrying anything. Carrying Callie.

            The regent strode immediately to another section of the comm board and called for security to report on deck. Once he was done, he rejoined them. "I'll have the guards check this place out from one axis to another. But what if he's managed to jump base?"

            "He's not capable of that," Dotharbith stated. "He's a great escape artist, but he still has to move from point A to point B just like the rest of us." He turned to Hunter. "But since he can literally vanish through walls and such, there's the possibility he may have hopped another ship."

            "Can you check your manifests? Notify every vessel that's left since my ship arrived?" Hunter asked.

            The regent nodded. "And every ship due to depart. Master Dotharbith, take over."

            The director bent over the comm board, his fingers flying over the console.

            "Master Hunter," Targian added. "What happens if he's nowhere on another ship. Any idea what you'll do next? Can you track a person who can disappear at will?"

            Hunter gave the man a one-sided grin. "That's what I'm good at. First, I need to check out the ship. Where is it docked?"

            "I gave him clearance to dock at Bay twenty-eight B," Dotharbith answered, his head still bowed over his work.

            "And that's on what level?"

            "Level thirty-one," Targian replied.

            Hunter pointed a forefinger toward the ceiling, then at the floor.

            "Below," the regent grinned.

            Nodding, Hunter vanished, counting the floors as he shot downward. Normally, he would have blindly searched for the ship on his own, but it always helped if he had some information to guide him.

            Reaching the thirty-first level, he stepped into the receiving room. A look around the area didn't reveal anything, and he moved on into the bay. With the ship docked, the main entry doors were sealed shut to allow the transport's occupants to disembark within an oxygenated atmosphere.

           
Guardian Transport One
sat several meters away, parked haphazardly on the cradle. Apparently DiMackerlyn wasn't accustomed to landing, but he knew enough to take off and pilot. The transparent hatch was open. Hunter frowned, his mood darkening. The guy didn't even close or lock down the ship.

            Striding over to
One
, he bent over the open cockpit and searched the interior for something that he could use to focus his powers in order to hunt the man down. Placing his palm on the front seat gave him a faint trace. Same for the throttles. But it wasn't enough.

            He mouthed a curse word and moved to the back seat. This time he got a different reaction.

            It ran like a shockwave up his arm, exploding outward from the center of his chest. The sensation rocked him backwards, knocking him onto his butt. Hunter hit the metal floor and remained there for several seconds, stunned and disoriented.

           
Callie. Callie!

            He'd felt her. Her distinct pattern was all over the seat, so strong he could almost smell it. Taste it. See it.

            Scrambling back over the side of the ship, he reached again to absorb all he could from the traces on the seat, ratcheting his hunting abilities to their maximum levels to absorb all he could. Tracking DiMackerlyn would take too long. But with a lock on his daughter, Hunter could cut that time into a fraction.

            Slowly, he slid his hand over the upholstery, drinking in every molecule, when he caught sight of something peeking from beneath the seat. Something white. Bending down further, Hunter dug at the object with his fingertips to dislodge whatever had gotten hung up. The item came loose, and he brought it out to where he could see it.

            A bootie. A tiny white bootie.

            Holding it to his nose, he closed his eyes and breathed in the baby's scent. Her warm, fragrant, newborn scent. Tears burned behind his eyelids.

            It was proof. Proof that son of a bitch had Callie. Proof that man had taken his daughter, for the heavens knew what reason.

            Crumpling the bootie in his hand, Hunter rose to his feet as blackness swirled around his body.

           
Terrin, you swore you would kill the man if he indeed took our daughter. I hate to tell you this, my only love, but I must take that pleasure away from you. His life is now mine to control, and to deal with as I see fit.

           
Tucking the object into his pants pocket, Hunter drew his shield around himself and vanished from the landing bay.

Chapter Nineteen

Vow

            Hunter watched the horror grow on his wife's face as he held the little white bootie up to the monitor. Despite the distance between them, he could feel her despair nearly overwhelm her as she bit her lips and tried to keep from breaking down. Around her, the other Guardians looked just as devastated.

            "With this, I can lock onto Callie's signature," he told them. "It's only a matter of time before I'll find her."

            "But what about DiMackerlyn?" Disaster asked.

            "I hope she's with him. That way I can bring them both back with me."

            "Hunter."

            The tone in Deceiver's voice was one he recognized and hated, but understood. The Guardian leader had made a decision and knew it was one he wouldn't like, but had no choice but to obey.