Hunt the Heavens: Book Two of the Shadow Warrior Trilogy (3 page)

“I have been wondering something. I sought the Mother Lumina, even though I have, as yet, no concrete proof of its existence. Was I correct in that? Or should I have been searching for the handful of other Al’ar whom I must believe were left behind when my people made The Crossing? I bow to your wisdom in this.”

“The Mother Lumina, or your Guardians?” Wolfe said. “You seemed most convinced of the Guardians’ existence when you first explained your search.”

“I was and am.”

“I don’t know,” Wolfe said.

He reached in the table beside his bed, took out the Lumina he’d taken from the cache of a thief he’d killed, touched it.

The gray stone came to life, and a thousand colors pulsed through the room, flickering over Wolfe’s ruined face.

• • •

Joshua came suddenly awake.

“You shouted,”
said the one beside him.
“Are you experiencing pain?”

“No,” Joshua said. “At least … not much. No. I was in a dream. No, not a dream. I was being attacked. By … I do not know what. I heard a buzzing, though. Such as insects make.”

“There are no insects on this artificial world,” the other said. “Or there should not be, at any rate. So of course it must have been a dream.”

“I know.”

“Look at your arm,” his companion said suddenly. Wolfe’s forearm showed red ridges, streaks. “What could that be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a reaction to the painkiller?”

“But you have taken none since this afternoon.”

“I don’t know.” Wolfe stared at the marks. Slowly they began to fade.

Then he heard, in his mind, the sound of angry insects once more.

• • •

“Actually, I would like to have some trumpets for a proper fanfare,” Brekmaker said. “You have been an excellent subject. Now, take a look at yourself.”

Joshua looked at the three screens.

“I look like me,” he said. “Quite awhile ago. And I’m bright pink.”

“That’ll change. I’m going to put you out again, and repigment the skin. One thing, Mister Taylor. I must caution you to work on your facial reflexes. If you frown as you always frowned, if you smile as you always smiled, then the lines will start coming back, and your resemblance to your former self will become far more marked than otherwise.

“Now, lie back. You’ll be unconscious for perhaps half an hour or an hour while I finish up this last detail. I’ll revive you, then we can begin arrangements to reload my apparatus, and, well, the remainder of my fee, which I discussed with your associate.”

“I’d just as soon stay conscious.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Even though repigmentation is simple, it can be quite painful. Trust me on this.”

Wolfe stared at Brekmaker, grudged a nod.

“Now, I’m going to give you the deep tan of a man who’s been in space, as you wished. Please put your head back on the rest.”

Wolfe obeyed. The doctor fingered controls; two projectors rose out of the chair, aimed at Joshua, and anesthetic gas hissed.

“Breathe deeply now.”

A few seconds later, Wolfe went limp.

The doctor used other controls, and the projectors disappeared and other, similar devices emerged. Brekmaker moved slide pots, then fingered a sensor. He watched the screens closely as a thin mist came out, his fingers dancing across a keyboard. The sprayers moved obediently, and Joshua’s face darkened, changed.

“There,” Brekmaker said to himself. He got out of his chair, smiling oddly.

He reached under his console and took out a small tri-di recorder. He snapped an experimental picture, then went to Joshua.

Aiming carefully, he shot a series of pictures from several angles, whistling through his teeth. He frowned, then lifted the recorder for a final shot.

There was a slight sound behind him.

Brekmaker spun, one hand diving into the pocket of his surgical gown. He saw an open panel that he thought had been bare wall.

Nearly on him was a tall, impossibly slender snake-headed being, its skin color the dead white of a drowned man. Its eyes were slitted above the hood that flared around its neck.

Brekmaker’s hand came out with his gun, and his mouth opened, to shout, to scream. But as the gun lifted, the Al’ar’s grasping organ flashed out, touched the doctor in midchest.

The man’s face purpled. His frozen muscles tried to pull in air, failed. The gun fell limply to the deck.

Brekmaker clawed at his throat and once more the alien struck, a bare touch against the man’s forehead.

Brekmaker stumbled forward, crashed across his control console, and rolled to the floor, lying faceup, his final expression one of utter disbelief.

The Al’ar looked once at the corpse, then fitted himself awkwardly into the doctor’s chair and began to wait.

“Blackmail?”

“Sure,” Wolfe said. “You wait till you’re at a good safe distance, then let your patient know you just happen to have taken some before-and-after pics for your professional files, and certainly the poor sod would be happy to kick in a few credits to make sure those pics are kept properly secure. It ain’t a new racket.”

“I’m not doing too good on the professional recommendation circuit, am I?” Cormac said. He opened up the tiny recorder, took out its microfiche, and snapped it four times in his fingers, paying close attention to what he was doing. Without looking up, in a deliberately casual voice, he asked, “Brekmaker was fool enough to take these snaps when you were conscious
and
gave you room enough to take him?”

Wolfe made no reply. Cormac looked at him, then away.

“Civilian life’s getting to you,” Joshua said. “You never used to ask any questions about anything.”

Cormac smiled, a bit ruefully. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be inquisitive.”

“Forget it.”

• • •

The Al’ar evaded the blow, knelt, and his leg snapped out. The kick took Joshua in the upper thigh, and he hissed pain, rolled backward, then to the side as the Al’ar leapt toward him.

The Al’ar struck, Joshua sidestepped, blocked, and his return blow was blocked in return.

The two broke contact.

The Lumina stone on the pedestal against the wall of the bare room flared colors, and the Al’ar shimmered, vanished.

Wolfe glanced at the Lumina, sweat beading his forehead. The stone turned to dull gray, and the Al’ar was visible once more, closing on Wolfe.

Joshua jump-kicked, took the Al’ar in the chest, and knocked him flat. The alien backrolled into a crouch, and two fingers of Joshua’s right hand hovered motionless an inch in front of his eyes.

The Al’ar froze and his hood flared. He lifted his grasping organs, crossed them.

“You have the advantage.”

Wolfe bowed, stepped back, and the Al’ar got up.

“That trick with the Lumina. I did not know you could do that,”
the alien said.

“I did not, either. This was the first time.”

“Shadow Warrior, perhaps it is good that we are searching together. Perhaps, when … if we find the Mother Lumina, you might then be more able to understand its purpose than I.

“I might even wonder if this is what the one we went to intended, so long ago, who listened to the words you spoke and gave you your name. Perhaps he was also one of those who remained behind and we may ask if … when … we meet him. But that is for the future. As I said, perhaps that Guardian sensed that you might be a more worthy user of our devices than even an Al’ar.”

“You grant high praise, Taen.”
Wolfe switched to Terran. “Shall we go one more turn?”

“I think not. I feel fatigued.”

“You’re getting old, my friend.”

“As are we all. In my case, perhaps it is being forced to live on Terran food. My body is not content. Last night, when my body was in disuse, I had thoughts come that were disturbing.”

“You
were
corrupted by being around me. I thought Al’ar never dream.”

“Not in your terms. Let me go on. I
felt
that insectlike buzzing you described. With it came a sense of dread, of menace. Then I returned my body to its proper state of readiness, and the sound was gone. Of course, I showed none of the physical signs you evinced.”

“So what does it mean?”

“I do not know. But I think we must accept that this sending, or whatever it should be called, is not a fiction, but something that exists in or close to our space-time.”

• • •

Static hummed, clicked, and
SIGNAL INTERRUPT
bleeped, then the screen showed
CONTACT RESTORED.

“Sorry,” Joshua said. “Thought I lost you for a second.”

“You’re still not giving me a picture,” the distorted voice light-years distant complained.

“No. Nor are you.”

The speaker transmitted a sound that might have been laughter. “Isn’t it nice to find a couple of professionals who really trust each other?”

“Just like always,” Wolfe agreed.

“So what can I do you out of?”

“I just wanted to touch base. See if anything … interesting’s going on.”

There was dead air for almost a minute. “How clean is your transmission?”

“Clean. It’s bounced, well, let’s just say more than twice. And it’s as sealed as I could make it.”

“Okay. Only because I like to see things stirred up. Cisco’s looking for you. Looking hard.”

“That’s no news. He’s got a warrant out on me,” Wolfe said.

“That’s one thing,” the voice said. “That’s the official policy. He’s put word out that he wants a meet with you. Your terms, your ground, you know how to contact him.”

“Yeah. Sure. So he can collect the bounty?”

“Come on, Wolfe. Stop playing games. You know the rules.”

“I’m not sure Cisco does anymore.”

“No skin off my ass either way. I’m just passing the word along. There’s one other thing that goes with it — he said you can bring your friend from Tworn Station along.”

Wolfe waited until he could control his voice. Tworn Station was the undersea resort where he’d tracked down Taen.

“I got what you said … but don’t know what it means.”

The speaker stayed silent.

“Anything else?”

“Nope,” the voice said. “Unless you want the hot gossip on who’s sleeping with whom or who backalleyed her latest best friend. One other thing. Shoa InterGee is looking to hire a hotrod to take over their security section. The pay’s good, but I gotta warn you, their system stinks. I’ve been known to go wading in their stuff every now and then for giggles, and there’s folks out there far sneakier’n I am.”

“Hardly think they’d be interested in hiring somebody who’s on the run from FI.”

“As I said, I’m just the pipeline.”

“Thanks. Stay clean and I’ll catch you next shout.” Wolfe touched the sensor, and the speaker went dead. He turned to Taen.

“I understood the transmission,” the Al’ar said in Terran. “So this Cisco knows I exist and that we are teamed. I am hardly surprised — there were more than enough people who saw me when we retreated from my ship for Federation Intelligence to draw the correct assessment.

“But it will undoubtedly make life more interesting. My question is, should we agree to this meeting with the Intelligence man?”

Wolfe considered.

“The problem,” he mused aloud, “is how to walk into his nest and be able to get back out again. Mmmh. I think I can manage that.”

“I was hoping you would say that. I would appreciate any data we can absorb. We are operating with far too little input in our quest,” Taen said. “Now, once we derive whatever information we are able, can we kill this Cisco?”

Wolfe grinned. “Taen, you would have made a perfectly wonderful spy, what with your sense of morality and all.”

“Your words are meaningless. If you have an enemy, you seek him out and slay him. All else is nothing but noise to my brain.”

• • •

The door to Cormac’s inner office opened, and a soberly dressed man with a neat beard came out. He looked at Joshua, said “Good morning, son,” then went out the door, letting the door ease shut against his hand.

Wolfe looked thoughtful, shut off the com he’d been scanning, and went into Cormac’s office.

“The gentleman who just left called me son. I don’t think he actually had five years on me.”

“Better get used to it, young man. I’ve already put the word out for my bars to start making sure you’re of proper drinking age. Ain’t surgery wonderful? Drag up a chair.”

Wolfe obeyed. “Can I be nosy?”

“You cut my fingers off when
I
tried, but go ahead.”

“That gentleman who just left? Was he a Chitet?”

“He certainly was, although he didn’t sound like one for a couple of moments after I turned him down. He got a little dramatic on me. You have an interest in their little operation?”

“I do. They’ve tried to kill me half a dozen times now.”

“Mercy Maude,” Cormac said. “All this from an organization that claims to be nothing more than a logical and systematic philosophy and way of life.

“Then you’ll be very amused when you find out what he wanted. He put it most subtly, but he was very interested in acquiring, for a very impressive price, in cash to be handed to me directly, some of the mothballed Federation ships I’m supposed to be keeping all safe and secure. I don’t mind selling a part here or there, but his ideas seemed excessive.”

“They’re on the move, Cormac,” Wolfe said. “The last time they tried to slot me was with an
Ashida
-class cruiser.”

“Oh? Not the most subtle way to suggest they don’t like the way you cut your hair. And here my fine-feathered friend was telling me how they really needed half a dozen big ships to convert into transports for a large shipping deal they’re about to sign. He was real specific about what he wanted: those three
Nelson
-class battleships, two of the heavy cruisers I’ve got, and by the way, there’s a C & C rig out there that’d be almost perfect. Looks to me, if they need Command and Control, they’re building a fleet. Got a bit hostile when I told him to pack his ass with salt and piddle up a rope. Most civilly and in my most mellifluous tones, of course.”