Chapter 46: Chapter 46: Sighting

HOLLOWAY

Sitting alone at his new duty station, the Tharon bounty hunter currently mindmasking as Agent Holloway stared at the feeds from the primitive security cameras without really seeing them. While the rest of his pod wasn’t in this small room with him, they were spread throughout the building. Every one of them was discontent, and he could not blame them.

Their usual methods were not working.

As exciting as it had been to catch wind of the fugitive syren outside of Red’s Tavern two weeks ago, leads since then had all but dried up. Worse, Leader Fitzkree was once again proving difficult. Given Holloway’s recent failure—as Fitzkree saw it—he was now stuck on monitor-watching duty until the next junction arrived in a little over a week.

Holloway had staked his reputation as a Tharon hunter on two conclusions: first, that the syren had taken a new partner, and second, that partner had just been badly injured. Stab wounds were serious. A human male couldn’t simply shrug one off, and Holloway was certain the human male had been stabbed. Even Fitzkree’s carron had smelled the blood.

Fitzkree had humored Holloway’s theory. He had posted hunters at the local hospital and all local pharmacies, which should have caught the syren once she attempted to steal medicine. Weeks of long shifts had left the entire pod frustrated and bored.

The syren did not attempt to sneak into the hospital. She did not attempt to break into a pharmacy. Despite everything Holloway knew about her and her already proven desire to nurture and protect her partners, she had made no attempt to save this one.

Was it possible her new partner had died of his wounds that same night?

That thought saddened him. He could not imagine the syren otherwise abandoning a partner so quickly, not if she cared for him enough to unleash a mind blast and risk capture to protect him. So should he search for a record of recent homicides?

He could not know. What he did know is that Fitzkree was done entertaining any more of his “hunches”. Holloway would not be traveling back into the field before the junction, and when it came, Fitzkree would be traveling off world with half the pod... and their captive syren.

Their current contract had been for both syrens, but there were other contracts for the syren they had already captured. All were lucrative. Their current employer was not the only wealthy sapient who wished the return of his missing syren.

Apparently, “Larika” had entered contracts with several wealthy and influential sapients across the galaxy, all of whom she had eventually abandoned. She was a slippery one. Meanwhile, the trail of Larika’s mitosic twin sister had gone cold.

Progress had become non-existent. If it remained so by the junction, Holloway knew Fitzkree would take half the pod and leave the others—and Holloway—to root about for leads. Possibly for years. Still... that would not be so bad.

When the Chancellorship had first shipped him off to Earth, Holloway had resented being sent to such a remote post, especially one that was decades or even centuries away from being properly uplifted. In the past few years, he had mellowed on his new assignment. Earth was not the worst. It was actually passably pleasant.

Sometimes, when not actively on duty, Holloway would assume a less threatening mindmask and walk about among the local population. He enjoyed watching humans and sometimes, even conversing with them. Their naivety about matters of the galaxy was refreshing. Many shared a refreshing sense of purpose he genuinely liked.

In a few weeks, Fitzkree would no longer be in command. Holloway could mingle with the humans again. He did not know who the Chancellorship would sent to replace Fitzkree, but he doubted whatever leader arrived could be more stubborn and short-sighted.

He kept that particular thought close inside his mind and blocked away from his fellow hunters. It was safest that way. He was still lost in his thoughts when the mental alarm from his pod members sent him straight upright in his chair.

“Sending detected!” It was Yatrick who was first to the thought, but he had always had been excitable. “It is her, Leader Fitzkree! The syren has revealed herself once more!”

A burst of hope rushed through Holloway at their luck. He fumbled for his universal device for a moment before swiping a map of the area out before his eyes. Was it the tavern again? Another bar? Perhaps even the hospital or a pharmacy?

Yatrick and several others were already comparing notes on their impressions of the sending, and a moment later, the pod came to a consensus. Holloway frowned as he evaluated the presumed coordinates. When five or more Tharon hunters agreed on the source of a sending, its location was almost always correct, but this location... was odd.

The syren had activated her mind blast in the middle of a heavily forested state park, one where few traveled this time of year other than adventurous campers and outdoorsmen. It was almost thirty minutes from town by car and five by ship, at least at legal atmospheric speeds. They only had one ship, and Fitzkree would certainly pilot it.

Could the syren have moved “off the grid”? That would explain her skill at evading them. No hunter had picked up her scent in town, but if the partner she had taken was an outdoorsman of some sort, it was plausible they could have been living in the state park for the past few weeks. Her new partner could even be a human “survivalist.”

That could also explain why she had not attempted to steal or acquire medicine. Perhaps this partner had stockpiled enough for their needs. The question was, what sort of threat could possibly be large enough for her to risk revealing such a perfect hiding place?

Fitzkree and the pod were already mobilizing as Holloway drew upon all his experiences with humans in a desperate attempt to make sense of this. Had she come into conflict with another survivalist? A conflict with her partner himself? He doubted a syren would take a partner who would ever turn on her, but could she have misjudged him?

No. Syren did not misjudge their partners, not after seeing into their minds. She would not have taken a partner who would turn on her, so the threat had to be another human, possibly a male that had come across their camp and... sought to take her? Human life was difficult, and given how attractive the syren likely was, another male might covet her.

Yet even that did not feel right. While the remote location she had chosen with her partner had kept her from being detected in town, there was only one real road into or out of the park. Even with a car, she could not get past the roadblock Fitzkree would soon set up. On foot and in the woods, the carrons could track her down. Fitzkree had brought in three more.

She had to know she was cornered now. That made her even more unpredictable, and more importantly, this would make her partner unpredictable. Holloway knew the worst the syren would unleash upon a Tharon was a mind blast, but what of her partner? What if he had guns and was ready to use them? Fitzkree and the others could walk right into an ambush.

Leader Fitzkree’s sending to him was brief and to the point. “Stay and guard.”

Holloway remained “in the doghouse” as the humans said, and so would not be joining the rest of the pod as they ringed the sending location and closed in from all sides. This time, the syren would not evade them. Not with the carrons on her trail. She would be caught.

It was almost disappointing to have the chase ended in such a mundane fashion, but perhaps it would be for the best. If the syren had been forced to unleash that mind blast, she might be in real danger. His pod could at least save her and reunite her with her sister.

They would tank both syrens and return them to their partners, even though it was obvious they did not wish to return. This element of the hunt had bothered him since the assignment arrived, but he was simply one hunter. He could not challenge the Chancellorship.

Moreover, interstellar law was interstellar law, and both syrens had signed agreements and then reneged on them. It remained his duty to protect Earth’s sheltered people from alien interference and subjugation. And it was all out of his hands anyway, unless...

As his conversation with the human Carter Reed returned to the forefront of his memory, he replayed it with this new context. He had never been able to determine the syren’s motive in parking her ship atop that box store nights ago. Cloaking her ship was trivial for her.

Why, then, would the syren allow any human to so easily spot her ship? He had assumed she had been hurried or distracted in some way, but now...

He gasped as he saw it. Had she intended to be spotted by Carter Reed? If she had...

He urgently contacted his pod leader. “Leader Fitzkree.”

There was no immediate response.

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“I have a concern.” As much as he knew he might be disciplined for thinking out of turn, he presented his new theory to the entire pod. What if the syren was attempting to lure them out for some unknown purpose? What if she knew the location of their base?

Several Tharons, ones who had hunted with him for years, immediately agreed with him. Fitzkree, however, did not. The leader’s response was both forceful and absolute.

“She is in the park, and her primitive human partner cannot penetrate our defenses. We have the force to capture her, and I will not weaken it on a hunch. You will guard our nest and prove your worth as a Tharon hunter. Or are you even incapable of even that simple task?”

No further sendings would be tolerated, nor would questioning. “I will guard the nest, Leader Fitzkree. I await your return with our quarry.”

No sending answered him. The sound of multiple vehicles faded as every hunter who possessed a car drove out of the building. Their pod ship also whistled quietly into the air. The ship would reach the syren long before the others, and on it were Fitzkree and his carrons.

He would find the syren. He would track her in his ship until the rest of the pod closed the net. She would not escape any of them... but only if Holloway’s theory was wrong.

Perhaps he should take one more patrol through the facility. Perhaps he should have one last look around rather than simply staring at these monitors.

Perhaps, in the absence of other duties, he should play one last hunch.

 

***

 

CARTER

As he silently descended the interior steps leading down into the old packing warehouse the Tharons had taken as their home base, he marveled once more at how absolutely silent Allison’s “spacesuit” remained. The black alien fabric was so light it almost felt like he was not wearing anything at all, but more importantly, it made his feet fall literally without sound. The way it drank light assured him he’d be practically invisible in any shadow in this warehouse.

Better yet, the “hood” of the spacesuit covered him completely, silenced his breathing, and provided a constant heads up display showing his vitals and his direction, all of which Allison had translated to English before they parted. The suit’s complicated sensors had already found Larika. She was in here, or her tank was, and she less than a five minute walk away.

He suspected every military on the planet would kill to get their hands on stealth gear this good, even if it couldn’t actually cloak him. It was one more reminder of just how much Allison trusted him. He’d promised her he could pull this off, and she was out there right now with a whole mess of Tharons coming down on top of her. He couldn’t fail her. He wouldn’t.

Fortunately, so far as he could tell, the entire pod had peeled out of here the moment Allison unleashed her mind blast. They were off to track her down in the woods, which left their headquarters basically abandoned and their captive lightly guarded, if at all. The Tharons had fallen for their ruse hook, line, and sinker, but Carter couldn’t blame them too much.

After all, how could the aliens know he and Allie already knew how to find their base?

The warehouse was only two levels, and he reached the ground floor without encountering any guards. He was on the verge of opening the door and sneaking into the main part of the warehouse when a quiet alarm sounded inside his hood.

A Tharon. The suit had detected a Tharon in the next room. So one of the smug bastards was still in here, but only one. They must have left at least one guard on patrol.

Carter had expected this. Allison had too. He reached to his waist and checked for the small “suppressor” tucked away there. It was basically an alien stun gun, and while it wouldn’t leave any permanent damage, one shot would paralyze even a Tharon for a good ten minutes... assuming the Tharon wasn’t faster on the draw.

With luck, the Tharon would attempt to mind blast him before it tried to shoot him. Unfortunately for this Tharon, that mind blast wouldn’t have any effect. Because inside this spacesuit, Carter also had Allison’s muffler wrapped around his head.

The Tharon’s approach was purposeful but not rushed. It did not suggest he was alarmed. He was not running. Carter slipped into the shadows beneath the stairs.

The suit adjusted to match that shade of dark perfectly. As Allison said, it couldn’t cloak him in bright light. But in a uniformly colored shadow? The suit could shift its color to go practically invisible, and he had to trust it had.

He held his breath as the door opened and a figure entered. It was a good thing his suit muffled all sound, because he couldn’t help but gasp as an alien walked into the stairwell. Allison’s muffler didn’t just stop mind blasts.

It stopped Tharon mindmasking too.

This Tharon was tall. No... they were all tall. Allison had mentioned this. Even so, even though he was literally dating an alien, she at least looked human. This Tharon was the first real alien he had ever seen, and it inspired fear to primal he couldn’t shake it.

This explained why Agent Holloway, as a Man in Black, had towered over him. The Tharon’s head, which was shaped a little like a gray cobra’s, had to be at least seven feet up. Its facial features were somewhat human—two eyes, a nose, and thin gray lips—but those eyes had pupils like a snake’s. Its skin looked to be made of real scales.

The neck on which the cobra head rested was thin, at least a foot long on its own and no thicker than Carter’s forearm. Oddly enough, its body was the most humanoid part of it, at least in comparison to the rest. The Tharon wore dark body armor that hugged its smaller frame, equivalent to a thin but muscular man who stood maybe five feet.

The slick black boots the alien wore hid how many toes it had, or if it even had toes, but its hands were clearly visible. Three fingers, not five, and one big thumb in the middle. Each of those fingers also had a long nail on the end of it, one that looked wicked sharp.

Worse, the Tharon paused. For a moment, it seemed it was looking right at him, and Carter didn’t dare twitch a muscle. Had it spotted him? Had it sensed him? After a long moment of staring at the darkness beneath the stairs, the cobra-headed alien’s eyes blinked... sideways.

It shifted its gaze and hurried up the stairs as if eager to check something. Carter finally dared breathed again. He hid until his suit assured him the alien had left the stairwell, then hurried for the door. The Tharon could be back at any time, and he had to free Larika.

At least his suit verified no other Tharons were in the building. All but this last one had taken the bait. Now, he needed to get Larika out of that pod, get her energized and transformed, and get her out of this building and to her ship.

He quietly opened the door and slipped into the main portion of the warehouse.

 

Next Week: Heart-to-hearts, wet boobs, and probably a threesome.

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