Hunting Will (The Aliomenti Saga - Prequel) Page 2

  Aramis, careful to maintain hand contact with Stark, inched to his left, stretched around Athos, and secured Stark’s hand. Stark, seemingly aware of what was coming, tried to wrench himself free of his captors. Porthos and Athos slammed him against the wall again, knocking the wind out of Stark. Aramis took advantage of Stark’s temporary disorientation and thrust his right hand into the other half of the pair of molded gloves. The structure constricted and bound the two men’s hands together, acting much like a pair of handcuffs that forced maximum skin contact between them. The device had been specially designed for this encounter, enabling Aramis to remain in contact with Stark for as long as necessary. Aramis’ Dampering skill would then remain in effect without the risk of Stark breaking contact or Aramis’ grip slipping. Without that contact, Stark would escape in mere seconds the instant the Hunters left the sight of humans.

  Athos pulled a syringe from his pocket, slipped off the cap, and jabbed the needle into Stark’s left arm. When he depressed the plunger, Stark became further deflated. The serum acted to destabilize mental focus and induce a sleep-like state, keeping Stark from working at his full mental capacity until the Hunters could restrain him in a more permanent manner.

  Athos and Porthos exhaled, relieved that Stark was restrained, if only temporarily. The entire encounter had taken only thirty seconds, and to their great relief no humans had ascended the steps or moved through the doorway. A quick glance showed a mangled security camera pointing at the entry; Aramis’ smirk communicated the fact the he’d disabled the device just as Stark entered the garage area. No one would see them on camera.

  The Hunters could now transport Stark away with little attention, and Stark seemed physically dazed by the rough treatment, drained of his usual enthusiasm and spark due to his contact with Aramis and the administered serum. Everything was going very well. Stark was subdued and locked down with Aramis, dazed by a drug that would prevent him from focusing well enough to fight back.

  Athos led the way down the stairs, followed by Aramis pulling a staggered Stark. Porthos trailed behind, making sure that Aramis and Stark didn’t fall. Though Stark seemed properly captured and subdued and they were greatly relieved, none of the Hunters fooled themselves into believing Stark would go quietly. The man was far too powerful, clever, and resourceful to simply accept his fate. They’d need to work quickly to ensure that the man was unable to devise any workable strategy to sever his link with Aramis and escape their clutches.

  Athos led the way to a two-door sedan with heavily tinted windows and scanned the area around them. When he spotted two security cameras pointing at their route, he focused his attention on them. The cameras sparked, fizzled, and blinked out of operation. The four men would be gone before anyone came to investigate the malfunction, and there would be no visual record of their appearance in the garage.

  Athos glanced at Aramis. “Clear.”

  Aramis nodded, concentrated, and he and Stark vanished, instantly reappearing in the back seat of the sedan. Athos and Porthos opened the passenger and driver-side doors and entered the vehicle in a more conventional manner. Porthos backed the car from its parking spot, emerging from the parking garage moments later, heading away from the crowds of the casino, with its multiple tourist attractions. The Hunters had no interest in the facility; they knew only that Stark had gone there for some unknown reason, and thus he’d be vulnerable to capture.

  So far, mission accomplished.

  “Where’s the transport craft?” Porthos glanced at Athos as he piloted the vehicle through the city streets, heading for the outskirts of the town.

  “South of here. We’ll need to use this vehicle to meet up with the main craft, which means we’ll have to go invisible as we get airborne. I don’t think we have sufficient fuel to get all the way to headquarters.”

  “Not even close.”

  Athos nodded. “We need to find an abandoned stretch of road and use it to get airborne.” He turned around to face Aramis. “How’s the prisoner?”

  “Quiet.” Aramis seemed pleased. “He’s juiced up even more since our last encounter. He keeps trying to surge his Energy and break through the Dampering. I think the injection is thwarting him. We’ll have to tell the lab to produce more; if it can slow Stark down, it will work on anyone.”

  “Agreed,” Athos replied. He looked thoughtful, then turned back to Aramis. “You said his Energy levels are actually higher than last time? Even though he was off the charts back then?”

  Aramis nodded. “Ask Porthos. His surges are quite strong, and I daresay that if he could concentrate to a normal degree he could make things very uncomfortable for me.”

  Porthos twitched. “You’re kidding. You think he could break free of the Damper? I thought you wiped out all Energy stores? Snuffed them out?”

  Aramis nodded. “Normally true. I’ve long suspected that there are limits to what I can do, though. As we’ve Hunted more experienced traitors, I’ve found it to be a greater and greater strain on me. I think that means it’s only a matter of time until someone can’t be fully shut down. Stark would be a likely candidate to be the first.” He looked nervous. “How fast can you move this rolling death trap?”

  Porthos sighed. “Safely? The exact speed I happen to be driving right now. Unsafely? Quite a bit faster. But our traveling speed is hardly relevant right now, is it? Don’t you have some charges to read, or are you going to continue prattling on about Stark’s Energy levels? Your whining is more distracting than that lovely brunette near the fountain earlier.”

  Aramis’ face reddened. “Porthos, you know that any type of fraternization with humans—”

  Porthos laughed. “You’ll never learn, will you, Aramis? Focus on Stark, as the boss would say. What’s the damage?”

  Aramis reached into a satchel located near his feet and withdrew a single sheet of paper, a piece of paper rolled as if it were an ancient papyrus scroll. The paper wasn’t made of papyrus or wood pulp, however, but rather was created of high end electronics and computing components. Aramis unrolled the scroll with one hand and snapped the paper with his wrist. The device stiffened, and in that state resembled a tablet-style computer more than a piece of paper. He tapped on the computer, and writing filled the page. “At last check, Will Stark is in violation of two of the four Oaths, thirty-two laws, and ninety-nine rules, which would require a sentence of two hundred sixty-eight years, four months, and eleven days.”

  Porthos tsked. “Stark, you’re such a slacker. You couldn’t even manage to make it to an even hundred rules violations?”

  Stark lunged forward, startling all of them, and smacked Porthos in the head with his free hand before Aramis could hurl him back against the seat and smash an elbow into the fugitive’s head, rendering Stark unconscious. The man’s inert form slumped against Aramis, who looked uncomfortable being in such close proximity to a wanton rule-breaker and criminal. The hand contact might be necessary, but the rest was tortuous. Aramis pushed Stark away several times, but the twists and turns of the road conspired against him and hurled the unconscious prisoner back into him. He looked up, helpless, and realized from Porthos’ red-faced grin that his fellow Hunter was intentionally swerving the vehicle to produce just such an outcome.

  Aramis directed a very rude, very human gesture in the direction of Porthos, and the two men in the front seat finally lost control and laughed.

  Athos, after recovering from his laughter, pointed to a dirt road shaded by tall trees on both sides. “That should work, Porthos.”

  Porthos nodded, and turned the vehicle down the road. A panel on the dashboard displayed a map, showing the location of any human-sized living creatures. Once Athos and Porthos had scanned the screen to confirm they were truly isolated, Porthos stopped the car and Athos pushed a switch, on the front panel.

  The exterior of the car adjusted, transforming as the outer panels reversed. The new external panels absorbed light rays and fed them through a system comprised of thousands of optical fib
ers. Additional panels of the same structure extended beneath the tires and undercarriage, ensuring that the entirety of the vehicle was “invisible.” The system distributed light waves out on the opposite side of the vehicle, providing the illusion of invisibility. The system wasn’t perfect; the processing capacity hadn’t yet advanced to account for the angle of entry, and an astute observer might think a spot in the sky was somehow twisting light. For their purposes, however, the system worked well.

  Porthos grasped a lever on the dash behind the steering wheel and pulled it forward. The automobile steering wheel flipped into hiding, replaced with a pilot’s yoke. The action triggered a physical rumbling as the engines increased power, though the noise was minimized. The craft controlled its elevation via specialized magnets that repelled gravity more strongly as the amount of power supplied to the magnets increased. The energy supply grew as Porthos pulled back on the yoke and angled the invisible flying car into the sky and above the tree line. As their energy supplies were limited, Porthos knew he’d need to keep power usage to a minimum to reach their intermediate destination.

  Will Stark had regained consciousness and sat quietly in the back seat, watching the events unfold around him. Perhaps, Athos thought, the fugitive recognized that resistance was futile, and that any excessive effort to extricate himself could well result in crashing the aircraft. Such an effort would put his own life at risk, and it was unlikely Stark would take such a risk. Athos glanced at the man, and to his terror noted that Stark’s jade green eyes had refocused; the effects of the serum had worn off. Will Stark was plotting something. A focused, angry Will Stark was their greatest fear.

  Over the years the Aliomenti had evolved, they’d created rules for behavior related to the usage of the knowledge and skills they’d developed. They’d made scientific and health advances often centuries before the human general population, advances that enabled the group to accumulate immense wealth and power. The rules restricted the ability of members of the Aliomenti to widely share what they’d learned; spreading the knowledge out would dilute the effect and limit the advantages of the knowledge. The rules had grown more numerous and the penalties more severe, until finally one man broke free from the Aliomenti in protest. Others followed him, believing it critical to introduce advances among the wider human population to advance the entire planet. The Hunters were created to chase down the rebels, and the position of the Assassin was created to permanently silence those humans who might have received Aliomenti knowledge without first being invited to join the Aliomenti through proper channels. New members were required to first swear to follow the Aliomenti rules and abide by the penalties assigned for violations.

  The most critical of these rules, known as the Four Oaths, mandated penalties up to and including death of the offending Aliomenti. The Hunters and Assassins located, imprisoned, and executed offenders as the rules prescribed.

  Aramis acted as a figurative pair of handcuffs, subduing those captured on Hunts until they were properly imprisoned. For his skill to have maximum effect, he must remain in contact with the prisoner – and awake. Even now, Porthos and Athos handed Aramis food tablets laced with caffeine and other stimulants to ensure his alertness and concentration never wavered. The strain was already showing on Aramis’ face, however, as the drugs used to sedate Stark earlier worked their way through his system, accelerated by the man’s rapid healing abilities. Stark was working to recharge his massive Energy stores as only he could, and if he succeeded, the results would be disastrous for all three Hunters. The prisoner would escape, and that meant they’d be injured gravely, have to face the wrath of their Leader… or, most likely, both.

  “Athos,” Aramis said, through gritted teeth. “I could use a hand here…” The sweat rising from the man’s forehead was starting to drip down his face, threatening to dislodge his glasses. Aramis’ eyesight was beyond perfect; the glasses were simply an accessory he enjoyed, much like the top hat he wore in more private settings. Losing the glasses wasn’t cause for alarm, but the strain of maintaining his hold on Stark could become problematic in rapid fashion.

  Athos held up his hands. “I only brought one dose. I was told it would be enough.”

  Porthos snorted. “Lab guys wrong again, huh? Stunning, that.” He turned to risk a quick glance at Aramis, his shoulder-length brown hair swirling to the side. “Wow, dude, you’re going to need a shower after this.” He sniffed loudly. “Hey Stark, be a real gem and stop forcing Aramis to ramp up the body odor, okay? I’m trying to fly this thing safely.”

  Stark, whose calm and composure stood in marked contrast to Aramis’ strain, smiled. “I can’t really turn off my Energy production, now, can I, Porthos? It’s as natural a part of me as breathing. As I see it, the only solution to your olfactory quandary is to release me.” He glanced at Aramis, as the blond-haired man’s features continued to flush. “Or Aramis can just give it up and I’ll leave on my own. No hard feelings for the unfriendly greeting back in the parking garage.”

  Athos turned and glared at the prisoner. “Not a chance, Stark. We have a job to do, and we will complete our mission successfully.”

  Stark yawned. “I’d say that’s dependent on whether Porthos can get me into your long-range prison craft before Aramis cracks under pressure, wouldn’t you?” He reached over with his free hand and patted Aramis on the shoulder. “Ease up, old man. It’ll be less painful for you if you do. You know you can’t win this.”

  Aramis’ eyes raged, even as he struggled to breathe. “I know nothing of the sort. I won’t ever quit.”

  Stark shrugged, and made a show of shaking Aramis’ sweat off his free hand. “Wake me when it’s over. If I haven’t already escaped, that is.”

  Athos tapped on his head, just behind his ear. “This is Athos, requesting a position update for the prisoner transport craft. We have Stark in custody but are starting to lose contain.” He spoke in a quiet voice; the microphone embedded in his head would amplify the sound before transmission. It was the same technology the Hunters had used to coordinate their actions in capturing Stark. While they could have used telepathy — a skill all three had mastered years earlier — Stark would likely sense them ahead of time and be warned of their approach, enabling him to take evasive action. Stark, of course, had chided them for such measures.

  Athos checked the reported position of the transport craft using an in-dash map, relative to their current position. The smaller craft holding Stark would arrive at the rendezvous point in five minutes. The larger transport craft, with the Energy-dampering cell for holding Stark, would arrive about five minutes after that. “Negative,” Athos murmured. “Need you to accelerate to maximum speed. Our captive is Will Stark. Uncertain if we can restrain him another ten minutes.”

  Athos signed off a few seconds later, disgusted, as he’d been told in no uncertain terms that the craft was traveling at maximum speed already. Porthos glanced over and read his facial expression. He shrugged, effectively saying, “we’ll do the best we can.” Athos grimaced. That wasn’t an attitude he wanted held by his team. This was serious business; failure meant losing Stark to his cursed Alliance, and the criminal organization would continue attempting to lift the humans out of their decrepit states, encouraging them to discover and develop the advances the Aliomenti had worked centuries to find. The Hunters, and their Leader, considered this theft of their intellectual property as theft of the worst sort, and an act of treason.

  He glanced into the back seat yet again. Aramis was not going to make it; that much was certain. The Hunter was hanging on bravely, but the mental effort to try to snuff out Stark’s massive Energy stores was proving overwhelming. Athos had seen Aramis completely drain a number of very powerful Aliomenti fugitives, seemingly with less effort than breathing. Stark’s Energy capacity must be simply enormous.

  He would not allow this mission to fail, not again. He knew that the Leader wouldn’t stand for another failure. The fact that Will Stark continued to walk free bothere
d their Leader to an immeasurable degree. The Hunters were victims of their own success, expected to round up Stark without failure as they had done with innumerable others. The Leader simply could not comprehend how the three of them could not bring Stark in to face the justice he richly deserved. Athos looked at Porthos, and saw the look of concern on his face. Even with Aramis’ powerful Energy Damper operating at full force, both men could feel Stark’s Energy starting to leak out.

  Porthos tapped the communications device trigger behind his ear. “Transport, please confirm that the execution of the human targets is scheduled to proceed as planned.” He paused. “No, if they’re resisting, you’re permitted to… dissuade them. The Leader won’t mind, and I’m sure The Assassin would assist. He might… slip, though.” He laughed.

  Athos watched Stark’s reaction; the man’s countenance immediately switched from cunning and planning to shock and fury. “You wouldn’t dare!” he snarled, focusing on Porthos. Porthos chuckled.

  With Stark’s attention distracted, Athos located an empty fuel cell near his feet and the door, and quietly detached it from its docking station. As it was already empty, this would have no impact on the quantity of power available to the craft. Even empty, however, the fuel cell was solid and heavy, and could cause considerable damage if it contacted something vulnerable.

  Like Will Stark’s head.

  Aramis, catch. Athos projected the message to Aramis telepathically, hoping that Porthos’ continued taunting of Stark about the execution of human prisoners would distract their captive enough that he’d fail to detect the upcoming assault.

  Athos surrounded the fuel cell with his Energy, and once the device was smothered pictured it in Aramis’ free left hand. With a burst of Energy, the cell moved instantly to the hand of the Hunter. Stark, in the midst of a savage verbal barrage directed at Porthos, noticed the Energy surge from Athos and turned toward the man in the front passenger seat, expecting an attack. He never saw the fuel cell in Aramis’ hand as the heavy device crashed into the side of his head. Stark crumpled, unconscious again, and Aramis relaxed with an audible sigh, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Athos and Porthos relaxed as well, in the hope that the latest physical trauma would keep Stark immobilized until he was safely in his prison cell.