A Stone's Throw Read online

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  DLSIJ Press

  www.dlsijpress.com

  Copyright ©2004 Michelle O'Leary

  First Published by DLSIJ Press, March 2003

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  A Stone's Throw

  "There's something you haven't considered."

  Stone leaned back in the pilot's chair and reached his arms over his head in a joint-popping stretch, ignoring the android. A giant yawn took him by surprise, the hinges of his jaw creaking with the gusty inhalation. Rubbing his face vigorously, he slumped in the seat and closed his aching eyes. He thought about putting his goggles back on to rest his burning eyeballs, but the damned ‘droid would just use it as an excuse to torment him some more. Not that he needed an excuse.

  Stone listened to the silence in the control room, clenching his jaw against the sure knowledge that Warren was staring at him. Waiting. The asshole probably had a smirk on his face, too. But in the short time that they'd known each other, Stone had learned that Warren was nothing if not persistent, especially with his games.

  With an explosive sigh, he cracked an eye. Yup, definitely a smirk. Plus, patronizing humor twinkled in his brown, surprisingly human eyes. Shit.

  "All right, what?” Stone growled, in a tone guaranteed to make the average person nervous.

  But Warren wasn't average. The smirk widened to a teasing grin, though he had enough sense not to call Stone on his aggression. “You've talked with Mike about making your Hunter status official, right?"

  Stone narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Yeah, what of it?"

  "And you mean to partner Mea as a hunter?"

  "Spit it out, ‘droid, before I take your head off and put it on backwards."

  Warren chuckled, as if the threat had been a jest. “I just don't think you've thought it all the way through, is all. What happens when you get old and she doesn't?"

  Stone frowned at him. “What the hell are you talking about?"

  "The metal alloy. The genetic enhancement. Mea's got decades ahead of her as an active hunter.” Warren sobered, his eyes studying Stone with a hint of compassion. “When you're shriveled up and useless to the Corp, she'll still be in her prime. Are you going to let that happen?"

  A weight settled on Stone's chest, and he clenched his jaw in reaction. Losing Mea, even to the relentless demands of time, was not an option.

  When Stone didn't answer, Warren smiled and stood, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “That's what I figured. Good luck, big guy. You're gonna need it.” With those encouraging words, he sauntered out of the control room.

  Stone barely heard him, his mind already marching ahead. When he'd organized his thoughts, he activated the viewscreen.

  A man's face appeared, hardened and grizzled by his years of service in the Hunting Corp. The streaks of gray in the director's hair made Stone wonder just how old he really was. He'd never asked and probably never would.

  "Stone, there a problem?” Mike Conley asked in a brisk, no-nonsense voice, but there was tension in the lines around his mouth. After their recent adventures with the slavers and Mea's near-death experience, it wasn't surprising that he'd be wary of a call from Stone.

  "No problem. Just a request."

  Conley relaxed back in his chair, the tension easing from his features. His mouth curled in a faint smile as he said, “Throw it on me."

  "I need the alloy."

  The smile faded as the other man studied him with shrewd, dark eyes. “Son, we just found out that the slavers can track that metal. I can't in good conscience require it of my hunters anymore. I've made it voluntary—"

  "I'm volunteering."

  Conley frowned. “Why?"

  Stone met his eyes squarely, though the bright viewscreen stabbed pain into his eyeballs. “What's Mea's lifespan?"

  Awareness widened the older man's eyes, and he nodded with what looked like approval. “Set on partnering her for life, are you?"

  "Yes, sir,” Stone answered without hesitation. As if there were any other options for him—Mea was life.

  "I'll set it up.” Conley leaned forward to cut the connection, but paused a moment. “Hope you know that damned surgery's a living hell."

  Stone shrugged. “So what else is new?"

  The viewscreen flickered on Conley's chuckle, before it went dark and silent.

  * * * * *

  "No."

  "Mea...” Stone growled, aggravated enough by the medical staff that buzzed around his room and poked at him with an endless procession of devices. He considered breaking the next one that came within reach, along with the hand holding it.

  Mea's eyebrows lifted as she folded her arms across her chest, mouth compressing into a thin line. Not a good sign. “Like hell we're going to leave you here, Bay. Just get that thought out of your head right now."

  "Damn it, woman, listen to me—” A small man with intently focused eyes bustled too near, and Stone snatched a pointy object out of the medic's hands with no small amount of satisfaction. “Out," he growled, then extended his menace to the rest of the staff. “All of you."

  They went.

  Mea rolled her eyes. “You're going to make a very bad patient, Bay."

  Stone grunted. “Conley made me promise not to kill any of ‘em,” he muttered with clear disappointment, as he settled his hands on her hips and drew her closer. A warm, tantalizing scent rose from her skin, and he started having carnal thoughts about the hospital bed behind him.

  She narrowed fierce green eyes on him, not the least bit distracted. “See, that's why you need us here, to keep you out of trouble.” She paused, her lips tightening further and her expression wavering to a moment of vulnerability. “Do you really want us to leave?"

  "Christ, no,” he gritted, hauling her closer and burying his face in her dark hair. His world only made sense when he was with them, but he couldn't let them see his pain. He had to make her understand. “No. But Conley tells me this surgery is gonna be hell. I don't want you to see me like that."

  Mea pulled back and glowered up at him. “I know what it's like—I've been through it. Don't let your pride keep you from accepting my help, Bay. Damn it, you need me!"

  "Yeah,” he murmured in a husky voice, trying not to grin. Holding her was only making those erotic thoughts worse. He needed her all right—if he pulled her any closer, she'd know exactly how much. “But what about Regan? Remember what seeing you all busted up did to her? She can't handle being here, and you know it."

  Mea's glower lowered to his chest, and her hands clenched on his biceps until her fingertips turned white. “She can stay with Warren,” she muttered.

  Stone didn't comment, waiting instead for her to see why that wasn't going to work. Regan couldn't be parted from both of them right now. The events that had brought them together were still too painfully fresh.

  While he waited, he ran his hands over the sleek line of her back, cupping the luscious curve of her bottom with a barely suppressed groan. Nuzzling her temple, he wondered if the hospital room door had a lock.

  Mea sighed, sagging into him. “Fine. But we're not leaving this hospital."

  He chuckled, pressing her into heated contact with his body. “Plan on terrorizin’ the staff?"

  She tipped back her head, green eyes smoky and mouth curved in a smile that had seduced him from day one. “I think you'll provide more than enough terror.
But one of us is going to see you through this. No arguments."

  His brows pulled together in a frown of confusion. “What—"

  Her smile widened into something close to malice, as she slipped a hand between their bodies and pulled an object out of her pocket. With a lift of an eyebrow, she held it aloft. It was a horribly familiar, clear crystal.

  He drew a sharp breath, but Mea cut off anything he'd been about to say by pressing her lips against his. “No arguments,” she murmured against his mouth, distracting him with the silky feel of her tongue sliding along his lower lip. Her teeth nipped his flesh, and he growled, hands tightening on her rear. But with a low chuckle, she pulled away, flashing the crystal at him with a mischievous smile.

  "Shit, Mea..."

  "Stop fussing, Bay. It won't be that bad,” she murmured as she moved towards the head of the bed. Opening a receptacle, she slid the crystal in.

  "The hell it won't,” he snarled, as a golden glow appeared over the bed.

  "In a bad mood already?” a disembodied voice echoed sharply around the room. “Well, that's just too damned bad. Because it only gets worse from here."

  "Oh, Ema,” Mea sighed. “Can't you at least try for a good bedside manner?"

  "For that ungrateful human? Please!” the AI snorted. “He's lucky I agreed to come at all."

  "Oh, yeah,” Stone gritted, as he glared at Mea, folding his arms across his chest. “So goddamned lucky."

  She had the gall to grin at him. “I figured you were going to be stubborn about letting us stay with you, so I came up with a contingency plan."

  "What, punishing me?"

  She snickered as she approached him. “It'll make me feel better, knowing you're in good hands. Try not to smash her crystal, okay?” Ignoring his glower and reaching past his folded arms, she clasped his face and placed a lingering kiss on his mouth. “Please, do this for me, Bay,” she whispered against his lips.

  With a low rumble of protest, he unfolded his arms and pulled her closer. “She gets up in my face, I'm yankin’ her."

  "That's fair,” she murmured with a grin, before pulling his head down for a much deeper kiss that burned all thoughts of AIs and hospitals out of his brain. Then she pulled away with a deep sigh, eyes hooded as she backed towards the door. “Take care of my man, Ema."

  "As much as he'll let me,” was the tart response.

  Mea smiled, but her eyes darkened with conflict. “We'll be close, if you need us. I love you, Bay."

  Then she was gone, leaving him alone with a cranky AI, an ache in his body, and an emptiness in his soul.

  * * * * *

  Doctors made his head ache and his hands itch for something sharp to grasp. Every last damned one of them wore an air of superiority that made him want to rearrange their faces into something a lot more bloody. The one standing in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed was no exception. Stone had to fold his arms over his chest to keep from throttling the pompous bastard, who was using one normal word in twenty as he rattled on about the procedure.

  "Cut to it, Doc,” Stone finally growled. “Just give me the basics and leave out the frills."

  With a tight, patronizing smile, the doctor smoothed a hand down his pristine white overcoat, before clasping his hands behind his back and looking down his nose at Stone. A quick but satisfying fantasy of bashing the man's face into the floor and messing up his pretty, high-collared outfit with blood stains flashed through Stone's mind.

  Before the man could continue to make Stone feel stupid, the door slid open and a small whirlwind blew in. Completely ignoring the doctor and his staff, Regan sprinted towards Stone. Skidding to a stop in front of him, she shouted, “You said you'd stay!” in a high, tight voice. Her tattooed hands were clenched, her face was pale, and there were shadows under her large dark eyes.

  "Young lady—” the doctor began in a scolding tone, but Stone stood abruptly.

  "I need a minute with my daughter,” he said, not a hint of compromise in his deep voice.

  With a sigh that made Stone want to rip his limbs off, the man waved an aggrieved hand and moved to a distant corner with his staff.

  Doing his best to ignore them, Stone put a hand on the top of Regan's head, tipping it back so he could look into her eyes. “Kid, I'm not goin’ anywhere."

  "But ... why don't you want us around?"

  "This thing ain't gonna be pretty."

  With a sound of protest, she grasped his shirt in both small fists. “Then why are you doing it? You can hunt the way you are now, can't you?"

  Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, Stone pulled her in between his knees and studied her pale face for a minute. “Kid, you've seen what your mother can do. She's stronger, she's faster, and she'll live longer. The way I am now, she'll outlive me. I'm doin’ this so I can partner her for as long as she'll have me.” When her expression eased a bit, he tried for a lighter tone. “Don't want her tradin’ me in."

  "She wouldn't do that,” the girl declared, but there was a hint of a smile around her mouth.

  "But I can't have you watch this. It'd bust my ego if you saw me cryin’ like a baby.” He gambled that she wouldn't take him seriously. It paid off.

  Her face lit with laughter as she flung her arms around his neck. The sound of her humor rang in his ear, and he grinned in response as he wrapped an arm around her and squeezed gently.

  "All right, get outta here so I can get this over with."

  "'Kay,” she giggled, pulling out of his grasp and backing towards the door. “Good luck, Dad."

  "Thanks, kid."

  Watching her skip out the door and feeling a little less like strangling the staff, Stone turned his attention back to the doc and his crew. “Short and sweet. What am I in for?"

  With an air of weary patience, the man marched back over and began to bombard Stone with technicals again. His headache came back with a vengeance, and he was about to resort to violence, when Ema spoke up.

  "Oh, shut up, Emery,” she snapped.

  "Excuse me?” the doctor spluttered, his face turning several shades of red.

  "Seriously, it's people like you that made me choose to be a triage med unit instead of surgical. How do you manage with such a large stick up your ass?"

  "I beg your par—” the man began in a stiff, indignant tone, but she cut him off again.

  "Be quiet, I said. If you can't manage a simple explanation, I'll just do it my damned self."

  Stone didn't bother to hide his grin or suppress the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. Ema had just risen from pain in the ass to potential ally in his book.

  "Stone, they're about to do nanosurgery on you,” she began in a brisk tone, and he turned from the doctor to give her his full attention, grin still in place. “Little microscopic robots are going to be injected into your body. Some will start reprogramming your DNA while others will prepare your bones and surrounding tissues for fusion with the metal. When they're ready, the alloy will be injected into you in small enough doses not to throw your body into shock. The nanytes will take those alloy molecules and fuse ‘em with your bones. The process takes a long while, but how long depends on how well your body accepts the changes and foreign material. Usually it's days, but it could be a couple of weeks. You'll be drugged, but there's only so many and so high a dose we can safely give you, so you'll still be in lots of discomfort and pain. The good news is you'll not likely remember much when it's over. Clear enough?"

  "Yeah. Thanks, Ema,” he murmured. Not exactly a walk in the park, but he was familiar with discomfort and pain.

  "See, was that so damned hard, you poor excuse for a human being? I swear, I've met ‘bots with more personality, Emery."

  Flushed almost purple, the doctor spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. His staff stayed, zipping around the bed with business-like efficiency, but Stone swore he saw several grins and one quickly muffled snicker.

  A young man with an easy smile and long blond hair clasped at the nape o
f his neck paused in front of Stone. “Ready?"

  "As I'll ever be. Let's do this."

  * * * * *

  "Ema?” he heard himself mumble through the ringing in his ears.

  "I'm here,” came her answer like a cool, soothing touch of reality.

  "Wha's burnin'?” he slurred, his mind a swirl of confusion. Hot. It was so hot.

  "Just you, Stone,” she said, mild amusement coloring her tone. “You've got a fever, plus you're pumped full of drugs, so you're a bit delirious. Nothing's on fire."

  He was sure she'd slipped into a different language, but it didn't matter. Her voice was the only cool, steady thing in his universe. The rest was a throb of red-hot pain, so enormous that it seemed like all that was left of him—no arms, legs, chest or head, but one pulsing, burning mass of agony. It flowed around him in chaotic waves that crashed together in fonts of lava that made him want to howl. It invaded his every sense, his eyes on fire with red-gold streaks of color, his ears filled with a ringing like a single long scream, his tongue bathed in an acid pool of hot metal.

  His only relief came in moments of oblivion when either the pain or the drugs took away his consciousness.

  "Wha’ time is it?” he heard someone say in a hoarse voice that sounded like his own.

  "Time to sleep, I think,” the calm center of the storm answered. He'd forgotten who belonged to that calmness, but it didn't seem important. “How's the pain?"

  "Bad,” he gasped, as a spike of agony ripped white streaks through the red that was his world.

  "Easy,” the voice settled against him, slowing the fiery currents that tore at his reality. “This will help. Sleep, now."

  Cold blackness rushed in like a tide, obliterating the crimson pain in a sweep of relief so profound that he would have cried out, if it hadn't swept him away as well.

  * * * * *

  Perspiration broke out all over her body as Mea watched Stone convulse on the viewscreen. His naked form was suspended over the bed by Ema's anti-grav field, his skin flushed and shining with sweat. Tubes dangled from his veins, shivering with his involuntary movements. His eyes were closed, but a rictus of agony stretched the hard features she loved so much.