Chapter Six
Rhykar cracked his eyes open, blinking to clear his vision. Drek, his head hurt. He tried to lower his arm and gazed numbly at the engetic bond that bound him to the bed. In a rush, everything came back to him.
Selea!
Twisting his hand at an uncomfortable angle, he thumbed the genetic encoder and released himself. He grabbed his clothes and pulled them on. While tugging on his second boot, the air in the room shifted. He looked up.
Near the door stood a man in blue pants and a cap pulled low over his eyes. Rhykar’s gaze shot to the table. Surely he could reach his weapon before the guy drew his own.
He lunged, but the man leapt and snatched the gun first. Now, he stared down the business end of two pistols. Frick!
“Rhykar Evierse.”
He held his hand out in front of him, preparing to receive a set of engetic bonds. “Hunter.”
The guy eyed him. “No.”
Rhykar frowned. “Who then?”
“Mr. Jones. Area Fifty-One.” He tossed him the pulsegun and holstered his own. “I drove Selea Val’keer to this hotel. Just saw her leave with a guy who most definitely wasn’t you.”
Rhykar clutched his weapon, trying to discern whether the man was friend or foe. “Yeah. I was going after them.”
Jones nodded. “I’m going with you.”
“The frick you are.”
Jones stared at him. “Mr. Evierse, I’m an eraser. Ms. Val’keer is my assignment, along with ensuring that every trace of alien visitation to this planet is removed. You can either assist me—” In a blur, he drew his gun and aimed it at Rhykar. “—or you can be part of the clean-up.”
He jolted. Scret, the bastard was fast. Better to have him on the side intent on rescuing Selea. He gritted his teeth. “Make it quick.”
Jones grabbed the bonds from the bed and tossed them to Rhykar. “Who was the guy?”
“No idea.” He tucked the restraints into his jacket. “She called him Gelloh.”
“From your planet?” Jones removed a slim cylinder from his pocket and pressed a button. A six-inch, gold wand extended, emanating a low hum. He brandished it over the bed and headboard, over the bedside table and the carpet where the bastard had held Selea. With the main room complete, he moved into the bathroom and reemerged a moment later. “Know where they might be headed?”
“It was clear he knew her, so I’d say yes, he’s from Vitrion. But I have no idea where he’s taking her.”
Jones pointed the cylinder tip toward the ceiling. A high-pitched, triple beep issued from the mechanism.
Rhykar frowned. Gods, Selea was slipping farther away while this odd man waved his magic wand. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Cleaning molecular and vibrational residue.” Jones glanced at him. “The last twenty-four hours have now been removed from this room, including trace molecules and sound waves.”
He stared at the cylinder. “You mean you just sucked everything up into that wand, even what was spoken?”
Jones nodded and strode to the door. “We need to hit it before other hunters arrive. Sun’s almost up.”
Glancing one last time around the room, he followed the eraser. At the elevators, Jones removed his cap and handed it to Rhykar.
“Tuck your hair up. Pull the brim low.”
They stepped into the elevator, and Jones arced the cylinder through the air. Another triple beep, and he tucked the device into his pocket.
“Keep your head down through the lobby.”
He complied, striding to the hotel exit and out into the dusky morning. In the parking lot, he caught sight of a woman staring at him. Another hunter?
“This way.” Jones led him to a sleek vehicle.
Rhykar slid inside and shut the door behind him. Through the darkened window, he spotted the woman approaching. Pulling his weapon, he prepared for a confrontation, but Jones dropped into the seat next to his and engaged the engine, maneuvering them away from the curb. In the mirror, he caught sight of the woman, speaking into some type of communications device.
“Where’s your ship?” Jones kept his gaze on the road.
“North. Near Reno.” He slipped his pistol back into his holster.
They drove onto a road that he recognized as the same one he’d used to get to Las Vegas. Jones jabbed a button and a heavy beat filled the interior, joined by other instruments. He increased the vehicle’s speed, the desert and craggy terrain flying by outside the window.
The pulsing rhythm thrummed through Rhykar while he dwelled on Selea. Images of the first time he’d seen her, pointing a pulsegun at his face, her indigo eyes flashing. Oh yeah, he’d fallen for her right then. Her fierceness had dug into his soul, and from that moment, he’d manipulated circumstances so he could be near her again. But then Graiton had derailed, threatening all of Vitrion, and he had been forced to expose him. And the evil Vast Innovations founder had brought Selea and him together one last time, allowing him to take her for his own. But now, some asshole had stolen her away, doing gods knew what to her. Anger and fear twisted his stomach, and he rounded on Jones.
“That cleaning device. You have some way to access its contents?”
Jones glanced over at him. “Why?”
“Selea wouldn’t have gone willingly. She would’ve grilled the bastard, planned an exit strategy.”
Jones retrieved the cylinder from his pocket, handed it to him, and leaning forward, poked another button on the vehicle’s console. “I believe you’re already familiar with our computers. Insert the rear of the device into the slot on the side of the keyboard. From there, you can narrow it to Selea and Gelloh’s interaction.”
He did as instructed, hit a few keys, and her voice filtered into the cabin.
“You didn’t have to hurt him.” Anger laced her words, and the sound comforted Rhykar. She wouldn’t quit.
Gelloh laughed. “Ah, well, don’ wantcha distracted.”
“I kicked your ass into a cell. How the frick did a hustler like you ever track me?”
“Aw, luvie, couldn’t live without ya. Sos, I tapped ya afore ya hauled me in.”
“You put a tracer on me?” Her voice rose.
“On the neck o’ yore jacket while we struggled wit’ da bonds.” He snickered. “Ya got soft hair, ya do.”
Rhykar gritted his teeth.
“You can’t afford a tracer. That’s high tech.” A muted bell chimed behind her words. “Someone hired you.”
The elevator doors ground open.
Gelloh grunted. “Ya best snap it, luvie. Ya be standin’ afore Vitrion’s savior soon enough. Then I’ll have my turn wit’ ya.”
Anger burned in Rhykar’s gut, and he shut the computer off. “Mertan Graiton.”
Jones reached for the cylinder, but he blocked him. “I need to borrow this. Evidence.”
“Sure.” Jones returned his hand to the controls. “You know where she is?”
“That bastard is taking her to Vast Innovations,” he growled and tucked the cylinder into his pocket. “To the founder of evil himself.”
“We’re about an hour from Reno. We’ll get you to your ship.”
Rhykar looked out the window. “That close?”
The computer slipped back into the console, and Jones nodded.
“It took me a lot longer going south.” He glanced at the man piloting the vehicle. “That tech you used to clean the hotel room, I haven’t seen anything like it. You create that here?”
“Nope.”
“You get that from Vitrion?”
Jones smirked. “There’s more than just Earth and Vitrion out there, Mr. Evierse. Much more.”
Rhykar knew other worlds existed. Vitrion’s government had set up agreements with over a dozen of them. But Jones seemed to allude to a number much greater. “What did we give your world?”
“I believe it was fabrics that stick together. We call it Velcro.”
He nodded, familiar with the material. “What did you give us?”
“The cure for yersinia pestis bacterium.” Jones shot him a glance. “We know it as the Black Death or the Black Pl—”
“Plague.” He twisted to face Jones. “Your government gave us the cure to the Great Plague of Vitrion?”
“So the reports say.”
Rhykar sat back in his seat, hate for Mertan Graiton seething in his veins. The man had taken full credit for saving their world, garnering the title savior. He would rescue Selea and then expose the VI founder for the maniacal bastard he was.
Sixty minutes later, Jones veered onto a dirt road. Passing over two rises, a dust trail in their wake, Jones stopped the vehicle near Rhykar’s ship, the matte-textured hull absorbing the bright sun’s rays. The eraser strode across the sand to stand near the craft.
“Nice ride.”
“It’ll get us there.” He opened the ship’s entry.
“Not us. You.”
Rhykar turned to face Jones. “I thought you said you were coming with me, that Selea was your assignment.”
“Selea has left Earth, and my superiors have reassigned me.”
“A new mission?” He eyed the eraser, unable to remember him being contacted on the ride here.
Jones nodded toward the ship. “I trust you have a way to approach Vast Innovations undetected?”
“Yes.” He’d slipped through VI’s security on many occasions, knew the system’s weak points, and figured Graiton would be too arrogant to see him as a threat.
“To your success, then.” Jones stepped toward him and held out a card. “My contact.”
The name Mr. Jones was printed in dark letters and below that a string of numbers and letters.
“If you ever find yourself on Earth and in need of assistance,” he said, “type that into any Earth computer.”
Rhykar tucked the card into his pocket. Removing the cap, he tossed it to Jones and boarded his ship. As the craft lifted from its sandy bed, he stared at the view screen, instinct whispering his path would cross with the Area 51 eraser again one day—he hoped as allies. Mr. Jones would make for a fierce adversary.
A few taps on the console and the ship shot into the sky, passing through Earth’s outer atmosphere moments later. Rhykar set a course for home, his mind grinding together a rescue plan, his heart longing to save the woman he loved.