Galactic Bounty

by William C. Dietz

  During the polite conversation preceeding dinner, McCade tried, without success, to get comfortable in the oversized chair. Then a seemingly endless procession of food and drink began. All was native Lakorian fare in which meat and vegetables played equal parts, often in the form of stews and casseroles. Most of it was quite good, although a couple of dishes were hardly to McCade's taste . . . particularly the white grubs served live with hot sauce.

  Throughout the meal their Lakorian-sized mugs were never empty of the alcoholic Vak. It packed a real whallop, and it was soon clear the Baron intended to drink them under the table. He would have succeeded, too, if the humans hadn't anticipated such a move and taken inhibitors prior to dinner. But, in spite of that precaution, McCade's head was buzzing by the time the dishes had been cleared away and serious conversation began.

  Baron Lif opened the negotiations politely. "Earlier, my friend, you indicated some concern about your ability to carry out your mission, given the natural impediments native to my planet."

  "Absolutely true, Baron," McCade said somberly, slurring his words ever so slightly. "I'm afraid that even with the crawler we may not make it, or if we do, it may be too late."

  "Too late?" the Baron asked with open curiosity.

  "Yes," McCade answered sadly. "The Princess has been conditioned to commit suicide rather than suffer the indignity of slavery. Of course it would break the King's heart. But there's no helping it. Can't have a princess as a hostage or a slave. On top of that, without the beacon we won't even be able to find her body and give it a decent burial." McCade belched, excused himself, and swayed slightly in his chair.

  "Quite, quite," Lif said, nodding in agreement. "You say if she dies the beacon is extinguished also?" he asked sharply.

  "It's powered by her nervous system," McCade explained blandly, waving a hand and almost knocking over a full mug of Vak.

  "Yes . . . I see," the Baron replied thoughtfully. "It would appear we must act quickly."

  Now you're getting the idea, McCade thought, trying to suppress the buzzing in his ears.

  The Baron regarded McCade with a shrewd look. "Perhaps, my friend, we can serve each other, and in so doing accomplish much. I am going to confide something in you and your men, which if it were known, could mean my death." Lif paused dramatically, looking at each man in turn.

  Both Rico and Van Doren struggled to look both serious and impressed. But since both were more than a little drunk, neither was very convincing. Fortunately the Baron was no expert on the nuances of human facial expressions and appeared satisfied.

  "Your secret is safe with us," McCade said reassuringly, barely managing to disguise an enormous belch as a cough.

  "I and certain other Lakorian nobles have long sought to overthrow the King," Lif said importantly, glancing around as though the King himself might be lurking behind a tapestry.

  "No!"

  "Surely you jest!"

  "Really? Well . . . I'm sure you must have compelling reasons."

  Each of the humans sought to outdo the others with expressions of incredulity.

  Apparently satisfied with the impact of his revelation, Baron Lif proceeded to document in boring detail the many transgressions and crimes for which the King should be made to pay. McCade noted with amusement that mistreatment of the commoners and slavery were not on Lif's list of complaints.

  Finally having reached the end of his lengthy indictment, the nobleman said, "Now pay close attention, gentlemen, for this is where our interests meet. For years my friends and I have been unable to topple this tyrant king because we couldn't find him. The location of his castle is a closely held secret. We've tried everything to find it. Our spies never return. Atmospheric craft are shot down. In short all our attempts have been frustrated."

  "Why not just assassinate him and have done with it?" Van Doren asked respectfully. "Surely he appears in public occasionally."

  Lif nodded. "Believe me it's been tried, good Squire. More than once.

  But Zorta's bodyguard has always proved effective. And we must not only crush the man, but we must also seize his base of power."

  And his money, McCade thought cynically as he took another sip of Vak.

  The Baron leaned back as a satisfied smile touched his lips. "But finally the King has made a fatal mistake. He bought a poor innocent girl as a slave. Unknown to him, the girl is a princess. And hidden in her body is a beacon. A beacon which can be tracked."

  Lif paused, allowing the silence to add significance to his words.

  "And tracked it is. Tracked by a loyal knight bent on rescuing this fair maiden. Tracked too by the knight's loyal friend and ally, Baron Lif. Tracked to the very doorstep of the King's castle, soon to be pulled down around his very ears!"

  With a roar of approval, McCade, Rico, and Van Doren banged their mugs on the table and then lifted them to drink the Baron's health.

  Fifteen

  Each time the crawler lurched, McCade thought he was going to die. He had the worst hangover he'd ever experienced. Sitting next to him, Rico was cheerful enough as he conned the huge machine over, around, and through the frequent obstacles. Outside somewhere Baron Lif rode with his troops. And if his constant chatter on the radio was any guide, the Lakorian noble was in fine fettle. McCade consoled himself by reflecting on their excellent progress. With Lif's scouts ranging far ahead and warning them of the worst hazards, their speed had picked up considerably. Meanwhile the green dot still glowed steadily on the nav screen. But it was close now and with each passing hour it grew slightly larger. McCade wondered if he'd live to get there . . . or if it really mattered. He massaged his throbbing temples and yawned. Elaborately informing Rico that a nap was in order, he headed for a bunk, unaware of Rico's knowing smile or his unsympathetic chuckle.

  A full rotation later, McCade felt better. In fact he felt very much better. Not only had he fully recovered from the residual effects of too much Vak, but he found they were at least halfway to their destination. Outside the crawler, a downpour obscured the video cameras as usual, but the infrared sensors showed another kind of progress as well.

  Thousands of red blobs now moved along in company with the crawler. Included were not only Baron Lif's troops, but those of many other nobles as well. Hardly an hour passed without a baron, count or duke joining their informal army. Although Lif was outranked by more than half the nobility present he had still managed to retain overall control through his special relationship with the humans, and his own political skill. Not an easy feat since many present had more experience in fighting against Zorta. McCade remembered vividly the night attack on the slave tractor. No doubt about it, there were some very tough folks out there.

  Nonetheless by tactfully referring to himself as "Military Coordinator," the Baron had nudged, maneuvered, wheedled, and cajoled the disparate forces into a semblance of military order. McCade couldn't help but admire Lif's organizational skill.

  Rico just shook his head and said, "He'd fit right in on the Council, ol' sport. Likes ta talk, that one does."

  By evening of the second day, Lif had suggested a halt to rest the troops and prepare for battle. The other nobles quickly agreed, most being unused to a full day in the saddle. They also agreed to a council of war, each seeing it as an opportunity to express his valuable opinions on strategy . . . and to get rip-roaring drunk.

  As darkness fell, the nobles made their way to a large tent which had been erected near the crawler. McCade went too, with Van Doren at his side. Lif had suggested that, religious vows allowing, they dress formally. He wanted them to make an impression on the assembled nobility and McCade promised to do his best. So as McCade and Van Doren entered the tent, the huge marine was dressed in full black body armor, and was wearing every kind of weapon they could strap on him. A helmet with a mirrored visor completed the effect. He hovered by McCade's shoulder . . . the very image of death incarnate.

  Lacking any uniform or other ceremonial garb, McCade had chosen stark simplici
ty. From the supplies he'd put aboard the crawler, Rico produced a new set of gray leathers in McCade's size. These, combined with shiny knee-high boots, produced a military aspect. Phil had contributed a pin in the shape of a sunburst, which he normally used to fasten his kilt. It now shone brightly on McCade's chest, either a medal or a badge of rank, whichever the observer chose to make it. Trying his best to appear both aloof and confident, McCade took his place next to Baron Lif at the circular table, which almost filled the tent's interior. The table had been his own idea, solving as it did the endless problems of rank and precedence created by such a gathering. It had amused him to borrow yet another aspect of King Arthur's legendary court.

  Once all the nobles were present, and the obligatory ceremonial toasts had been drunk, Baron Lif called the meeting to order.

  "Thank you for your attendance, noble friends. We are gathered on the eve of a great victory. For years the tyrant Zorta has escaped his just reward, and now he shall have it. Death!"

  A resounding cheer went up, interspersed with, "Hear! Hear!" Once the cheering and applause had died down, Lif stood and turned toward McCade.

  "With us tonight is a great warrior from a distant kingdom. His is a mission which would credit any knight, the rescue of a fair maiden."

  There was another cheer and more applause, which Lif waved into silence.

  "Through his efforts, we now stand at the threshold of victory. Friends, I ask you to honor Sir Sam McCade."

  With a roar of approval the Lakorians stood and drank McCade's health. As they sat down they looked expectantly in McCade's direction.

  McCade stood, and allowed his eyes to roam the circumference of the table while the silence built. Then when every eye was upon him he spoke. "My Lords, I greet you in the name of my liege, King Arthur. Though he dwells on a distant world, I assure you his heart and hopes are with us tonight. Though we are of different races, nobleblood flows through all our veins, and will soon merge and mingle to bathe the soil of your beautiful planet. Soon we will fight and perhaps die, side by side." Here McCade paused and allowed a smile to touch his lips. "But friends, it comforts me to know that if I fall and take that final march toward either heaven or hell, I shall do so in the very best of company!"

  The applause was deafening and lasted for three or four minutes. When it finally died away, Baron Lif stood and said, "Well said, my friend. Now let us discuss our plan of attack."

  For two hours Lif allowed the debate to ebb and flow. Proposals, strategies, and plans of all kinds were raised, discussed, and rejected by those favoring their own approaches. Throughout all of it Lif listened attentively, maintaining an uncharacteristic silence.

  Meanwhile McCade had begun to wonder if Rico had dozed off or something. He was just about to send Van Doren to find out when he heard a tremendous commotion outside the tent. Shouted commands were heard, along with the screech of reptillian mounts and the clash of loose gear. All eyes were on the tent flap as it was suddenly thrown aside. With perfect timing Rico strode through the entrance with a squad of Lif's elite scouts following behind. He was dressed exactly like Van Doren and in company with the colorful Lakorians made quite a sight. Looking neither right nor left, he marched to where McCade and Lif sat. Bending down between them he whispered in their ears.

  "Looked pretty impressive, didn't we, Baron? How're ya doin', sport . . .. Hope everything's goin' good. Well that oughta do it . . .. See ya later." With that Rico snapped to attention, delivered a salute worthy of the Imperial Honor Guard, did an about-face, and marched out of the tent with the scouts following behind.

  His features now etched in lines of concern, Baron Lif slowly stood to address the gathering. Rico's performance had accomplished its purpose. The debate had ended and the audience had been delivered back into Baron Lif's hands.

  "Friends, critical information has just come to my attention. As you know we are within a half day's march of Zorta's castle. Therefore it seemed prudent to send out scouts to locate and probe his defenses. As you have just witnessed, a squad of my elite rangers under the command of Sir Sam's squire have just returned. The intelligence they have gathered on their daring mission behind Zorta's lines is astounding."

  Lif couldn't resist letting them sit and stew for a moment before taking them off the hook. "Penetrating the very heart of the area indicated by the beacon's signal, they found nothing. Ground defenses and troops . . . yes.

  Hundreds in fact. But where Zorta's castle should stand, where the beacon says it does stand, there is nothing."

  Expressions of confusion and consternation filled the tent as everyone tried to talk at once. McCade shifted uncomfortably in his oversize chair, wishing Lif would get on with it. From the start he'd understood the value of some drama, and the necessity of some verbal sleight-of-hand, but the Baron was overdoing it.

  Twelve hours before, Van Doren and two of Lif's scouts had penetrated the King's defenses in broad daylight. The big marine had found it surprisingly easy to do. In fact Amos could tell that the defenders were completely unaware of the approaching army. Having never been challenged here, Zorta's forces were more than a little sloppy. Once behind the King's lines, Van Doren had expected to run into a castle, complete with battlements, flags, weapons emplacements, the whole ball of wax. Instead he found nothing. Zero. Zilch.

  Suspecting more than met the eye, Van Doren had set up and used a small but sophisticated detector pak he'd brought with him. The truth practically jumped out at him. Or up at him, as the case might be . . . since every reading on the detector indicated he was standing on top of an immense underground complex.

  Van Doren and the scouts slipped back through the lines to notify McCade. McCade informed Lif, and together they had planned the evening's charade. McCade's thoughts were interrupted as Lif delivered the punch line.

  "Finally, my friends, our brave lads have laid bare Zorta's secret. For years our spies and secret aircraft have searched for his castle without success. Now we know why. The beacon does not lie. Zorta's castle is before us. But not above ground as we have always assumed! No. The cowardly cur has made his home underground like the lowly animal he is. Let's bury him in it!"

  When the predictable reaction had died down, the nobles were ready to listen to the plan that Lif and McCade had carefully constructed. Heaving a sigh of relief, McCade pulled out a cigar and added another source of pollution to the already foul air.

  The next day dawned brightly clear. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and nothing could have been worse. They had counted on the usual downpour to cover their attack. Fighting in rain and mud was no problem for the Lakorian troops and their mounts. They were used to it. In fact they preferred it. The more superstitious of them saw the sunny day as a bad omen, causing Baron Lif to become concerned about morale. However they all agreed the attack should go on as planned. If not they would soon be discovered and annihilated by Zorta's air force. Besides, their rather unorthodox plan of attack should offer some protection.

  So Rico and McCade sat, side by side, waiting for the signal to attack. Lif and Van Doren had just finished a final strategy meeting. Bit by bit, Lif had come to seek more and more advice from the marine, who was after all an expert at ground warfare.

  Now Lif was with his troops attending to a few last-minute details. Van Doren was manning the crawler's missile battery, while the Treel and Phil were strapped into the waist turrets. McCade would control the bow weapons and Rico would have his hands full operating the crawler.

  The speaker over McCade's head crackled to life as Baron Lif gave the uncharacteristically short order: "Go." Rico revved the crawler's powerful engines, shifted into gear, and they lurched into motion.

  They traveled as they had before, turning and twisting over and around the many obstacles. For a long time there was only radio silence. Then the forward elements of Lif's force came into contact with Zorta's outer defenses. At first the King's unprepared troops fell back in total confusion. Before long however they rallied an
d began to put up stiff resistance. Then by prior arrangement Lif's troops backed off slightly, keeping Zorta's soldiers engaged, but minimizing casualties.

  Meanwhile Lif was flooding the airwaves with bogus radio traffic that seemed to confirm a stalled assault.

  Rico and McCade looked at each other and smiled.

  "Well, let's give it a try, Rico."

  The other man grinned, eyes twinkling. Stubby fingers stabbed a series of buttons, resulting in a loud, whining sound. The sound, plus an indicator light, were the only signs the energy projector had come into use. But McCade knew that a cone of force was being projected in front of them, and that anything it touched would be cut, pulverized, melted, and spun out behind them. That's how it's designed to work, and it had better work if they were to succeed.

  Rico pulled a lever and the crawler's nose dropped. As it did, the cutting beam made contact with the wet ground. A tremendous cloud of steam rose to hide the crawler from Lif's amazed troops. The huge machine began to vibrate as earth and rock were cut and pulverized to feed its mechanical maw. Gradually the vibration grew more and more intense until McCade wondered if the crawler would come apart. Beads of sweat formed on Rico's brow until they got large enough to run down his face and glisten in his beard. His bright little eyes saw only the controls before him as he fought the big machine.

  Moments later they were underground. As McCade watched, the forward and side video cameras went black behind armored hatches, leaving only the stern monitor. On it McCade saw a short tunnel with glowing red walls slanting up to a bright blue sky. They were on their way to Zorta's underground refuge. McCade knew that as soon as the tunnel cooled sufficiently, a horde of Lakorian troops would enter and follow the crawler downward until it breached the walls of the underground complex. Then things would really get interesting.

  But until then, success or failure rested on Rico's brawny shoulders and on the machine he fought to control. Designed for short, exploratory tunnels, the crawler was being pushed to its limits. There wasn't a thing McCade could do but hang on and pray. Pray that the plan worked, and pray that if it did Sara would still be alive when they got there. As the crawler ground its way down, the sensors began to go crazy. From all indications there was a major heat source, a high concentration of radioactivity, and massive amounts of metal, all up ahead.