Sixteen
Then she was in his arms, covering his face with kisses, laughing and crying at the same time. She filled not only his arms, but his heart and mind as well. For the first time in years, he felt really happy, and he didn't want to let go of either Sara or the feeling.
Nonetheless Rico managed to get his attention with a none too discreet cough. "Turn 'er loose there, sport, and give someone else a shot. Always hoggin' all the pretty women."
"Rico!" With a shout of glee Sara was lifted and spun around like a little girl. Laughing, she said, "Put me down, Rico! This is no way for Council members to act. It's not dignified."
"Not dignified, huh," Rico said as he put her on her feet. "How about that outfit. Since when did Council members go around wearin' nothin' but two scraps o' cloth and a helmet?"
Looking down, Sara blushed. McCade saw that Rico was right, Sara had made her escape in a wispy two-piece costume that left very little to the imagination.
"Well I like it," McCade said.
Sara made a face and turned to Van Doren. "Well Amos, at least you're always nice to me." Standing on tiptoe she kissed him on the cheek. Much to McCade's amusement, the big marine turned bright red with embarrassment and didn't say a word.
Then Sara caught sight of Mungo and stepped back, bringing up her energy weapon.
Moving quickly to her side McCade said, "No Sara, it's not Mungo. It's the Treel again. For the moment, he's on our side. Believe me it's a long story."
"The rigid one speaks truly," the Treel said. "We are fellow warriors in the service of the great Yareel! Death to the infidels!"
"Like I said, it's a long story," McCade said, seeing her amazement.
"And time is what we don't have, Sam," Phil interjected. "Those troopers will probably be back with friends for company."
"I'm sorry," McCade said. "Sara, meet Phil. By the way, he's now one of your constituents."
If Sara was surprised by Phil's appearance, she gave no sign of it.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Phil," she said. McCade watched in astonishment as the big Variant bowed gracefully to gently kiss her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, beautiful lady."
Turning to McCade, Sara said, "Is he always like this?"
"No, thank God," McCade replied with a smile. "He hasn't tried to kiss any of us. Anyway he's right about getting out of here. Say good-bye to your friends over there, and let's get going."
"Good-bye?" she said. "I can't just leave them here. They followed me. What if some of Zorta's troops come back? They wouldn't have a chance. No," she said firmly, "they'll just have to come along." Her face was set and determined. McCade had seen that expression before and knew trying to change her mind would be a waste of time.
For their part, the slaves stood patiently awaiting Sara's orders. There were about thirty of them representing perhaps a dozen races. As far as McCade could tell, they were all females, which made sense. No doubt Zorta kept his male and female slaves separated.
"All right," he said. "Tell them to follow us. Ven, what's the fastest and safest way to reach the air strip?"
After a moment's hesitation, the Lakorian replied, "There is a way, sire. It won't be comfortable, but I believe it will be safe."
As he followed Ven down the corridor, McCade had complete confidence in the alien's choice. After all, his greenish hide was on the line too. They turned into a hallway lined with metal carts.
"These are food and laundry carts, Sire," Ven explained. "They are sent from one level to another in these vertical conveyor shafts."
By way of demonstration he lifted a sliding door to reveal a shaft only slightly larger than the carts. Inset in the wall of the shaft were endless belts mounting metal arms climbing up and out of sight in eternal progression. Grabbing a nearby cart, Ven shoved it through the open door and into the shaft. It was smoothly engaged by the next set of rising metal arms and lifted out of sight.
Turning back to McCade, Yen said, "Your opinion, sire?"
"You were right, Sergeant. It isn't going to be comfortable, but it looks like a good idea."
McCade would have sworn Ven looked pleased in a sly sort of way.
Quickly they organized the rest. McCade, Phil, Sara, and Ven would go first, then the slaves, followed by Rico, Van Doren, and the Treel. Ven opened a small access panel and set the controls for the uppermost level.
Climbing onto the top of the cart, McCade felt awkward and damned silly as Ven pushed it into the shaft. Rico's huge grin confirmed his suspicions. The metal arms engaged the cart with a slight jerk, and he started smoothly upward. It wasn't too bad for him, but it would be a tight fit for Rico and Phil. As the cart moved upward and past the next two levels, McCade heard the sounds of battle, but they were faint and some distance away. But as the cart approached the next level, the one which housed Zorta himself, the sounds grew louder. Much louder. Craning his neck to look up, McCade saw why.
The next access door up was open. Light, smoke, and noise flooded through to fill the shaft. Pulling his slug gun, McCade inched around to face the door. Seconds later, as his cart drew level with the open door, McCade had an excellent view of the battle raging in the corridor outside. Almost in front of the door a brightly garbed Lakorian officer wrestled with two of Zorta's bodyguards. It took McCade a second to realize the officer was Lif, and another to shoot one of his adversaries in the leg. Then they were gone as the cart carried him up and away.
Bracing himself McCade got ready for the next and last level. As the cart reached it, automatic machinery opened the door, ejecting both McCade and the cart. Together they rolled out of the shaft and into a milling mass of Zorta's troops. Surprise was all that saved him. The slug gun roared five times and five troopers fell. Leaping off the cart he landed in a forward roll. Behind him the cart was melted to slag as a dozen energy weapons were brought to bear on it.
McCade pulled the trigger three more times and two more died. Now it was his turn. His gun was empty and there was nowhere to run. Then he was blind-sided by a huge noncom wielding a wrench. He went down hard and stayed down. He was conscious, but just barely, and no matter how he tried, his body just wouldn't get up. Nonetheless he could watch what went on in a distant sort of way. Just as the troopers began to move his way with every intention of finishing him off, Phil emerged from the shaft.
He didn't have the advantage of surprise, and as it turned out he didn't need it. Had Zorta's troops nailed Phil as he emerged from the shaft, they would have won. Instead part of their attention was still on McCade and their first shots went wild. They didn't get a second chance. McCade had never seen anything like it. Phil had gone into full augmentation.
Implants fed chemicals into his brain, nervous system, and muscles. His response time was amplified. His strength doubled and then tripled. His movements became a blur of continuous motion. Without hesitation, Phil moved in among the Lakorian troops. His motions became dancelike as he whirled, leaped, and executed the intricate movements of death. Around him Zorta's soldiers died by the dozen, cut down not only by Phil's weapons, teeth and claws, but by their own comrades as they fired in panic trying to hit the augmented Variant.
Sara and Ven emerged from the shaft, adding their fire to Phil's efforts. As the shaft ejected the slaves, they fell to the floor and took advantage of the shelter the carts provided. By the time Rico, Van Doren, and the Treel arrived, the fight was over. The few remaining soldiers had fled, leaving behind a scene of unbelievable carnage.
As Van Doren helped McCade to his feet, Rico surveyed the damage and said, "Wait till ol' Larkin gets a load o' this one! Phil's a one-man army!" Shaking his head with amazement, Rico went over to help the shaggy Variant patch up the wounded.
The motion involved in standing up had sent waves of pain pounding through McCade's head. Reaching up to touch its source, his fingers encountered a growing goose egg and came away red with his own blood. He obeyed Van Doren's command to sit down on a piece of broken cart, and Sara's gentle h
ands cleaned and closed the cut, using the contents of his own first aid kit. She also cleaned and disinfected the shallow wound across his shoulders. The disinfectant stung. Finally she hit him in the arm with a styrette. Moments later he felt the drug spreading through his system, pushing back the pain.
Sara nodded knowingly. "It feels good now, Sam, but you're going to pay the price later on, when it wears off."
"Thanks," he said, allowing her to help him up. "With any luck at all we'll be well clear of here by then."
He reloaded the slug gun while glancing around. They were standing in the middle of a large aircraft maintenance area. Aircraft in various stages of repair were parked in a series of bays filled with tools and test equipment. Beyond them other aircraft were visible, in a line stretching off into the distance. Hopefully some of those would be operational.
"All right," McCade yelled. "Let's go." With that he started jogging toward the distant planes. Surprisingly he felt no pain, just a feeling of elation, which he knew was too good to be true. As he cleared the maintenance area, the view opened up to reveal something just beyond the farthest planes. Something familiar but impossible. His heart leaped and he broke into a full run, afraid his eyes had deceived him. They hadn't. Pegasus sat on a small pad, wisps of vapor curling up and around her warm tubes, a patch of blue sky visible overhead where a section of roof had been slid back. Then he noticed the ground crew. They were lounging around, apparently waiting for something or someone. Zorta. It had to be. He'd left himself a back door in the form of Pegasus. McCade ran even faster. Maybe he could slam that door, get his ship back, and clear the planet all at the same time. A cry went up behind him as the others saw his intention and raced across the hangar toward the slender shape of the spacecraft.
"Spread out!" Van Doren shouted. "Spread out or you'll be cut down with a single beam!" Slowly they separated into a line abreast as they continued their charge.
On his right, Sara uttered a most unladylike war cry as her long white legs carried her toward the enemy. The scar across her face was a white slash and in her brief costume she looked like an avenging goddess of war. To McCade's left Phil loped along in huge, ground-eating strides, his rows of gleaming teeth making the weapon in his hands seem redundant.
McCade felt happy, even joyous, and completely without fear. A part of his mind told him to be careful, that the drugs were affecting his judgment. Another part of his mind replied, "Who cares?" Then they were within range. Energy beams rippled and flashed incandescent while slug throwers boomed out a staccato challenge. Two of the charging slaves fell, hit by an automatic weapon. Farther down the line another was burned in half by an energy beam, her severed legs still moving, pumping, until her lower torso toppled and fell.
Whether it was the returned fire, or the sight of the oncoming and apparently suicidal mob, McCade couldn't tell, but abruptly the ground crew folded and ran, leaving behind three or four unfortunate comrades.
Yelling to get Van Doren's attention, McCade said, "Throw a perimeter around her, Amos. I'm going aboard to check her out!"
"Right, boss!" Van Doren acknowledged with a wave of his hand.
As McCade headed toward the ship, the marine was already barking commands to the ex-slaves, all of whom were now armed with weapons taken from Zorta's troops.
As McCade entered the ship, Sara was right behind him. The first thing he noticed was the smell. The ship reeked of Lakorian body odor. The next thing he noticed was dozens of boxes of clothing and supplies Zorta had put aboard just in case. They filled the tiny cabins and spilled out into the main corridor. The King certainly didn't travel light. The lounge contained more than just luggage. It had been transformed into a throne room, complete with a gilded, Lakorian-sized acceleration couch. Above it, Zorta had mounted a full-sized 3-D likeness of himself. Like most official portraits, it looked anything but natural. Zorta stood in a stylized pose, noble head lifted, eyes apparently focused on something not quite visible to mere mortals. McCade decided the King was definitely on the homely side, as Lakorians go.
Turning to Sara he said, "It appears Zorta has no intention of staying to share his well-deserved defeat with his loving subjects. I don't think that's very sporting, do you?"
"You're absolutely right, Sam. They just don't make Kings like they used to. I think we should help him meet his royal obligations, don't you? Of course Commander Reez will be disappointed . . . but that's life!"
"Disappointed?" McCade asked, suddenly serious. "Why will Reez be disappointed? For that matter, why is he still around? I assumed he would be on the War World by now, raising the Il Ronnian flag or something?"
Sara shook her head. "So did I. But while I was waiting for my turn to entertain some of Zorta's human guests"—She made an expression of distaste—"I kept my eyes and ears open. The grapevine around here is incredible. Since slaves never leave alive, everyone talks freely in front of them. Anyway it didn't take long to find out that Reez had been in and out of here for a long time. In fact he and Zorta have a deal. In return for various kinds of technology, Zorta agreed to loan Reez some troops. That's how Zorta wound up with Pegasus. Reez gave it to him as a present to seal the agreement."
McCade's heart went out to her as her face reflected briefly the fear and uncertainty she had felt, though there was no hint of either in her voice or words.
As though reading his mind she said, "I'm okay, Sam . . . thanks to you and the others."
"What I can't figure out is why," McCade said thoughtfully. "Reez has troops of his own."
Sara nodded. "Yes, but not enough to hold the War World if it comes to a fight. All he's got is the contingent aboard his ship. He's way too far from home to use a combeam, and he's afraid to go there for more troops because the Empire might discover the War World while he's gone. After all, he knows if we're looking, then there's probably plenty of others looking too. So he plans to land Lakorian troops to hold the War World until he can bring in more Il Ronnians. Plus if there's a fight, it's Lakorians who will die." She paused for a moment and then continued. "I think that's the real factor." Her lips curled derisively. "Because it reduces the potential magnitude of Reez's failure should things to wrong. He's acting on his own, after all . . . something Il Ronnians aren't noted for . . . and the defeat of his troops in an unauthorized conflict could end his career."
McCade frowned thoughtfully. He knew Sara was right. As far as the Empire's social scientists could learn, the Il Ronn operated from consensus, a fact which many felt had allowed the human empire to grow at a faster rate, thus making it possible for them to catch up with the more advanced Il Ronn. By nature humans were much more independent and willing to take risks.
"Zorta was going to meet Reez?" he asked.
Sara smiled. "Reez tricked him into heading up the expedition to the War World. They are to meet in orbit today. Zorta's troops lifted off yesterday."
That would account for Lif's relatively easy victory, McCade mused, for there was little doubt in his mind that Lif was winning. With a large contingent of Zorta's troops up in orbit, they had encountered lighter resistance . . . and that had made the difference.
McCade's eyes were drawn once more to Zorta's portrait. Suddenly he had an idea. It was beautiful! He started laughing and grabbed Sara, picking her up and planting a kiss on her lips. Looking up at him with curious eyes, she laughed too, and asked, "What are we laughing about?"
"That would be telling." He chortled. "Go get Phil and Softie. Tell them we've got an idea they'll like."
She made a face at him, but left as he started rummaging through Zorta's luggage. Before long he had assembled an outfit quite similar to the one the Lakorian king had worn for his official portrait. Picking up the rest of the luggage in the room, he crammed it into a storage compartment and managed to close the hatch.
Sara arrived with a curious Phil and indifferent Treel in tow.
"What's up, Sam?" Phil asked, looking around the lounge, his eyes coming to rest on the golden thr
one. "Kind of gaudy, isn't it, Sam? Frankly I thought you'd have better taste."
"It's Zorta's taste, not mine, I assure you," McCade laughed. Quickly he filled the Variant and alien in on what Sara had found out.
"So," he concluded, "since Reez is expecting Zorta this morning, I thought we should oblige." He looked up at the portrait and then over to the Treel. "If you get my drift."
Phil burst out laughing, along with Sara.
The Treel looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, "Actually not a bad plan, rigid one. In the guise of Zorta I could gain entry to the Il Ronnian ship, and then devise the means to eradicate those who offend the eyes of Yareel." His eyes took on a dreamy, wishful look. "Unfortunately, however, I am limited to my present form by the device implanted behind my ear." He reached up to touch it.
"That's where Phil comes in, I hope," McCade replied. "How about it, Phil? You said you might be able to remove the chemlock."
"Yeah, with the proper facilities, I said," the Variant answered, glancing around. "And frankly this isn't what I had in mind. How good is the sick bay on this space-going bordello anyway?"
"Now you watch your mouth," McCade grinned appreciatively. "With the exception of the throne, this is my bordello you're talking about, and my sick bay is pretty good."
"Okay, let's have a look," Phil replied. "Just remember two things. First I've got to disarm the chemlock's explosive device. If I screw it up you won't be able to find enough of me or Softie to say prayers over, plus you won't be going anywhere in what's left of this ship. Secondly we're gonna have to work fast. In an hour or two at the most, I'm gonna fall apart for a while. It's the price I pay for using full augmentation. It really bums up energy and afterward I come down hard. So if we're gonna do it, we'd better hurry up."
McCade nodded his agreement, wishing they could delay the operation and do it in space. But with Phil about to crash, and the need to show Zorta to the Il Ronn after lift-off, there didn't seem to be much choice. So he led them to the galley. Through clever design the galley was easily converted to a small but efficient surgical suite. Phil pronounced it adequate and hurried to prepare the Treel. Over McCade's objections, Sara insisted on acting as Phil's assistant.
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