McCade's Bounty

by William C. Dietz

  Something, Molly wasn't sure what, told her there was danger here. But what kind? And was it real? After all, her father knew a lot of strange sentients, and considered many to be friends. Could this man be one? If so, she should tell him the truth; besides Lia would if she didn't. "Yes, sir, my father is named Sam. Do you know him?"

  Pong shook his head, and the mind slug shivered a thousand rainbows. "No, child, although I once spoke with him over a com link. Tell me, was your father dirtside when the ships attacked?"

  Molly squinted upward into the light. The man looked nice enough, but she was frightened of the thing on his shoulder. Molly wanted to say that had her father had been home, the attack might have gone differently, but she resisted the temptation. It wasn't true for one thing, and might make the man mad for another. "No, he wasn't."

  Pong slumped back in his chair. So, it was just as he'd feared. McCade was alive. How unfortunate. Hatred welled up from deep inside. Hatred for McCade, for the damage he'd done, for the loss of irreplaceable time. The one thing no one, not even Pong, had enough of.

  But hatred would get him nowhere. He must think, he must plan, he must put petty problems aside and focus on Drang.

  Raz was waiting, and so was the ugly guard. They didn't care about Drang, they wanted him to pass judgment, to punish the girl in a way that would make their jobs easier.

  The problem was that Pong liked Molly McCade. It was strange but true. He liked her intelligence, her courage, and her unwillingness to bend.

  He'd known a little boy like her once, a boy who grew up hungry in the ghettos of Desus II, a boy named Mustapha Pong.

  Besides . . . the girl was Sam McCade's daughter, and there was something delicious about having her under his control.

  Pong gestured to Raz. "Who's in charge of the slaves?"

  Raz looked at a terrified Boots and back again. "She is, sir. The slaves call her Boots."

  Pong nodded. "Give Boots some brig time. Maybe she'll be a little more zealous when she gets out."

  Boots flushed red and tried to say something, but a glance from Raz shut her up. He didn't say anything but she got the message just the same. "You may think this is bad but it could've been a lot worse."

  Pong ignored the byplay. "As for the girl, she'll remain here, where I can keep an eye on her."

  He looked down at Molly and smiled. "I could use someone to run errands. Tell the security officer to give her an L-band."

  Raz nodded curtly, took Boots by the arm, and marched her to the hatch. It hissed open and closed.

  Molly was alone with Mustapha Pong.

  Thirteen

  An auto loader beeped and Maggie hurried to get out of its way. The markets ran in cycles, and with the fourth cycle about to begin, there was a lot of coming and going.

  "You've been here before," Rico said, "where do we go? Where's the slave market?"

  Maggie shook her head doubtfully. "Sorry, Rico. Nexus has changed. It's bigger and more complicated than when I was here. Maybe we should ask a remote."

  "And maybe we shouldn't," Rico replied with a frown. "Call me paranoid, but the less we tell ol' binary brain the better I'll feel. Come on."

  Maggie followed Rico back in the direction they'd come from and over to a vending stand. The electronic reader board said, "Robo guides, by the minute, hour, or day. Fully guided sex tours, market information, ship arrivals . . ."

  The vendor was a birdlike Finthian, with saucerlike eyes and a translator hung around its neck. It looked this way and that with a nervous sort of twitch.

  "Hello, gentle beings, step right up and get your robo guide. These are the best, the brightest, the—"

  "Cut the crap and give me one," Rico interrupted.

  The Finthian looked disappointed but did as Rico asked.

  Maggie saw credits change hands and watched a tiny robo guide scamper up Rico's arm to perch on his shoulder.

  The machine was globular in shape, had three spindly legs, and a single sensor that stuck up periscope fashion above its body. There was a tiny whine like that of a mosquito when the sensor moved.

  "Hello," the robot chirped. "I am robo guide thirty-two. My main purpose is to provide you with navigational assistance within the confines of the Nexus habitat. However, my programming includes a wealth of incidental information and commercial messages that I will be happy to share upon request. Where would you like to go?"

  "The slave market," Rico replied, "and pronto."

  "You are in luck," the robot replied cheerfully. "Cycle four will start soon. Proceed down the hall to lift tube B, go up two decks, and exit to the right."

  Rico and Maggie followed the robo guide's direction, and were soon among a crowd of sentients walking, gliding, hopping, and sliding into a circular room.

  The programmable seats could accommodate 87.6 percent of known sentient species and were mounted on an incline so that everyone had a good view.

  Spotlights washed back and forth across the pit, as if it were a stage and a play were about to begin. But this was no play. This was real. Maggie lowered her hover box next to Rico's seat and waited for the auction to begin.

  It didn't take long. For some reason Maggie expected a live auctioneer, a human perhaps, all dressed up like the ringmaster at a circus.

  But like most employers, Nexus hired in its own image, and the master of ceremonies was a machine.

  A flying machine, that looked like a ball of pulsating energy and arrived with a blare of trumpets. It buzzed as it flew, skimming the crowd, coming within a foot of Maggie's head.

  Then with a dramatic display of aerobatics, and the strobe of carefully placed lasers, the machine came to a sudden stop. The robot hung over the pit like a miniature sun and its voice came from everywhere at once.

  It came as no surprise to Maggie that this, like most other things on the habitat, was another manifestation of Nexus.

  "Greetings, I am Nexus. Welcome to slave cycle four. Being a machine myself, I believe that machines have an important place in the universe . . . but I value natural sentience as well.

  "In fact, from a machine's point of view, you sentients are a good buy. You are reasonably intelligent, work hard when properly motivated, and are always eager to replicate yourselves. That's why I own a few sentients myself."

  There was laughter from the humans, and a variety of noises from the other sentients, which might have been anything from an amused chuckle to a cry of outrage. Maggie assumed the former.

  "Now," the MC said, "let's get down to business. As usual, cycle four will center around oxygen breathers so if you're looking for something more exotic, try cycle five or six.

  "So, let's get things started with a nice group of Tillarians."

  As the MC spoke six proud-looking Tillarian males were herded into the center of the slave pit. They stood back-to-back, eyes scanning the audience, as if daring the crowd to attack.

  They were completely naked, and, with the exception of the bony ridge that bisected their skulls, very humanoid.

  Or, Maggie thought to herself, we are quite Tillaroid, depending on your point of view.

  In any case the Tillarians would be quite useful on any Earth-normal planet, and were soon sold to a Zord wholesaler, who would parcel them out to a network of retail traders.

  During the transaction the robo guide would occasionally chirrup potentially useful information into Rico's ear, like the average price for Tillarian slaves over the last thousand cycles, and the minimum annual cost for maintenance.

  And so it went, group after group, race after race until Maggie felt numb inside. Maybe that's how it works, she reflected. If you see something long enough, no matter how horrible it is, the thing becomes commonplace. Bit by bit your emotions grow less intense until eventually you feel nothing at all.

  It was Rico who brought her back to the present. "Maggie! Look! Those boys! Aren't they some of ours?"

  Maggie looked in the direction of Rico's pointing finger, and sure enough, there was
a group of ragged-looking boys standing in the center of the pit. Here and there you could see brothers, or best friends, standing side by side, hoping that some sort of miracle would keep them together.

  Outside of Molly McCade, and a few others, Maggie knew hardly any of Alice's children. She spent very little time on the planet's surface. But the expression of joy on Rico's face was all the confirmation she needed.

  "I think you're right, Rico . . . what now?"

  Rico held a finger to his lips. "Let's listen."

  "So," the MC continued, buzzing the perimeter of the slave pit, "here's lot forty-one, a group of twenty-three juvenile humans, recently taken off some slush ball along the rim. They are ice-world acclimated, in good health, and a bargain at ten thousand credits apiece. Do I have a bid?"

  Bidding began, and because it was done using the key paid built into each chair, it was impossible to see who was taking part.

  The Nexus MC provided a running commentary on how much was being bid, but that was beside the point at the moment, and Rico tuned it out.

  He turned toward the robo guide on his shoulder. "Can ya tell who's bidding?"

  "Of course," the robot replied cheerfully, "it's on freq four. There were five or six bidders a moment ago, but it's down to a couple now, and they're going at it hot and heavy.

  "One group is on your right, two rows back, and six seats over. Zords, I think, although it's hard to see with the crummy two-credit vid pickup they gave me.

  "The others are over there, on the far side of the pit, the Lakorian in light body armor."

  Rico resisted the impulse to look at the Zords but could see the Lakorian without difficulty. He was nothing special, a middle-aged male, dressed in well-worn armor.

  Rico spoke from the side of his mouth. "How 'bout the seller? Does Nexus own the boys . . . or is it someone else?"

  The robot was silent for a moment as it sorted through a variety of electronic signals. "No, Nexus doesn't own them, and yes, the owners are here. In seats G5, G6, G7, G8, G9 and G10 to be exact."

  It took Rico a moment to locate them off to his left, four men and two women, all dressed in ship suits and heavily armed.

  Maggie was getting concerned, things were moving quickly, and she didn't understand what Rico was up to. "Rico . . ."

  "I have fourteen thousand . . . do I hear fourteen five? Going once, going twice . . ."

  Rico ignored Maggie as his stubby fingers danced over the chair's key pad. "Not now, Maggie . . . it's time ta buy the boys."

  "But, Rico . . . we don't have any money!"

  "Wait a minute, gentle beings," the MC said with calculated enthusiasm, "we have another bid. I have fifteen, do I hear fifteen five? No? Going once, going twice, gone to bid number C-487912!

  "Now our next lot consists . . ."

  A bored-looking Cellite, with muscles on his muscles, herded the boys out of sight.

  "Rico . . ." Maggie started, but stopped when she saw his fingers still moving over the key pad. A minute passed while queries appeared on a tiny screen and Rico tapped in the answers. Then he punched one last button and gave a sigh of relief. "Got 'em."

  "But how?" Maggie asked, completely mystified.

  "Easy," Rico replied. "I borrowed three hundred and forty-five thousand credits from Nexus, agreed ta pay ten percent interest compounded every thirty-six cycles, and used the boys, plus Void Runner, as collateral."

  "But that doesn't solve anything. We still have to pay off the loan."

  "Right," Rico said patiently. "But it does keep the boys here on Nexus. Got it?"

  Maggie not only got it, her respect for Rico went up a notch as well. "So what now?"

  "So now we follow them," Rico said grimly, nodding toward the group of humans now getting up to leave. "I want a word with that bunch."

  A whole cacophony of alarm bells went off in Maggie's mind. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Rico. Let's find Sam, tell him about the boys, and come back later."

  Rico got to his feet. "Sam already knows about the boys, he authorized the lien on Void Runner.

  "But that's a good idea," Rico said distantly, "you give Sam a hand, and I'll be along after a while."

  Something about the way Rico said it, and the look in his eyes, scared Maggie. So she whirred along behind, wishing she could stop him, knowing she couldn't. Deep down Maggie knew this was something personal. Rico would never admit but this had something to do with Vanessa.

  The six humans left the venue, laughing and joking, happy with the profit they'd made. Even after the ten percent that went to Nexus, and another ten for Pong, they were still doing very well indeed. Now it was time for a little celebration.

  Rico and Maggie followed the pirates down one level and into a recreational zone. There were all sorts of drug dens, sex shops, bars, and restaurants. The pirates turned into the first bar they came to.

  Rico followed with Maggie trailing along right behind.

  Rico waited until the pirates had seated themselves at a table, selected a booth nearby, and sat down to wait. Maggie did likewise.

  The pirates made fun of the blast-burned woman who took their order, used their combat knives to play tic tac toe on the tabletop, and downed their first round of drinks in five seconds flat.

  That's when Rico stood up, removed the robo guide from his shoulder, and set it on the tabletop. It scuttled away.

  Then Rico walked over to the pirate's table, produced a big smile, and said "Hi."

  Most of the pirates snickered, but one replied. He had long lank hair parted in the middle, carefully plucked eyebrows, and a once-broken nose.

  "Hi? Don't you mean 'Hi, sir'? That is what you meant, right, rimmer?"

  Rico nodded. "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I meant, sir."

  "Good," the man answered. "Now tell me, rimmer, what the hell do you want?"

  "Just a little information, sir. Someone attacked a planet called Alice a while ago, and I wondered if you were there."

  Maggie swallowed hard and moved away from the booth. The bar was completely silent. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a laser.

  The pirate's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you did, huh? Why's that, rimmer? You from Alice by any chance?"

  Rico smiled slowly. "Why yes, sir, I have that honor. Now I'd appreciate an answer."

  A woman spoke this time. She had hard eyes, a dope stick hanging from the corner of her mouth, and a whippet-thin body.

  "Yeah, rimmer, we were there, the dirties put up quite a fight, but we waxed 'em good. How'd we miss something as big and ugly as you?"

  It was the last thing she ever said. Maggie had never seen anything so fast. One moment Rico was standing there, arms hanging loosely by his sides, and the next there was a blaster in his hand.

  The first bolt of energy took the woman right between the eyes. She fell over backward.

  The next hit the man sitting beside her in the center of his chest, punched a hole through the back of his chair, and turned a neuro-game into a collection of fused circuit boards.

  The air felt like quicksand as Maggie slapped the right side of her hover box, heard the panel pop open, and felt the spring-loaded blaster jump into her hand. As the weapon started upward Maggie wondered if it would arrive in time.

  Meanwhile, the second woman shouted something incoherent as she put a bolt of blue energy through Rico's shoulder, and died a fraction of a second later.

  One of the men stood and brought a blaster into line with Rico's chest.

  Maggie fired. Her bolt took the man's hand off at the wrist. It made an audible thump as it hit the deck.

  The man screamed and died as Rico put a bolt through his head.

  Maggie fired again, saw a man try to cover the hole in his throat, and felt herself fall as raw energy sliced through her hover box.

  She didn't see the last man die from her vantage point on the floor, but she heard the scream of energy bolts and saw Rico's boots appear in front of her face.

  A second l
ater his face was visible too, full of concern, asking how she was. Maggie saw a wisp of smoke drift away from the hole in Rico's shoulder.

  She didn't get to answer, because a bunch of blaster-toting remotes picked that particular moment to show up, but Maggie knew what she wanted to say.

  She wanted to say that it felt good to have friends.

  Fourteen

  There was an observatory tucked away far above the ship's bridge, a tiny place where the navigator could get a star fix in an emergency, and the chief engineer could visually inspect thirty percent of the ship's hull. The observatory was hardly ever used and had become Molly's secret hideaway.