McCade's Bounty

by William C. Dietz

  In retrospect the trap had worked better than McCade's wildest dreams, and according to Phil's math, they were only a hundred and eighteen thousand credits short of their goal.

  About forty-five minutes passed before the next score came along. It was a big one this time, a psychopath named Hassan, who'd demonstrated his dislike for the elders of his church by blowing them up.

  The Empire was offering forty thousand for Hassan dead or alive, and that plus the fifty that had been raised by the membership of the church brought his total value up to a nice round ninety thousand.

  There was something about Hassan, something about the twitchy way he moved, that told McCade the man wouldn't surrender easily.

  Hassan had a slender build. He was dressed in a high-collared cloak with matching skintight trousers and knee-high boots. While there weren't any weapons in plain sight there could be an entire arsenal concealed under the man's cloak.

  McCade nodded to Phil and they moved out into the traffic. Phil circled around behind Hassan while McCade waited in front. A muscle twitched in his left cheek.

  When the fugitive was about fifteen feet away, McCade pulled his blaster, gave startled pedestrians a moment to scurry out of the way, and yelled, "Hassan! Hold it right there!"

  Hassan didn't even flinch. He pointed a finger at McCade. Something warm brushed past the bounty hunter's left cheek and hit a maintenance bot somewhere behind him. It blew up with a brilliant flash of light.

  Hassan had some sort of energy weapon hidden up his sleeve! Whatever the weapon was, it was unusually powerful, and must use a lot of energy. Maybe it would run out soon.

  Still, one more shot like the last, and McCade would be little more than a scorch mark on the deck.

  Phil tried to club Hassan from behind, but was blocked by a hysterical merchant who threw himself at the variant's feet and screamed, "Save me! Save me!"

  The blaster was lighter than the slug gun McCade usually carried and generated no recoil.

  Blue light sliced down and across the font of Hassan's cloak. Nothing! The son-of-a-bitch was wearing armor!

  Hassan grinned. God protects her own. Now the bounty hunter would pay the price for his impudence. Idolaters must die!

  Hassan moved his arm a hair to the left and aligned the custom-designed energy tube with McCade's chest. The trigger was a small black ball that Hassan held in the palm of his right hand. His brain told his hand to squeeze the ball but it was too late.

  Hassan blew up. Although he was armored, his power supply wasn't, and McCade hit it. The result was loud and messy.

  Disentangling himself from the sobbing merchant, Phil came over to join McCade, still flicking little bits of Hassan off his kilt. "Nice going, Sam. How do we get a reward with nothing to turn in?"

  McCade slid the blaster into its holster. He'd been lucky, damned lucky, and his hands were shaking. He tried to smile.

  "The Empire is quite liberal about such matters, Phil. They'll accept retinas, a full set of teeth, or fingers with prints attached. See what you can find.

  "In the meantime I'll help Dawk tear the equipment down. We've pushed our luck far enough."

  Phil checked to make sure McCade was serious, saw that he was, and walked away mumbling to himself.

  Twenty minutes later a crew of maintenance bots had just finished cleaning up the mess, Phil had one of Hassan's hands in a stasis bag, and McCade was helping Dawk to dismantle the scanner system. He didn't hear the remote approach.

  "You will accompany me now."

  McCade turned. "Excuse me?"

  The remote's face was completely devoid of expression as always. There were six remotes altogether, all armed, all equally featureless.

  "You will accompany me now. I wish to speak with you."

  McCade knew the "I" was Nexus, and that there was no point in resistance since the AI was all powerful. The computer wanted to talk and, for reasons known only to it, didn't wish to use a remote for that purpose.

  There was little doubt as to what Nexus sought to discuss. When Hassan blew up, things had come perilously close to violating law number one, "Don't harm Nexus."

  Chances were they'd get a "cease and desist" order. Okay, McCade could live with that, as long as the machine didn't try to block them altogether.

  McCade forced a smile and wondered if nonverbal communication counted for anything with Nexus.

  "Of course. We'll be right there."

  McCade turned. "Dawk, drop Hassan's hand off at our holding tank, and take the computer gear to lock seventy-seven. Ask for Rico or Maggie. Drop by the tank later on. There'll be something extra in your pay."

  Dawk looked surprised. "Pay? You mean I get paid?"

  McCade looked at Phil but the variant was busy examining his durasteel claws. "Yeah," McCade answered, "no matter what my furry friend may have told you, all of our employees get paid. I'll see you later."

  Dawk grinned and busied himself with the electronic gear.

  McCade turned to the remote. "Okay, we're all yours. Lead the way."

  With three of the silvery remotes walking ahead, and three behind, the crowd seemed to melt away. No one wanted to mess with Nexus or get too close to the idiots who already had.

  The procession wound its way through a labyrinth of corridors and into a lift tube marked, restricted—nexus only. They stepped out into a large open space a few seconds later.

  The first impression was of lights, thousands of them, covering the walls and dome-shaped ceiling, denser than any galaxy, but starlike nonetheless.

  They seemed to ripple outward in overlapping circles, like raindrops hitting the surface of a pond.

  Suddenly McCade realized that all six of the remotes had retreated to wall niches. They looked like statues.

  The deck, which had been a glossy black, was suddenly transformed into a vid screen. Video of the intersection appeared. A variety of shots followed, each covering a different angle, and representing what one remote had seen.

  McCade and Phil watched as the triplets, Dep-Smith, and Hassan fell into the trap.

  As the video disappeared the asexual voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Explain."

  McCade considered a number of lies but couldn't be sure that any of them would hold up. Nexus was no fool and had innumerable sources of information. No, it seemed better to tell the truth, and hope for the best.

  McCade cleared his throat. "A few weeks ago the planet Alice was attacked by pirates. A number of children were taken during the raid. My companions and I were sent to find the children and return them to Alice. During slave cycle four, we discovered that twenty-three of our children were for sale, and bought them using funds borrowed from you.

  "We are presently engaged in an effort to capture individuals wanted by the Imperial government. We plan to sell their bounties at a discount, use the money to pay off our loans, and take the children home."

  McCade turned to Phil. "Did I leave anything out?"

  The variant shook his head.

  Nexus was silent for a moment, as if thinking, or dealing with something or someone else. Then it spoke. "I disagree with your companion. There is something that you neglected to mention. One of the missing children is your daughter."

  McCade looked up at the multitude of twinkling lights and wished the computer had a face. His heart beat like a trip-hammer. How did Nexus know about Molly? Was she here? Was this the end of his search? McCade fought to keep his voice under control.

  "That's true. Do you know where she is?"

  The answer was emotionless. Machinelike. "No, I do not. However, I do have a personal message for you."

  "You have a what?"

  Once again the deck transformed itself into a huge video screen. The man who appeared there had blond hair, blue eyes, and was known to billions of sentients across hundreds of systems. Loved by many, hated by some, the face belonged to the Emperor himself.

  A man who might still be meditating high in the mountains of the Win
d World, learning from the mystics who called themselves Walkers of the Way, if it weren't for Sam McCade.

  Yes, Alexander owed McCade a debt of gratitude, but more than that considered the bounty hunter his friend.

  And because McCade was untempted by the Emperor's power, uninterested in his wealth, and unimpressed by his rank, he was that rarest of all things, a man Alexander could trust.

  The Emperor smiled. "Hello, Sam. I wish this greeting came at a better time. I'm sorry about the raid, worried about Molly, and well aware that it was your service to me that put Alice in jeopardy.

  "Most people think that I'm all powerful, capable of righting any wrong, but you know better. I'm painfully aware that it is beyond my ability to restore a life, to heal a broken body, or undo the damage done to Alice. Nonetheless I do what I can.

  "Descriptions of the children have gone out to every naval base in the Empire, our ships have been alerted to watch out for vessels that belong to Pong, and Swanson-Pierce has his people working on it as well."

  A sometimes friend, and sometimes enemy, Swanson-Pierce was none other than Admiral Swanson-Pierce, head of Naval Intelligence, and a member of Alexander's personal staff.

  "Knowing you however," the Emperor continued, "I suspect you are already tackling the problem in your own way, and probably making more progress than we are.

  "Still, it never hurts to have a friend in high places, so call on me if there's something I can do. Though not controlled by me, Nexus and I do each other favors from time to time, and it may be willing to help.

  "Linnea sends her love. Please let us know when Molly is safe and sound." The picture faded to black.

  Silence descended. Seconds became minutes. It seemed Nexus was thinking, or doing other things, or just didn't care.

  Of the three McCade thought the last was most likely. There was plenty of Nexus to go around, and had the machine wished to, it could've held a conversation with them and covered everything else as well.

  Finally, after a good five minutes had passed, Nexus spoke. It was as if no time had passed whatsoever. "So, Citizen McCade, it seems you have an unexpectedly powerful ally, and that will stand you in good stead.

  "You will be interested to know that the imperial message torpedo arrived only hours ago. Were it not for the Emperor's intervention this conversation would have turned in a different direction. Your most recent activities threatened not only my personal well-being, but that of my customers as well, leaving me no choice but to discipline you.

  "Fortunately you have captured a sufficient number of fugitives to pay off most of your debt. Given the fact that the Emperor is willing to pay off the remaining balance, and given the fact that you are no doubt anxious to leave, I will order my staff to place the children in your custody.

  "My staff will also take charge of the unauthorized prison that you and your companions have established on C deck. I will dispose of the fugitives as I see fit."

  McCade raised an eyebrow. What did Nexus mean by that? Would the computer turn the fugitives in? Or turn them loose to maintain the habitat's lawless reputation? But as long as Nexus released the children he really didn't care.

  The computer hadn't asked for agreement but McCade supplied it anyway. "Thank you. That arrangement will be quite satisfactory."

  A section of lights rippled toward the top of the dome. "Have a nice visit."

  McCade nodded and started for the lift tube. He was almost there when Nexus spoke again.

  "Citizen McCade."

  "Yes?"

  "Before you turn the prisoners over to my staff you might want to interrogate the woman known as Lorina Dep-Smith."

  McCade frowned. "Okay . . . but why?"

  The computer paused as if for effect. "Because she commands the ship that brought the children to Nexus."

  Sixteen

  The yacht slowed. The vessel was a wedge of streamlined metal on the outside, and on the inside it was extremely comfortable.

  Everywhere Molly looked she saw muted colors, subdued lighting, and carefully chosen fixtures. There was no way she could know, but this was the Arrow, the very ship on which Pong had escaped from her father.

  Molly sat beside Mustapha Pong on the side opposite the mind slug. She was thankful, because no matter how much time Molly spent with Pong, the Melcetian still made her nervous.

  Molly felt both excitement and guilt. Excitement because she liked doing new things, and guilt because she was doing them with Mustapha Pong, and he'd attacked her planet.

  And what about the other girls? True, they weren't suffering, but they weren't happy either, and wouldn't be until they returned to Alice. And what had she done to free them?

  Nothing, that's what, not since her attempt to access the navcomp, and the placement of the L-band around her head. Not that the other girls wanted any help.

  Molly felt a sudden surge of anger. Ever since the incident in the corridor things were even worse than before. Lia still hated her, but now the older girl was afraid as well, and cowered when Molly was around. This had the effect of further distancing Molly from the rest of the girls and left her completely isolated.

  Yes, Molly thought to herself. Pong's right about one thing. When people betray you it's stupid to give them another chance. Why should I try and help them? Let them stay with Lia! I'll find my own way out of here and leave them behind.

  Pong touched Molly's arm. "Look, child, there it is."

  Molly looked out of the viewport. The alien ship was huge, large enough to be mistaken for an asteroid, or an errant moon.

  Where human and even Il Ronnian spacecraft looked like what they were, this one looked like a big rock. Sunlight moved steadily across its surface as the alien vessel rotated on its axis.

  Surely the ship had weapons emplacements, solar collectors, and all the other hardware common to its kind, but Molly couldn't see them.

  Molly had never heard of the 56,827 before. She thought that a number made a strange name for an entire race, but Pong had explained that it was the way the aliens saw themselves, as an aggregate comprised of individual numbers.

  The total number, and therefore the name of the race, changed with each birth and death. Not only that, but individual names, and their entire social order, stemmed from numbers as well.

  If for example someone was born number 32,105, they would forever be junior to individual 32,104, and senior to 32,106.

  And, given a long average life span and extremely low birthrate, their relative social position would remain constant for years at a time. This made for a rigid and rather hierarchical social structure.

  Because of this internal rigidity Pong explained, the more ambitious members of the race were encouraged to direct their energies outward, and that explained the ship. The aliens were on the lookout for new commercial opportunities.

  When Molly asked where the 56,827 came from, Pong replied that they came from somewhere beyond the rim, beyond the limits of human exploration.

  As the shuttle approached, the alien spaceship grew even larger. "Are all of their ships that big?" Molly asked.

  Pong looked down at her, then out of the viewport. "No, child, as a matter of fact that's the only ship they have."

  Molly looked up to see if Pong was teasing her.

  The pirate smiled. "I'm serious. They claim one ship is all they need. And what's even more surprising is that in spite of the ship's size, it carries only sixteen individuals, and they think it's crowded."

  Molly thought about that for a moment. "They must be huge."

  Molly laughed. "A logical conclusion, child, but false nonetheless. They are larger than humans, but not by much.

  "No, I'm afraid it's more complicated than that. Due to conditions on their native planet the 56,827 are extremely territorial.

  "From what they tell me that stems from the ancient need for individual hunting preserves. Vast lands where they could hunt. With the passage of time and the coming of advanced technology, competition has becom
e more commercial and less carnivorous. The result is the same however. Each adult requires a large amount of personal space."

  "And that accounts for the size of their ship," Molly finished for him. "They can't stand to be cooped up together."

  Pong clapped his hands in approval. "Exactly, child! Correct as usual. Now excuse me while I deal with an incoming message."

  Molly couldn't hear the message because it came in via the small plug in Pong's left ear. And due to the fact that the pirate subvocalized his reply, she couldn't hear that either.

  Returning her attention to the alien ship, Molly saw she was right. It was more mechanical than it appeared. A section of the planetoid's surface had opened to reveal a spacious landing bay. A complicated latticework of laser beams reached out to touch receptors on the shuttle's hull and guide it in.