McCade's Bounty

by William C. Dietz

  Platz looked around as if seeing a lock for the first time, saw a comb lying on the deck, and bent to pick it up. But there was some kind of goo on it so he let it lay.

  The hatch whirred open and McCade stepped through. He held his blast rifle up and ready to fire, but saw nothing more threatening than a dim lavender sky and an alien landscape. There were rocks, strange foliage, and some distant trees. Or things that looked like trees anyway. The others followed.

  McCade was just about to ask Pong where the dirt path led when there was a stirring in some nearby bushes and the sound of a hesitant voice.

  "Citizen McCade? Is that you?"

  McCade's heart leaped into his throat. "Yes! Who's there?"

  "We are," the voice answered, and one by one a group of bedraggled little girls emerged from the bushes. McCade inventoried each dirt-smudged face until a small group stood in front of him and Molly was nowhere to be seen. McCade bit his lip. He recognized some of the children but not all.

  The girls looked from McCade to Phil and back again. The same one, a girl named Linda if he remembered correctly, spoke again. "Is it really you? You came for us?" Her upper lip trembled.

  McCade managed a smile. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Linda's father was dead, buried below the permafrost on Alice. A tear ran down his cheek. McCade got down on one knee. He bit back the desire to ask about Molly and forced himself to wait. "Yes, it's really us, and we came for you."

  The girls cried, threw themselves at McCade and Phil, and bombarded them with questions. "Is my mommy all right? Did you find my brother? Can we go home now?"

  Platz beamed and Pong whistled through his teeth. Finally, when the pirate couldn't take it anymore, he said, "Save it for later, McCade . . . where's Molly?"

  McCade peeled two little girls away from his chest and held a finger to his lips. "He's right. There'll be lots of time to celebrate. Where is Molly? Are there any others?"

  The story spilled out in fits and starts, first from one girl, then from another, until McCade had the whole picture. It seemed three of the girls had been taken away by one of the 56,827, presumably for the "death experiments" Pong had mentioned, and Molly, with help from a friendly alien called Jareth, had gone after them.

  And then, about three hours after Molly's departure, another member of the 56,827 had swung through the area. Hunting, exercising, the girls weren't sure what. But they had orders to scatter and proceeded to do so. The alien lingered for a while, then left. After that it was a relatively simple matter to regroup around the lock as Molly had instructed them to do, and that's where they were when McCade arrived.

  As McCade listened he was conscious of Molly's leadership role, and found himself alternating between pride and fear.

  McCade held Linda by both shoulders. "Do you know where Molly went? Can you show us which direction?"

  Linda nodded. "Jareth showed her the way. He said he wouldn't fight but he gave Molly some sort of gun."

  "A gun? Molly has a weapon?"

  Linda nodded again. "Yes, she said you'd taught her how to use it."

  McCade remembered putting an empty meal pak on a snow-covered rock, helping Molly to wrap cold little fingers around the grip of a blaster, and watching as blue light burped past the rock to hit the scrub beyond. He tightened his grip on Linda's shoulders. She winced and he let go.

  "Show us, Linda, show us where Jareth and Molly went."

  Linda turned and started down into the valley. The others followed as Linda made a wide detour around the boulders where Lia had disappeared, took them past the pile of still bloody bones where the runner called Mizlam had faced death, and climbed the slope beyond. When Linda reached the top of the hill, she looked back to make sure the others were with her, and disappeared from view.

  By the time McCade topped the hill, and had started down the other side, Linda was already at the bottom of the slope pointing at a rock.

  "That's where they went, Citizen McCade . . . and they never came back!"

  McCade came to a stop in front of the rock and looked quizzically at Linda. "They went where?"

  "Under the rock," Linda answered impatiently. "It lifts up."

  McCade bent over, got a grip on the rock, and pulled. It came up with surprising ease. And no wonder, since one glance at the rock's underpinnings showed that it was hydraulically assisted. The rock concealed a rather standard maintenance tube.

  It made sense when McCade thought about it; biosphere or not, the ship would require maintenance, and as a member of the crew this Jareth character would know his way around.

  Metal rungs extended straight down, rungs spaced farther apart than would be comfortable for humans, and disappeared into darkness. Molly had climbed down those rungs and ended up where?

  McCade wasted little time. "Okay, Phil. Take Pong's restraints off. We've got some climbing to do. Platz, come here."

  The trooper obeyed. His open-featured face radiated trust. "Yes, sir?"

  McCade held up his blast rifle. "What would you do if I gave you this? Would you shoot me and ask Pong for a bonus?"

  Platz didn't even blink. "No, sir. I'm not stupid, sir. If something happens to you, the general will kill me and try to keep all of this secret."

  Pong raised his eyes heavenward but didn't attempt to deny it.

  McCade nodded and handed Platz the rifle. "You've got that right. I'm leaving you in charge of the girls. Take them back to the lock. If you see any of the 56,827, shoot to kill. Wait for three hours, if we aren't back by then, put the girls on the ship and get the hell out of here.

  "Take them to the nearest Imperial Navy base and ask for Admiral Swanson-Pierce. They'll give you lots of guff but hang in there. Use my name a lot. Walt will show up eventually, and when he does, tell him I promised you ten thousand credits. The same for the pilot. He'll make it good, and get the girls home to boot."

  Platz listened with a look of complete amazement, as did Pong, who raised one eyebrow. "You've got some interesting friends, McCade. I suspect I underestimated your influence."

  McCade turned toward the pirate. "Shut up and listen. I'm going into the maintenance tube first. You're second, and Phil's third. Just one wrong move and we'll kill you. Got it?"

  Pong shrugged. "Got it." For the moment he had no choice but to do what McCade said, but figured the 56,827 must be well aware of their uninvited guests, and would make an appearance sometime soon. That would be his chance.

  "Good," McCade replied. "Okay, girls, do what Citizen Platz says, and I'll see you in a little while."

  The girls looked doubtful, many wishing that he would stay, but waved gamely as Platz led them away. McCade was pleased to see that the soldier held the blast rifle at port arms and was watching both his flanks.

  McCade checked to make sure that his remaining weapons, a hand blaster and a slug gun, were secure, and lowered himself into the tube. Pong followed, as did Phil.

  Sensing a certain amount of mass and movement within the tube, a distant computer turned on the lights. The lights were circular like the passageway itself, and came at roughly ten-foot intervals, as did the tiny rivet-sized surveillance cameras that fed video to alien eyes.

  Looking down between his feet, McCade could see lights stretching away for what seemed like forever. He continued downward.

  Their boots rang on the metal rungs, and the farther down they went, the warmer it became. Four or five times they went by intersections where horizontal tubes connected with their own, and on two occasions they heard the sound of rushing water, as if some sort of large conduit paralleled their tube.

  The intersections were troublesome, since Molly and Jareth could have used any one of them, but each of the horizontal tunnels had a fine layer of dust at the bottom, and as far as McCade could tell none of them had been used for a long time.

  Then, just when McCade was sure they were descending into hell itself, the tube grew suddenly cooler and continued that way until it bottomed out.

  Here too th
e dust came in handy, clearly showing the scuff marks where Molly and her alien companion had headed toward the right, showing McCade where to go.

  McCade was cautious now, sensing they were close to something important, glaring at Pong to make sure that the pirate understood.

  This was more a corridor than a tube, and dark at the other end. McCade slid forward, his left hand maintaining contact with the bulkhead, his right wrapped around the comforting weight of the slug gun.

  From Pong's description of the 56,827 a weapon with some stopping power would be best. The problem with energy beams is that they tend to go right through the target without producing any hydrostatic shock. Not very good if your opponent is large and has lots of inertia.

  Lavender light flooded the corridor. By the time McCade's eyes had adjusted, and his brain had processed the new information, the alien was in motion. It came straight at him and the bounty hunter responded automatically.

  The slug gun made an enormous booming sound within the close confines of the corridor. McCade could see where the hollow points hit, punching their way through the alien's thin exoskeleton and blowing huge chunks of flesh and bone out of its back. Although it didn't seem possible the alien kept on coming.

  McCade fired again, and again, expecting each slug to put the creature down, but it just kept coming, staggering with each impact, but refusing to die.

  Finally, when a slug cut through the second of its redundant spinal cords, the alien tripped, fell forward, and slid almost to McCade's feet. He jumped backward as the alien's still dying nervous system caused it to jerk and snap.

  Turning, McCade found Pong plastered against the bulkhead, and beyond him, Phil looking down at a second crumpled body. It had a hole the size of a dinner plate burned through its bony chest. Goo drooled from its mouth.

  The variant caught McCade's look and gestured upward. The aliens had known where they were and attempted to box them in.

  McCade started to sidestep the body, felt his foot his something, and heard it skitter away. Light bounced off a shiny object. McCade bent to pick it up. An energy weapon of some sort, the butt felt awkward in his human hand, but there was still no doubt as to its function.

  McCade held it up for Pong to see. The pirate nodded. "It's like I told you before. The 56,827 like to hunt, and while willing to use weapons when they have to, consider them demeaning. Especially where personal combat is concerned."

  McCade smiled grimly. "Yeah? Well guess what . . . from now on they're gonna be known as the 56,825."

  McCade thumbed the magazine release on his slug gun, slammed a fresh one into place, and pulled the hand blaster too. The aliens were damned hard to kill. He'd need every weapon he had.

  They eased their way around the dead alien and headed for the hatch at the end of the corridor. Just before they reached it McCade grabbed Pong and pushed him forward. "Time to earn your keep, old sport . . . open that hatch."

  Fear ran through Pong's body like an icy stream. Anything could be, and probably was, waiting beyond that door. Pong considered begging but knew it wouldn't work.

  As Pong crouched low and reached up toward the control plate, he felt the Melcetian ooze down as far as it could. The miserable piece of worthless fecal matter was using him as a shield!

  Pong's hand touched the heat-sensitive plate and the hatch slid open. They waited for a barrage of slugs and energy beams but it never came.

  McCade felt his heart beat just a little bit faster as he eased his way forward and peeked through the door. He found himself looking into some sort of equipment room, where metal catwalks turned and twisted through a maze of metal pipes, and the air seemed to shimmer with radiated heat.

  McCade looked at Phil, got a nod in return, and stepped out onto a catwalk. The response was almost instantaneous. Two aliens stepped out from behind a cluster of pipes and opened up with energy weapons. One of the beams cut through a piece of conduit at McCade's elbow and showered him with sparks.

  McCade fired the slug gun five times in quick succession, saw each of them jerk, and burned them down with the blaster before they could charge.

  McCade heard Phil roar something incoherent, and turned to find the variant firing down the tube way, his blast rifle stuttering blue death.

  As the bounty hunter added his fire to Phil's, three more of the aliens struggled forward and died in the combined fire of three weapons.

  "Behind you!"

  McCade spun around on Pong's warning just in time to find one more creature charging him. The bounty hunter emptied the slug gun into the alien's head, just barely destroying the thing's brain before the insectoid body hit and bowled him over. It took the alien a moment to flop around and die.

  McCade crab-walked backward to get away, scrambled to his feet, and checked his weapons. Then, with a new magazine in the slug gun, and a fresh power pak in the blaster, he was ready once again.

  With Pong following close behind and Phil bringing up the rear, McCade made his way through the maze of pipes to another opening.

  Once again Pong was forced to open the hatch, and once again there was a lack of reaction.

  They waited for a full minute. Still nothing. McCade motioned for the pirate to step through the door. Pong started to balk, but the bounty hunter waved his slug gun, and the pirate changed his mind. He stepped through the door and looked around.

  "McCade! There they are! There's Molly!"

  McCade came through the door in a low crouch, weapons in his hands, eyes searching for trouble. He found himself in a large circular area. It had a crude dirt floor, a source of lavender light high above, and at least twenty tunnels spaced equidistantly around its walls. Each was identified with some sort of pictograph. Maintenance tunnels? Private entrances for the super-territorial aliens? It made little difference.

  And there, right at the room's exact center, was some sort of cage. It contained three or four children and a type of alien McCade had never seen before. The one called Jareth?

  The thought was pushed aside as his eyes met Molly's and he heard her voice. "Daddy! Watch out . . ."

  But the warning came too late.

  Strong arms wrapped themselves around him, immobilizing both of his weapons. McCade heard Pong laugh, and knew the pirate had seen the ambush, but failed to give warning.

  The bounty hunter felt both handguns ripped away and heard a growl from behind as Phil struggled with assailants of his own.

  Within seconds both of them were completely immobilized. There were two of the aliens controlling McCade, and no less than four struggling to hold Phil.

  There was a scraping sound and McCade turned to see an alien walk out of a tunnel. There was a translator hung around his neck, and when the creature stopped, the device swung back and forth. The alien addressed itself to Pong.

  "So, numberless one, you come bringing death with you."

  Pong shook his head and forced a smile, forgetting that it had no meaning for 47,721. "I was forced to come and bring them with me. That one, the creature that looks like me, was searching for his daughter."

  "Daughter?"

  "One of the juveniles. One of those," Pong said, pointing at the girls. "She is his—how do you say it?—progeny."

  47,721 swiveled toward the cage. "Which?"

  Pong frowned. He didn't like the way this was going. "The one with the black curly hair. But what difference does that make?"

  47,721 didn't answer. It walked over to the cage, undid the latch, and opened the door. Jareth placed himself in front of the children, but 47,721 brushed the runner aside. Long heavily clawed fingers locked themselves around one of Molly's arms and pulled her from the cage. She struggled but it made no difference.

  "Pong!" McCade shouted. "Don't let him touch her! You said you cared about her, you said you liked her, how can you stand there and let this happen?"

  Pong took a hesitant step forward. "Leave her alone, 47,721. You can have the rest, but leave that one alone."

  The alien pau
sed deliberately, Molly still clutched with one hand. "You forget yourself, numberless one. I do as I wish, and since I'm hungry, I shall eat. A meal that will not only satiate my hunger, but teach this human a lesson."

  Pong saw Molly, the obvious terror in her eyes, and tried to take another step forward. But the Melcetian wouldn't let him. The mind slug projected emotions into his head and poured chemicals into his bloodstream.

  Pong found that each motion took tremendous effort. It was like walking underwater or in heavy gravity. The mind slug's nervous system had been integrated with his for years now, and the alien had developed a tremendous amount of control, more than Pong had ever imagined.