"With a couple of slight alterations, your idea might give us an edge, Phil. Now here's what I have in mind . . ." After McCade presented his idea, a lengthy technical discussion ensued, eventually ending with general agreement that while the plan might work, chances were it wouldn't.
"Nevertheless," Rico summarized, "Sam's had even worse ideas than this one, and some of those worked, so why not give it a try?"
"Thanks for the overwhelming vote of confidence, Rico," McCade said.
The others laughed, and split up to handle their individual assignments. Rico and Alex took off to acquire the lifeboat, and program its vocorder, while McCade and Phil raided the supply lockers aboard Pegasus. A short time later they started the alterations to the lifeboat's tiny drive.
About four hours later the alterations were complete, the lifeboat had been loaded aboard Pegasus, and they were ready to lift. McCade fired his repellors, and carefully danced his ship out of her berth, and over to the elevator. There was the hum of hidden machinery as they rose toward the surface and emerged into the beginnings of a storm.
"It's a good thing we're liftin' now," Rico said from the copilot's position. "Another hour and this place'll be socked in but good."
McCade looked out at the swirling dust and nodded his agreement. Apparently the perpetual storm which usually surrounded Deadeye was about to reassert its authority. With a gentle touch on the controls he slid Pegasus off the elevator. "Stand by to lift. Five from now."
As he spoke, his eyes scanned the banks of indicators, and his hands moved over the controls with the surety born of long patience. Then with a final glance at the viewscreens, his right hand came to rest on the red knob located just over his head. "Hang on, gentlemen, here goes." And with that he gave the knob one turn to the right and pushed it in. The ship vibrated for a moment as her engines built thrust, and then she was gone, a momentary pinpoint of light high in the sky, glowing for a moment, and then gone.
As they cleared the atmosphere, McCade felt the weight come off his chest, and shook his head to clear his vision. "OK, Rico, stand by to eject the boat. On five. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five."
Rico touched a key on the panel in front of him, flipped up a hinged cover, and flicked the switch it protected. Halfway down the hull a hatch slid open and the lifeboat shot out. Seconds later its drive kicked in, and it swung off on a course which would eventually take it to Earth, about three or four hundred years hence.
Hitting the power, McCade accelerated away as fast as possible, but he didn't get far. Suddenly all sorts of proximity alarms went off. Lights flashed, buzzers buzzed, and klaxons hooted. And before he could do much more than swear under his breath, Pegasus was locked in a matrix of Imperial tractor beams. They had obviously tracked him from lift-off. Claudia didn't even bother to call them up and gloat. She just reeled them in.
Locked in the embrace of the tractor beams, there was no reason to remain at the controls so McCade and Rico released their harnesses, joining the other two in the ship's small lounge. Dropping into a chair, McCade lit a cigar, and watched the main screen. The Imperial Cruiser Neptune got larger and larger, until it blocked out the star field beyond it, and Pegasus was pulled through an enormous hatch and into a brightly lit launching bay. McCade saw Claudia had turned out an entire section of marines to welcome them. They wore full space armor.
"It appears my sister has sent an honor guard," Alex said dryly. "How considerate."
McCade laughed. "Your sister is quite generous with honor guards. We always get one, isn't that right, gentlemen?"
"Absolutely," Rico said, eyes twinkling.
"Every time," Phil growled.
The com set buzzed and lit up to reveal Captain Edith Queet. She looked very, very tired. "I will say this once, and once only. After the bay has been pressurized, open your main hatch. Come out unarmed, with your hands behind your heads. Failure to obey my orders will result in death." Then she was gone.
Time passed as Pegasus was maneuvered into a berth next to a supply shuttle, the huge launching bay doors were cycled closed, and a thin atmosphere was pumped in to replace vacuum. "The Captain seems a bit testy," Alex observed, releasing his gunbelt and throwing it onto a chair.
"No offense," Phil growled, "but your sister does that to people."
Alex grinned. "Ain't it the truth!"
McCade activated the main hatch, and they left the ship as ordered, unarmed, and with hands behind their heads. They were quickly surrounded by ominous-looking marines. The marines' features were hidden by reflective visors and their actions were hard and jerky in the bulky armor. McCade couldn't hear what they said via their suit radios, so they seemed to move silently, in perfect harmony. It made them look even more menacing.
Working quickly and efficiently, the marines shackled their hands behind them, using two sets of restraints on Phil instead of one. Apparently someone remembered his performance in the coliseum.
Then they were shoved and pushed into a single file, herded through an inner airlock, and marched down a gleaming corridor. After what seemed like miles of corridors, they were ordered to halt, and forced to wait outside the ship's wardroom. Whether the wait was intended as a psychological device, or simply meant Claudia wasn't ready, McCade couldn't tell. Either way he was sure that she had caused it. After about thirty minutes they were finally ushered in.
The wardroom was large and spacious, boasting a long bar against one bulkhead, with a mirror behind. Claudia had staged the scene very carefully, using the bar and mirror as a backdrop. She sat in a chair on a raised platform, which though not a throne gave that impression. She was dressed in a simple white gown. Her blond hair was draped over her left shoulder, her hard blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and her lips were curved upward in a smile of triumph. Her personal bodyguard stood in a semicircle behind her looking ominous in their reflective visors and black armor. However, what grabbed and held McCade's eyes were the two people standing to Claudia's right. Rear Admiral Walter Swanson-Pierce and Lady Linnea Forbes-Smith stood there with hands shackled, and under guard.
Alex surged forward only to be knocked down by a rifle butt. Claudia laughed, and said, "Welcome aboard, dear brother. I see you're still alive. Well, that's easily remedied."
Twenty-Two
Things were not looking good. As a marine jerked Alex to his feet, McCade felt his spirits fall. Things were a lot worse than he'd expected. Deep down he'd hoped for a last-minute rescue by Swanson-Pierce, or maybe some secret assistance from Lady Linnea, and those possibilities were now eliminated. Both his rescuers needed rescuing themselves. Neither looked very good. Their clothes were soiled and ripped, and they swayed, as if barely able to stand. Swanson-Pierce kept trying to jerk his head up, but each time he tried it seemed to weigh too much, and it fell back to his chest.
As though reading McCade's mind, Claudia's eyes flicked over to the prisoners, and then back to him. "Well, we meet again, Citizen McCade." She nodded toward the two prisoners. "Pathetic, aren't they? Good examples of what happens to those who would betray me. You at least fight your battles directly. These," she said disdainfully, "cower in the shadows, too scared to come out and fight.
That one"—she pointed at Lady Linnea—"pretended to be my friend, while behind my back she sent secret messages to him." She indicated Swanson-Pierce.
The naval officer tried to bring his head up to respond, but failed once again.
Claudia laughed. "He actually tried to sneak aboard, from a supply ship, disguised as a Chief Petty Officer." She shook her head in amusement. "Who knows what kind of absurd plan he intended to carry out. As you can see we've been asking him a few questions, but so far he's proved quite stubborn. A credit to the Academy."
To McCade's amazement there was pride in her voice. Even as she tried to break Swanson-Pierce, she took pride in the fact that she couldn't, and credited the Naval Academy for his strength. She was even more bizarre than she'd been the first time they'd met. Still
, he'd learned something valuable. She didn't know why Swanson-Pierce had tried to slip aboard. Good for you, Walt, McCade thought to himself. Now I wonder what you had up your sleeve, and if it's still operational.
"But wait!" Claudia said, her face lighting up with sudden understanding. "You graduated from the Academy too, didn't you, McCade? Of course! That explains why you've been so effective."
Alex and McCade exchanged glances. Claudia was obviously a few planets short of a full system. Somehow, in her mind, the Naval Academy had become elevated to the status of something very special, something with the power to confer unusual strength and power in its graduates.
Meanwhile Claudia continued to talk, apparently oblivious to their reaction. "Fortunately I'd been on to Linnea's treachery for months, and when she went sneaking off to meet Swanson-Pierce, I had her followed. It was as easy as that.
"Which brings us to you and my dear brother," Claudia said thoughtfully, fastening Alex with a hostile stare. "The Academy wasn't good enough for you, was it?" Apparently she didn't expect an answer, because she kept right on talking. "We found the lifeboat, you know, and I must say, as ideas go it was just as inferior as you are. By the time it reached Terra and delivered your pathetic message, we would've all been dead. Not a very good idea, was it, McCade?"
McCade felt his heart begin to beat faster. They'd fallen for it! Part of it anyway. Now, if only the lifeboat was aboard Neptune. If they'd put it aboard some other ship, or simply blasted it, then this was the end of the road. But at least there was still hope. And with Swanson-Pierce and Linnea out of action it was their only hope. He slapped a confident grin on his face. "You can't win 'em all."
"How profound," Claudia observed dryly. "I'd forgotten what a brilliant conversationalist you are."
"Claudia, why don't you just cut the crap and get on with it," Alex said wearily. "You've got what you want, so do your worst, and let's get it over with."
"Why, Alex," Claudia said in mock surprise, "whatever do you mean? I wouldn't dream of hurting my own brother. In fact, I'm going to turn you loose." She paused for a moment to run her tongue over thin lips, enjoying her power over them, intentionally dragging out the suspense. "Yes, I'm going to turn you loose . . . in your own lifeboat."
She laughed as she saw their expressions. "Don't blame me, I got the idea from you. After I listened to your message on the lifeboat's vocorder, I thought, how dramatic! Hundreds of years after the fact, a message arrives from the long-lost prince, describing how his evil sister robbed him of the throne! The public would love it! The historians would go crazy! I'd be even more famous! In fact, the idea was so appealing, I almost let the boat go, message and all."
Claudia paused, assuming a look of pained regret. "But then I realized how selfish that would be. Surely you would prefer to deliver your message in person! True, the trip would last hundreds of years, but I knew you wouldn't mind. A message is always so much more personal if you deliver it yourself!"
Alex shook his head sadly. "No wonder Father wanted me to assume the throne. You're sick."
Claudia's eyes flashed a brilliant blue, all color draining from her face. "Sick? You call me sick? Why you . . ."
Suddenly there was the muted thump of a distant explosion. The whole ship shook like a thing possessed, and since McCade was expecting it, even hoping for it, he was ready. As he fell he managed to take two marines with him. A distant part of his mind heard the emergency klaxons going off, knew the exploding lifeboat must have done a lot of damage to Neptune's launching bay, and hoped it would keep the crew busy for a while. The lifeboat's drive had gone critical and blown up a full half hour later than he'd originally estimated. But, he thought as he hit the deck and managed to kick one of the marines in the head, sabotaging drives is not an exact science.
McCade looked up just in time to see Rico put his head down, run full tilt into a marine's stomach, and fall as a vicious blow from a rifle butt brought him down.
Phil had already gone into full augmentation, snapping his durasteel shackles as if they were made of cheap plastic, and charging Claudia's bodyguard all in one continuous blur of motion.
Already confused by the explosion, and safe inside their armor, the guards saw Phil coming but didn't take him seriously. After all, what could a shaggy-looking freak do to them? By the time they found out, it was way too late. Phil peeled their armor off like tin foil. Then he went to work with razor-sharp durasteel claws, slicing through flesh and bone, killing anything that moved. As the marines tried to fight back, they found themselves slipping and sliding in their own blood. And as they died, they couldn't believe what was happening. How could this be? What kind of creature can tear armor apart with its bare hands?
However, Phil didn't escape untouched. He was soon bleeding from a dozen wounds, adding his blood to that of the marines.
Claudia tried to run. As she launched herself toward the open hatch her face was frozen in a mask of terrified desperation. She had thought herself invulnerable, absolutely inviolate, and the ease with which Phil had decimated her bodyguard had shaken her to the core.
McCade swore. She was going to escape! Desperately he slammed the heel of his hand into the marine's nose, pushing the cartilage up into his brain, killing him instantly. Then he tried to get up, knowing he'd never make it in time. By now the only obstacle between Claudia and the hatch was the swaying figure of Swanson-Pierce. The explosion had knocked Lady Linnea to the floor, but by virtue of some miracle, or just his own stubborn pride, the naval officer still stood. With a tremendous effort of will, Swanson-Pierce managed to bring his sagging head up, and smiled at Claudia as he toppled forward into her path.
She tripped over the officer's body, skidded across the slick floor, and crashed into a console. Before she could recover, her brother had rolled over to lock powerful legs around her neck, squeezing until her eyes bulged and her face turned blue.
McCade yelled, "Alex!" but the other man was already releasing her.
"Freeze!" McCade's heart sank as Captain Queet stepped through the hatch, a blaster in each hand, and a squad of heavily armed navy ratings right behind her. Seconds later a doctor and a number of medics rushed in and began to tend the wounded.
Phil froze as ordered, but it didn't make much difference, because every marine in the room was either dead or wounded.
"On your feet!" Queet ordered. McCade struggled to comply, and then realized the naval officer wasn't even looking in his direction. Instead her blasters were pointed at Claudia.
Claudia's face registered disbelief as she stood with help from one of the medics. Her hands went up to touch her bruised throat as she croaked, "What's the meaning of this, Captain Queet? How dare you give me orders!"
"You!" Claudia pointed a trembling hand at a Chief Petty Officer who stood just behind Queet. "I order you to arrest Captain Queet for insubordination. Lock her in her quarters."
The Chief, a slender man named Lister, didn't move an inch. His blaster remained where it was, lined up on Claudia's chest. For a moment there was complete silence, and then Claudia seemed to slump inward, her eyes on the floor, her lips a hard thin line.
Queet turned to Alexander with a questioning look. "Sir?"
Alex nodded.
Turning to Lister, Queet said, "Lock her in her quarters, Chief. No one comes or goes without my permission."
The Petty Officer nodded, and motioned with his blaster. Claudia obeyed, stepping through the hatch without a word. As the last of Claudia's escort disappeared from sight, Queet turned, and snapped to attention. "Captain Edith Queet, commanding the Imperial Cruiser Neptune, at your service, sir."
Alex smiled. "At ease, Captain. Thank you."
She obeyed, already liking his style better than Claudia's. For months she'd been working with Swanson-Pierce, feeding him information, but hoping she would never have to come into direct conflict with Claudia. They'd agreed to move against her only if Alexander were found. But eventually it became clear that Claudia wo
uld do anything to take the throne. Then Claudia had discovered Swanson-Pierce and Lady Linnea, leaving only Captain Queet to make the final decision. Strangely enough, when Swanson-Pierce was no longer there to guide her, the same Academy training Claudia was so fixated on provided Queet with the answer. Ironically it was in the form of a maxim originating with Claudia's own grandfather, and drummed into every cadet: "An officer's ultimate duty is to the good of the Empire regardless of personal cost." Thinking about that made her feel better as she moved off to restore order to her ship. The damage was considerable, and that made her mad, but what could she do? Chewing out the Emperor didn't seem like a good career move. As she strode down the corridor Queet allowed herself a rare smile, much to the shock of a passing tech, who wondered if she'd smiled at him.
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