McCade on the Run (Sam McCade Omnibus)

by William C. Dietz

  Knowing this, McCade smiled as a flight of vid cams appeared overhead and Teeb’s voice echoed between the canyon walls. “In a moment the first phase of your testing will begin. As you know the test will measure your ability to deal with the physical world. Violence is a part of the physical world and to recover the Vial of Tears you will be forced to fight many battles. So we will confront you with five armed opponents.

  “All are humans captured during a raid on one of our planets. You may deal with them in whatever fashion you think appropriate. All are experienced warriors, all are well armed, and all will go free if they kill you. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t want to seem ungrateful or anything,” McCade said dryly, “but there’s no need to be so generous with opponents. Wouldn’t one be enough?”

  “For most candidates it would be,” Teeb replied evenly. “But you are a professional killer. So to ensure a fair contest we gave you five opponents. Do you have any other comments or questions?”

  Although he didn’t agree with Teeb’s description of him as a “professional killer,” McCade decided to let it go.

  “Nope, I think that about covers it. It’s good to know that you’re keeping everything fair.”

  “Very well then. Your opponents have been released about two of your miles down canyon. The rest is up to you.”

  With that the vid cams darted in every direction and took up new positions that would allow them to cover the action.

  McCade began to run. He chose the right channel, dodged between boulders as he searched for a hiding place. Given the odds he’d prefer to hole up somewhere and let them come to him. All he needed was some cover and a rear exit. Unfortunately he didn’t see anything that even came close.

  He rounded the other end of the island and came to a sudden stop. There was an open stretch up ahead where the two channels came back together, and while some large boulders dotted its surface, they didn’t offer much cover.

  Beyond that some upthrust rock formations had forced the river to divide once again and form a number of smaller channels. The river was gone but the channels weren’t and they formed a natural maze. Not the sort of place where McCade wanted to play hide and seek with five killers.

  He turned and ran full speed at the island. As he ran McCade picked a path through the jumble of rocks and headed for the top in a series of long jumps.

  From up there he’d be able to see them coming and establish a good angle of fire as well. They’d have him trapped of course, but there’s no such thing as a perfect plan.

  It wasn’t long before the easy jumps gave way to a serious climb. The ancient river had worn the boulders smooth and footholds were hard to come by. For every two feet of progress made, it seemed as if one was lost.

  Meanwhile there were five killers headed his way. He wouldn’t know they were there until a slug took him between the shoulder blades. He wanted to look but couldn’t. Looking would waste precious time.

  He told himself that they’d come slowly. They’d be on the lookout for an ambush and their progress would be slowed by the same maze of channels that he’d decided to avoid.

  His arguments made sense, but there was still a hard itchy feeling between his shoulder blades as McCade pulled himself over the top and rolled out of sight.

  Moving on hands and knees, McCade hid behind a jumble of rocks, unslung the blast rifle, and flipped the sight to high mag. He swept the weapon from left to right and checked for signs of movement.

  Except for shimmering heat waves and the occasional bird, everything was still. A Fueek bird flapped its way upward to soar against the violet sky. McCade remembered the great Ilwik’s love for Fueek birds and decided that this one was a good omen.

  It was suddenly warmer inside his cool suit and McCade turned over to check for damage. Sure enough, there was a four-inch tear just above the right knee. He could feel cool air spilling out when he held his hand over the hole. Damn!

  If he tried to repair the tear, his opponents might break into the open when he wasn’t looking. And if he didn’t repair the tear, he’d run the very real risk of heat prostration.

  McCade swore under his breath as he opened a pocket on his left sleeve and withdrew a small patch kit. He tore it open with fumbling fingers and spilled precut patches all over the ground.

  Picking up a rectangular patch with one hand he used the other to squeeze bonding material onto its inside surface. The moment the entire thing was covered McCade slapped the patch into place and felt the temperature begin to drop. It worked!

  Then he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Two of the hovering vid cams suddenly jumped upward and spun toward the rocky maze. Someone knew something he didn’t.

  Grabbing his blast rifle, McCade rolled over to peer through the sight. One, two, three, wait a minute, yes, there they were, four and five. The suited figures had just emerged from the maze and were working their way up channel toward the open space. They were out of range, but it gave McCade a chance to check out the opposition.

  Number one was a woman. Her shoulder-length black hair swayed around her face as she moved and her weapon was pointed at the ground. She had the point, which suggested a leader, either elected or self-appointed.

  But wait a minute. Look at number two. Was he wrong, or was number two’s weapon aimed at number one’s back? Number two was a hefty man with a large bald spot and a hard face. What was this? Mutiny? Or something else?

  McCade swept his sight across the other three. There were two men and a woman. As they advanced they were close enough to communicate but too far apart to nail with a single burst. Very cool, very professional. These people knew what they were doing.

  McCade felt the muscle in his left cheek begin to twitch. Okay, three, four, and five were hard bodies who knew one end of a blaster from the other. But what about numbers one and two?

  Maybe two was just a wee bit careless about the way he held his weapon, or maybe there had been a falling out among thieves, or maybe number one was being forced to take the point. She’d draw the first fire and give the others a chance to find cover. If so, then number two was the leader, and a prime target.

  Number one paused at the edge of the open area clearly hesitant to cross it. But number two gave her a shove and she stumbled forward, almost falling before regaining her balance. And number two was right behind her as she ran from one scrap of cover to the next, his weapon centered on her back.

  McCade found himself wishing for a cigar and forced the thought away. It was time to reduce the odds a little. He seated the rifle butt against his right shoulder, flicked the safety off, and centered the sight on a patch of open ground.

  This particular patch was directly in front of number four’s position. In order to reach the next rock four would have to pass through it, and when he did, McCade would nail him.

  It would be a simple shot. Energy weapons aren’t subject to the effects of wind or gravity as are slug throwers. Of course they don’t pack much kinetic energy either, so if you’re trying to drop a charging Envo Beast, you might choose something with a little more wallop. But an energy beam does go where you aim it and for this situation the blast rifle was ideal.

  Number four took off like a jackrabbit and ran right into the energy beam. It sliced down through his left shoulder and cut diagonally across his chest. The two halves of his body separated in a bright shower of blood.

  A vid cam swooped down for a better shot as McCade turned his attention to number five. Something winked to the right and fire splashed the rock by his head. Number five was shooting back!

  McCade rolled left as another energy beam screamed through the space he’d just vacated. Number five was a good shot.

  McCade eased the barrel of his weapon through a gap in the rocks, caught a flash of movement, and fired. His energy beam punched a hole through number five’s right leg, causing her to stumble and fall.

  Using her hands and one good leg, number five ma
naged to drag herself behind a ledge.

  McCade let her go. Two down and three to go.

  Swinging his weapon left, McCade searched for numbers one and two. He just caught a glimpse of them as they made it to the base of the island. He’d have to stand against the skyline in order to see them and that would provide number three with an opportunity to blow his head off. Where was number three anyway?

  Conscious that numbers one and two were busily climbing his way, Mc-Cade moved to the right. If possible he wanted to find three and deal with him before one and two arrived.

  He could feel the seconds ticking away as he quartered the ground below. Each second brought numbers one and two closer and increased the odds against him.

  He was just about to give up when he saw a flash of white toward the top of his scope.

  McCade tilted the rifle down and found his cross hairs centered on number three’s back. The bastard was running away! His finger touched the firing stud and stopped. Later he might regret the decision, but McCade couldn’t bring himself to shoot a man in the back.

  He turned and was just starting to get up when numbers one and two popped up from behind a jumble of rocks. They were fast!

  Something snatched the blast rifle from his hands and McCade dived sideways hoping to ruin their aim.

  He hit hard and felt rather than saw the bullets that followed along behind. They spanged off the surrounding rocks as he rolled onto his back and felt the slug gun fill his hand. It came up and he saw a white suit fill his sight.

  It was number one! Number two had an arm around one’s throat and was using her as a shield! One struggled and two’s bullets went wide.

  McCade screamed at her. “Drop, damn you, drop!”

  Number one dropped. McCade felt the slug gun buck in his hand as she did and saw three red flowers blossom down the front of number two’s cool suit. Number two staggered, the slug gun flew from his hand, and he fell over backward into a pool of his own blood.

  McCade kept the slug gun centered on number one as he struggled to his feet. He hoped it was over but couldn’t be sure. For the first time he noticed that she was very, very pretty, with wide-set brown eyes, a long, straight nose, and a generous mouth.

  Her voice trembled when she spoke. “He took the power pak out of my weapon. Are you going to kill me?”

  McCade bolstered the slug gun and patted his pockets for a cigar. “Not unless you think I should.”

  She looked at number two and shuddered. “All of them outranked me so they made me take the point.” She paused. “They call me Reba. I’m surprised to be alive.”

  McCade found a broken cigar, stuck it between his teeth, and puffed it into life. “I know what you mean, Reba. So am I.”

  Nine

  McCade was allowed to rest for one rotation before the next test began. He spent some of his time eating and sleeping and the rest being tutored by Neem.

  Among other things McCade learned that the Il Ronn had fifteen different words for heat. Each one conveyed a slightly different quality of heat, and was associated with a time of day or a type of activity.

  While this kind of complexity made the Il Ronnian language difficult to learn, it also made it extremely precise and a joy to scientists and poets alike.

  Though not sure what to do with this sort of information, McCade found it interesting and the time passed quickly. Before he knew it the rest period was over and Teeb was leading the way to the next test site.

  The warrior-priest was no longer hostile. If anything, he’d assumed a proprietary air as if McCade were his invention and a rather clever one at that.

  Neem trailed along behind, his tail swishing back and forth in amusement. At this rate they’d have to make room for Teeb at the Institute for Mental Rehabilitation. After all, anyone who liked humans must be crazy.

  Meanwhile, Teeb had continued his conversation with McCade. Although his tone was friendly, the Il Ronnian’s eyes glowed like red coals. “Well, human, what did you think of the first test?”

  McCade considered his answer carefully before speaking. “As the great Ilwik once said, ‘All things are connected.’In retrospect the test was not entirely physical.”

  “Yes!” Teeb responded eagerly. “None of the tests are entirely what they seem. Tell me, how did you pass the test?”

  McCade had already given the matter some thought so his answer was ready. “I passed because of things I didn’t do.”

  Teeb gave McCade a friendly pat on the back. The impact drove him forward a step and a half. “You amaze me, human! You are correct. You passed because you did not panic, you did not make stupid assumptions, and you did not kill unnecessarily. All virtues of the warrior-priest. But best of all you knew why you did as you did.”

  Actually McCade hadn’t figured it out until after the test, but since Teeb was so pleased, he saw no reason to straighten the alien out.

  The corridor was long, tubular, and increasingly busy. Many Il Ronnians stopped to stare as McCade and his entourage passed by.

  McCade did his best to ignore them, but found that somewhat difficult when juveniles ran up to pinch him. Most were intercepted by the Sand Sept troopers, but some got through, and it hurt when they pinched him. Fortunately his cool suit absorbed most of the punishment.

  Teeb’s long red robe made a soft swishing noise as it dragged along the floor. “During your second test you will play a game called ‘Encirclement.’ It requires a good memory, an agile mind, and other qualities as well.”

  They paused as the Sand Sept troopers intercepted a flying squad of young Il Ronnians before continuing on their way.

  “I want you to know that we have gone to extreme lengths to make the game fair,” Teeb said seriously. “Encirclement is something of a passion with many Il Ronnians, and since you have never played before, it took some effort to locate a suitable opponent. I think that is our door just ahead.”

  The door was one of many that lined the corridor. Each bore a number and some serpentine Il Ronnian script. McCade tried to open it but was brushed aside by a rather large Sand Sept trooper.

  Moments later the trooper was back, signaling the all-clear with his tail and holding the door open so they could enter.

  McCade followed Teeb into a large circular room. The walls and ceiling radiated a soft violet light, and like every other Il Ronnian room he’d been in, it was hotter than hell.

  A beautiful mosaic covered the floor. Thousands, maybe millions, of stone chips had been used to fashion pictures, each beautiful in itself but part of a much larger whole. Darker stones framed the pictures and went together to form a large grid. And when viewed as a whole the grid formed a desert landscape. And the landscape was filled with Il Ronnian birds, animals, and legendary beasts.

  McCade noticed that a large number of red rocks had been stacked on one side of the room, while an equal number of green rocks had been piled on the other. The rocks were highly polished and of uniform size and shape.

  “Here is your opponent now. Eena, this is the human called McCade.”

  McCade turned to find himself looking down into the serious face of a young Il Ronnian female. As far as he could tell the only difference between male Il Ronnians and female Il Ronnians were the colorful sashes the females wore over their loose robes. Apparently the Il Ronnians could tell the difference however, since there were plenty of them.

  “I hope you will not be offended by the fact that Eena is not an adult, but given Encirclement’s popularity, it was difficult to locate a suitable opponent. However, Eena is the best player in her hatching and I think she will offer you a sufficient challenge.”

  Although Eena was no more than ten cycles old, and came no higher than his waist, McCade saw her eyes glitter with anticipation. She planned to clean his clock.

  McCade bowed his respect. “Greetings, Eena. May you grow and hatch many eggs.”

  Eena bowed in return. She spoke Il Ronnian, but the translator pinned to her robe t
urned it into flawless Standard. “Greetings, human. May you eat feces and die an agonizing death.”

  McCade looked at Teeb with a raised eyebrow.“What’s the problem? Have I got bad breath or something?”

  The warrior-priest grinned his amusement. “Eena means no disrespect. She is using psychological warfare. She hopes to unnerve you. Such ploys are an accepted part of Encirclement.”

  McCade nodded his understanding. “Fair enough. If you’ll explain the rules, Shorty and I will get this game off the ground.”

  Eena winced at the term “shorty,” and McCade grinned. This could be fun.

  Teeb cleared his throat importantly. “Here is how the game of Encirclement is played. You will notice that the floor has been divided into a grid. There are nineteen vertical and nineteen horizontal lines. As a result there are three hundred sixty-one intersections or positions where you can place the stones that are either red or green. Please choose a color.”

  McCade looked at the piles of red and green stones and then at Eena. He noticed that her face was carefully neutral. She wanted one color over the other. He took a guess. “I’ll take the red stones.”

  Eena’s mouth turned down into a scowl. Her red sash had given her away.

  “Good,” Teeb acknowledged, his tail signaling approval. “The two of you will take turns placing stones, also called warriors, on the intersections where the vertical and horizontal lines meet. Each of you will attempt to encircle as many vacant intersections as possible. When both of you are satisfied that all the potential territory has been taken, you will count the vacant points encircled by your warriors, and subtract the number lost through capture. The individual with the most points wins.”

  “Capture?” McCade asked. “How does that work?”

  “A good question,” Teeb answered approvingly. “When two or more of your opponent’s warriors occupy adjacent positions on a vertical or horizontal line, they are considered a sept and can be captured when encircled by your stones. As long as one of its members adjoins a vacant intersection the sept is free, but when the sept is completely surrounded, it is taken hostage and removed from the board. Understood?”