McCade on the Run (Sam McCade Omnibus)

by William C. Dietz

  That was the plan anyway, and it might even work. If it didn’t, McCade would spend eternity circling Cypra II with a few thousand asteroids for company.

  Even though his part of the plan was fairly chancy, McCade wondered if Reba and Neem’s was even worse. After all, a hyperspace shift involves a certain amount of risk even in a well-maintained ship, and Methuselah was anything but “well maintained.”

  One malfunction and they’d end up in a place that mathematicians were still arguing about. It wasn’t a pleasant prospect.

  When Reba spoke it seemed as if she were reading his mind. “If we don’t show up, feel free to go ahead without us.”

  “Gee, thanks,” McCade replied dryly.

  “How’s the Geezer?” The voice belonged to Henry. Having resurrected the freighter’s moronic NAVCOMP, he’d named it “the Geezer. “ All the Geezer had to do was plot a single jump, but Henry still didn’t trust him.

  “The Geezer’s lookin’ good,” Reba said. “He just cycled his self-diagnostics and says he’s in great shape. Says he’ll be plotting jumps long after you’ve been recycled into a coffee pot.”

  Henry gave a snort of derision but lapsed into silence as McCade squeezed both handgrips and launched the tiny sled into the vastness of space. After putting some distance between himself and the ship, McCade released the left grip for a second and then both grips together. The sled turned left and drifted forward on inertia alone.

  Methuselah was a black shadow against the stars beyond. “I’m clear.”

  “Roger,” Reba replied. “Take care, Sam. We’ll see you soon.”

  McCade watched as Reba fed power to the ship’s single drive and Methuselah merged with the blackness of space.

  A vast loneliness welled up inside McCade as he watched the ship disappear. Without his companions he was smaller somehow, the smallest and least significant microorganism in the vast ocean of space, and almost completely helpless.

  It was Henry who snapped him out of it. The NAVCOMP was attired in a modified version of his control console body. He still resembled a round metal ball with a single articulated limb, but he’d added a small solar collector to augment his battery power, and some wiring to access the sled’s primitive control system. He was strapped down beneath McCade’s seat.

  Henry would take the controls from here on out, freeing McCade to observe and watch for trouble. One of five sleds they’d found stored away in a ruined dome, theirs was designed for external ship repairs or ship-to-ship errands. As such it had no hull, no weapons, and no padding for the skeletal seats.

  McCade shifted his weight and tried to find a more comfortable position. His skin was raw where the suit had rubbed against it for the last four days, he had a nonstop urge to scratch places he couldn’t reach, and even after the stim tab he was still bone-tired.

  “Sam, if you’ll release the controls, I’ll take over.”

  McCade released the controls. “You’ve got the con,Henry ...takeit away.”

  And Henry did. Using the sled’s rudimentary sensors to see where he was going, the NAVCOMP brought the sled up to half speed and headed into the asteroid belt.

  The ride quickly became one of the most exhilarating and terrifying trips of McCade’s life. He’d taken a number of short trips into open space, some on sleds and some in armor alone. But he’d never gone farther than a few miles and help had always been seconds away. Now he was setting off on a journey of hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles, and doing it through a twisting, turning maze of asteroids.

  Although miles apart, many of the asteroids were in sight of each other, and that added to the sensation of movement as McCade passed between them. Time lost all its meaning as the hours rolled swiftly by and the readouts for his oxygen tanks steadily unwound.

  Distant specks of reflected light grew larger and larger until they blocked the starfield beyond and hurtled by a few hundred feet to one side or the other. Bright sunlight slid across the surface of slowly tumbling asteroids creating an endless dance of light and dark. It was beautiful, so beautiful that McCade became lost in the majesty of it, and almost missed the first sensor station.

  All he had was the momentary impression of light glinting off a metal surface and then it was gone.“Slow down,Henry,and make a note that we just passed some sort of sensor emplacement. Chances are there’s more up ahead.”

  And there were. Moving more cautiously now, Henry eased his way between the asteroids, giving McCade a chance to spot the sensors. They came at regular intervals and each installation looked the same. They consisted of a metal box crammed with electronics, a flowerlike solar collector, and a thicket of shiny antennas.

  Thanks to the sensors Pong would receive a running progress report on any ships approaching or leaving his base. When the attack came he’d have lots of warning. It couldn’t be helped though. There were way too many emplacements for McCade to destroy by himself, and even if he found a way to do it, the act itself would be a warning.

  There was also the possibility that the sensors had picked up the sled and were tracking it all the way. But the sled had very little mass, no radio signature, and its nitrogen-gas propulsion system didn’t put out any heat.

  So, unless he began a series of loops and barrel rolls, the sensors would probably ignore him. Since this was an asteroid belt, pieces of flying junk were a centime a dozen.

  Suddenly the asteroid belt began to close in on itself. Now the rocks were only miles apart, and even though Henry had slowed the sled to a virtual crawl, they seemed to flash by at incredible speed.

  Then McCade saw them, one, two, three weapons emplacements up ahead, all positioned to place ships in a cross fire as they came through the narrow passage.

  Speaking in a quiet monotone, McCade began to feed Henry information. The NAVCOMP would put it together with the relevant navigational coordinates and produce a detailed report on Pong’s defenses.

  “The outer ring of weapons emplacements appear to be automated,” Mc-Cade noted,“since there’s no sign of associated living quarters.There could be concealed living quarters somewhere underground of course, but I don’t think so. There’s none of the junk that seems to pile up when sentients are about.

  “Now we’re passing through the narrowest part of the passageway. I don’t see any fortifications here. That makes sense because opposing emplacements would end up firing on each other.

  “Now things are loosening up a bit, wait a minute there’s something shiny up ahead; uh-oh, I see emplacements on all the surrounding asteroids. Some are controlled by automatics but some appear to be manned.

  “The passageway is wider now and opens up a few miles ahead. There’s a large sphere-shaped open space with densely packed asteroids forming the outer surface. In toward the center I see a few free-floating asteroids, and there, right in the middle, I see a reflective surface. It’s big, not as big as the larger asteroids, but damned big just the same.

  “We’re getting closer now...I’ll be damned ...it’s a ship! Not just any ship but a liner. And not just any liner but the Earth Star! I’d recognize that H-shaped hull anywhere. It seems she wasn’t lost in hyperspace like everyone thought. Pong got her instead. God knows what happened to her passengers and crew.

  “This is good enough, Henry ...put us alongside that chunk of rock over there. This close in they’ll be watching the smaller stuff too. Good. Now, starting with the Earth Star and working my way around to the right, I see all sorts of ships. I see a DE, three heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, another DE, six, make that seven destroyers, two armed freighters, an ore barge, two hulks, and a tug.

  “Based on visible running lights and jet flares I’d say there’s plenty of small craft running around and some of them are probably armed. There’s no way to tell if he’s got any interceptors loaded aboard the Earth Star or the cruisers but chances are that he does. In addition, I see that one of the nearby island type asteroids has been equipped as a Class C dockyard. I think there�
��s a ship in the yard but I can’t tell what kind. Got all that, Henry?”

  “I’ve got it, Sam. What now?”

  “Now we turn around and get while the getting’s good.”

  Henry obediently turned the sled away from the free-floating chunk of rock and headed back toward the passageway. They hadn’t gone more than half a mile before a bored-sounding voice boomed in through McCade’s speakers.

  “Hey, buddy, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  McCade felt his heart jump into his throat as he tried to see where the voice was coming from. There it was about a hundred feet away, a sleek, little four-place gig, complete with an ugly-looking energy projector mounted in its bow. Its approach had been hidden by the same rock he and Henry had used. He swallowed hard.

  “Doin’? I’m lookin’ for a number three laser welder, that’s what I’m doin’. You haven’t seen it, have you? Big sucker with three tanks and a safety frame. Belongs to the dockyard.”

  The same voice again. “I know what a number three laser welder looks like, you blockhead. How did it get away?”

  McCade added a whine to his voice. “It wasn’t my fault, honest. Logan, he’s the lead on my shift, he told me to bring him some insulation. When I went to get it, the welder just floated away.”

  “And he sent you out here looking for it?”

  “That’s right. Logan said to find it, or to plan on sucking some vacuum.”

  The voice laughed. “Well, buddy . . . the welder isn’t likely to be this far out. And that being the case, I suggest you get your butt back toward the dock. Maybe next time you’ll remember to rig a safety line. Comprendez?”

  “Comprendez,”McCade replied humbly as he took the controls from Henry. He put the sled into a long graceful turn and tried to figure out his next move.

  A glance to the rear showed that the gig was still there. If they attempted to contact the non-existent Logan, he’d be well and truly screwed.

  Turning forward, he saw something part company with the dockyard and move slowly his way. A ship! As it altered course and headed for the passageway, an idea started to form.

  Looking back he saw the gig was gone. Good. Putting the sled on an intercepting course he mentally crossed his fingers. If the ship maintained its present course and speed, if its crew missed him on their scanners, and if the gig failed to reappear, his plan would work. It seemed like a lot of ifs.

  Neither the ship nor the sled were moving very fast but their combined speed was fairly high. Given that, and given the fact that if he missed a head-on approach, he wouldn’t get a second chance, McCade decided to come in from behind. That way it would be easier to match speeds and there would be less chance of being seen. When you’re leaving port there’s a natural tendency to look at what’s up ahead rather than behind.

  As he got closer McCade saw the ship was an armed merchantman. Chances were it had been captured and converted for use as a raider. He put the sled into a tight turn and gave chase. As he straightened the sled out, he saw that the raider was already pulling away from him.

  McCade squeezed both handgrips and felt the sled surge forward. The forward motion pushed him into his seat and put pressure on some of his worst sore spots. McCade bit his lip and forced his mind back to the task at hand.

  Up ahead the pirate ship grew steadily larger. If they maintained their present rate of speed, he’d be okay, but if they piled on some power, he’d be out of luck. The sled was going full out as it was, and if the pirates upped the ante, he’d never catch up. Not only that, but at the rate he was using nitrogen, he might not have enough to make the trip back.

  Angling in to stay clear of the ship’s drives, McCade held his breath. Now the raider was huge, blotting out the stars beyond, its black hull absorbing almost all the available light.

  Dark though it was McCade saw that the hull was fairly smooth, typical of smaller ships that could negotiate planetary atmospheres, and far from ideal. While the smooth hull would help him land, it would also make him easier to see.

  Closer ...closer ... almost there, now. The sled touched down with a gentle thump. McCade triggered the electro-magnets embedded in its skids as the sled made contact with the ship’s hull. The sled would remain locked in place as long as the power lasted.

  “Nice job,” Henry said in his ear. “Your navigation lacks a certain mathematical elegance, but it gets the job done.”

  “Thanks,” McCade replied. “Now let’s see if anyone noticed us getting aboard. Things might become somewhat unpleasant if they did.”

  Five minutes passed, ten minutes passed, and finally a full half hour passed. During this time the ship continued to accelerate toward the passage, and McCade began to relax. If the pirates hadn’t spotted him by now, he figured they never would.

  It felt good to relax. McCade felt suddenly tired. The hard work, the tension, and the succession of stim tabs seemed to catch up with him all at once. “Henry, I’m going to take a little nap. Wake me up when we’re half an hour from the rendezvous point.”

  “You’ve got it, Sam,” Henry replied cheerfully. “Sweet dreams...whatever dreams are.”

  McCade awoke with a struggle. It seemed as if he were far, far away, lost in some place where the air was sweet and his body didn’t hurt. He wanted to stay there, tried to stay there, but the voice dragged him back.

  “Sam, it’s time to wake up, Sam...”

  The first thing he noticed was the lack of vibration. The ship was gone and he was floating in space but where?

  “We’re at the rendezvous point,” Henry said, anticipating his question. “Rather than wake you up I released the magnets and left the ship about ten standard hours ago.”

  “Ten standard hours...” McCade’s eyes flew open. Ten standard hours plus, my God, damn near two days in the belt—what about his oxygen? Mc-Cade looked at the readout and saw that he was into the emergency reserve.

  “What the hell are you doing, Henry? Why didn’t you wake me? I’ll be sucking vacuum in a few minutes.”

  “True,” Henry said agreeably. “But I thought it would be rather cruel to wake you up just to point that out. Fortunately you don’t need to worry. Take a look around.”

  McCade looked up and out. Ships. He was surrounded by ships. And not just any ships but a strange mix of vessels. Imperial destroyers next to Il Ronnian cruisers, next to—could it be? Yes, it looked as if the Brotherhood was represented as well, their ships being huddled together as if wary of the rest.

  Then he heard Swanson-Pierce’s familiar voice boom in over his speakers. “Hello, Sam. While the sled suits your personality to a T, you might want something a little more substantial around you when the shooting starts. How about a drink and a good cigar?”

  Twenty-Seven

  The assault boat was brand-new. It looked new, it felt new, it even smelled new. McCade was doing his best to change that with a freshly lit cigar.

  Reba wrinkled her nose from the copilot’s seat and Neem coughed loudly from behind.

  McCade didn’t notice. Together with the fifty marines riding shotgun in the back, they were about to lead an assault on Pong’s base, and his attention was focused on staying alive. As the first boat in, that would be difficult enough without any electronic or mechanical failures.

  McCade scanned the indicator lights in groups. Hull integrity, locks sealed, no leaks. Drives on and green. Communications on and green. Jammers on and amber. Countermeasures on and amber. Chaff launchers on and amber. Weapons, primary and secondary, on and amber. They all looked good but McCade decided to cycle the boat’s diagnostics one more time just to make sure.

  “Henry, let’s run the diagnostics one more time,” McCade instructed. “If anything’s belly up, let’s find out about it now.”

  “That’s a roger,” Henry answered crisply. Henry had taken on a slightly military air ever since he’d been asked to download the assault path to the rest of the fleet’s NAVCOMPs. Not satisfied to serve in an
y other boat, he’d disappeared into the control panel and taken over from the resident computer. What it thought of this arrangement nobody knew.

  McCade checked the boat’s main battle tank. The fleet made an impressive sight. It resembled a snake, shimmering with electronic scales, each one a ship. McCade’s boat was located at the tip of the snake’s nose, followed by a delta-shaped head full of interceptors and a long, thick body swarming with destroyers and cruisers.

  It was a powerful force but a strange one. Behind his A-boat, Il Ronnian and Imperial interceptors jockeyed for position, each eager to lead the way, each determined to outshine the other.

  Farther back pirate destroyers vied with Imperial cruisers for the honor of going in first while an Il Ronnian Star Sept Commander tried to pull rank on both.

  It was one of the strangest military alliances ever put together and a rather temporary one at that. The Imperial Navy was attempting to avoid a galactic war, the Il Ronnians were trying to recover the Vial of Tears, and the Brotherhood was afraid of getting caught in the middle. And everyone would go their separate ways the moment their objectives were achieved.

  In the meantime the partnership made sense.

  Methuselah had practically fallen out of hyperspace seconds ahead of a major control systems failure. Fortunately the old ship emerged almost on top of the Imperial naval base that the Geezer had been instructed to find. Hours later Methuselah was in the friendly grasp of a naval tug and on its way to the Kodula Naval Base.

  Once in orbit Neem and Reba were rushed down to the surface where they were interviewed by the base commander. And much to Reba’s amazement Commander Moreno took their story seriously, fired off a message torp to sector headquarters, and began to organize the few forces she had available.

  Like every other senior officer within Imperial space, Moreno had orders to provide someone named Sam McCade with anything he wanted. And the anything had been underlined.

  The orders didn’t mention pirates and Il Ronnians, but Moreno lumped them under anything and did what they asked. That included provision of two message torpedoes that were launched toward destinations outside of Imperial space.