McCade on the Run (Sam McCade Omnibus)

by William C. Dietz

  Doing so required a certain amount of professional courage on Moreno’s part, courage that was severely tested when a small fleet of Il Ronnian ships suddenly left hyperspace and dropped into orbit around her planet.

  Within a few minutes the alien was busy gabbing with an Il Ronnian big shot named Teeb, her XO was on the verge of having a heart attack, and Moreno was wondering if she’d committed a serious error.

  Fortunately the next group of ships to arrive brought Admiral Swanson-Pierce with them. Otherwise the subsequent manifestation of pirate ships would have shaken even Moreno’s considerable poise.

  But Swanson-Pierce listened to Moreno’s report, promoted her to full captain, and proceeded to invite the senior members of all three groups to dinner.

  After a report by the Reba woman and the Il Ronnian civilian, everyone agreed to a joint assault on Pong’s base and hoisted a few to seal the bargain. It was then that Moreno learned that Il Ronnians can not only handle alcohol, they can do so in prodigious quantities.

  Now the mixed fleet was awaiting orders from a cashiered naval officer/ bounty hunter who claimed to know a secret passage through the thickest part of the Nakasoni Asteroid Belt. If it wasn’t the craziest thing Moreno had ever heard of, it certainly ran a close second. However there was no sign of these thoughts on her handsome face when she turned to Admiral Swanson-Pierce and gave her report.

  “There’s still a little squabbling toward the rear of the formation, Admiral, but ninety percent of our units are where they’re supposed to be, and all things considered that’s pretty good. We stand ready to attack on your command.”

  For a naval officer who was about to risk his career on what most of his peers would consider an insane mission, Swanson-Pierce looked very relaxed. He leaned back in his command chair and smiled. “Not this time, Captain. This is McCade’s show, and he won’t raise the curtain without an attempt to irritate me first.”

  Unlike McCade’s cramped assault boat, the bridge of the cruiser Tenacious was both spacious and comfortable. Pilots, electronic warfare specialists, and weapons officers tended their various boards with the quiet reverence of priests before an altar. All wore space armor in case of a sudden loss of cabin pressure.

  A com tech appeared at Moreno’s side. “I’ve got a com call from A-boat One on channel three, Admiral. Will you take it?”

  Swanson-Pierce grinned at Moreno. “See?”

  Then he turned back to the tech. “Put McCade through by all means.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Seconds later one of the four com screens mounted in front of Swanson-Pierce lit up and Sam McCade appeared. There was a half-smoked cigar clenched between his teeth and he was in dire need of a shave.

  “Hello, Walt. Well, I never thought I’d say it, but for once your people seem to have their shit together. My compliments to Commander Moreno. According to Reba she’s real sharp, although I find that hard to believe, since really sharp people avoid your chicken-shit outfit like the plague.”

  “It’s Captain Moreno now,” Swanson-Pierce replied dryly. “And I’ll give her your message.”

  “Thanks,” McCade replied, removing the cigar from his mouth and rubbing it out on the heretofore spotless control console.“Now,if you naval types are done polishing your posteriors, we can get this show on the road.”

  “Lead the way, Sam, we’ll be right behind you.”

  “That’s just great,” McCade replied sourly. “Try not to blow my ass off.” And with that the screen faded to black.

  “He really is obnoxious,” Moreno said wonderingly.

  “Yup,”Swanson-Pierce replied cheerfully. “And as Mustapha Pong’s about to learn, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  McCade turned to look at Neem. Since his tail was enclosed by his space armor, the Il Ronnian gave him a human thumbs-up, as did Sergeant Major Valarie Sibo. Her marines were out of sight in the main compartment but their status lights were solid green.

  “All right, Henry, take us in at full military speed.”

  The boxy-looking assault boat wasn’t pretty but it was fast. As Henry goosed the boat’s dual drives, McCade flipped all the weapons systems from amber to full green. After that he enabled all the automatic defensive systems, opened his visor, and lit a cigar. Even at high speed they wouldn’t hit the first sensor station for another two hours.

  He was just leaning back in his seat when every alarm on the board lit up, went off, or printed out. A single glance at the main battle tank told the story. Two of Pong’s ships were on their way out!

  He’d known it was possible but hadn’t really expected it to happen. Damn!

  Cigar ash dribbled down across the front of McCade’s armor as he slapped the emergency attack bar and felt the boat jerk in response.

  The WEAPCOMP had a flat, emotionless voice. “Two torpedoes away and running, two ship-to-ship missiles in flight, chaff left, chaff left, closing, closing. Target one is full evasive, target two is full evasive, jamming, jamming full spectrum all freq’s.

  “Both targets have launched defensive missiles, closing, closing, torpedo two has been neutralized, missiles one and two neutralized, we have a hit from torpedo one on target two. Target two destroyed. Target one has launched four missiles, tracking, tracking...”

  McCade was thrown on his side as the boat banked right and then left.

  Henry did his best to take evasive action as the WEAPCOMP continued its dispassionate narration.“Chaff left,chaff right,full spectrum electro countermeasures engaged, defensive missiles, launch, launch. Target one is approaching effective range of secondary weapons, fire, fire, target engaged and returning fire . . .”

  The boat shuddered as Henry jinked right, left, and right again.

  McCade fought the G forces and did his best to follow the action in the battle tank. Suddenly two green deltas appeared on either side of the red circle that marked the A-boat’s position.

  “We have side by side friendlies,” the WEAPCOMP droned on, “launching, launching. Target one has launched full spectrum defensive, closing, closing, hit, hit, hit, miss. Friendly one has a hit on target one. Target one destroyed. Load, load, all systems cycled to full green.”

  McCade brought his hand up to wipe the sweat off his forehead and found a cigar butt between his gloved fingers. Making a fist he crushed it out. He chinned his mike.

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “We took some hits from flying debris,” Reba observed, “but the armor handled most of it. We did lose our backup antenna array however.”

  “Could’ve been a lot worse,”McCade replied.“Neem, how are the passengers doing?”

  “Pretty well, Sam. The sergeant major’s taking a nap, and the rest of her team is taking bets on whether Private Mahowski will throw up in his helmet or shit his pants.”

  McCade grinned. Marines are resourceful if nothing else.

  Two hours later they hit the first sensor station. It had a fraction of a second to see the assault boat, the wave of interceptors behind it, and squirt a message toward Pong’s base. Then the WEAPCOMP launched a single missile and the station was gone, leaving nothing more than a pool of cooling metal to mark the place where it had once stood.

  But the sensor station had accomplished its mission. And when its message flashed into the Earth Star’s com center, the duty officer wasted no time in taking action.

  His name was Farb. He was a slender man with close-cropped blond hair and a predatory face. The prospect of some action made him smile. He thumbed a red button.

  All over the ship gongs began to clang, lights began to flash, and thousands of people ran for their action stations.

  Electronic signals flashed out, were verified, and immediately acted on. Destroyers and cruisers and interceptors took up their various positions and prepared for battle.

  As all of this took place Farb calmly made his way down a broad corridor, past row after row of first-class cabins, and paused in front of a massiv
e hatch. It was made of durasteel bonded to gold and had once opened to admit the Emperor himself.

  Farb palmed the entry lock and waited for Pong’s voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Detector Station One reports a large force of heavily armed intruders. We have confirmation from stations two, three, and four. ETA ...twenty minutes.”

  There was a moment of silence before Pong replied. “Our ships?”

  “Dispersed according to plan two,” Farb replied. “Orders?”

  “Pipe all incoming data to the tank in my quarters. All ships will fight to the death. Remind them that there’s no other way out.”

  “It shall be as you wish,” Farb answered.

  Just as he was turning to leave, Pong spoke once more. “And, Farb . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “You’d better have someone prepare the Arrow.”

  Farb grinned. The Arrow was Pong’s private yacht. Should things go poorly, Pong, Farb, and two other trusted lieutenants would use it to make their escape. Although very few people knew about it, there was another way out.

  McCade and everyone else aboard the assault boat very nearly died as they passed between Pong’s weapons emplacements.

  A bright latticework of coherent energy webbed across the passageway threatening to wrap the boat in its lethal embrace. Missiles accelerated from launchers searching for heat and metal. Other missiles leaped from the boat’s rotary launchers to meet those missiles as still more missiles came up to meet them.

  Walls of flame erupted as waves of missiles intersected and canceled each other out. Torpedoes followed the tons of hot chaff that the invading ships scattered across the passageway, exploding whenever they came near. And everywhere electronic signals raced, probed, and tried to fake each other out.

  Inside the boat they were thrown up, down, and back and forth as Henry tried to keep them alive and the WEAPCOMP droned on. It spoke of torpedoes, missiles, and targets as if they were somewhere else, distant things that were part of someone else’s world.

  One by one the interceptors assigned to guard them blossomed into flowers of flame and disappeared. It was brute strength against brute strength, missile against missile, computer against computer.

  McCade grit his teeth and willed the weapons emplacements to die. And one by one they did die, each wave of passing ships pounding them further into submission, until none were left.

  McCade chinned his mike as the A-boat flashed into Pong’s inner sphere. “Assault Boat One to Assault Leader.”

  “We copy, Assault Boat One,” a voice answered. “Go.”

  McCade imagined Swanson-Pierce sitting in his command chair listening to the conversation. The bastard was probably sipping a cup of tea or something.

  “Phase one is complete, Assault Leader. Confirm phase two.”

  “Phase two confirmed, Boat One,” the voice said. “You have new friend-lies port and starboard, with ground pounders bringing up the rear. Assault Leader sends ‘well done.’ ”

  “Copy that ,” McCade replied sourly. “Tell the Assault Leader to come up and join us.”

  A glance at the battle tank showed that a swarm of fresh interceptors had formed up around him. They were followed by a gaggle of boxy A-boats. Each boat held fifty marines.

  The interceptors would attempt to punch a hole through the pirate defense allowing the A-boats to close with and board the Earth Star. Once aboard they’d try to find the Vial of Tears, and failing that, Mustapha Pong.

  Meanwhile the combined force of destroyers and cruisers would move in and fight the main battle. McCade grinned at the thought. Wait till Pong’s people got a load of those Il Ronnian warships!

  McCade chinned his mike. “This is Boat One. Let’s kick some butt.”

  Henry’s response threw McCade back and down. He forced his head toward the battle tank. A whole wave of ships and interceptors were coming toward him. He felt an anvil hit the bottom of his stomach. He thought of Sara and Molly, then thought no more as the boat went into a jerky pattern of evasive maneuvers.

  What followed happened too quickly for human hands or eyes to follow.

  It was a computer war of launch and counterlaunch, jam, and counterjam, move and countermove.

  Whether you lived or died depended on the speed and quality of your computers, upon the effectiveness of your weapons, and on that most fickle of all things, luck.

  But their plan worked. Even though Pong’s warships were supposed to defend the Earth Star, many of them were actually tying to escape instead. An attack by the Brotherhood was one thing, but an attack by a combined force of pirate, navy, and alien ships was something else again. They wanted out.

  The pirate ships were like a long, thin wall of metal, a tough obstacle to get around, but a relatively easy one to punch through. And that’s what the interceptors did.

  By concentrating all their firepower on a single point, the interceptors managed to overwhelm two destroyers and a light cruiser, making a hole through which the A-boats could pass.

  The Earth Star had weapons of her own, but like most liners her defenses were more symbolic than real and were soon neutralized by the swarming interceptors.

  “Put us alongside that emergency lock,” McCade ordered as he sealed his visor. “And somebody wake the sergeant major.”

  “That won’t be necessary, sir,” Sergeant Major Sibo replied calmly. “Just put this crate alongside and we’ll do the rest.”

  The sergeant major was as good as her word.McCade had pumped all the atmosphere out of the cabin by the time Henry put the A-boat alongside the larger ship. As a result there was no time wasted matching locks. Armed with a ship cracker it took three marines ten minutes to cut their way through the Star’s outer hatch.

  McCade knew that other teams were using the same strategy all over the ship. If nothing else that would force Pong’s crew to split up into smaller groups and make them easier to handle.

  A large piece of hull metal came free and spun off into space. A satchel charge flew into the open lock and exploded with a brilliant flash. Armored bodies followed it in, their blast rifles burping blue light.

  Sergeant Major Sibo’s voice dominated the command channel for the next few minutes. “Spread out, you idiots! One grenade’ll get you all. What’s the matter, Mahowski? Afraid to earn your pay? Shoot those bastards before they shoot you. Wu, you idiot, get your head down before they blow it off. Great Sol, have I gotta wipe your ass too?”

  Then it was over and she was in the blackened lock urging McCade to board. “The lock’s secure, sir, welcome aboard.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Major, nicely done. Have you got the schematic?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s up on my visor right now.”

  “Good, let’s head for the Imperial stateroom. If Pong’s aboard, that’s where he’ll be.”

  “Aye,aye, sir,” Sibo replied. “Follow me.”

  McCade followed and was forced to step over a number of bodies in the process. At least two of them wore marine armor.

  With Reba and Neem close behind him, McCade followed Sibo through a short side passage to the point where it joined a main corridor. Another lock blocked their way. An indicator showed breathable atmosphere beyond. At the sergeant major’s direction four marines cycled through and signaled the all-clear.

  As she emerged from the lock, Sibo took a moment to consult her schematic and turned left. Two marines brushed past her to take the point as the rest of them formed a column of twos and jogged along behind.

  Like all liners the schematics for the Earth Star were on file at every navy base. That was SOP in case of collision or capture. So as each team of marines made their way on board they’d use the schematics projected onto the inside surface of their visors to find their particular targets. Strategic targets came first, like the bridge, the com center, and the drive rooms, followed by storerooms or other places where the Vial of Tears might be stored.

  At least one Il Ronnian Sand S
ept trooper had been assigned to each team of marines. Once the vial was found the Sand Sept trooper would stand guard over it until one of the several Ilwiks present could take possession.

  The journey soon became a running firefight as the marines encountered small groups of crew members and quickly overwhelmed them. Pong did have some well-trained troops, but most of them were aboard his destroyers and cruisers, and therefore unavailable to defend the Star.

  The marines were able to make good progress as a result. Slowly but surely they made their way ever toward the first-class accommodations and the Imperial stateroom.

  Then, just as they left a side corridor to enter the main thoroughfare that led to the Imperial stateroom, they hit an ambush.

  Farb had placed his people well, hiding them in two opposing staterooms and an overhead access tunnel. Holding his breath he waited for the marines to pass and yelled “Now!” into his open mike.

  The Pirates opened up from both sides as more dropped from above to block any possibility of retreat.

  Sergeant Major Sibo died in the first five seconds of the ambush, slumping forward as a crew-operated energy beam punched black holes through her armor.

  McCade hit the deck in a forward roll. As he came out of it his hand blaster jumped into his hand. Pirates spilled out of a stateroom to the left. He squeezed the trigger four times and saw two holes appear in a visor that quickly misted over with blood.

  Something hit his armor from behind but didn’t go through. McCade spun around and gut shot a pirate from three feet away.

  Tough though it was the pirate’s armor couldn’t stand up to that kind of punishment and gave way. The energy beam went through Farb’s stomach and splashed against the backside of his armor. The ensuing darkness came as a complete surprise.

  Suddenly it was over and the marines had won. Bodies lay everywhere in tumbled heaps. A blue haze filled the air and when McCade opened his visor the smell of ozone filled his nostrils.

  A marine appeared at his side. “Sergeant O’Hara, sir. We have sixteen dead, seven wounded, and twenty-seven effectives. Orders, sir?”