Galactic Bounty (15 page)

McCade turned the magnification up to max. The planet's surface leaped up to reveal more detail. Right on the border between day and night, slightly north of the equator, a fortress could be seen. It was huge, covering more than a hundred square miles. Originally it had been constructed as a forward base from which the Confederation could defend itself against an Il Ronn invasion. It was as close to impregnable as man could make it. Energy for their weapons flowed from the planet's core. The surface was sterilized to deny invaders even the questionable hospitality of the jungle. In fact anything which might have conceivably served an enemy was gone. Mountains, rivers, seas, vegetation—everything.

The years passed and the Il Ronn never came. Instead the Confederacy destroyed itself and the Empire was born. And then the fortress
was
put to use. Staffed with Imperial marines, it made a good prison for those who refused to accept the Empire.

Thousands of prisoners disappeared into the sprawling complex. They rechristened the planet "The Rock" after a famous prison on old Earth. There the prisoners waited to die. They had little other choice. Like its ancient predecessor, the Rock offered little chance of escape. No one could survive long on the planet's sterile surface, and nothing larger than a supply shuttle was ever allowed to touch down.

As for taking over the complex itself, why bother? Rings of orbiting weapons platforms circled the globe and covered the surface of its four moons. Originally part of the planet's defenses, it had been a simple matter to aim them at the Rock itself instead of space. However, doing so had turned out to be a mistake. One which few of the marines manning the weapons lived to regret.

At first the attack seemed like one last glorious but suicidal gesture on the part of a ragtag rebel fleet. Badly mauled by Admiral Keaton in the Battle of Hell, they'd split up hiding among the frontier worlds, eventually coming back together at prearranged times and places. They knew the war was lost, and that knowledge drove them to one last desperate act, an attempt to free their imprisoned comrades. But much to their own surprise the rebel fleet met with an easy victory. The Imperial marines fought valiantly, but they weren't prepared for an attack from space, and they were grossly outnumbered. Within hours a half-million cheering prisoners stood on the barren black plains surrounding the prison.

It didn't take their leaders long to realize there was no place to go. They had insufficient ships to lift all the prisoners off the Rock, in any case they lacked a destination. Elements of Keaton's fleet waited should they head toward the Empire, and in the other direction lay the Il Ronn, whose raiders were already making themselves felt. So once again the Rock's weapons were turned around and aimed toward space. What had been their prison became their home.

But they couldn't sit back and relax. The supplies on hand wouldn't last forever. The planet's surface wouldn't grow crops for a thousand years, even with terraforming . . . and without plant life even the atmosphere required maintenance. So food and supplies would have to come from somewhere else.

What remained of the rebel fleet began to raid commerce along the frontier to obtain food and supplies. Those they raided called them "pirates." Disliking the term "pirates," they called themselves "The Brotherhood," although in truth the Brotherhood was more like an executive council made up of representatives from occupational organizations.

Then one day the Il Ronn attacked with unimaginable savagery. For two rotations the battle raged. The Il Ronn unleashed missiles and bombs of incredible power. But the Rock's former inmates defended their home with courage and determination until finally the Il Ronn learned what Admiral Keaton had known all along. Without a civilian population to worry about, without industry to defend, a well-fortified planet can be held against any fleet. What was left of the Il Ronn armada limped off to lick its wounds.

Meanwhile one of the many small scout ships which Keaton referred to as his "eyes and ears," raced for fleet headquarters with its report of the Il Ronn defeat. Not long thereafter Admiral Keaton was shown into the Emperor's garden. The aging but still vigorous emperor lounged in the comfort of his stim bath. The two men talked for many hours. Keaton argued persuasively in favor of using the pirates as a first line of defense against the Il Ronn. The older man resisted at first, asking questions and pointing out potential consequences. But in the end the Emperor nodded his leonine head and it was agreed. It was one of his last major decisions. A few months later he was dead, and his son had assumed the throne.

McCade pulled his head out from under the privacy hood and fumbled for a cigar. Finding one, he lit it and leaned back to watch smoke swirl up toward the nearest intake vent. Getting on to the Rock, finding Bridger if he was there, and getting off alive wasn't going to be easy. Nevertheless it had to be done. Where else would Laurie have taken Bridger?

It didn't show up on the dated holo he'd been looking at but, according to the pirate prisoner, the Rock was even stronger now than it had been before. Since taking over, the pirates had expanded and improved the original structure, adding not only more comfortable quarters and recreational facilities, but more defenses as well. Chief among those were unmanned computer-controlled weapons platforms located about one light out from the Rock in every direction. Every pirate ship had an individual code printed into the atomic structure of its frame. As ships approached the weapons platforms, the code was automatically checked. If correct, the ship was allowed to pass. If not it was immediately blasted out of existence.

That's why McCade had chosen to use the pirate ship in spite of its questionable condition. Hopefully the code printed somewhere in its frame was still operational. If so they would pass the weapons platforms unmolested. If not they would die a quick death.

Wearily, he stood and made his way out of the small lounge, through the narrow corridor, and up to the control room. To his surprise Sara Bridger sat slumped in front of the huge command screen. On it, nearby stars and systems followed their stately paths as they had for billions of years. It was the first time she had left the privacy of her cabin since they'd lifted off Alice.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said without looking around.

"Yes, it is," McCade answered, dropping into the seat next to her.

She swiveled around to face him, a tentative smile touching her lips. "Hello, Sam."

McCade felt something tighten in his chest when she said his name. Coming from her it seemed special somehow. A peace offering and an intimacy rolled into one. "Hello yourself," McCade replied with a smile. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks. I think it was the sleep I needed most. It seems like weeks since I've slept eight hours in a row. When the pirates weren't actually attacking, we were repairing the damage they'd done on the last raid and getting ready for the next one."

McCade nodded sympathetically. "Strangely enough, it seems you're what they were after." As quickly as the words left his mouth he regretted them. The light in her eyes dimmed as she turned back to the screen.

"Yes," she said. "Now that I know about the War World, it's obvious the pirates hoped to capture me for use as a hostage against Father's cooperation." She sighed. "I wonder how they knew I was alive and living on Alice."

"I imagine you have at least one pirate spy on Alice, if not more," McCade answered. "Nothing else makes much sense."

"Yes," she replied. "I imagine you're right."

She stared at the screen in silence and McCade couldn't think of anything to say. So they sat together in what eventually became a companionable silence. When she finally spoke, her voice had a hollow quality, as if coming from far away.

"Sam, tell me about the Battle of Hell."

"There really isn't much to tell."

"You told the Council that my father court-martialed you . . .. Why? I . . . I'd like to know, for personal reasons."

McCade was silent for a moment as the memories came flooding back across ten long years. With them came the hate and resentment that he had fought to control, but never quite conquered. Then he said, "Your father had me court-martialed for disobeying a direct order."

She turned her chair back toward him, her eyes locking with his as she said, "I think I know what that order was . . . but I'd appreciate your telling me."

So he did. Again he saw the pirate ship in the cross hairs of his sight as his thumb rested lightly on the firing stud. Again he heard the woman's pleading voice as she said, "Please, in the name of whatever gods you worship, I implore you, don't fire! My ship is unarmed. I have only women, children and old men aboard . . .. Please listen to me!"

Then the second voice, hoarse and commanding: "Fire, Lieutenant! That's an order! She's lying. Fire, damn you!"

Again he felt his thumb lift off the firing stud and watched as the pirate ship slid out of sight along his starboard side. Then the flare of the explosion in his rear screen as the pirate vessel was hit by one of the Imperial's main batteries at extreme range. Then the enemy ship was gone as its desperate captain took it into an uncalculated hyperspace jump.

For a moment Sara was silent. Then she said, "It happened exactly as you described it." Seeing his look of surprise, she said, "That's right . . .. My mother and I were aboard that pirate ship. We'd been put aboard shortly after they took the
Mars.
In fact I got this"—Her hand fluttered up to touch the scar—"fighting them at the main entry port along with the crew. And in a way I suppose it saved me from a 'fate worse than death.'" She smiled wryly. "They decided that even with surgery I'd never be pretty enough for the slave market. So they put me aboard a ship loaded with wealthy hostages. I guess they hoped to eventually ransom us, or if things went badly, use us as bargaining chips.

"Anyway, when our ship was caught by the
Imperial,
our captain piped the radio transmissions over the intercom. I think she knew what was coming and didn't want us to blame her. I'll never forget the look on my mother's face as she heard my father's voice commanding you to fire."

Tears ran down her cheeks.

"He wasn't a bad man," McCade said quietly. "He just couldn't deal with losing both of you. It drove him a little crazy."

"Thank you for that," she replied with a grateful smile. "Coming from you it means a lot. And you're right, he wasn't a bad man when I knew him. But whatever the reasons, he's become one. What he did during the Battle of Hell was wrong. And so was what he did to you afterward. And then to aid the Il Ronn against humans—worse than that, to give them the War World—there's no excuse for that." She paused. Though tears ran freely down her cheeks, her voice was calm and cold. "So if we find him, and I can't do it myself, promise me you'll kill him. It would be the greatest favor you could do for the man he once was."

McCade started to speak, but she shook her head. "Promise me," she insisted.

Reluctantly McCade nodded his agreement. There was no point in telling her that he would have done so in any case, assuming of course that Bridger wouldn't come with them.

She was silent for a moment, her eyes searching his as though looking for something important. "As you said, we escaped by taking a jump into hyperspace and then back out."

McCade put up a hand to stop her, but she shook her head and continued to speak.

"The ship was badly damaged. One of the two life rafts was destroyed. Those who could crowded into the remaining raft. Some of the wounded volunteered to stay behind. The captain insisted on staying with them." She shook her head in amazement. "It was funny really. That pirate captain would have cheerfully transported us all into slavery. But she wouldn't leave any of us on a crippled ship. Shortly after we got away, the ship blew up. We ran out of food rather quickly. There were so many of us packed into the little raft. At first we thought ourselves lucky to have plenty of air and water. Most people can last for quite a while without food. Then we learned the truth. For most of us, air and water would only prolong the suffering. We were way outside normal shipping lanes and the chances of being found were almost nil."

"The babies died first. And then the elderly. I think mother died inside as she listened to Father scream his insane orders. With her spirit gone, her body followed soon after. One by one I struggled to get their bodies into the raft's tiny lock . . . and into space . . . until eventually there were only three of us, a girl of about twelve and an old man. We tried to cheer each other up, we sang songs, and the old man told us about his life as a prospector. But eventually we ran out of things to say and retreated within ourselves. Privately I cursed the strength that kept me alive. Finally I felt myself sinking into welcomed darkness with a feeling of joyous release, certain my turn had finally come. But it wasn't to be. Instead I awoke, looking into Premo's face. He was a passenger aboard the ship that heard the raft's emergency beacon and picked us up.

"She was a tramp freighter. It seemed as though we stopped at every other asteroid to drop off supplies for some miner or lonely scientist. So Premo and I had lots of time to talk. He actually did most of the talking, while I listened. It was good actually . . .. I needed time to think.

"Like many of those who end up on frontier planets, Premo was a misfit . . . and on the run from something. I never asked what, and he never said. But he was brilliant in his own way . . . very knowledgeable about business and finance. As you saw, he was also a jealous and sometimes stupid man . . . in love with me in spite of this"—she indicated her face— "even though he knew I didn't feel the same way.

"But underneath all that, Premo was a dreamer, a man who saw the frontier worlds as an opportunity to start over, and avoid the mistakes of the past. He told me about Alice. About how it had just been opened and how beautiful it would be. What could be accomplished there and why it was important. Well, I must have listened, because when we arrived I got off and never looked back."