Galactic Bounty (32 page)

"I ain't sure. But from the way they phrased it, I think Reez is plannin' ta cut it real close. First they told Ven ta prepare for a shift and fed us the coordinates. But here's the interestin' part. They also specified the orbit they want us to park in."

"So maybe we're going to come out right on top of the War World," McCade mused. "Reez is probably in a hurry to dump Zorta's troops and then run for reinforcements."

"Seems like it," Rico said, his tiny eyes twinkling. "And all we gotta do is sit back and wish him bon voyage."

"That's right," McCade replied with a grin. That's right,
I
hope,
he thought to himself. For some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be quite that simple. A few minutes later and they emerged from the hyperspace shift.

McCade watched with intense curiosity as the screen cleared. Where the computer had projected the War World as a featureless globe, lacking sufficient data to do anything else, the real thing now hung before them.

It was smaller than most planets yet larger than most moons. The scattered clouds covering it testified to an atmosphere. Bodies of blue water were visible, but, unlike anything he had seen before, they were strangely geometrical, each forming a perfect circle of uniform size. There was green vegetation too. But it also had an unnatural appearance. It covered the worldlet in alternating squares, making it look like a checkered ball. The areas not covered by either water or vegetation were metallic gray. The gray squares displayed various textures, suggesting surface structures of some kind, but with one exception were too far away to identify. The exception was clearly visible due to its vast size. It was a spaceport. A huge spaceport, large enough to ground a fleet. And right in the middle of it McCade saw something that shouldn't have been there. Frowning in disbelief he punched the forward screens to high mag and then sat back in his seat as it became apparent that he'd been right. There she sat, looking foreign among the gantries and support equipment left by the long-dead race. An Imperial destroyer.

"What the hell?" McCade said in amazement. "How did they get here?"

"That ain't all, ol' sport," Rico said, pointing a stubby finger at the second screen. "Take a look at that."

As he spoke another ship emerged from behind the far side of the globe and orbited into full view. There was no mistaking her lines. An Imperial Class A Freighter. As they watched, a shuttle detached itself from the huge ship and started down toward the surface. Whether it departed in reaction to the arrival of the Il Ronnian battleship, or was simply unaware of it, McCade couldn't tell. It didn't get far. The little ship exploded and literally disappeared as the Il Ronnian warship opened fire.

"They didn't have a chance! That bastard!" McCade pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. As he spoke the freighter herself came under fire. Her defensive screens came up and flared through all the colors of the rainbow as the incoming fire grew more intense. Though the freighter had no offensive armament to speak of, it did have plenty of defensive capability and lots of power. Most of that power was now going to the defensive screens and, for the moment, they were holding. But McCade knew that in the long run the Il Ronnian battlewagon would beat the screens down and win.

He glanced at the first screen just in time to see a missile hit the grounded destroyer. It still seemed mostly intact, but now had a noticeable list to starboard. There wouldn't be much help from that quarter.

"I guess it's up to us," McCade said grimly as he reached for his harness and began to strap himself in. "Rico, tell 'em to stand by for combat and evasive action." As he reached over to activate the ship's weapons systems, he felt an iron grip on his wrist.

"Whoa ol' sport . . . not so fast," Rico said, his eyes serious. "This play-pretty ain't no match for a ship o' the line."

"Goddamnit, Rico, let go," McCade said, trying to pull his arm loose from the other man's viselike grip. "You saw what they did to the poor bastards in that shuttle. Maybe we can distract them a little, slow them down, buy a little time."

"Sure, ol' sport," Rico replied calmly, "like about thirty seconds, which is how long this little toy's gonna last. There's a better way."

For what seemed like an eternity but was only a fraction of a second, cold gray eyes locked with bright brown ones. Then McCade said, "Okay, Rico, say your piece, but make it damned quick."

Rico spoke earnestly as McCade listened. When the bearded man was through, McCade chuckled and said, "I'll probably be sorry, but that's just crazy enough to work. Let's give it a try. Rico, get Ven up here while I get ready."

A few minutes later he was wearing full armor and strapped into the harness of the sleek little Interceptor. He'd completely forgotten about it until Rico reminded him. It seemed like years since he'd asked Laurie to substitute it for the ship's boat, and been surprised when she'd agreed. Rico had stumbled across it during the hyperspace shift from Lakor. Looking for something to do, he'd decided to pull a maintenance check on the ship's lifeboat. Opening the lifeboat bay, he'd been surprised to find the deadly shape of a Navy Interceptor in place of the tubby little lifeboat he'd expected. McCade listened to the intercom channel on his headset as Rico and Ven got ready. He used the time to run through the Interceptor's pre-flight program. Everything checked out, just as Rico said it would.

"All right, Sam, stand by," Rico said over the intercom. "Remember, after Ven does his bit, we'll wait till the last second before givin' ya the go, so be ready, and don't waste any time."

"Yes, Mother," McCade said sweetly. He was answered with a snort of derision. Moments later the deception began as Ven called the Il Ronnian ship.

"This is Captain Ven commanding His Majesty's yacht, Lakor Avenger. Please respond." McCade almost laughed out loud at the name Zorta had bestowed on the small ship.

McCade couldn't see the video but could easily imagine the stern countenance of Commander Reez as he appeared on the com screen.

"Captain Ven, as you can see we are presently involved in an action with an Imperial Navy ship. What do you want?"

With a masterful blend of timidity and dogged determination, Ven replied: "With all due respect and my apologies for the inconvenience, sire, but His Majesty left very strict standing orders which I disobey at my peril. In the case of a naval engagement, it is His Majesty's wish to assume personal command of this ship that he might lend personal assistance to our noble allies, the Il Ronn."

McCade knew Reez wouldn't believe a word of it, and he wasn't meant to. It was exactly the kind of order the real Zorta might have left to ensure his escape from potentially dangerous circumstances.

Commander Reez allowed himself an audible snort of disbelief as he replied, "I assure you, captain, that the King is in absolutely no danger. We have already destroyed one Imperial ship, disabled a second, and the third will soon follow. However if you must, I suppose you must. Stand by."

McCade fidgeted in the small cockpit, checking his instruments for a third time.

"Uh-oh," Rico said.

"What's going on?" McCade demanded. He felt isolated. The muscle in his left cheek twitched.

"They just launched about ten of their Interceptors," Rico replied evenly, "which means we're in deep trouble."

"I'd say
they're
a bit shorthanded myself, boss," Van Doren's voice interjected. "All secondary weapons positions are closed up and ready."

"Royal yacht
Lakor Avenger
"
came a different Il Ronnian voice. "Permission to come alongside granted. Please dock at lock four just aft of our port solar panels. We are standing by."

So far so good, McCade thought. The plan was working. Reez had decided to be magnanimous. And why not? He was winning and could therefore afford to humor Zorta and his staff. Besides, he still needed the King and his troops to hold the War World while he went for reinforcements. Something that no doubt seemed even more important now that the Imperial Navy had also located the War World.

"Thank you, my lord," Ven replied humbly. "We are on our way."

"Understood," the Il Ronnian snapped and was gone.

McCade felt
Pegasus
bank and begin a smooth turn to intercept the Il Ronnian ship. "Stand by . . .," Rico said. "Hold, hold, hold . . . all right, he's let his screen down, we're inside, the screen's up behind us, hold, hold, all right go! Good luck, sport!"

With that the bay doors opened and the Interceptor was ejected into space and immediately left behind as
Pegasus
continued her arc toward the warship's lock.

McCade ignited his engine, felt it cut in, and banked down toward the bow of the Il Ronnian vessel. Suddenly a hard Il Ronnian voice flooded McCade's headset.

"Attention Royal yacht. Our sensors have detected an unauthorized launch of a power vessel now closing with our ship. It has five seconds to alter course or be destroyed."

"Uh-oh," Rico said. "Looks like they're on to ya, sport. We'll pull off as many as we can! Looks like there's five fighters comin' your way."

"Roger," McCade said grimly. "Here goes nothing!"

Below, the surface of the huge ship raced by. Like all of its kind, the Il Ronnian vessel had not been designed to pass through planetary atmospheres. Therefore no attempt had been made to streamline its hull. Vents, pipes, weapons platforms, turrets, launch tubes, and much more formed a metal maze across the surface of the ship's hull, adding to the sense of speed as he raced toward the bow.

Ahead, five dots filled his target screen, and as he watched they resolved into the form of Il Ronnian fighters. Without conscious thought, his fingers followed the deeply memprinted pattern learned years before, activating weapons systems and checking for system malfunctions. As the range closed, his hand tightened on the control stick, and his thumb was poised over the trigger of his two energy cannon. The Il Ronnian fighters fired first, and quickly regretted doing so, as their heat-seeking missiles sorted out the closest and most intense heat source around, and went for it. Unfortunately for them, the closest intense heat source was their mother ship. A series of explosions along the surface of the huge vessel marked where their missiles hit.

The Il Ronnian pilots were aghast at what they had done. In a way, their mistake was quite natural. They had been trained to fight outside the mother ship's defensive screens, where a misdirected missile could explode harmlessly against the powerful defensive fields that surrounded the vessel during battle.

While their attention was still on the destruction created by their own missiles, McCade opened fire. Two of the fighters exploded, while the third, still shocked by what he'd done, and scared by the sudden destruction of the other two, dodged into a bank of cooling fins and blew up. That left two Il Ronnian fighters still out there, and unfortunately they showed every sign of being very very good. Unlike their brethren, they had realized the potential problems missiles might cause, and like McCade, were relying on energy cannon. Fortunately they missed on the first pass. One moment they were there, growing large in his target screen, and then they flashed by and were gone.

Instinctively McCade dove his Interceptor down until it was just barely skimming over the surface of the large ship. His muscles were tight, and his eyes narrowed in concentration as he searched for and found his target. He knew he had only seconds before the two fighters, and maybe more, would be on his tail again, and this time they might not miss. It was just ahead. A raised area, just behind the bow, crowned with a thicket of sensors and other gear. In the center of the area was an open platform on which the Il Ronnians could land the skeletal maintenance craft used to perform repairs on the ship. That was where he planned to land. If he succeeded, he'd be sitting right on top of the control room, which contained the ship's computer, navigational instruments, and of course Reez himself.

"Watch out behind you, sport! There's two of them on your tail!"

Rico's warning was punctuated by bursts of blue light as the two Il Ronnian fighters tried to nail him. Doing his best to ignore them, McCade brought the little ship into line with the landing platform, waited as long as he dared, and then killed power. He'd waited too long. The Interceptor was moving too fast. He was overshooting the platform. Desperately he hit both his retros and the tractor beams. The beams were very light, but they made the difference. As the beams locked on to the larger vessel, he felt himself jerked down to meet it.

He hit with a crash and the screech of tortured metal, carving a violent path through the forest of sensors and antennas as he did so. As the noise died away, he glanced around, surprised to be alive and unhurt. The Interceptor had come to rest half on and half off the platform. Not one of his better landings, he decided, but what the hell, you can't win 'em all.

Swiveling his head, he looked up through the cracked canopy searching for signs of the two fighters. One after another they flashed by before swooping off to return and fly by once more. McCade slumped back into his seat with a satisfied grin. Not a damn thing they could do. If they shot at him they'd hit their own ship's control center too. As he chinned the transmit switch in his helmet, he noticed the cockpit pressure had fallen to zero. Evidently the Interceptor had been holed in the crash. His suit tanks were good for two hours. Hopefully that would be enough.

"Okay, Rico. I'm in position."

"Glad to hear it," Rico said with a chuckle. "For a minute there it looked like you were gonna land
in
the control room instead of
on
it."

McCade responded with a rude noise. Rico laughed, and then adopted a more serious tone as he said, "This is Fredrico Jose Romero, Council member of the Independent World Alice, and presently in command of the ship you know as the
Lakor Avenger.
I call upon Commander Reez to surrender his ship and all personnel aboard. Failure ta do so will result in the immediate destruction o' your ship. Before you reply, Commander . . . remember there's an Imperial Interceptor armed with two nuclear torpedoes sittin' over your head. The pilot is prepared ta activate a timer which will allow him time ta escape before the torpedoes completely destroy your ship. Ya have one minute to respond."