Galactic Bounty (34 page)

"So," he continued, "if Finley hadn't managed to patch up his ship, and limp back with the coordinates of this planet, I think it's fair to say that instead of our present standoff with the Il Ronn, we would now be their slaves, a circumstance none of us would enjoy. I might also add that it was hyperdrive, after all, which made possible the colonization of planets like Alice. So while the knowledge gained here did help establish the empire you despise, it also made possible the rather chilly freedom you relish on Alice."

Sara was silent as McCade dropped his cigar on the floor and crushed it out with his boot.

"So," McCade said, "the Empire's been systematically looting this place for years. How many of the Empire's so-called 'scientific discoveries' were really found right here?"

"Some," the naval officer replied distastefully as he watched McCade smear the remains of the cigar under his toe. "But by no means all. Although I'll admit some have been spin-offs of the artifacts found here. But, as you saw on your way in, that's pretty much over now. Oh we've got lots of stuff to study, and no doubt we'll make more discoveries, but time's running out. You asked if there's a point to all this. Well there is. By using the knowledge found here, by keeping the source of that knowledge secret, by pitting the pirates against the Il Ronn, we've managed to buy some time. Time to achieve parity with the Il Ronn."

"What about the other worlds listed on my father's Directory?" Sara asked suspiciously. "Are you looting those too?"

"Unfortunately the answer is no," Swanson-Pierce answered patiently. "We've investigated hundreds of them without finding anything like this," he said, gesturing to their surroundings. "Many of the planets listed turned out to be among those already discovered by accident. Others were new to us, but no more productive than the other artifact worlds already known. This world was evidently a fluke. Because it's artificial and self-repairing it has been able to defy the effects of time. Again, we aren't sure if it was built for this purpose, or converted from another use. In any case, we haven't found anything else like it."

Swanson-Pierce smiled. "I'd say that's more up to you, and those like you, than it is to us. Anyone who really thinks it through soon realizes the future lies with planets like yours, rather than with the fat, complacent inner worlds. Already you have secret governments and are starting to form loose interplanetary ties."

Sara started to object, but Swanson-Pierce held up a restraining hand. "Don't bother to deny it. Give our intelligence people a little credit. As I was saying, you've started to organize. Who knows what final form that organization will take? Another confederation? An Empire? Something new? It's hard to say . . . but, whatever it is, it will replace the present order."

"Has anyone notified the Emperor of all this?" McCade asked with a raised eyebrow. "He'll probably want to update his résumé."

"Oh I think his job's safe for quite a few years yet," Swanson-Pierce replied, tugging on a cuff. "As is mine. Keep in mind I'm talking about the long run. But if the Emperor were here, I think he'd agree with what I've said. He's not a stupid man. Of course there are stupid men and women, many employed by the Empire, all of whom would not agree. Those who benefit most from a system don't like to envision its destruction."

For a moment there was silence all around. McCade finally broke it. "So what about us? There's a shipload of Il Ronnian prisoners in orbit up there." He gestured toward the ceiling.

Swanson-Pierce regarded him with pretended surprise.

"Prisoners? You must be mistaken, Sam. Prisoners imply armed conflict, which in turn suggests war. And we aren't at war with the Il Ronn. If we were, we might very well lose. No, I'm afraid there's been a terrible mistake. We'll apologize, they'll apologize, we'll remove the radio control unit you put on those torpedoes, and everyone goes home happy."

"Except the crew of the shuttle they destroyed," McCade said.

"And except for the pilots of those fighters you blew out of existence," the other man countered dryly. "Plus any personnel lost when their own missiles hit. No, I think it's about even. With that in mind, Council Member Romero, perhaps you'd be so kind as to contact their commanding officer, what's his name, Reez? Explain that there's been a terrible mistake. He'll understand. I'd do it myself, but I'd rather stay in the background, if you don't mind."

Rico nodded his agreement.

"Well I guess that about wraps it up then, Walt," McCade said. "I can't say it's been a pleasure, but that's life. I assume you'll clear my title to
Pegasus?
"

The naval officer nodded. "Who knows, Sam, we might even throw in a bonus. Where do we send it?"

McCade looked at Sara. She smiled and he saw the future reflected in her eyes.

"Send it to Alice, Walt . . .. From what you said, that's where the action's going to be."

As Swanson-Pierce extended his hand, McCade saw something come and go in his eyes. Something that just might have been envy.

They left him there, hands folded behind his back, staring up at the map of a long-forgotten empire, dreaming of what had been, and what was yet to be.

On the surface again, McCade stopped and turned to face Van Doren. Try as he would, he couldn't find any anger at the other man's deception. "Thanks for everything, Amos."

The marine's huge fist tightened around his own. Amos smiled from beneath bushy brows. "Anytime, Sam. You take care out there. Save me a place. Who knows . . . I can retire in a few years, if I live that long."

"You'd better!" Sara said fiercely, hugging Van Doren's huge frame.

"That's right, sport," Rico said, coming up behind them. "We're always short o' bozos with more muscle than brains!"

As the two men gripped hands in one last trial of strength, McCade looked up toward where the Il Ronnian ship orbited high above. In a few minutes Rico would place the com call to Commander Reez. After a brief diplomatic ballet, Lif's Lakorian troops would be off-loaded onto the surface of the War World to await transportation home, and the armorers from the destroyer would go up to disarm the torpedoes which still stood guard over the Il Ronnian battleship's control room.

To the Il Ronnian's surprise, King Zorta would not be found aboard their ship. Perhaps he was killed when the missiles struck. Or maybe he attempted to reach his yacht in space armor, and being inexperienced, failed. In any case they wouldn't spend much time worrying about it now that Zorta's usefulness had come to an end.

The Lakorian troops would return home to find King Lif on the throne, the relieved populace telling of Zorta's death or imprisonment.

They might for a while tell confusing stories of an imposter who fooled everyone and then disappeared without a trace. But who would care?

That, however, wouldn't help the Il Ronnians, who might never learn that their commanding officer was really a Treel. After all he'd been through, it had taken McCade awhile to figure it out. But something about the Il Ronnian surrender had bothered him from the first. It had come too easily, too quickly, but it was more than that. Then it hit. Reez had said, "My officers and I accept your offer of surrender, rigid ones!"

Only the Treel talked like that. Somehow the strange little alien had killed Reez, gotten rid of his body, and taken his place. He knew Walt wouldn't approve . . . but so what? McCade wondered what the Treel would do. Would he destroy the ship, and himself with it? Or would he be satisfied with killing Reez, and continue to impersonate him, perhaps for years, waiting for a time and place in which to more fully avenge the extinction of his race.

There was no way to know. But over the years, McCade would often think of old Softie, and chuckle to himself.