Imperial Bounty (3 page)

"So," McCade said, also dropping into a chair, and swinging his filthy boots up onto the polished surface of the officer's desk. "What brings the mighty Imperial Navy to this corner of the frontier? Slumming?"

As he moved around behind his desk Swanson-Pierce did his best to avoid seeing McCade's boots. "No," he answered evenly, "actually we're on our way somewhere else." He gestured vaguely. "I thought it would be nice to visit old friends."

McCade snorted in disbelief. "Get serious, Walt. You haven't got any friends. Nobody's got that strong a stomach." Ignoring Sara's look of disapproval, he took out a bent cigar, and talked around it as he puffed it alight. "Besides, you wouldn't go ten feet out of your way to visit your own mother."

Swanson-Pierre shook his head in mock concern. "Well, I see life on Alice has done nothing to improve your temperament, Sam. Sad, very sad. I don't know how you stand it, Sara. You deserve better. But," he said airily, "I will admit there's a matter of business I'd like to discuss."

McCade swung his feet down and stood up. "Come on, Sara. We don't need whatever this is. Nice seeing you, Walt. Don't trip on any pirates as you leave."

But to his surprise Sara remained seated. And a stubborn look had come over her face. He knew that look and groaned inwardly. "I think you should hear what he has to say, Sam," she said. "Then, if you still feel the same way, we'll leave together."

McCade knew when he was beat. He fell back into his chair, knocking a large lump of ash off his cigar. Swanson-Pierce watched in horrified fascination as it fell and then exploded against the rich carpeting. He winced as McCade automatically placed a boot over the ashes and rubbed them in.

"OK," McCade said. "So what's this all about?"

Swanson-Pierce looked up from the stained carpet and forced a smile. "Admiral Keaton and I want you to find someone for us."

McCade shook his head. "Forget it. I gave up bounty hunting."

"Even if you could prevent a war?"

"War, hell." Ten to one that was just more of Walt's bullshit. The old patriotic approach. Well, it wouldn't work this time. McCade was tired of chasing fugitives from planet to planet, tired of living the way they lived, alone and afraid. Besides, Sara didn't want him to. She detested bounty hunters. But why hadn't she objected? Because she believed whatever Walt was selling. He looked over and found her face a purposeful blank. She was trying her best not to sway him any more than she had already. Meanwhile Swanson-Pierce was grinning, aware of McCade's inner conflict, and enjoying it.

"All right," McCade said reluctantly, "I'll consider it. Who's the mark?"

Swanson-Pierce took his time, leaning back in his chair, obviously savoring the moment. "We want you to find the Emperor."

McCade's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but before he could ask the obvious questions, an emergency klaxon went off. The ship was under attack.

Six torpedoes were launched at
Victory.
Two hit, and obliterated the Destroyer Escort which happened to be coming alongside at that particular moment. One malfunctioned, and raced off toward the warmth of the sun. Another was intercepted, and destroyed by an unusually alert Interceptor pilot. The last two hit
Victory
and blew up.

McCade and the others were thrown to the deck by the force of the explosions. A host of alarms and klaxons went off. All over the ship hatches automatically slammed shut, turning the vessel into a honeycomb of airtight compartments. The lights flickered, went off, and then came back on again. They were dimmer now since all available power had been automatically shunted to the defensive screens.

The com screen lit up before the naval officer could touch it. "Lt. Commander Muncy reporting, sir. Battle status negative. We have no targets on our screens . . . with cross-confirmation from our surviving Escorts. Initial evidence suggests a single vessel, a destroyer, or perhaps a light cruiser. It entered normal space approximately a quarter light out, fired six torpedoes, and immediately reentered hyperspace. Two hit us, two hit and destroyed the
Amazon,
one was intercepted, and one malfunctioned. Our remaining Escorts and Interceptors have assumed a defensive formation in case of further attack."

Standing now, McCade looked at the screen and saw there was pandemonium behind Muncy. Medics were running by with stretchers, officers were shouting orders, and a damage-control party was busy fighting a small electrical fire. But Muncy's face showed no trace of concern. Only a subtle tightness around her eyes betrayed the pressure she was under. A real pro, McCade thought to himself.

"Thank you," Swanson-Pierce replied evenly. "You may proceed with your report."

Muncy nodded. "I'm sorry to report that the bridge took a direct hit. Captain Blaine and his executive officer were killed instantly. The second officer is missing, and the third is severely wounded. I have assumed command."

"Noted and approved, Captain," Swanson-Pierce said briskly. "Extent of damage?"

"The bridge, main computer, and all primary controls were completely destroyed, sir. Ten killed, three wounded." She glanced over her shoulder and saw the damage-control party extinguishing the last of the flames. "All fires are out and the worst sections have been sealed off. Initial analysis indicates secondary computer and main peripherals are undamaged. Estimated time to sixty percent effectiveness, one hour forty minutes. We also took a torp in the galley and hydroponics section. Four killed, two wounded. We'll be on emergency rations until further notice."

By now both Sara and Rico were standing next to McCade. Neither was injured. "Speaking for Alice, our hospital and its staff are at your disposal, Captain," Sara said. "Plus any other assistance we can provide."

McCade saw gratitude in the officer's eyes. "Thank you. I'll notify medical."

"One last thing, Captain," Swanson-Pierce said, "and then I'll let you get back to your duties. Did we ID the enemy ship?"

"Negative, Admiral," Muncy answered evenly. "No positive identification. Since our hostile was in normal space for only five seconds, there wasn't much time. And what data we had on her was lost along with the main computer. However, our Escorts say her parameters provide a ninety percent match with Imperial design. As you know, both the Pirates and Il Ronn have taken a few of our ships over the last few years."

"Yes, yes," Swanson-Pierce replied vaguely. "That would account for it."

As he spoke, McCade noticed the other man had turned pale, and his knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the com console.

"Well, thank you, Captain. You've done an excellent job under trying circumstances. Carry on, and let me know if there's anything I can do to help." Swanson-Pierce forced a smile. "At the moment, however, I imagine you can get along without an Admiral peeking over your shoulder."

Muncy grinned her agreement, but replied tactfully, "Over the next few hours I suspect I'll have lots of questions. With your permission, I'll call back then?"

"Of course," Swanson-Pierce said. Muncy nodded and the screen faded to black.

McCade lit a cigar and blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, where it was sucked toward the nearest vent. "Maybe you'd better take it from the top, Walt. Including that stuff about finding the Emperor. How did you manage to misplace him?"

Swanson-Pierce grinned crookedly at McCade. "Well, I'm afraid it's a bit complicated."

"Surprise, surprise," McCade said sourly.

"Actually it
was
a bit of a surprise," the other man said agreeably. "A somewhat nasty one. You see the Emperor died about a month ago."

McCade lifted an eyebrow. "It's a bit out of my line, Walt. What you need is an angel, not a bounty hunter."

Swanson-Pierce smiled patiently. "It's his successor we want you to find. We're reasonably sure the rightful heir is alive; we just don't know where. That of course is where you come in."

Rico shook his head in amazement. "I know we're pretty far out on the rim, but if the Emp croaked, even we'd hear about that."

The naval officer shook his head. "Normally you'd be right Rico . . . but in this case only a handful of people know. Until we've found the Emperor's rightful successor, it seems best to keep his death a secret. Although, I'm afraid . . ."

"Oh no," McCade groaned. "Don't tell me, let me guess. The people who just took a shot at us know, and they don't favor the rightful heir."

"I'd say give that man a cigar," Swanson-Pierce grinned, "except he's already got one."

"I knew it," McCade said. "As usual your people have screwed up, and you want us to bail you out. Well, forget it. We're sorry, but we've got enough problems of our own. If you folks want to squabble over the throne, what's it to us? The Empire has damned little say out here . . . and we prefer it that way." Out of the corner of his eye, McCade saw Sara start to speak, and then restrain herself. Damn. For some reason she was still on Walt's side.

Swanson-Pierce paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts, and then spoke through steepled fingers. "To understand why it's important to you, and every other planet along the rim, you've got to understand the circumstances of the Emperor's death. Unfortunately the Emperor loved to hunt. It drove his staff crazy of course, but he insisted. He'd been doing it for years and from all accounts was quite good at it. His quarters were full of trophies from hundreds of planets. An uglier assortment of dead carcasses you never saw. Anyway, each year he looked forward to his annual safari. There was the thrill of the hunt, the companionship of his favorite cronies, and an escape from the pressures of office."

"Yeah," McCade added sarcastically, "it must be tough having everything you want."

Swanson-Pierce ignored the interruption and continued his narrative. "This year he decided to visit Envo IV, a primitive planet located on the far side of the Empire from here, and well known for its vicious animal life. Apparently he had his heart set on bagging an Envo Beast. From all accounts they're herbivores, but weigh a couple of tons apiece, and are extremely territorial. I understand both his bodyguard and the locals were aghast. They apparently run the damned things down with armored vehicles, and then finish them off with shoulder-launched missiles. But the Emperor wasn't having any of that."

The naval officer shook his head regretfully. "Say what you will . . . the man had guts. He insisted on going it alone . . . even against Envo Beasts."

McCade reached out to deposit some ash in an ashtray, and missed. It cascaded toward the rug. Sara gave him a dirty look which he somehow managed to avoid meeting.

"Anyway," Swanson-Pierce continued, "something went wrong. The Emperor missed his shot and was badly gored. He lived for about two days. They tried everything, but it was hopeless. Medicine is still pretty primitive on Envo. All they could do was make him comfortable and wait for him to die. Knowing his death was imminent, the Emperor sent for a courier. When the courier arrived, the Emperor ordered everyone else out of his chambers. A short time later the courier disappeared, and the Emperor was found dead. Some said the courier had killed him, and a bounty was placed on his head, fifty thousand credits dead or alive."

Swanson-Pierce looked from one to another as if checking to make sure he had their attention. "Suffice it to say this courier is a very resourceful man, and eventually made it to Terra where he delivered the Emperor's message to Admiral Keaton."

The naval officer took a moment to study the cigar he was holding, intentionally allowing the suspense to build, watching McCade from the corner of one eye. Finally, much to the Admiral's satisfaction, McCade scowled his surrender. Victorious, Swanson-Pierce returned to his narrative. "Before he died the Emperor chose his successor, and sent word of his choice to Admiral Keaton, the one man he trusted to carry out his wishes."

McCade quickly reviewed what little knowledge he had about the Emperor's family. He knew the Emperor's wife had died quite young, and if he remembered correctly, there was a son named Alexander as well as a daughter named Claudia. It seemed the son was something of a playboy, always making headlines with his outrageous behavior, eventually disappearing some time ago en route to Mars. Needless to say there'd been an intensive search at the time, but nothing was ever found. Most assumed Alexander was dead, but a few insisted he'd simply gone into hiding, and would eventually show up. Nobody, except possibly the Emperor, seemed very concerned.

Claudia, however, was another story. She'd taken her position very seriously indeed. While the sons and daughters of other high-ranking officials tried to discover new ways to have a good time, or pursued fashionable careers, she entered the Academy. At her own insistence she was shown absolutely no favoritism. So when Claudia graduated first in her class, it was due to her own ability, and not her father's influence. She was subsequently assigned to the cruiser
Defiance.
Not long thereafter, the
Defiance
had the misfortune to drop out of hyperspace almost on top of an Il Ronnian raider which was operating inside Imperial space. Even the navy couldn't ignore that.

"PRINCESS DEFEATS ALIEN HORDE" the headlines read. In truth the Defiance was twice the size of the Il Ronnian raider, and there were only thirty members of the "ALIEN HORDE." Nonetheless, the Il Ronn put up a tussle, Claudia was wounded, and the press had a field day. The net effect was even greater celebrity status for the princess. She continued to serve with distinction, and eventually left the navy with a reserve commission as a Commander, seemingly determined to follow in her father's footsteps. The navy first . . . then politics. If it was good enough for Daddy, it was good enough for her.

At first she headed a variety of commissions, represented her father at ceremonial occasions, and performed other largely symbolic functions. Gradually, however, Claudia worked her way into positions of genuine responsibility, heading up a succession of small governmental departments, until finally her father agreed to place her on the Board of Military Governors. It was a position of some power, since it was the Board's responsibility to oversee the military on the Emperor's behalf, and that included approving all promotions above the rank of commander. The Board also oversaw the navy's budget and general state of readiness. As a result, some very important people began to take Claudia seriously, and many wondered if the Emperor had already chosen her to succeed him.