Alien Bounty (4 page)

Nonetheless there was a rock in his gut as the ship's computer made the shift to normal space. The viewscreens shimmered as they switched from simulated to actual input. He felt slightly nauseated but the sensation quickly passed.

Suddenly a host of proximity alarms went off. Someone was waiting for him. A lot of someones. It looked like half the Il Ronnian fleet had turned out to greet him. Battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and hundreds of interceptors all swarmed around his tiny ship.

The Il Ronn had been afraid that the treacherous humans might send an entire fleet instead of a single ship. And McCade couldn't blame them. After all, why trust the same folks who ripped you off in the first place?

The dulcet tones of the ship's computer suddenly flooded the control room. It had analyzed the situation and given itself permission to speak. "Due to this ship's current tactical situation, the chances of a successful engagement are zero. Under these conditions any decision to engage will nullify the hull warranty and the manufacturer's responsibility to honor it. If you prefer suicide to surrender, I will dump the ship's atmosphere."

"Gee thanks," McCade replied dryly. "But in this case I think I'll surrender. Now shut up."

Clearly disappointed, the computer snapped, "Have it your way," and returned to its regular duties.

The com set chimed and McCade flicked it on. "Sam McCade."

As the com set came to life McCade found himself face to face with an Il Ronnian naval officer. Although he'd dealt with Il Ronnians before, including a rather unpleasant naval commander named Reez, it was still a shock.

Like all Il Ronnians this one looked like the traditional human image of the "Devil." The alien's eyes were almost invisible under a craggy brow, long pointy ears lay flat against his head, and his leathery skin had a slightly reddish hue. He even had a long tail with a triangular appendage on the end. And McCade knew that down below the range of the vid pickup, there would be two cloven hooves. Everything in fact except horns.

The similarity between Il Ronnian physiology and the traditional Judeo-Christian image of evil had long been a matter for academic debate. Some scholars thought the Il Ronnians' devillike appearance could account for the instant enmity that had sprung up between the two races at first contact. They suggested that after a thousand years of negative conditioning humans weren't capable of liking a race that resembled the devil.

This argument was very popular with those who opposed war with the Il Ronn.

Meanwhile, other scholars disagreed. They maintained that ancient depictions of the devil were based on early visits to Earth by Il Ronnian explorers. Explorers so brutal that their very appearance had come to symbolize evil.

They pointed out that the Il Ronnians had a stardrive long before man, were known to use brutal tactics on less advanced races, and
were
evil.

As a result this second group of scholars felt war was inevitable, and felt the human race might as well get it over with.

Whatever the truth of the matter this Il Ronnian seemed no friendlier than the others McCade had met. His tail twitched back and forth behind his head and he wore a thin-lipped scowl. He spoke flawless Standard like most Il Ronnians of his rank. "I am Star Sept Sector Commander Ceel. You will kill your drives and allow us to take you aboard."

McCade tried for a nonchalant smile. "Valet parking, how thoughtful."

Ceel's scowl deepened and the com set dumped to black.

McCade smiled as he killed his drives. Tractor beams lashed out shortly thereafter to lock
Pegasus
in a powerful embrace and pull her toward a huge battleship.

The ship was miles long and roughly triangular in shape. Designed for travel in deep space, it had none of the aerodynamic smoothness common to smaller ships. An endless array of weapons blisters, solar collectors, cooling fins, and communications antennas covered almost every square inch of the ship's hull.
Pegasus
seemed like a toy as she was pulled into an enormous launching bay and gently lowered into an empty berth.

The outer hatch closed and a thin atmosphere was pumped into the launching bay. This was a sign of his importance, although McCade didn't realize it.

The bay was kept unpressurized most of the time for the convenience of the shuttles and interceptors that constantly came and went. But when important visitors came aboard it was customary to pressurize the bay, saving them the discomfort of wearing space armor.

Of course, outside of his space armor McCade would be more vulnerable, and that too could have played a part in their decision.

A soft chime told him someone was at the main lock. Punching up a surveillance camera, he saw that an entire squad of Il Ronnian Sand Sept troopers stood waiting outside. They were heavily armed.

He activated the intercom. "Hi, guys. Are twelve enough? Maybe you'd better send for reinforcement . . .. I'm real grumpy today."

Either the troopers didn't understand him or chose to ignore him, because their stony expressions remained unchanged.

Knowing what to expect, McCade changed into summer-weight trousers and a short-sleeved mesh shirt. Just for the fun of it he strapped on his sidearm as well. It didn't mean much since he was outnumbered a thousand to one, but he was used to wearing one, and the weight of it made him feel better.

He took one last look around to make sure all the ship's systems were powered down, grabbed a fistful of cigars, and headed for the lock.

He cycled through, stepped out onto a set of rollaway stairs, and grinned. Twelve pairs of eyes went to his handgun and back to his face. To his surprise they made no attempt to take it away.

An Eighth Sept Commander stepped forward, cleared his throat nervously, and said, "Star Sept Sector Commander Ceel bids you welcome. Please follow me."

McCade did as he was told. His honor guard, with the emphasis on
guard,
followed along behind. As they marched their steel-capped hooves crashed to the deck in perfect cadence.

They cycled through one of the many locks providing access to the interior of the ship. After the pleasant coolness of the launching bay, it was like stepping into the center of a blast furnace.

Having been on an Il Ronnian ship once before, McCade had prepared himself for the heat but was still surprised by the intensity of it. The Il Ronnians liked to keep their ships warm like the desert planet they came from, and that's why McCade had worn the lightweight clothing, and was soon soaked with his own sweat in spite of it.

The ship was so huge that it took a full fifteen minutes to reach their destination. They marched down sandy brown corridors, rode up lift tubes large enough to accommodate a quarter sept, and rode the rest of the way in a pneumatic tube system.

Wherever McCade went members of the ship's crew stopped to stare. Many had never seen a human before, and those who had were still surprised to see one inside an Il Ronnian warship.

And while McCade had dealt with many alien cultures over the years, he couldn't remember a time when he'd been so completely immersed in one without so much as a single human face to keep him company. It made him feel like a freak, a curiosity led about on a leash, and he didn't like it.

Unlike humans who constantly sought ways to create open spaces in their ships, the Il Ronn preferred the coziness of their traditional underground dwellings, and built their spacecraft accordingly.

So the approach to Sector Commander Ceel's quarters was small and narrow, suddenly opening up into a circular space similar to an underground cave.

As McCade followed the Il Ronnian officer through the passageway, he realized it would force intruders to attack one at a time, giving the defenders one hell of an advantage. A sensible precaution that had found its way from caves to spaceships. As he stepped inside the air crackled around him.

A sensurround gave McCade the impression that he was standing in the middle of a desert. It stretched away in every direction, reddish streaks hinting at a time when the Il Ronnians' skin color had served as protective coloration, finally blending into a purplish sky on the far horizon. Some very real sand crunched under McCade's boots and added to the overall reality of the scene.

He wondered what happened to the sand during zero G maneuvers. Did they vacuum it up or something? There was no way to tell.

Ten Il Ronnians sat in a semicircle before him. They seemed to be sitting on a bench of native stone but appearances were probably deceiving.

In their view the Il Ronnians outranked him, so in keeping with custom, they remained seated. Sector Commander Ceel was the first to speak.

"Welcome, Sam McCade. I see you come before us armed."

McCade tilted his head backward, exposing the major veins in his neck. "A warrior is always armed in defense of his people. My life is yours."

It was a calculated move, a traditional saying straight from the messiah's memories, and it got the desired effect. Ceel was caught entirely off guard, as were most of the other Il Ronnians. They looked at one another in amazement. A polite human? Unheard of!

But one Il Ronnian wore the red cloak of the warrior-priest rather than the purple of the Star Sept. And he was not impressed. "Yes, your life
is
ours, human, and to keep it you need more than a passing knowledge of Il Ronnian custom."

The warrior-priest gestured toward the single rock facing the semicircle of Il Ronnians. "Take a seat."

McCade did as he was told. Real or not, the rock was damned hard and slightly pointy. He was in no danger of falling asleep.

The priest spoke again. "I am Teeb the interrogator. Understand from the start that I oppose your admittance to the honored ranks of the Ilwik. But I must bend before the wishes of my peace-loving brethren and will give you every chance. Every chance that time allows. Unfortunately we must accelerate your testing due to the urgent need for action. Under normal circumstances testing takes place over a period of ten year cycles."

Teeb paused as though giving McCade time to absorb what he'd said. "There are two levels of testing, an initial phase in which we will determine your worthiness, and if you qualify, a second phase in which you will undergo the three trials of the Ilwik, or warrior-priest. The first phase will start in a moment. You noticed our battle fleet as you came out of hyperspace?"

McCade nodded. "Yes, holy one. It was hard to miss."

Teeb's tail appeared over his head, the pointy appendage shading him from the sun. "Good. The fleet is here for two reasons. The first is to defend against treachery, something we expect from your kind, and the second is to launch a surprise attack against the human empire should you fail the first tests. Shall we begin?"

McCade tried to remain calm. It wasn't easy. A test? So soon? What if he failed? He imagined a thousand Il Ronnian vessels flashing out of hyperspace, blasting their way through a scattering of navy ships to destroy planet after planet. Thousands, maybe millions, would die, all because he'd failed some stupid test. Teeb smiled as though reading his thoughts. "Yes, it is a large responsibility, is it not? I hope your superiors chose well, for their sake, as well as yours."

McCade replied with a crooked smile. "We'll soon know, won't we? Let's get on with it."

"My sentiments exactly," Teeb replied. "You are wearing the holy bracelet of Nik. Millions of candidates have worn it before you, including myself many year cycles in the past."

McCade looked at the bracelet in surprise. "This same bracelet?"

Teeb frowned in annoyance. "That is what I said. Those who the bracelet finds worthy are given certain knowledge, knowledge that I am about to test. Do you understand?"

Sweat poured off McCade's body. He should have taken some salt tablets but hadn't thought to do so. If the test took very long, he'd pass out from heat prostration. If so, he'd kill as many of them as he could before he went under. Teeb and Sector Commander Ceel would be the first to go.

McCade wiped the sweat off his forehead and swallowed to lubricate his dry throat. "Yeah, I understand. Like I said before, let's get on with it."

Teeb looked at the other Il Ronnians as if checking to make sure that they'd heard McCade's response. "Good. Here is the first question. When the great teacher was still an Ilwid, or uninitiated male, his egg mother taught him a lesson about the holy fluid. What was that lesson?"

McCade's mind was a complete blank. All he could see was hell bombs falling and entire planets erupting into flame.

A slow smile started across Teeb's thin lips at McCade's silence. It was just as he'd predicted. The human could not answer the question and the farce was almost over. He was just about to call the whole thing off when McCade croaked, cleared his throat, and spoke.

One moment there was nothing but death and destruction, and next McCade had been transported back in time, to a planet he'd never seen. And as the words poured out he knew they were right, because he'd been there, and lived the entire incident along with the young messiah.

He'd been playing hide and seek with a young female named Lees. He was small for his age and often excluded from the rough and tumble male games. As a result he was left to play by himself or with females.

He didn't like being left out, but Lees was more fun than the males, most of whom had little or no imagination. They delighted in seeing who could throw rocks the farthest, run the fastest, or lift the most weight.

Lees, meanwhile, created armies for him to lead, wars for him to fight, and entire kingdoms for him to conquer. She also invented games, his favorite being hide and seek, played in the labyrinth of tunnels shared by their sept.

They would play for hours alternating between excruciating suspense and gleeful discovery. Such was the case the day he violated one of the sept's most important taboos.

It happened because he was having such a good time. The feeling had been there for some time, the unmistakable urge to urinate, but that would mean a long trip through the tunnels to the recycling vats, followed by an equally long trip back. By that time Lees might have lost interest in the game, or gone off to do something else. Besides, he'd found a wonderful hiding place and hated to give it up.