Then somewhere deep in the guts of the crawler something broke with a resounding clang. Fear struck the pit of McCade's stomach. His left cheek twitched uncontrollably as he looked at Rico.
Through gritted teeth Rico said, "Port engine again . . . just couldn't take it. Same bearing."
"Can we keep going?" McCade asked as a terrible groaning noise began.
"For a while," Rico said, fighting to correct a sudden skew to the left, "until she bums up. Then we walk. Or should I say dig?" Rico grinned before turning back to his controls.
McCade fought to control the combination of fear, impatience, and frustration he felt. He knew Rico was doing all that could be done. Still it was hard to just sit. Glancing up at the sensors he saw that they were much closer. "Just a little bit farther," he chanted under his breath. "Just a little bit farther."
The stern monitor showed a much longer tunnel now, with only a small circle of daylight still showing at the far end. As McCade watched, dark shapes began to obstruct the light as Lakorian troops began to pour in behind them. Then they were gone . . . obscured by clouds of steam as they sprayed water on hot spots. Pretty soon all the troops would be committed. Then, if the crawler broke down, Zorta would be able to trap Lif's entire force by putting a single section at the tunnel's entrance. They'd roll a few charges down the passageway, and that would be the end of it. For months Zorta would think about the army that buried itself, and laugh.
Forcing such thoughts aside, McCade resumed his chant. "Come on, baby . . . just a little bit farther."
Acrid smoke began to seep into the control room from the engine compartment. The grinding noise was now punctuated by a regular thump, and the overall vibration had grown much worse. Next to him Rico was bathed in sweat. His eyes were locked on the sensors and his lips moved in silent prayer. They were close. Very close. Then as though in answer to their prayers they were through. The front end of the crawler dropped twenty feet with a sickening crunch that left McCade's stomach somewhere on the overhead. All the external video cams came back on, along with a host of warning buzzers and trouble lights.
McCade hit the quick release on his harness as he checked the monitors. They had broken through the durocrete walls into some kind of warehouse. Stacks of crates stretched off into the distance in orderly rows. As far as McCade could tell there wasn't anybody around at the moment. He had a feeling that this wouldn't last long.
Hitting the intercom he said, "Amos, Phil, grab Softie and let's bail out. Do your best to set up some kind of a defensive perimeter until we get some troops out of the tunnel."
"Right, boss," Van Doren's voice came back. "Tell Rico this is the worst parking job I've ever seen."
Rico grinned as he picked up an energy weapon and backpack from behind his seat. "Typical back seat driver. Ya just can't please everybody, ol' sport."
McCade laughed with relief as he grabbed his knapsack and auto-slug thrower. "Well, let's ruin Zorta's day!"
Moments later they were outside the crawler, spreading out to take up defensive positions. Behind them the crawler loomed like a beached whale. Its bow was smashed into the warehouse floor and its stern still rested in the tunnel some thirty feet up. There would just barely be room for the Lakorian troops to squeeze by the crawler and out the tunnel. While the others set up interlocking fields of fire, McCade climbed onto some of the crates.
They had been lucky to break into an unpopulated area of the complex. But they were going to need some transportation soon. Once the leading elements of the troops left the tunnel, they would have to move quickly, before Zorta could organize his forces and respond. Otherwise they would be bottled up in the warehouse area and might never break out. From the top of the crates McCade had an excellent view of the surrounding area. It took only a moment to spot a wheeled vehicle hooked to a train of power pallets loaded with cargo. Quickly scrambling down he started to work his way through the stacks of material and toward the vehicle. Then he heard a shouted Lakorian command and the sizzle of an energy weapon. The battle had begun.
Peering around a corner McCade spotted Zorta's troops. Only a half section or so, thank God. They had taken cover behind some duct work and were under fire from Rico and the others.
Turning his attention back to the vehicle, he took a deep breath, got set, and dashed across the open space between the crates and the small tractor. He knew he was in full view of the Lakorians and expected to feel the impact of a hit any second. He reached the vehicle and ducked around to the other side, surprised they hadn't spotted him, but damned glad.
In the driver's seat he found himself facing strange controls. Fortunately the answer was absurdly simple. In place of an ignition code there was a simple "on-off" switch. Flicking the switch to "on," he tapped the accelerator experimentally and then the brake. They worked perfectly.
Glancing over his shoulder he saw that two Lakorians were down and the others weren't looking his way. No time like the present, he decided, and put his foot to the floor. It was wasted effort. The little electric motor wasn't geared for fast getaways and was woefully underpowered to boot. Very gradually the little tractor eased into motion with its loaded train of power pallets following dutifully along behind.
McCade turned the handle bars and felt the vehicle's sluggish response as it headed sedately across the open floor toward the distant protection of the crates. From his left he heard a Lakorian shout and knew he'd been spotted. Gritting his teeth and gripping the handle bars until his knuckles turned white, he continued to hold the accelerator to the floor as the tractor gradually built up speed.
The flash of an energy beam cut across in front of him, leaving a black line on the durocrete floor. Swerving left and right he did his best to ruin their aim, but there was an impact as the rearmost power pallet was cut in two. Deprived of power, the front half of the pallet fell to the floor and was dragged along with a terrible screeching sound. It cut the tractor's speed in half. His eyes desperately searched the controls until he found a pictograph of the train. He touched the last car in line and then the button with the universal "disconnect" symbol on it. To his tremendous relief he felt the surge of speed as the wreckage fell away. Seconds later he was safely hidden behind some crates and weaving in and out toward the wrecked crawler.
Rounding a final stack of boxes, he saw the leading elements of Lif's troops making their way out of the tunnel and down to the warehouse floor. Swinging in front of them, he saw the Baron and waved. Lif immediately understood the need for transportation and ordered his troops to jump aboard.
Rico, Van Doren, Phil, and the Treel hopped aboard too as McCade headed the tractor up a wide ramp. Glancing in his rear view mirror he saw that Rico and Van Doren had the troops hard at work taking cargo from the center of each pallet and throwing it overboard, thereby creating a hollow space in which they could take cover. It wouldn't protect them from energy weapons, but it would provide some defense against slug throwers. The ramp continued to lead upward in a gentle curve. McCade kept expecting to run into an organized defense, but they didn't. Later he would learn that Zorta had placed most of his available troops on the upper levels of his complex, assuming Lif would try to break in from above. When they tunneled in from below, the King should have moved his troops down to meet the invaders. Unfortunately for him, Zorta refused to believe the early reports of a subterranean breakthrough, and by the time he did, it was much too late.
However not all of Zorta's troops were on the upper levels. Some were engaged in routine chores on the lower levels, and some were off duty. These were more than sufficient to cause the invaders problems and quickly did so. Listening to the garbled reports of an underground invasion that flooded his belt radio, one corporal used his head. Quickly drafting every private in sight, he used them to erect a barricade across the main ramp leading up from the lower levels. At his direction the troops used anything that was handy, including office furniture, packing crates, and a wealth of odds and ends.
As soo
n as it came into sight, the tractor came under fire. The corporal had placed his men well, and they knew their business. All McCade could do was keep going. If they left the protection of the train there was no cover at all. If he tried to turn around, he'd expose the length of the train to raking fire. He gritted his teeth and ducked, as did Baron Lif. A second later an energy beam sliced through the tractor's cab about head high, leaving behind the smell of hot metal and burned plastic.
Meanwhile, led by Van Doren and the others, Lif's troops opened an ineffectual fire on the barricade. Their efforts were hampered by the tractor and pallets in front of them, and their aim wasn't improved any when McCade began to swerve from side to side in an attempt at evasive action.
However Rico did manage to intimidate Zorta's troops with an automatic grenade launcher he'd picked up somewhere. As he targeted a line of explosions across the top of the barricade, the defenders were forced down and back.
The Treel did his part as well, yelling "Die, Infidel," as he systematically picked off enemy troopers.
McCade held the tractor's accelerator to the floor, but as before he found he couldn't make any real speed. The tractor took its own sweet time to cover the remaining yards and finally crash into the barricade.
McCade squeezed between a huge packing crate and a filing cabinet only to find himself the target of a wicked, foot-long bayonet in the fist of a charging Lakorian regular. McCade's slug gun bucked three times, stitching big black holes across the soldier's chest and spraying gore out behind him. The alien's inertia carried him past to crash into the barricade before sliding to the floor.
Around him similar encounters were taking place as McCade jumped on top of a desk. "Take prisoners! We need prisoners!" he shouted.
His reward for exposing himself was a searing line of pain across the top of his shoulder. He spun around, searching for the source and found it. The slug gun roared twice and the impact of the huge slugs blew one side of the Lakorian's head off before spinning him around like a top.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the battle was over.
"Over here, boss!" Van Doren shouted. "We've got a live one!"
McCade arrived to find there were four live ones. And as luck would have it, one of them was the same corporal who had ordered the defense.
"So far he's not talking, boss," Van Doren said crossly. "Shall I knock him around a little?"
"First allow me to test my powers of persuasion, good Squire." Baron Lif smoothly inserted himself between Van Doren and the corporal. "We have a saying. The wise man trades words before blows." With that he began talking to the soldier in low, urgent tones.
As the Baron interrogated the corporal, a second contingent of his troops arrived from the tunnel and formed up to advance upon command.
At a gesture from Lif, McCade moved over to join him. To McCade's surprise the corporal was smiling as he ripped Zorta's insignia from his own uniform. His three remaining subordinants were doing likewise.
"I would like to introduce you to Staff Sergeant Poka, good Knight. The sergeant and his men have decided to ally themselves with the side of freedom and justice."
And the side that's winning, McCade thought. "Welcome aboard, Sergeant," McCade said. "You and your men put up a valiant defense."
Poka inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you, sire. How may my men and I serve you?"
"First as guides, I suspect," Lif answered, looking at McCade for confirmation. "I assume that was why you called for prisoners, my friend."
"Exactly, my lord," McCade bowed slightly. "I suggest you and your men strike out for Zorta's quarters under the sergeant's guidance. Once Zorta is in your hands, his troops will cave in rather quickly, I think. Meanwhile, if one of the sergeant's men could be spared, we will search for the Princess."
"Of course, good Knight, it shall be as you say." The Baron regarded McCade silently for a moment before speaking again. "You and your men have forged links of friendship not easily broken, my friend."
Lif was saying good-bye. Somehow he knew McCade didn't intend to be around for the victory celebration—or defeat—whichever might occur. As he gripped the Baron's hand, McCade saw genuine regret in the Lakorian's eyes. To his own surprise he realized he too felt regret. Lif was a crafty bastard, but a good bastard all the same.
Sergeant Poka detailed a Private Ven as McCade's guide. Ven was undersized, by Lakorian standards, and had a shifty look about him. McCade had a hunch their new guide would be about as dependable as a Linthian Rath snake during the mating season. With that in mind, he called Phil over.
"Phil, I'd like you to meet Private Ven. He's going to take us to the slave quarters, aren't you, Ven?"
The Lakorian nodded eagerly, eyes shifting nervously back and forth between the human and the Variant.
"Make sure that nothing happens to Ven, Phil," said McCade meaningfully.
"Gotcha, Sam," Phil replied with a grin that revealed rows of durasteel teeth. "Ven and I are going to be real close friends, aren't we, Ven?"
The Lakorian didn't reply, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from those gleaming teeth.
Lif's troops meanwhile had begun their advance up the ramp in search of King Zorta.
After a short huddle with Ven, Phil said, "According to my good buddy here, the slave quarters are directly above us. Evidently the lower levels of the complex are considered the least desirable. We broke in on the lowest or utility level. Above us are the slave quarters, kitchens and mess hall. The troops are quartered on the level above that, and then comes a floor dedicated to Zorta's private quarters and guest suites. The very topmost level is all for defense and features an air strip and a small spaceport."
He looked at McCade with a raised eyebrow. McCade nodded his understanding. It was something they had to think about. With the tractor gone and their crawler out of action, they needed a way out. If they could find Sara and then reach the top level, maybe they could steal a plane. Time would tell.
"All right, let's get moving," McCade said, reloading his slug gun. He'd lost the auto-slug thrower somewhere, but decided not to look for it.
Using an electronic key, Ven opened one of the hatches spaced at regular intervals along the ramp's wall. Once open, the hatch revealed a vertical ladder, evidently provided for maintenance purposes. Without hesitation Ven started climbing upward and Phil followed. McCade was next. As he climbed, he found the spacing of the rungs more suited to shorter Lakorian legs than his own. Below him Rico, Van Doren, and the Treel followed. Cold air blew down against his face. Evidently the shaft also served as part of the air conditioning system. By the time they reached the next landing, McCade was out of breath and damned cold to boot. With Phil and Ven, he waited on the landing, catching his breath as Rico, Van Doren, and the Treel climbed up to join them.
Ven opened another hatch and peeked out. A moment later he slipped through the opening, motioning to the rest to follow. They emerged into a side corridor which was, for the moment, empty. As they followed Ven down the hallway, McCade could hear the distant sounds of an alarm gong and fighting. Lif's forces had evidently made contact with Zorta's troops.
"Stop!"
The order came from behind them and was answered with a bolt from Van Doren's energy weapon. A soldier wearing half a cook's outfit and half a uniform crumpled to the floor, his weapon falling from dead fingers. They were off and running after that. Ven led them from one corridor to the next with remarkable speed. Of course the fact that Phil was right behind him probably helped.
As they ran they traded occasional shots with barely glimpsed troops who also seemed to be running somewhere. But they managed to avoid prolonged firefights. Until Ven whipped around one corner too many without looking first. They rounded the corner and ran full tilt into a whole section of Lakorian troops. Fortunately the soldiers were facing the other way with their weapons trained on a large steel door. In a flash McCade guessed why. The slaves were taking advantage of Lif's attack and were trying to escape
. The searing white light of the energy beam cutting its way around the lock from the other side confirmed his guess.
Unfortunately Ven's inertia proved to be so great he was unable to stop and crashed full speed into the rearmost trooper, who took several others down with him as he fell. Taking advantage of the confusion thus created, McCade and the others hit the deck and opened fire. Caught between hostile fire and a steel door, it didn't take the noncoms long to decide that discretion was indeed the better part of valor and try for a hasty retreat down a side corridor. Their orderly withdrawal was turned into a rout when Rico brought his grenade launcher into play.
Approaching the steel door, McCade felt a wave of heat and smelled a mixture of smoke and Lakorian body odor. He noticed that the cutting beam had almost circled the lock. He stepped back and went to kneel beside Ven's body. At McCade's touch the Lakorian's eyes flew open and flitted about, shrewdly evaluating the situation. Satisfied the danger had past, Ven quickly regained his feet, evidently untouched, and confirming McCade's estimate of the Lakorian's potential for duplicity.
"Well, sire," Ven said blandly as he dusted himself off, "I guess we showed them!"
With a loud clang, a six-inch thick circular slab of metal hit the floor. Slowly, against the resistance of its normal mechanical system, the huge door was rolled aside to reveal a mob of angry slaves. They were waving weapons of all kinds, from chair legs to captured energy weapons. As the door slid out of the way, they charged, and then jerked to a sudden halt at a sign from their helmeted leader.
The leader took two paces forward before lifting the helmet's visor. "Well, Sam," Sara said, "what took you so long?"
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