At this point Oeem held out his right arm to point a quivering talon at Reep. "Only this young warrior had the courage to lay his life and career on the line for us . . . and now, when he should be receiving our highest award for valor . . . he stands before us accused of crimes. Each and every one of us should be ashamed of this day!"
McCade was impressed with Oeem's oratorical skill and decided that in spite of whatever bad luck had befallen Reep up till now, winding up with Oeem as his representative had been fortunate indeed.
"Thank you, Captain Oeem. Sixteenth Commander Reep, is there anything that you'd like to add?"
Reep seemed to grow another inch as he snapped to attention. "Sir, no, sir. Captain Oeem has done an excellent job of stating my case."
McCade nodded. "All right then. I will withdraw to consider the evidence. When I return I will render my verdict. You may return to your seats."
As McCade stood and made his way across the rock ledge and into the cave he heard a growing murmur behind him. Twenty thousand Il Ronnians were discussing the case. What would the human decide? A good question, and one he'd like an answer to as well.
It felt strange to enter the great Ilwik's cave. He'd been there countless times in his dreams and knew every nook and cranny of the place. Over there, where a thousand cook fires had blackened the wall, the great Ilwik had prepared his simple meals. And there, where a replica of the teacher's thin mattress lay, was where he'd slept. Slept peacefully until they came in the night to take him away.
And even as they tortured the life from his frail body and milked the tears from his dying eyes, he had forgiven and blessed them saying "I shall return."
And through the bracelet he had returned, a thousand times and more, as an unending chain of minds relived his life. And through his teachings the great Ilwik still lived on as an example of what sentient beings could be if they so chose.
A sudden flood of anger and determination rose to fill McCade's mind and emotions. On one level the Vial of Tears was stupid. A religious artifact that the great Ilwik would laugh at if he were alive. Yet on another it had value as a connection between the past and the present, as a symbol of one being's sacrifice, and of the things he'd stood for.
Suddenly McCade was determined to find the Vial of Tears, not just for Sara and Molly, but for the Il Ronnians as well. First however he had to become a full-fledged Ilwik and that meant reaching a judgment about Reep and himself.
Dropping onto the concave surface of a ledge where the Ilwik had loved to meditate, McCade stuck a cigar between his teeth and turned the case over in his mind. Like his own court martial the case revolved around a conflict between military discipline and compassion for others. Like McCade, Reep had been forced to choose between the two, and opted for compassion.
Unlike McCade however, Reep had a judge who was both sane and sympathetic. That suggested a verdict of not guilty.
Yet McCade had been an officer himself. He understood the need for discipline and he knew that disobedience had cost far more lives than it had ever saved. What to do?
He rolled the unlit cigar between his fingers, and as he did, an answer came.
From his subconscious? From walls that had absorbed the great Ilwik's wisdom? He didn't know or care, but the words certainly came from the great teacher.
"True justice lays outside the jurisdiction of the sept and is not ours to give. All else is symbolic and therefore less than perfect."
McCade stood, stuck the cigar in a pocket, and walked out of the cave with his mind made up.
As he came into sight the murmur of conversation gradually died away until perfect silence filled the room.
Stepping onto the Rock of Truth, McCade looked out at twenty thousand Il Ronnian faces, then down at the three who more than all the rest waited for him to speak.
Deex wore an expression of rock-hard determination, while Oeem looked concerned, and Reep tried to keep his features blank.
McCade cleared his throat, but the cigar butt he'd dropped earlier caught his eye and he bent over to pick it up. He slipped it into a pocket of his cool suit and lifted his eyes to the audience.
Two vid cams moved in for a closer look. "I've reached a verdict that I now submit for your consideration."
Forty thousand red eyes stared back at him in stony silence.
"It is my judgment that both sides of the case have considerable merit. Commander Deex is correct. Discipline is absolutely essential to any military organization, and as Commander Reep admits, he refused a direct order from his commanding officer. In light of that fact a prison sentence and loss of rank seem quite appropriate."
McCade saw Deex smile and Reep sag momentarily before forcing himself back to attention.
"On the other hand, we must also look at the effect of Commander Reep's actions. Through his valor a loss became a victory, innocent lives were saved, and the pirates were vanquished. Under normal circumstances his name would be submitted for a Medal of Eternal Valor."
Now Reep brightened and Oeem looked hopeful.
"So as punishment for his crimes I sentence Sixteenth Commander Reep to five annual cycles in prison, suspended, and reduction in rank to noncommissioned officer status. And in recognition of his bravery, I award Commander Reep a Medal of Eternal Valor and congratulate him on behalf of the Il Ronnian people."
As McCade's words echoed away the silence grew long and thin. And then, just when McCade's heart had begun to sink, a tiny hissing was heard. It grew louder and louder until finally it filled the canyon with its force.
As Deex glowered, Oeem hissed, and Reep grinned, twenty thousand tails lashed their approval. Justice had been served.
Twelve
The transcar was still moving when the Sand Sept troopers jumped out and checked the platform. After a quick look around they gave the all-clear and McCade stepped out with Teeb at his side.
A long red cape swirled around McCade as he moved, causing bystanders to turn and stare transfixed by the sight of a human Ilwik.
McCade's relationship with Teeb had entered a new phase. The Il Ronnian was genuinely pleased with McCade's success and considered himself to be the human's mentor. In fact, Neem had disappeared, apparently relegated to lesser duties somewhere else.
So Teeb and McCade followed along behind as the Sand Sept troopers cleared a way through the crowd.
"So, Sam, one ordeal ends and another begins."
"True," McCade agreed. "I wish the second ordeal had a better chance of success. Finding the Vial of Tears will be like searching for a grain of sand in the middle of a desert."
Teeb waved the saying away with the tip of his tail. "Do not be so quick to doubt, egg brother. I once said you would never pass the tests, but now you wear the red, and the people honor you as one of their own. Where one miracle comes another can follow."
"I hope so," McCade replied doubtfully. "I sure hope so."
And there was reason for concern. McCade had one standard month in which to find the holy relic, and if he didn't, the conservatives would reach consensus and declare war on the human empire. He hoped the human empire was using the time to get ready.
A sharp right carried them into a heavily used corridor. It was full to overflowing with Star Sept troopers, administrative personnel, and spidery maintenance bots. All but the most senior officers hurried to get out of the way, and even they bowed their respect, entranced by the sight of an alien Ilwik.
A host of familiar odors filled McCade's nostrils as they neared the underground hangar. There was the smell of hot metal, the stench of high octane fuel, and the ever-present stink of ozone.
A set of heavy blastproof doors cycled open at their approach and revealed a waiting aircar. It was oval in shape with rows of bench seats. As they took their seats Sand Sept troopers jumped on the running boards and the car began to lift. Seconds later it was scooting full speed toward the far end of the hangar.
The hangar was huge. A deep rumbling came from up above as massive d
oors slid back to reveal a violet sky. A black wedge slid into sight, its navigation lights strobing on and off as it dropped toward the hangar below. Its shadow quickly shrunk until the rumble of the hangar doors was lost in the scream of the ship's repellors. Dust flared as it touched down and robo tenders rolled out to refuel it.
Farther down five interceptors took off on a training exercise. They seemed to float upward, riding their repellors until clear of the hangar and free to engage their main drives. Then they were gone, mere specks at the far end of long white contrails, arrows headed for the blackness of space.
Meanwhile the aircar passed rank after rank of ships. Some were military, some were civilian, all were in various stages of maintenance or repair. Technicians and robots swarmed around them like acolytes around a series of altars.
And everywhere smaller craft swooped, darted, and dived as they went about their various chores. It made such a spectacle that McCade was taken by surprise when the aircar came in for a landing next to a smallish ship.
Not just any ship, but his ship! McCade ran a critical eye over her hull as he got out of the aircar. Pegasus looked just the way he'd left her; in fact, she looked even better. Light reflected off the new coat of heat reflectant paint that covered the hull and a number of small dents had disappeared.
"We took the liberty of doing some maintenance on your ship," Teeb said. "There is no cause for alarm. While we are not really set up for maintenance on human ships, we do capture them from time to time, and our technicians have become quite adept at working on them."
"Well, it certainly looks good," McCade said cautiously. "Send the bill to Prince Alexander."
"I would not think of it," Teeb answered with a straight face. "As an Ilwik you have a generous expense account plus a salary of one hundred thousand rang a year."
"Really?" McCade asked, brightening at the thought of additional income. "Well, here's hoping I live long enough to spend it."
Teeb stuck his hand out human style and McCade took it. The Il Ronnian's grip was strong and leathery. "Good luck, Sam."
"Same to you, egg brother," and to McCade's surprise, he found he meant it.
McCade had climbed the rollaway stairs, and was just about to enter the ship's lock when Teeb called after him. "Sam!"
"Yeah?"
"I left some presents for you. I hope you'll find them useful."
McCade waved. "I'm sure I will. Tell Neem I said goodbye." And with that he entered the lock.
It felt good to be inside his own ship again. For one thing it meant he could shed the cool suit and enjoy some honest to goodness air-conditioning.
Stripping to the skin, McCade stepped into the fresher, took a shower, and blew himself dry. Much refreshed, he made for the control room clad in nothing more than a good cigar.
He was humming to himself and emitting small puffs of smoke when he stepped into the control room and came to a sudden stop.
Neem and Reba looked up from their pre-flight check lists and smiled. Reba was the first to speak. "Welcome aboard, Captain. Is that the uniform of the day?"
Thirteen
As Pegasus headed for the human empire McCade relaxed in the ship's small lounge and thought about Teeb's "presents." Reba and Neem. Beauty and the beast.
On many rim worlds Neem would be shot on sight. People don't like Il Ronnians out along the rim, especially on planets like Arno that had been settled by a fundamentalist religious sect. They would see Neem as the devil incarnate and would either shoot him or run screaming for their temples. Either way it was a problem, so Neem would have to stay aboard the ship.
Of course, Neem could command the cooperation of any Il Ronnian warships that happened along, and if they actually found the vial, he could take it home, a trip McCade could do without.
Even so, McCade wondered if Teeb secretly hoped Neem wouldn't come back at all, and was using the situation to unload a nutcase.
Reba on the other hand was a definite asset. Or so it seemed anyway. She was a qualified pilot, a fairly good medic, and fun to look at besides. All skills that could come in handy.
She also swore that her pirate days were over, that she owed McCade a debt of gratitude, and that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to help recover the Vial of Tears. Well, time would tell.
McCade really didn't care as long as she stuck around long enough to give him what he needed most, access to the planet called "The Rock."
McCade requested a Terran whiskey from the autobar and lit a cigar.
Neem entered the lounge, nodded politely, and plopped down in front of the holo player. He put on a set of earphones and stared intently into the holo tank. Another whodunit most likely. The Il Ronnian loved them.
McCade forced his thoughts back to the problem at hand: "The Rock." Once, back during Confederation times, the planet had teemed with life. Thick jungle had wrapped the planet in green, mountains had soared to the sky, and rivers had cut their way down to seas rich with life.
But that was gone now, erased by the hell bombs used to sanitize the planet's surface.
Even then the Il Ronnian empire was expanding, and forts were needed to stop the inexorable advance, forts powerful enough to stand off an invading fleet. So a planet was chosen and prepared. And by the time the engineers finished there was nothing left. Not a tree, not a mountain, not a single body of water. All of it gone right down to the bedrock.
A fortress was constructed. It covered more than a hundred square miles and drew its power from the planet's core. Powerful weapons were placed around the circumference of the planet and aimed toward space. More weapons were placed on orbiting weapons platforms and these too were aimed outward.
Years passed and an Il Ronnian attack never came. The Confederacy destroyed itself instead and gave rise to the Empire. But some continued to resist the Emperor and in so doing gave the fortress a new purpose.
Thousands of prisoners vanished into the sprawling complex and rechristened the planet "the Rock" after a famous prison on old Earth. And like its namesake the Rock offered no chance of escape. No one could survive on the planet's sterile surface, and even if they did, there was no way off.
Sure, they could take over the complex itself, but why bother? The weapons on the orbiting platforms, like those on the planet's four moons, were now turned inward and manned by marines. Nothing could move without their approval.
As things turned out that was a serious mistake.
The attack seemed like a joke at first. A pathetic attempt by the remains of a rebel fleet to rescue their comrades, strike one last blow for a defeated cause, and go out with a bang.
Though defeated by Admiral Keaton at the Battle of Hell, what was left of the rebel fleet had split up and come back together at prearranged times and places. They knew the war was over, but sympathy for their imprisoned comrades drove them to one last desperate act: an attack on the Rock.
Knowing the planet was heavily defended, the rebels expected to lose, to die fighting, but much to their own surprise they won.
The Imperial Marines fought bravely, but their weapons were aimed in the wrong direction, and they were badly outnumbered. Thousands died.
So the planet's defenses were turned outward once again, and the rebels went about making their prison a home, and in the process transformed themselves as well.
They knew they couldn't rest. The existing supplies of food wouldn't last forever, and given the planet's barren surface, there was no possibility of growing more. Even the thin atmosphere required artificial maintenance.
So the rebels used fighting skills honed during years of war to raid other planets for supplies. They saw themselves as liberators, taking what they needed to continue a glorious cause.
But their victims saw them as pirates, taking what they weren't willing to make themselves, spreading pain and misery wherever they went.
Time passed and once-bright ideals became increasingly tarnished. Loot became the purpose of their existence, and not as a
means of mere survival, but as a means of wealth and privilege.
Disliking the term "pirates," they called themselves "the Brotherhood," and styled themselves as an occupational democracy.
But McCade had been to the Rock and seen the way the pirates lived, and there wasn't anything democratic about it. A council made up of a few powerful individuals ran everything and vied with each other for ever larger slices of a rather fat pie.
And they didn't take kindly to unauthorized visitors. McCade knew that from personal experience. On his last visit to the Rock he'd managed to rip them off, blow up half a spaceport, and destroy a number of their ships. As a result he wouldn't be able to sneak in the same way he had before, and once there, he would be in even greater danger.
"A penny for your thoughts."
McCade looked up into Reba's brown eyes. Damn, the woman was pretty. If it weren't for Sara . . . He shoved the thought down and back.
"Only a penny? Surely you're worth more than that. I was thinking of you."
Reba smiled as she dropped into the seat next to Neem. He didn't even look up from the holo tank.
"I'd be complimented if I hadn't seen the holopix of Sara all over the ship. But I have, so I'm worried instead. What's on your mind?"
"I was thinking that you're the key to getting on the Rock. And unless I miss my guess, that's where we need to go."
Reba frowned. "Why?"
McCade examined the ash on his cigar before tapping it into an ashtray. "The vial was taken during a raid, right? And while the pirates who took it didn't realize its true value, I understand the vial is quite pretty, and therefore valuable in its own right. And since all loot goes to the Rock for auction, that's where it went."
"That's true," Reba agreed. "But things sold at auction usually go off-planet with whoever buys them. By now the vial could be anywhere."
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