McCade grinned. Marines are resourceful if nothing else.
Two hours later they hit the first sensor station. It had a fraction of a second to see the assault boat, the wave of interceptors behind it, and squirt a message toward Pong's base. Then the WEAPCOMP launched a single missile and the station was gone, leaving nothing more than a pool of cooling metal to mark the place where it had once stood.
But the sensor station had accomplished its mission. And when its message flashed into the Earth Star's com center, the duty officer wasted no time in taking action.
His name was Farb. He was a slender man with close-cropped blond hair and a predatory face. The prospect of some action made him smile. He thumbed a red button.
All over the ship gongs began to clang, lights began to flash, and thousands of people ran for their action stations.
Electronic signals flashed out, were verified, and immediately acted on. Destroyers and cruisers and interceptors took up their various positions and prepared for battle.
As all of this took place Farb calmly made his way down a broad corridor, past row after row of first-class cabins, and paused in front of a massive hatch. It was made of durasteel bonded to gold and had once opened to admit the Emperor himself.
Farb palmed the entry lock and waited for Pong's voice.
"Yes?"
"Detector Station One reports a large force of heavily armed intruders. We have confirmation from stations two, three, and four. ETA . . . twenty minutes."
There was a moment of silence before Pong replied. "Our ships?"
"Dispersed according to plan two," Farb replied. "Orders?"
"Pipe all incoming data to the tank in my quarters. All ships will fight to the death. Remind them that there's no other way out."
"It shall be as you wish," Farb answered.
Just as he was turning to leave, Pong spoke once more. "And, Farb . . ."
"Yes?"
"You'd better have someone prepare the Arrow."
Farb grinned. The Arrow was Pong's private yacht. Should things go poorly, Pong, Farb, and two other trusted lieutenants would use it to make their escape. Although very few people knew about it, there was another way out.
McCade and everyone else aboard the assault boat very nearly died as they passed between Pong's weapons emplacements.
A bright latticework of coherent energy webbed across the passageway threatening to wrap the boat in its lethal embrace. Missiles accelerated from launchers searching for heat and metal. Other missiles leaped from the boat's rotary launchers to meet those missiles as still more missiles came up to meet them.
Walls of flame erupted as waves of missiles intersected and canceled each other out. Torpedoes followed the tons of hot chaff that the invading ships scattered across the passageway, exploding whenever they came near. And everywhere electronic signals raced, probed, and tried to fake each other out.
Inside the boat they were thrown up, down, and back and forth as Henry tried to keep them alive and the WEAPCOMP droned on. It spoke of torpedoes, missiles, and targets as if they were somewhere else, distant things that were part of someone else's world.
One by one the interceptors assigned to guard them blossomed into flowers of flame and disappeared. It was brute strength against brute strength, missile against missile, computer against computer.
McCade grit his teeth and willed the weapons emplacements to die. And one by one they did die, each wave of passing ships pounding them further into submission, until none were left.
McCade chinned his mike as the A-boat flashed into Pong's inner sphere. "Assault Boat One to Assault Leader."
"We copy, Assault Boat One," a voice answered. "Go."
McCade imagined Swanson-Pierce sitting in his command chair listening to the conversation. The bastard was probably sipping a cup of tea or something.
"Phase one is complete, Assault Leader. Confirm phase two."
"Phase two confirmed, Boat One," the voice said. "You have new friendlies port and starboard, with ground pounders bringing up the rear. Assault Leader sends 'well done.'"
"Copy that," McCade replied sourly. "Tell the Assault Leader to come up and join us."
A glance at the battle tank showed that a swarm of fresh interceptors had formed up around him. They were followed by a gaggle of boxy A-boats. Each boat held fifty marines.
The interceptors would attempt to punch a hole through the pirate defense allowing the A-boats to close with and board the Earth Star. Once aboard they'd try to find the Vial of Tears, and failing that, Mustapha Pong.
Meanwhile the combined force of destroyers and cruisers would move in and fight the main battle. McCade grinned at the thought. Wait till Pong's people got a load of those Il Ronnian warships!
McCade chinned his mike. "This is Boat One. Let's kick some butt."
Henry's response threw McCade back and down. He forced his head toward the battle tank. A whole wave of ships and interceptors were coming toward him. He felt an anvil hit the bottom of his stomach. He thought of Sara and Molly, then thought no more as the boat went into a jerky pattern of evasive maneuvers.
What followed happened too quickly for human hands or eyes to follow.
It was a computer war of launch and counterlaunch, jam, and counterjam, move and countermove.
Whether you lived or died depended on the speed and quality of your computers, upon the effectiveness of your weapons, and on that most fickle of all things, luck.
But their plan worked. Even though Pong's warships were supposed to defend the Earth Star, many of them were actually tying to escape instead. An attack by the Brotherhood was one thing, but an attack by a combined force of pirate, navy, and alien ships was something else again. They wanted out.
The pirate ships were like a long, thin wall of metal, a tough obstacle to get around, but a relatively easy one to punch through. And that's what the interceptors did.
By concentrating all their firepower on a single point, the interceptors managed to overwhelm two destroyers and a light cruiser, making a hole through which the A-boats could pass.
The Earth Star had weapons of her own, but like most liners her defenses were more symbolic than real and were soon neutralized by the swarming interceptors.
"Put us alongside that emergency lock," McCade ordered as he sealed his visor. "And somebody wake the sergeant major."
"That won't be necessary, sir," Sergeant Major Sibo replied calmly. "Just put this crate alongside and we'll do the rest."
The sergeant major was as good as her word. McCade had pumped all the atmosphere out of the cabin by the time Henry put the A-boat alongside the larger ship. As a result there was no time wasted matching locks. Armed with a ship cracker it took three marines ten minutes to cut their way through the Star's outer hatch.
McCade knew that other teams were using the same strategy all over the ship. If nothing else that would force Pong's crew to split up into smaller groups and make them easier to handle.
A large piece of hull metal came free and spun off into space. A satchel charge flew into the open lock and exploded with a brilliant flash. Armored bodies followed it in, their blast rifles burping blue light.
Sergeant Major Sibo's voice dominated the command channel for the next few minutes. "Spread out, you idiots! One grenade'll get you all. What's the matter, Mahowski? Afraid to earn your pay? Shoot those bastards before they shoot you. Wu, you idiot, get your head down before they blow it off. Great Sol, have I gotta wipe your ass too?"
Then it was over and she was in the blackened lock urging McCade to board. "The lock's secure, sir, welcome aboard."
"Thank you, Sergeant Major, nicely done. Have you got the schematic?"
"Yes, sir. It's up on my visor right now."
"Good, let's head for the Imperial stateroom. If Pong's aboard, that's where he'll be."
"Aye, aye, sir," Sibo replied. "Follow me."
McCade followed and was forced to step over a number of bodies in the process. At least tw
o of them wore marine armor.
With Reba and Neem close behind him, McCade followed Sibo through a short side passage to the point where it joined a main corridor. Another lock blocked their way. An indicator showed breathable atmosphere beyond. At the sergeant major's direction four marines cycled through and signaled the all-clear.
As she emerged from the lock, Sibo took a moment to consult her schematic and turned left. Two marines brushed past her to take the point as the rest of them formed a column of twos and jogged along behind.
Like all liners the schematics for the Earth Star were on file at every navy base. That was SOP in case of collision or capture. So as each team of marines made their way on board they'd use the schematics projected onto the inside surface of their visors to find their particular targets. Strategic targets came first, like the bridge, the com center, and the drive rooms, followed by store-rooms or other places where the Vial of Tears might be stored.
At least one Il Ronnian Sand Sept trooper had been assigned to each team of marines. Once the vial was found the Sand Sept trooper would stand guard over it until one of the several Ilwiks present could take possession.
The journey soon became a running firefight as the marines encountered small groups of crew members and quickly overwhelmed them. Pong did have some well-trained troops, but most of them were aboard his destroyers and cruisers, and therefore unavailable to defend the Star.
The marines were able to make good progress as a result. Slowly but surely they made their way ever toward the first-class accommodations and the Imperial stateroom.
Then, just as they left a side corridor to enter the main thoroughfare that led to the Imperial stateroom, they hit an ambush.
Farb had placed his people well, hiding them in two opposing staterooms and an overhead access tunnel. Holding his breath he waited for the marines to pass and yelled "Now!" into his open mike.
The Pirates opened up from both sides as more dropped from above to block any possibility of retreat.
Sergeant Major Sibo died in the first five seconds of the ambush, slumping forward as a crew-operated energy beam punched black holes through her armor.
McCade hit the deck in a forward roll. As he came out of it his hand blaster jumped into his hand. Pirates spilled out of a stateroom to the left. He squeezed the trigger four times and saw two holes appear in a visor that quickly misted over with blood.
Something hit his armor from behind but didn't go through. McCade spun around and gut shot a pirate from three feet away.
Tough though it was the pirate's armor couldn't stand up to that kind of punishment and gave way. The energy beam went through Farb's stomach and splashed against the backside of his armor. The ensuing darkness came as a complete surprise.
Suddenly it was over and the marines had won. Bodies lay everywhere in tumbled heaps. A blue haze filled the air and when McCade opened his visor the smell of ozone filled his nostrils.
A marine appeared at his side. "Sergeant O'Hara, sir. We have sixteen dead, seven wounded, and twenty-seven effectives. Orders, sir?"
McCade could see the golden hatch at the far end of the corridor. "See that hatch, Sergeant? I want it open."
"Open. Yes, sir. Rawlings! Newly! Mobutu! Open up that door and make it quick. The rest of you, cover them. We may run into all sorts of shit in there."
Half a minute later the three marines were busy cutting their way through the hatch. The ship cracker spit ruby red and the hatch sucked it up until the locking mechanism gave way and the door began to slide open.
The marines dropped the ship cracker and scrambled to get out of the way. Thirty weapons were lined up on the open hatch but nothing happened.
"Okay," McCade said, "let's take it nice n'easy."
As the marines moved forward, Reba slipped in from the side. Blue light stuttered out to lance through her body in a dozen places. McCade watched in utter amazement as she brought up her blast rifle and fired back. There was a double thump as two pirates hit the floor.
McCade ran forward and was there to catch her when she fell. White fluid spurted from the holes in her armor. He couldn't place it at first and then he could and didn't want to believe it. Holding her in his arms, McCade looked up at Neem, and when the Il Ronnian nodded, he knew it was true. Reba was, and always had been, a cyborg. As such she'd infiltrated the Brotherhood, been accidentally captured, and been reinfiltrated via her association with McCade. Her voice made a horrible rasping sound when she spoke.
"Sam?"
"Yes, Reba?"
"I'm sorry I lied to you."
"It's okay, Reba. I understand."
"Sam . . . are you really an Ilwik?"
McCade looked up at Neem and he nodded.
"Yes, Reba, I guess I am."
"Good," Reba rasped. "Then give me the prayer for the dead."
The words tumbled from McCade's lips as if he'd said them many times before. "You may leave this one, O holy fluid, for your work is done. She has lived fully, seen much, and served with honor. Now she journeys forth into a new land where you await. Our blessings go with her for she was one of ours.
"Was that okay, Reba? Did I say it right?"
But Reba was silent, her beautiful features frozen in a smile.
Neem pulled McCade to his feet. "It was more than okay, Sam. It was perfect. Now come on before Reba blows up and takes you with her."
McCade was leaning against a wall and looking the other way when Reba blew up. He was tired of killing, and tired of watching people die. No matter how hard he willed his body to move, it wouldn't go. He dimly heard Sergeant O'Hara give the all-clear and heard the marines spread out to search the stateroom.
Pong was gone, of course, having escaped along with two others aboard his yacht, but Neem found something of interest on the surface of the pirate's rather ornate desk. Pong had used it as a paperweight and, being of little intrinsic value, had neglected to take it along.
The object was made of purest crystal and shaped like a vial. Inside the vial a clear fluid could be seen. It was moving. With life of its own? Or in sympathy with the ship?
In either case the vial shimmered with light and threw a rainbow of color against the wall beyond as Neem picked it up and said a silent prayer.
With trembling hands Neem carried the vial into the adjoining room and to the place where the tired-looking human stood. Placing the vial in McCade's hands, Neem said, "The Vial of Tears, O holy one." And together the Ilwiks cried.
THE END
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