McCade on the Run (Sam McCade Omnibus)

by William C. Dietz

  “Understood,” McCade answered.

  “Excellent,” Teeb said approvingly. “In that case I’ll leave you to it. Have a good match.” Teeb’s tail waved good-bye as he headed for the door.

  Neem sidled up to McCade as Eena went over to inspect her stones. Speaking softly he said, “Don’t forget to cheat.”

  “What?”

  Neem looked around nervously and said it again. “I said, don’t forget to cheat. I’m an expert on human culture remember?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So many humans disapprove of cheating. We don’t. We don’t talk about it, but everyone cheats if they can get away with it. So unless you keep an eye on Eena, she’ll steal the match out from under you.”

  McCade nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, Neem. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Neem left as a swarm of vid cameras entered and took up positions in various parts of the room.

  As one came to hover over his head McCade wondered how many Il Ronnians were watching and whether they were for or against him. According to Neem, McCade had quite a following, liberals mostly, but a scattering of independents as well. Of course, none of them were really rooting for him, they were opposed to war and wanted him to succeed for that reason.

  “Make your move, human scum.”

  McCade turned to find Eena scowling up at him. Her attempts to intimidate him were kind of cute. And even though she’d eventually grow up to look like the devil himself, there was something appealing about her pinched little face and big determined eyes.

  He patted her shoulder. “Thank you, Eena. You’re pretty cute for a short person. I’ll grab a rock and be right back.”

  He headed across the room without waiting for a response and picked up a red rock. For some reason he’d imagined the stones were artificial and therefore lighter than they looked. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  The stones were real and weighed about twenty-five pounds apiece. Later he’d learn that this particular court had been designed for male grand masters. Most courts were a good deal less fancy, and many Il Ronnians preferred to play on miniature boards or computer terminals. But this was a full-blown traditional court complete with real rocks.

  McCade carried his stone to the middle of the grid, picked an intersection, and plopped it down.

  He saw a look of enormous satisfaction come over Eena’s face. The human had placed his first warrior in the middle of the desert! At this rate the ugly alien would beat himself!

  Eena selected one of her own stones, struggled to pick it up, and staggered over to the far corner of the grid where she carefully lowered it into place.

  The stones were way too heavy for her and McCade was tempted to help. But should he give up an advantage? Perhaps the weight of the stones had been factored into the match as part of her handicap. And what if he had to win in order to pass this test? By helping her he might call down a nightmare of destruction on his own kind.

  With those thoughts in mind McCade decided to let Eena fend for herself. Meanwhile he’d do his best to win the match.

  Having analyzed Eena’s last move, McCade realized that the corners of the grid were easier to defend than the middle. Like her he would start in the corners and work his way out.

  He selected another stone, placed it in close proximity to Eena’s, and stepped back to watch her reaction.

  What he got was a look of resignation, as though she’d realized that his stupidity couldn’t last forever, and been forced to accept it.

  Well, he thought it was a look of resignation, but how could he be sure? He’d picked up on some Il Ronnian facial expressions from Neem, but still couldn’t tell if Eena was resigned, or just suffering from indigestion. He decided to assume the former and placed another stone near hers.

  And so it went stone after stone, intersection after intersection, until Mc-Cade was almost completely surrounded. Eena had also captured small contingents of his warriors so now he was outnumbered as well as poorly positioned. He was going to lose, that much was certain.

  Nonetheless, McCade was determined to make the best showing he could. So there was only one thing left to do. Follow Neem’s advice and cheat.

  By now the weight of the stones had started to take their toll on Eena. McCade estimated that each of them had around two hundred stones at their disposal, and at twenty-five pounds apiece, that came to more than two tons of rock.

  So each time Eena went for another stone her movements were a little slower, her steps a little more uncertain, and her eyes a little more out of focus.

  McCade’s heart went out to her, but he steeled himself with visions of what might happen to Molly if he failed the test and set about using Eena’s predicament to his advantage.

  Usually it was a simple matter of sliding her warriors off one intersection and onto another less important position. And sometimes he moved his own stones, subtly improving their positions and worsening Eena’s.

  The vid cams swooped and hovered throughout all this, picking up his activities and transmitting them to thousands of Il Ronnians all over the planet. What did they think of his cheating? There was no way to tell.

  Eena came close to catching him more than once, returning from the pile of stones to find the board slightly altered, frowning as she tried to remember where all the pieces had been. Had he been a peer, or had she been less exhausted, maybe she would’ve said something. But she didn’t and the game went on.

  Time after time she returned to the ever dwindling supply of green stones, and time after time she hauled one back, until it was obvious that she was on the edge of physical collapse. But the little Il Ronnian had guts and refused to give up.

  By this time McCade had begun to feel sorry for her. He kept looking up at the hovering vid cams, waiting for Teeb to declare that the game was over, that Eena could stop. But nothing came.

  Damn it! Why continue this farce? Eena had won all but a final victory and could hardly keep on her feet.

  McCade set about reversing the effects of his cheating. Making almost no effort to conceal his movements, he rearranged Eena’s warriors so they surrounded twice the intersections they had before and captured half his remaining warriors in the bargain. Maybe he’d lost the match, maybe he’d failed the test, but he couldn’t bear to watch Eena carry more rocks.

  Eena finally staggered up with her last stone, dropped it onto an intersection with a heavy thud, and surveyed the grid. Then she realized that her warriors dominated the entire grid and her features lit up with delight. She gave a whoop of joy and her tail stood at attention as she jumped up and down. “I won! I won!”

  The vid cameras spun and dipped as they picked up final shots, and Mc-Cade wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked down at Eena and grinned. “You sure did, Shorty. You won fair and square.”

  Ten

  It seemed like a long time before Teeb came. McCade spent it smoking cigar after cigar until his room was thick with dark blue smoke. Finally coughing and hacking, Neem left McCade alone with his own dark thoughts.

  Had he passed their stupid test or not? The least the pointy-eared bastards could do was tell him. The whole thing was silly. Yes, he understood how much the sacred vial meant to the Il Ronnian people; yes, he understood that according to tradition only a full Ilwik could undertake a holy quest; yes, he knew what was at stake.

  But it wasn’t fair. The tests had no clear rules, the odds were stacked against him, and the penalty for failure was way too high.

  If he failed, would the Il Ronnian ships really blast out of hyperspace and lay waste to the rim worlds? Was a vial full of liquid really worth an interstellar war? Unfortunately the answer came back “yes,” and the knowledge plunged him even deeper into despair.

  In typical Il Ronnian fashion Teeb didn’t knock when he entered McCade’s room. Instead he barged right in waving some sort of printout over his head.

  “You know what this is, human?”

&nb
sp; McCade did his best to look bored. “I haven’t got the slightest idea.”

  “It is an audience consensus... that is what it is!”

  “A consensus?”

  “Yes, our society operates on consensus, as you know, and the only way to test consensus is to sample the population on a regular basis. And according to the people you passed the second test by an even larger margin than the first one!”

  McCade was suddenly on his feet. “What? You mean the audience decides whether I pass or fail?”

  Teeb looked momentarily mystified. “Yes, of course. Who else would decide?”

  McCade’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know. I assumed there was a committee or something.”

  Teeb dismissed the idea with a wave of his tail. “Only humans would let others make such an important decision for them. On Imantha everyone has a say.”

  A feeling of tremendous relief swept over McCade as he fell back into his chair. He’d passed! Never mind that the whole thing was completely insane, he’d passed!

  Teeb paced back and forth, his tail twitching, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “What a match! You are without a doubt the worst player in this sector of space! Eena out positioned you from the start, and cheat, my goodness that youngster could cheat!”

  “Cheat?” Even though Neem had warned him of the possibility, and even though he’d done it himself, it hadn’t occurred to McCade that Eena had cheated too.

  Teeb laughed. “Of course. Eena moved your warriors around more than you did!”

  McCade felt suddenly defensive. “Well, if I performed so poorly, how come I passed the test?”

  Teeb was suddenly serious. “Because you did the best you could in a situation where all the odds were stacked against you, because you managed to adapt to changing circumstances, because you chose to risk all to help the weak.”

  McCade was silent for a moment and then he spoke. “The audience said all that?”

  Teeb’s tail signaled agreement. “That is correct,human.The audience said all that.”

  McCade nodded soberly. “I see. So what’s next?”

  “That,” Teeb replied with a toothy grin, “is for me to know, and for you to find out.”

  Eleven

  The trumpets made a long mournful sound as McCade walked down the broad aisle toward the Rock of Truth. To his right and left ten thousand Il Ronnians stood and bowed their respect. He noticed that most wore the uniform of the Star Sept.

  Gravel crunched under his boots and he heard the sound of his own breathing as he walked up a curving path to emerge on top of a flat rock.

  It was from this spot that the great Ilwik had ministered to his followers so long ago. As the sun dropped behind the canyon walls they had come forth to hear him speak, and in his latter days trumpets had announced his arrival.

  And even though the canyon had been roofed over five hundred cycles before, and its floor made smooth for the comfort of the people, it was the same place. A holy place imbued by time and use with a sense of profound peace and quiet.

  A shiver went down McCade’s spine as he looked out over the assembled multitude. The usual vid cameras danced here and there as filtered sunlight streamed down from huge skylights and twenty thousand devils waited for him to speak. It couldn’t, shouldn’t, be happening, yet here he was about to judge and be judged in return. He held up both hands as an audio pickup moved in to hover near his mouth.

  “In the name of the great Ilwik I bid you welcome. Please be seated.” Thanks to translating devices his voice spoke perfect Il Ronnian as it boomed the length of the canyon.

  As the twenty thousand Il Ronnians took their seats they made a loud rustling sound like the wind passing through dry vegetation.

  McCade sat on the same rock the Ilwik had favored and pulled out a cigar. The Il Ronn didn’t smoke so they had no prohibitions against it. McCade puffed the cigar alight and blew out a column of smoke with his first words.

  “My name is Sam McCade. Although I am not an Il Ronnian, I have worn the bracelet and seen through the great Ilwik’s eyes. I come before you to judge a crime, and to be judged in return, for if I fail there will be a terrible war. Let us all pray that justice will prevail. The prosecution may begin.”

  Neem and he had rehearsed everything up to this point, but he’d have to wing it from here on out, and that wouldn’t be easy. Ilwiks had dispensed justice at the tribal or sept level of Il Ronnian society in ancient times. But as the need for specialization grew, they had gradually transferred that function to occupational groupings.

  So, if a clerk in the Department of Census beat his mate, the matter would be heard by an Ilwik from that same department, and the judgment would be confirmed or modified by a jury of his peers. Il Ronnian theory held that they alone were truly his peers and best able to confirm or deny his punishment.

  And according to Neem it wasn’t unusual for some cases to be assigned to individuals in the final stages of testing. For in the Il Ronnian view, justice and religion were part and parcel of the same thing. And what better way to test a candidate’s spiritual readiness than to cast him in the role of judge? And since his decision would be subject to ratification by a group of the defendant’s peers, what could go wrong?

  Everything, McCade thought to himself as a group of Il Ronnians approached the rock. Just about everything could go wrong. Especially considering the fact that he didn’t even know what crime had been committed. In order to assure their impartiality judges weren’t given any information about the crime prior to the trial.

  A short Il Ronnian dressed in the uniform of the Star Sept was the first to speak. “I am Sub Sector Commander Deex, and I speak for those who seek redress.”

  McCade noticed the latticework of scars that crisscrossed Deex’s leathery face and the gleam of metal where his left arm should have been.

  “Thank you, Commander Deex. Who speaks for the accused?”

  Now another Il Ronnian stepped forward, this one attired in the robes of the merchant marine, the nonmilitary ships that conducted commerce between Il Ronnian worlds. “I am Captain Oeem. I speak for the accused.”

  McCade saw that Oeem was older, his skin hanging in loose folds around his neck and wrists, a slight stoop hinting at years spent within the close confines of merchant ships.

  “Thank you, Captain Oeem,” McCade replied. He waved his cigar. “Let the accused step forward.”

  At this point a youngish Il Ronnian took a single step forward. He wore the uniform of a Star Sept Sixteenth Commander, the lowest commissioned rank there was, roughly equivalent to an ensign in the Imperial Navy. He was obviously scared but held his back rigidly erect and ramrod straight. “Sir,I am Sixteenth Commander Reep, sir.”

  “Thank you, Commander Reep.” McCade turned to Deex. “Please read the charges.”

  Commander Deex stepped forward. “Sixteenth Commander Reep is accused of refusing a direct order from his commanding officer. His offense is made worse by the fact that his group of interceptors were engaged in combat at the time, and by the fact that he is completely unrepentant. His actions set a dangerous precedent and if allowed to go unpunished would endanger all members of the Star Sept.”

  McCade stirred uneasily in his seat. There was something funny going on here, at least it seemed like there was, but it was still too early to know for sure. He tapped some ash off the end of his cigar and turned to Oeem.

  “Thank you. Captain Oeem? Do you wish to make an opening statement?”

  Oeem’s tail indicated his assent. “Yes, I would. I do not contest the fact that Commander Reep disobeyed a direct order from his superior, but maintain that he was correct in doing so, given the situation he found himself in.”

  McCade nodded. “I see. Thank you. Commander Deex, please state the case against Commander Reep.”

  Deex stepped forward once again and assumed a position similar to parade rest. If he thought it strange that a human was judging the case, he gave no sign of it.

&n
bsp; “Yes, sir. A tenth cycle ago my squadron was assigned to patrol part of the Necta Sector. The Necta Sector forms part of our frontier with the human empire, and because of the unusually large number of star systems in that sector, human pirates use it as a way to enter Il Ronnian space. Over time they have become extremely adept at jumping from one system to the next using planets to shield their activities from our sensors.”

  McCade dropped the cigar onto the rock and crushed it out. “Was your squadron at full strength? And if not, how many ships did you have?”

  McCade saw the Il Ronnian’s tail twitch in surprise. These were military questions coming from a civilian. And if there was any form of life lower than a human civilian, Deex couldn’t think what it was.

  Nonetheless this human held a position of power, and power was something Deex understood quite well. He chose his words carefully. The Star Sept was woefully thin along the frontier and in constant need of more funding. On the other hand his superiors wouldn’t want him to suggest the frontier was undefended either, especially to a human.

  “We had a carrier, two destroyers, and a light cruiser. So while the squadron was slightly under strength, it was more than sufficient for our mission.” There. Deex hoped he’d hedged all his bets.

  “Thank you,” McCade said. “Please continue.

  Deex cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. We had been on station for six standard cycles when one of our scouts spotted a formation of five human ships attempting to slip across the frontier. We positioned our vessels along their path and laid in wait. The moment they came into range we issued a warning and called on them to surrender.”

  This last part wasn’t exactly true since it was SOP to fire on human pirates without warning, but Deex couldn’t say so, because it wouldn’t square with standing orders.