Molly knew Pong was a horrible man, knew he was capable of destroying entire planets to get what he wanted, and liked him anyway. She shouldn’t but she did. He’d been kind to her, or as kind as he knew how to be, and seemed to like her. That’s why Molly felt betrayed. What had she done to displease him? Why was Pong sending her away?
A tremendous wave of self-pity rolled over Molly as she groped her way through the dimly lit tube. It wasn’t fair! Why her? Why?
The question found no answer as Molly knew it wouldn’t. She saw a dimly lit lock up ahead. The light had a lavender hue. It reminded Molly of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She entered the lock along with Boots and five other girls. There wasn’t room for more. Much to Molly’s relief Lia was back toward the end of the line.
Boots hummed as the lock cycled through, and was so pleased with the occasion that she allowed Molly to slip by untouched.
It was dim inside the shuttle and it took Molly’s eyes a moment to adjust.
Then Molly’s heart jumped into her throat. She saw dirt where the deck should be, vegetation to either side, and a lavender sky overhead. The shuttle was a smaller version of the moon-sized ship! The ship that belonged to the horrible aliens!
Molly whirled and headed for the lock. She shouted, “Run! Run!” but it did no good. The other girls stayed right where they were; Boots cuffed her on the side of the head and kicked her as she went down.
Molly struggled as Boots dragged her toward the shuttle’s stern, doing her best to tell others what was waiting for them, screaming with frustration when they ignored her.
An openhanded slap sent Molly reeling as the rest of the girls poured into the small compartment and a metal gate slammed into place. Boots stood on the other side of the gate and grinned. Molly grabbed the bars and shook them.
“Let us out . . . please let us out ... they plan to kill us!”
But Boots laughed and disappeared into the near darkness of the corridor. Hands pulled Molly away from the bars and held her while Lia moved in front of her.
“Now listen, and listen good. You’re going to shut up and do as you’re told! We’re tired of being abused while you sit around playing princess. From now on you’ll do what we say when we say to do it. Understand?”
Molly jerked her arms free and looked Lia in the eye. “I understand all right...I understand that you’re an idiot! Do you know where we’re headed? And what will happen once we get there?”
Some of the other girls looked interested, but Lia crossed her arms and spat the words out one at a time. “No, and you don’t either! Now shut up and sit down!”
Molly shrugged and looked for a place to sit down. Information is power, and by bottling it up, Lia hoped to control the situation. It was stupid and immature but effective nonetheless.
A quick look around confirmed Molly’s earlier impression. The shuttle contained a miniature biosphere, but unlike the mother ship’s, this one seemed limited to plants and insects. Not enough room for higher life forms, she supposed.
A half hour passed during which the other girls wondered at their alien surroundings and ignored Molly.
Then came a rustling sound, followed by the whir of a hatch closing, and the slow swish of something moving their way. Molly had a pretty good idea of what it was and moved toward the rear of the compartment, while the other girls jostled one another trying to see.
Then 47,721 stepped out into the half-light. He was hidden by a black cloak, but looked ominous enough to elicit a collective gasp and start a general movement away from the gate.
Molly shuddered. She saw some drool hit the dirt by the creature’s feet and knew it was one of them. The alien moved its head as if looking at each one of them individually.
Then, with a grunt that might have meant anything, it turned and left.
Eva, one of the younger girls, was first to speak. She was short, chubby, and plainly terrified. “Wha-what was that?”
Molly started to answer but Lia held up a restraining hand.
“Don’t be so xenophobic. It doesn’t matter what’s under the cloak. We all know that biological form flows from environmental conditions. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Eva and the rest of the girls didn’t look so sure, but Lia’s domineering approach left no room for dissent, so they remained silent.
Molly smiled. You had to give Lia credit. Her answer sounded good, and would’ve pulled an “A” back in school, but didn’t answer Eva’s question. Worse than that, it left all the girls ignorant of what was coming.
Anyone who was standing, and that included Lia, fell as the shuttle moved up and away.
There was a long slow period of acceleration, followed by what felt like nothing at all, as the ship reached cruising speed. Molly waited for the momentary nausea that often signals a hyperspace jump but it didn’t come. It seemed the alien mother ship was relatively close by.
Molly wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. There was nothing to do but wait. She couldn’t help but dwell on her first exposure to 47,721, and his inquiry about “the juveniles.” The alien wanted human children. Why? And what for?
Time passed, exactly how much was hard to say, since none of the children had a watch. But judging from how hungry Molly was when the shuttle started to slow, she figured it had been six or seven hours, maybe more.
The knot in her stomach grew larger and larger.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the ship settled into place with a discernible thump.
All of the girls watched the gate and, in spite of Lia’s insistence that everything was okay, looked very apprehensive. All of them wondered the same thing: What now?
Time passed and Molly heard movement, a shuffling sound from the corridor. Then 47,721 appeared. The cloak was gone now and even Lia whimpered with terror. All the girls took a step backward. The gate slid open as if by magic. Molly tried to disappear.
The alien entered the cell, drool plopping into the dry dirt, and looked at each of them in turn. The process seemed to last forever. Then, with his decision made, 47,721 raised a bony finger and pointed at three of the girls in quick succession.
“Come.” The word grated its way out of the translator that hung around its neck.
All three of the girls whimpered and looked at Lia.She forced a smile.“Go ahead ...I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
Molly wanted to scream, “Don’t do it! Don’t go!” but knew it wouldn’t do any good. 47,721 would take them away regardless of what she or Lia said or did.
Karen, Suki, and Niki looked back over their shoulders as they stepped into the corridor, and 47,721 shuffled along behind. All four were quickly lost to sight. The gate slid closed.
Molly heard the hiss of equalizing pressure as the lock cycled open. The gate slid open five minutes later. The message was obvious. They were free to go.
The girls looked at Lia. She smiled. “See? I told you not to worry. We can leave anytime we want.”
Molly opened her mouth to speak but closed it when Lia looked her way.
Satisfied that she had the situation under control, Lia did her best to look confident, and stepped into the corridor. The other girls followed. Molly waited for someone to give her orders, and, when they didn’t, stayed right where she was.
Once they were gone, Molly tiptoed through the leafy corridor and found that a durasteel hatch barred the way to the control compartment. She palmed the lock. Nothing. 47,721 was a lot of things but stupid wasn’t one of them.
Unable to see any advantage to staying on the shuttle alone, and afraid that one or more of the aliens might show up, Molly left the ship. Making her way through the lock and down a ramp, she found herself in the same landing bay as before. There was no sign of the others.
Stepping up to the same lock that she and Pong had used, Molly touched a heat-sensitive panel and waited for the hatch to cycle open.
Once inside she saw that one
of the girls had lost her comb. It lay on the deck in a pool of alien goo. Molly didn’t blame her for leaving it there.
When the opposite hatch whirred open Molly stepped out to find that everything was as before, with the possible exception of the sky, which seemed a little bit brighter. A little earlier in the simulated day perhaps.
Everything was the same. The path, the hill, the strange-looking trees at the top.
Lia and the others had followed the path partway to the top where they stood huddled together looking around. Molly knew how they felt. She also knew that they should scatter, hide wherever they could, and hope for some sort of miracle. Perhaps the runners would help them.
Lia grew visibly tense as Molly approached and did her best to look commanding. Molly expected some sort of comment on her late arrival but was ignored instead.
“All right,” Lia said importantly, “let’s spread out and see what’s going on. Marsha, check out the tree things toward the top of the hill; Eva, take a look at those boulders. I see some holes down there and we might need some shelter.”
Eva started downhill but Molly grabbed her arm. “Don’t do it, Eva . . . there’s some sort of creature living in those rocks.”
Lia gave an exasperated sigh. “Here we go again. I thought I told you to shut up? Ignore her, Eva. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, yeah?” Molly asked. “Well watch this.”
So saying she picked up a rock and threw it toward the boulder. Nothing happened.
Molly stared downhill in openmouthed amazement. Where was the black thing?
“See what I mean?” Lia sneered. “Molly lies like a rug.”
With a show of nonchalance, the older girl stuck her hands in her pockets and strolled downhill. Molly ran after her and grabbed Lia’s arm.
“Don’t do it, Lia! I’ve been here before. Something lives in the boulders, honest!”
Lia jerked her arm away and walked even faster than before.
Molly threw another rock hoping that the monster would reveal itself. Still nothing.
Unable to do anything else Molly stood and watched. Maybe Lia was right after all. Maybe the creature had gone somewhere else.
Then, without any warning whatsoever, the black thing lashed out and
dragged Lia into its hole. There was a scream, a horrible crunching sound, and total silence.
Molly just stood there for a while, staring at the spot where Lia had disappeared, unable to accept what she’d seen. Poor Lia. She’d been mean and nasty but didn’t deserve to die for it.
Molly turned and made her way back up the hill. The girls gathered around. Molly had been elected to lead them without a word being said. Some were crying and all of them looked scared. Molly forced a smile.
“Come on, kids. We’ve got a friend around here somewhere. Let’s find him.”
Twenty-Five
They tried to run but it was hopeless. Within seconds McCade and Phil were surrounded by gun-toting military police. There were at least fifteen weapons aimed at them. Not even Phil could beat odds like that.
As he turned toward the front of the room and Mustapha Pong, McCade felt a tremendous sense of disappointment. To come so far, to be so close, and lose. It didn’t seem fair.
Mustapha Pong smiled. He felt good. Very good. He’d waited a long time for this moment.
The Melcetian, who saw the human tendency to gloat as a complete waste of time, stirred slightly. “We have a lot to do ...so keep it short.”
Pong ignored the alien and moved forward.
The ground pounders got up and left. They didn’t know what was going on and couldn’t care less. They had their bits of brass, some money to spend, and were well satisfied. How stupid when the universe was full of larger and more important goals.
The MPs shifted slightly in order to make room. Pong was careful to stay well out of reach. “Sam McCade. So, we finally meet. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
McCade remembered the moment well. He’d been searching for the Il Ronnian Vial of Tears, and along with some others had been standing on the surface of an asteroid. Pong’s cruiser had hung over them like some omnipotent God while the pirate’s voice boomed into their helmets. “Which one of you is Sam McCade? Raise your right arm.”
McCade had raised his arm and a spear of white light had flashed down to pin him against the ground. But instead of an energy weapon, it was a spotlight, and McCade had lived. Up till now anyway.
McCade forced a crooked smile. “You’ll have a hard time getting any sympathy from me.”
Pong smiled indulgently. “A sense of humor ...I like that in a dead man. Tell me something. If we hadn’t invited you here ourselves, what then?”
McCade shrugged. “I would’ve found some other way to get here.”
Pong nodded agreeably. “Of course. You’re resourceful if nothing else. Well, I’m glad things turned out as they did. I’ll feel better knowing that you’re adding some much-needed nutrients to Drang’s soil. It’ll be my little contribution to the planet’s ecology.”
McCade knew that Pong was hoping for a reaction and refused to provide it.
Pong laughed and walked away. He hadn’t gone more than five feet before he stopped and turned. “Oh, and one more thing. My compliments on your daughter. Molly’s a wonderful little girl. I plan to raise her myself. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Rage boiled up from deep inside and McCade threw himself in Pong’s direction. If only he could wrap his hands around the pirate’s throat and kill that evil brain, his own death would be worthwhile.
But the MPs grabbed McCade and beat him with their rifle butts until blessed darkness pulled him down.
There were moments, brief episodes, when McCade floated to the surface. He felt rough hands pick him up, heard coarse voices give unintelligible commands, and saw shapes move around him. Then came movement and a constant bumping up and down as he hovered somewhere between light and darkness.
And there was pain, a dull throbbing in the back of his head, and something more as well. Another pain that was sharp, like an animal’s bite, and came at regular intervals. What could it be? This intermittent pain that came between him and peaceful darkness?
It was curiosity as much as anything that caused McCade to open his eyes and look around.
He was in the back seat of an enclosed military vehicle, either a command car, or something very similar. There was desert outside. The same desert Pong planned to bury him in.
McCade turned his attention to the vehicle’s interior. A driver and a guard sat up front, and directly behind them were two MPs on fold-down seats. They faced backward and looked mean as hell.
The woman seated directly in front of him wore a ruby stud in the side of her nose and the skin along the left side of her face had the patchy look that comes with a recent skin graft. Like the pro she was, the woman had her side arm out and pointed to one side. If the weapon fired accidentally, the slug would hit the door instead of her partner.
The second guard was handsome in a sort of sallow way, his dark brown eyes darting here and there like little animals, searching for something to eat. Every once in a while he would reach up to tug on his left earlobe. Like the first guard his weapon was drawn and aimed to the side.
This amused McCade because both guards could have aimed their guns at him. If the car hit an unexpected bump and the guns went off, so what? They planned to kill him anyway so why worry?
They were pros, that’s why. Regardless of uniforms the guards were hired killers. It would be a mistake to kill him accidentally and they didn’t make mistakes.
McCade felt a sharp pain in his right arm. What the heck was that anyway? Carefully, letting his head drift with the motion of the car, he looked to the right.
And there, in all of his furry majesty, sat Phil. His wrists were chained together in front of him, but there was just enough slack for the variant to cheat them left, and prick McCade’s arm with t
he top of a durasteel claw. Phil saw the subtle movement of McCade’s head and his eyelids drooped downward in silent acknowledgment.
Now McCade understood. The pain was Phil’s way of bringing him around. The variant was ready to make his move but wanted McCade conscious when he did it. Overpowering the guards would be extremely difficult, doing it alone would be close to impossible.
McCade moved slightly, almost imperceptibly, checking to see what kind of restraints they’d placed on him. Handcuffs and leg irons. Good. No nerve shackles, thank Sol.
The vehicle shook violently as the driver pushed it through a series of chuck holes. McCade swayed, apparently in response to the motion, and fell forward in the woman’s lap. By doing so he blocked both her handgun and legs. That’s when Phil went into action.
With twenty-five percent of the opposition momentarily immobilized, the variant brought his feet up and kicked as hard as he could. Because guard number two had turned to look at McCade, Phil’s boots hit him in the side of the head and snapped his neck like a dry twig. The ice-worlder caught the man’s body as it slumped forward, felt for the gun, and couldn’t find it.
McCade was having trouble too. Still woozy from the earlier beating, and something less than a hundred percent, it was hard to keep his opponent under control.
First she tried to throw him off and, having failed at that, brought her forehead down on the top of his head. Darkness swirled and threatened to roll him under.
The weapon! She’d try to use it. McCade’s hands found hers and fought for the gun.
The driver heard the commotion in the back, saw it from the corner of his eye, and stood on the brakes.
As the command car started to slow, the third guard yelled something incomprehensible and looked for an opportunity to fire. With the vehicle skidding, and the bodies swaying to and fro, it would be easy to hit the wrong person.
The driver, a rather ruthless individual known to his friends as Snake, saw the flaw in this approach and said so. “Shoot, you idiot! Shoot all of them!”
Unfortunately for Snake, the third guard wasted precious seconds analyzing the order and understanding the logic behind it.
McCade on the Run (Sam McCade Omnibus) Page 37