"But I'll die!" Boots wailed. "I'll run out of air!"
"Probably," Pong agreed, "but not before you get a good look at Drang. A nice long look. Consider it my little gift."
Boots tried to run but the guards caught and dragged her away.
Unable to turn his head because of the blaster, Pong swiveled his eyes toward McCade. "I know where Molly is. She's in great danger. We could be there in a few hours."
McCade was surprised. Why so cooperative? A trap? Then it hit him. What Pong had said about raising Molly was true! The pirate liked her! More than that, wanted her for himself!
McCade felt a lot of things, jealousy and fear foremost among them. Pong liked Molly. Did she like him? Had she changed? And what about the danger Pong referred to?
Pong cleared his throat. "Time is of the essence, McCade. We need to leave
now.
I suggest that we bring some of my troops."
McCade shook his head. He believed Molly was in trouble, but wasn't about to bring any of Pong's troops. There was no way that he and Phil could control additional people. "No troops. Tell them to clear the bay and open the outer doors."
Pong did as he was told, and the double doors slid open fifteen minutes later. The doors were still in motion when the cyborg took
Arrow
out. Phil ran the sensors at maximum sensitivity but no one followed.
With the tape undone, and everyone back in their former positions, McCade was about to ask Pong some questions when an unexpected hand touched his shoulder. "Coffee, sir?"
McCade spun his chair around to find Platz standing there with a tray of coffee containers. He looked rumpled but otherwise no worse for wear.
Phil grinned. "Platz is out on good behavior. It was a bit cramped in that storage compartment."
McCade nodded and accepted a container of coffee. "Thank you, Platz. Sorry about this, but you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Platz shrugged and offered Pong some coffee. It was sealed in a zero-G bulb making it useless as a weapon. "That's okay, sir. Phil explained what's going on, and I hope you find your daughter."
McCade smiled and turned toward Pong. "Which brings us to you. Where's Molly? And what sort of danger is she in?"
Pong didn't hesitate. He told McCade about the 56,827, their ship, and their so-called death experiments. It was true that 56,827 were his secret weapon, but he couldn't save Molly without admitting their existence. If things went the way he hoped, McCade would die aboard the alien ship, and if they didn't, well, those were the breaks.
The Melcetian listened but made no attempt to interfere. The alien had computed all of the most likely outcomes, and while it still had hopes for Pong, was ready to find itself a new host if necessary. Number 47,721 might make a good candidate. Disgusting, but completely ruthless, and sufficiently ambitious. Yes, the best plan was to lie low, and see where the advantage lay.
As the bounty hunter listened to Pong's description of the 56,827, their planetoid-sized warship, and his plans to take over all of known space, McCade was more and more amazed. Not only did the pirate propose murder on a scale hitherto unknown, he did it with the calm, measured prose of a businessman describing plans to enter a new market, or an architect discussing his latest design.
If not actually insane Pong was the next closest thing to it. It showed in Pong's total selfishness, his complete lack of empathy for others, his inability to see them as anything more than pieces in some elaborate game.
Although the pirate liked Molly, and was clearly determined to save her, the other girls meant nothing at all. Only Molly had something to offer Pong personally, so only she was real.
Although McCade had encountered a large number of sociopaths during his days as a bounty hunter, Pong was the worst by far. Still, if he wanted to save Molly, he'd need more information and that meant playing along.
"It's an amazing plan, Mustapha, and if anyone could pull it off, you could. There's something I don't understand though. If you want to help Molly, and these aliens are friends of yours, why is she in danger?"
For the first time during their conversation Pong looked slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "Well, I don't approve mind you, but the 56,827 have some rather unpleasant ways. For one thing they insist on performing what they call 'death experiments' on a representative sample of the sentients they plan to fight, and for another, they are rather actively carnivorous."
It took McCade a moment to decode the last part of Pong's statement, and when he did, the bounty hunter was incredulous. "'Death experiments'? 'Actively carnivorous'? Does that mean what I think it does?"
Pong refused to meet McCade's eyes. "Yes, I'm afraid it does."
McCade's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his hands working in and out of fists, only inches away from killing Pong then and there. "You mean you took little girls, Molly included, and handed them over to be tortured? Or eaten? Or both?"
Phil growled, a long, low rumble that made Pong's blood run cold, and Platz gave an involuntary gasp of surprise.
Pong knew death was extremely close. He also knew that McCade wanted some sign of sorrow, of contrition, so he provided it. "I'm sorry, I really am, and I tried to protect Molly. Things went wrong, that's all. It wasn't my fault."
Only the need to get aboard the alien ship and find the children kept McCade from wrapping his fingers around Pong's throat and choking the life out of him. McCade forced himself to lean back in his seat. His eyes were little more than slits and his hands shook with suppressed rage. Once they reached the alien ship, once the children were safe, Pong would pay for the things he'd done. And if they arrived too late, if . . . McCade forced the thought away. Silence fell on the control compartment and time slowed to a virtual crawl.
McCade and Phil stood watches, two hours on, and two hours off. When he wasn't on duty McCade slept and, in spite of his bone-deep fatigue, dreamt of monsters that ate little girls.
But the rest did him good, and that, along with another round of medication from Pong's well-stocked first-aid kit, put him in reasonable shape by the time the alien ship filled the screens. He was surprised by the ease with which the
Arrow
was permitted to approach and enter the larger vessel's bay.
Pong shrugged. "The 56,827 have a simple policy. Admit the
Arrow
and destroy anything else."
McCade thought about what life would be like under such rulers and shuddered. It reminded him of the larger problem. Even if they found the children, and managed to neutralize these aliens, there was the rest of them to worry about. But first things first.
McCade spent the next twenty minutes quizzing Pong about the 56,827, the interior of their ship, and anything else he could think of. Good intelligence is absolutely critical when you're forced to fight on enemy ground.
By the time the shuttle landed inside the bay McCade and Phil had added blast rifles to their already extensive armament, agreed to let Platz come along on the condition that he was unarmed, and rigged up some leg shackles that would slow Pong down should he attempt to run.
When the ship was secure, they wasted little time locking the cyborg in the head and cycling out into the bay.
There was no sign of the 56,827, or the children either, so they headed for the ship's lock. It was already open. McCade stepped inside, found it empty, and motioned for the rest to follow. They did and the hatch closed behind them.
McCade lit a cigar and blew smoke toward the inner hatch. Pong stared straight ahead, face impassive, mind churning through his options.
Phil smelled something foul, something he'd never encountered before, and allowed his lip to curl away from durasteel fangs. A growl came from deep inside his massive body.
The Melcetian shimmered, throwing light in every direction as it repositioned itself on Pong's shoulder, and monitored the human's thoughts.
Platz looked around as if seeing a lock for the first time, saw a comb lying on the deck, and bent to pick it up. But there was some kind of goo on it so he let it lay.
The hatch whirred open and McCade stepped through. He held his blast rifle up and ready to fire, but saw nothing more threatening than a dim lavender sky and an alien landscape. There were rocks, strange foliage, and some distant trees. Or things that
looked
like trees anyway. The others followed.
McCade was just about to ask Pong where the dirt path led when there was a stirring in some nearby bushes and the sound of a hesitant voice.
"Citizen McCade? Is that you?"
McCade's heart leaped into his throat. "Yes! Who's there?"
"We are," the voice answered, and one by one a group of bedraggled little girls emerged from the bushes. McCade inventoried each dirt-smudged face until a small group stood in front of him and Molly was nowhere to be seen. McCade bit his lip. He recognized some of the children but not all.
The girls looked from McCade to Phil and back again. The same one, a girl named Linda if he remembered correctly, spoke again. "Is it really you? You came for us?" Her upper lip trembled.
McCade managed a smile. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Linda's father was dead, buried below the permafrost on Alice. A tear ran down his cheek. McCade got down on one knee. He bit back the desire to ask about Molly and forced himself to wait. "Yes, it's really us, and we came for you."
The girls cried, threw themselves at McCade and Phil, and bombarded them with questions. "Is my mommy all right? Did you find my brother? Can we go home now?"
Platz beamed and Pong whistled through his teeth. Finally, when the pirate couldn't take it anymore, he said, "Save it for later, McCade . . . where's Molly?"
McCade peeled two little girls away from his chest and held a finger to his lips. "He's right. There'll be lots of time to celebrate. Where
is
Molly? Are there any others?"
The story spilled out in fits and starts, first from one girl, then from another, until McCade had the whole picture. It seemed three of the girls had been taken away by one of the 56,827, presumably for the "death experiments" Pong had mentioned, and Molly, with help from a friendly alien called Jareth, had gone after them.
And then, about three hours after Molly's departure, another member of the 56,827 had swung through the area. Hunting, exercising, the girls weren't sure what. But they had orders to scatter and proceeded to do so. The alien lingered for a while, then left. After that it was a relatively simple matter to regroup around the lock as Molly had instructed them to do, and that's where they were when McCade arrived.
As McCade listened he was conscious of Molly's leadership role, and found himself alternating between pride and fear.
McCade held Linda by both shoulders. "Do you know where Molly went? Can you show us which direction?"
Linda nodded. "Jareth showed her the way. He said he wouldn't fight but he gave Molly some sort of gun."
"A gun? Molly has a weapon?"
Linda nodded again. "Yes, she said you'd taught her how to use it."
McCade remembered putting an empty meal pak on a snow-covered rock, helping Molly to wrap cold little fingers around the grip of a blaster, and watching as blue light burped past the rock to hit the scrub beyond. He tightened his grip on Linda's shoulders. She winced and he let go.
"Show us, Linda, show us where Jareth and Molly went."
Linda turned and started down into the valley. The others followed as Linda made a wide detour around the boulders where Lia had disappeared, took them past the pile of still bloody bones where the runner called Mizlam had faced death, and climbed the slope beyond. When Linda reached the top of the hill, she looked back to make sure the others were with her, and disappeared from view.
By the time McCade topped the hill, and had started down the other side, Linda was already at the bottom of the slope pointing at a rock.
"That's where they went, Citizen McCade . . . and they never came back!"
McCade came to a stop in front of the rock and looked quizzically at Linda. "They went where?"
"Under the rock," Linda answered impatiently. "It lifts up."
McCade bent over, got a grip on the rock, and pulled. It came up with surprising ease. And no wonder, since one glance at the rock's underpinnings showed that it was hydraulically assisted. The rock concealed a rather standard maintenance tube.
It made sense when McCade thought about it; biosphere or not, the ship would require maintenance, and as a member of the crew this Jareth character would know his way around.
Metal rungs extended straight down, rungs spaced farther apart than would be comfortable for humans, and disappeared into darkness. Molly had climbed down those rungs and ended up where?
McCade wasted little time. "Okay, Phil. Take Pong's restraints off. We've got some climbing to do. Platz, come here."
The trooper obeyed. His open-featured face radiated trust. "Yes, sir?"
McCade held up his blast rifle. "What would you do if I gave you this? Would you shoot me and ask Pong for a bonus?"
Platz didn't even blink. "No, sir. I'm not stupid, sir. If something happens to you, the general will kill me and try to keep all of this secret."
Pong raised his eyes heavenward but didn't attempt to deny it.
McCade nodded and handed Platz the rifle. "You've got that right. I'm leaving you in charge of the girls. Take them back to the lock. If you see any of the 56,827, shoot to kill. Wait for three hours, if we aren't back by then, put the girls on the ship and get the hell out of here.
"Take them to the nearest Imperial Navy base and ask for Admiral Swanson-Pierce. They'll give you lots of guff but hang in there. Use my name a lot. Walt will show up eventually, and when he does, tell him I promised you ten thousand credits. The same for the pilot. He'll make it good, and get the girls home to boot."
Platz listened with a look of complete amazement, as did Pong, who raised one eyebrow. "You've got some interesting friends, McCade. I suspect I underestimated your influence."