Galactic Bounty by William C. Dietz Page B

the implications could be enormous. There was little doubt that the Builders had possessed a science and technology superior to anything yet developed by either humans or Il Ronn. Logically therefore the weapons developed by such a race would be truly awesome. Whoever found them first might well have the means to control all of explored space. Whatever it was, the Treel had learned of it, probably as a result of Bridger's demented ravings, and had by now communicated that knowledge to the Il Ronn.
    The whole thing scared the hell out of him. If such power existed, who should control it? The human empire? The Il Ronn empire? The pirates? The more he thought about it, the less he liked any of the possibilities. Gradually the light from the window grew brighter, and his fellow prisoners began to stir. He managed to sit up.
    "Got a light?" came a voice from behind him.
    Automatically his hand went to his lighter and to his surprise it was there.
    As though reading his mind the voice said, "If it ain't lethal, they let ya keep it."
    Turning, McCade confronted a bear of a man who dwarfed the rickety chair on which he sat. McCade lit the man's cigar, and then searched his pockets for one of his own.
    "Here, sport, try one o' mine," the man said, offering McCade an expensive, imported cigar still sealed in its own metal tube.
    "Thanks," McCade said, looking the man over as he unsealed the cigar and carefully rotated it over the flame from his lighter. The man had a head of unruly black hair, with a beard to match. His eyes were small and bright, tucked deeply into creased flesh. His teeth flashed white when he smiled, something he did a lot. He was dressed frontier style. A dark woolen shirt was covered by a leather vest. His pants were made of a black synthetic that looked very tough. He wore lace-up boots. McCade noticed an empty knife sheath sticking out of the right one.
    McCade inhaled and blew out a rich stream of smoke. "You have good taste in cigars."
    The big man's laughter boomed through the cell. "Friend, I have good taste in everything. Ships, women, wine, food, and cigars, in that order. And believe me, I've had my share o' the last four lately. After all, it's gotta last me another year."
    "You're from off-planet?" McCade asked.
    "Sport, do I look like I belong on this dirt ball? Hell no I don't. I'm from Alice," the other man said proudly. "That's halfway out ta the Il Ronn Empire. Hit dirt here three days ago with a load o' rare isotopes. Was I ever glad to get rid o' that stuff. Hotter than an asteroid miner's dreams, it was. How about you, sport? What brings ya ta the anal orifice o' the galaxy?"
    "Nothing much," McCade replied vaguely. "Just trying to turn an honest credit."
    The other man nodded sagely and winked one of his tiny eyes knowingly.
    "Sam McCade." He stuck out his right hand and watched it disappear into the other man's massive grip.
    "Glad ta meet ya, sport. My mother named me Fredrico Jose Romero. But friends just call me Rico."
    "Well, Rico," McCade said, "maybe you could tell me where the hell I am?"
    "Welcome ta the Longansport municipal drunk tank, Sam ol' friend. Ya don't remember being picked up?"
    McCade shook his head. He remembered the needle gun in Laurie's hand and the sting as the dart entered his flesh. By now she had Bridger and was long gone.
    "Well I'll bet those spaceheads remember picking me up." Rico rubbed a huge fist with a look of satisfaction in his beady eyes.
    McCade nodded agreeably. "How do we get out of here, Rico? I've got things to do and people to see."
    "No sweat, friend . . .. In a few minutes they'll open up this toilet and let us out."
    "No trial or anything?" McCade asked.
    "Nah," Rico replied, dropping his cigar butt into the puddle next to McCade. It sizzled and went out. "That'd be bad for business. Not only would it slow the manly art o' drinkin' . . . it'd mean more taxes ta run the court. An if there's anything the local merchants don't like, it's more