Free McCade's Bounty by William C. Dietz Page A

his boot. He gestured to one side. "Your knife is over there, sire . . . sticking in the wall."
    McCade looked, and sure enough, his knife had missed the sentry and embedded itself in a log wall. Light gleamed off the blade. Even though McCade couldn't see the Lakorian's face, he knew the alien was smiling. Ven would tell the story for many years to come. Assuming he survived, that is.
    McCade returned the knife to its sheath and moved inward toward the inn. There should be at least one more cordon of guards, would be if he were Bulo.
    Pausing to scoop up a rain-slippery rock, McCade rubbed it against his pants leg, and found a comfortable grip.
    Determined not to repeat his sorry performance with the knife, McCade tiptoed forward, thankful for his rubber-soled boots. Maybe he'd smell this sentry as well.
    But this sentry was sloppy and hit an empty vak bottle with his foot. It made a clinking sound as it rolled away.
    Three quick steps and McCade was there, blindsiding the guard with the rock and easing him to the ground. A quick check assured him the sentry was still alive. Good. The less bloodshed the better.
    McCade heard a low whistle and knew the rest of the sentries had been accounted for too.
    With Ven close behind, McCade slid along the side of the inn's stable searching for the rear entrance. He hadn't gone more than two or three yards when he heard a hissing scream. The entire wall shook as heavy bodies moved back and forth just beyond the log enclosure.
    The reptiles! These were hunting mounts, trained for use in the jungle, and attuned to the slightest disturbance. Something, a slight noise, or the scent of alien flesh, had disturbed them. Another animal screamed, and another, until there was a cacophony of sound.
    McCade swore and activated his mic. "Okay, team. So much for the subtle approach, go in and get the sucker!"
    The words were hardly out of McCade's mouth when Phil kicked the door in, body blocked a surprised guard, and took the stairs two at a time. He had the flamethrower on his back and a machine pistol in his right paw.
    Rico grabbed the now-unconscious sentry and dragged him outside, while Ven, two of his troopers, and McCade followed Phil up the stairs.
    The inn had its own fusion plant, so lights started to come on, and there was a lot of confused shouting.
    A heavily carved wooden door splintered under the force of Phil's boot and banged off an inner wall. He disappeared inside, closely followed by Ven and the troopers.
    There were shouts of outrage, followed by the sound of breaking furniture, and the roar of Phil's voice. McCade had just arrived at the top of the stairs when the variant emerged and bowed formally.
    "Greetings, sire. Baron Bulo is awake and receiving guests. Please excuse the broken furniture. The palace is undergoing repairs."
    McCade grinned. "Thank you, squire. Excuse me while I hasten within. The royal yacht will arrive at any minute . . . and we mustn't be late."
    McCade stepped through the door into a small vestibule, from there into a hallway, and from there into a richly appointed bedroom. Ven and his troopers were there pointing their weapons toward the center of the room.
    Lakorians of all classes favor canopied beds because they provide excellent protection against leaky roofs and Bulo was no exception. In addition to the canopy his bed was hung with richly embroidered curtains and piled high with pillows.
    Bulo occupied the center of the bed, with a presumably comely maiden to either side, and a princely frown on his not-so-noble brow. He looked like a weaker, dissipated version of Lif, especially when dressed in lavender jammies.
    "Who are you? And how dare you break into my quarters! Guards! Guards! Kill these intruders and feed them to my mounts!"
    McCade shook his head sadly, found a cigar, and stuck it in the corner of his mouth."'Feed them to my mounts'? Is that any way to treat guests? Well, I'm sure your brother will teach you better manners. In the