Free Galactic Bounty by William C. Dietz Page B

beacon could be located by ships traveling in either normal space or hyperspace.
    So while scouts and prospectors took pride in playing cosmic roulette and rarely had the luxury of using nav beacons, ships using established lanes always did. Therefore Bridger could expect his pursuit to emerge from hyperspace soon after he did and in proximity to the nav beacon. They'd considered sending an unmanned drone through first, but naval experts had agreed the torpedoes' sensors were too sophisticated to fall for such a ploy. And when McCade had suggested a destroyer, Swanson-Pierce had laughed, saying the Empire couldn't spare warships to chase after torpedoes which might or might not be there.
    Van Doren spoke as if he'd read McCade's mind. "With all due respect, boss, you shouldn't worry so much." He patted the bulkhead next to him. "She's sound as an Imperial credit, not to mention that I've checked her personally, and when the time comes she'll show 'em a thing or two!" It was a long speech for the big marine. He leaned back, eyes bright under bushy brows, lips curved in a smile which held little humor. McCade smiled and nodded, wishing he shared the marine's confidence.
    A few hours later McCade was reclining in the pilot's seat wearing full armor. Laurie occupied the copilot's position beside him, her face hidden by her visor. He wondered what she was thinking. Did she feel she should be sitting in the pilot's position? It had been a long time since he had taken a ship into combat. But damn it, Pegasus was his ship. He wouldn't always have Laurie to lean on. At least that's what he was telling himself.
    Behind and slightly above them, Van Doren sat enclosed in a gun blister. Without sufficient crew to fully man the ship's secondary armament, most of it had been slaved to his position. Of course if there was an ambush, most of the battle would be fought by the ship's computer using the main armament. No human eye and brain could track tiny targets traveling at thousands of miles an hour. Not unless they got very close. Then the secondary armament would be their last chance.
    "Do you think it'll work?" Laurie asked, her voice unnaturally casual.
    "Sure I do," McCade lied.
    After all, it could work, he thought. They had programmed the ship's computer to overshoot the nav beacon slightly. If there were torpedoes waiting, hopefully they'd be aimed at the next exit area immediately around the beacon. It would take the torpedoes a moment to detect Pegasus outside that area, recompute attack trajectories, and launch. That moment would be their edge.
    McCade's eyes were locked on the main control monitor as the final seconds ticked away. At its center the nav beacon was represented by a white light. It appeared and disappeared as it jumped in and out of hyperspace. Then there was the second of disorientation and nausea he always felt during a hyperspace shift, followed by subtle changes in the viewscreens as the computer switched from simulated to actual images.
    Now they were in normal space . . . and for a moment . . . so was the nav beacon. Close by, a yellow light blinked, probably Leviathan's power-control module. Around it appeared a globe of red dots. Each represented a torpedo. Just inside the perimeter of the globe, almost touching a red dot, was a green light symbolizing Pegasus. Their plan hadn't worked. They were practically sitting on a torpedo. The torpedo vanished in a flash of intense white light before McCade could utter a sound. Van Doren's battle cry was still ringing in his ears when it was replaced by a calm but unfamiliar female voice.
    "This ship is under attack. Please prepare for high-stress evasive action. The bar and all recreational facilities are closed."
    McCade would have laughed, but a crushing weight was suddenly added to his chest. Pegasus accelerated and began to execute a series of intricate evasive maneuvers. Through blurred vision he saw the remaining red dots reorient themselves and begin