Galactic Bounty by William C. Dietz Page B

manuals, on the backs of napkins, disposable plates—literally anything. For the most part the writing was incoherent, and as far as McCade could tell, meaningless. The more passages he found the more they seemed to him to be the ravings of a lunatic. McCade was familiar with Bridger's handwriting, having seen it on his own commission as a lieutenant and his final court martial, as well as several more recent documents. It was Bridger's handwriting all right. But the mind controlling it was far from normal. Bridger was either physically ill or in the process of losing his mind.
    McCade paused to read the scribbling in the margin of a sheet bearing the title, "CARGO MODULE SURVIVAL KIT INVENTORY N4689." Carefully written into the margin on the left-hand side was "Inventory. Inventory. Inventory. I'll show them inventory! Marvelous inventory! Glorious inventory! Inventory sufficient to wipe out once and for all the devil's servants. Inventory too long on the shelf. Inventory I shall use to cleanse the heavens!"
    It didn't make any sense, and yet it did. McCade was reminded of the metal plate. Once again he felt sure Bridger had cracked the secret hidden there. And in doing so he'd obtained weapons of some kind. "Inventory sufficient to wipe out once and for all the devil's servants," he'd said. That sounded pretty lethal. Of course if the man was operating on about half power, then he could be hallucinating too. He searched for another fifteen minutes. He found lots of additional scribbles, but nothing that made sense. Finally he gave up.
    When he called Pegasus on his suit radio Laurie's anxious voice made him feel guilty for not calling earlier. He explained the situation, sealed his suit and started for the lock. Then something caught his eye. Bending over he picked up a handful of photographs from the litter on the deck. They'd been partially obscured by an outflung arm. Holding the pictures under an overhead light, he quickly scanned them. All were human. Outside of that he couldn't find any special commonality. Men, women, young, old, civilian, military . . . there were all kinds of people. Why would Bridger and Votava have what seemed like a random assortment of photos aboard?
    Getting down on his hands and knees he searched the deck for any he might have missed. Then he noticed a corner of something sticking out of a clenched fist. Gritting his teeth he pried open the cold, stiff fingers. He removed a crumpled photograph and smoothed it out. To his surprise Laurie's familiar brown eyes stared back at him. A chill ran down his spine. What in space was her photo doing here clutched in a dead man's hand? Was he trying to communicate something? If so, what? Laurie certainly hadn't been present when he died. It didn't make sense. But then these days, what did?
    He stared at the picture for a long time. Finally he stood and tucked it away. He'd decided not to show it to her right away. For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, he felt guilty about that decision. He sealed his suit and entered the lock. Moments later he stepped out into the starry void.

Five
    Even though it was more than a klick away, he could make out every detail of the sprawling complex through the powerful lens. The scope was a military model mounted on a tripod. Just one of the "extras" he'd conned Laurie out of back on Earth. Not that it'd done them much good so far. McCade leaned back for a moment to rest his eyes.
    They'd been watching the Il Ronn legation for two days now. So far there'd been no sign of Bridger or Votava. In fact there'd been no signs of life at all. If it hadn't been for the comings and goings of the occasional hover limo, he would have concluded that the place was deserted. Considering the on-again, off-again state of hostilities between the human and Il Ronn empires, he was surprised the aliens were even allowed to have legations on human worlds. But it seemed both sides allowed the other a limited diplomatic