Galactic Bounty Read Online Free Page A

possibility. But why now? And why in the middle of an Imperial Navy base? It didn't make sense . . . unless of course it was somehow connected with the Bridger thing.
    McCade put those thoughts aside as the vehicle left the confinement of the building and emerged into bright sunshine. Lush green grass, still slightly moist from the rain programmed to fall at exactly 0500 every morning, reached out to touch a bright blue sky. The air smelled fresh and clean. Pollution and crowding were things of the past. At least on Terra they were. For hundreds of years, Earth had exported her problems, including both heavy industry and excess population. As a result, much of Terra's surface was dedicated to vast forests and parks. Cities were designed for beauty as well as function. Even naval bases had been made easy on the eye, so that visitors from off-planet couldn't imagine the crowded, polluted misery of a thousand years before. In the distance, the neat symmetry of a spaceport could be seen shimmering in the early heat, surrounded by concentric rings of navy ships. Thunder rolled as the slender needle shape of a destroyer rose toward the sky.
    The ground car stopped in front of a black building which soared a thousand feet upward. The building bore no sign announcing its purpose. There was a momentary wait as Captain Rhodes issued orders to his men. McCade used it to read a small gold plaque set into the permacrete at his feet. It read:
    The first to see, The first to hear, The first to know, The first to die.
    The motto of Naval Intelligence. Those who worked within were the Emperor's eyes and ears. From here they wove an invisible web between the stars. A network of information that touched every planet held by man . . . and quite a few that weren't.
    As McCade and Rhodes approached the building its black surface grew blacker. Evidently the entire building was protected by a force field. The area directly in front of them shimmered and disappeared, leaving an opening just large enough for them to pass through.
    Inside, both men were invisibly but thoroughly scanned by hidden security sensors as they waited by a lift tube. The captain's sidearm was detected immediately, its serial number checked against the one issued to him, his entire personnel file quickly reviewed, all in a fraction of a second. McCade was identified by his retinal patterns and also checked. A moment later computer approval flashed back, allowing the lift tube doors to open. They stepped aboard the waiting platform, and it moved smoothly upward. McCade followed the marine off at level eighty-six. They went a few steps down a gleaming corridor and into a roomy reception area, where they were greeted by a very attractive lieutenant, who looked stunning in navy black and, from her slightly amused expression, knew it.
    "Citizen McCade reporting as ordered," Captain Rhodes said.
    McCade winked at the lieutenant, and to his surprise she winked back. She nodded to the marine and murmured into a wrist mic before turning away to tap something into the terminal on her desk.
    "Sam, you've been at it again. You really must stop shooting people in public places . . .. It's so messy." Swanson-Pierce had appeared in a doorway. He also wore an amused expression and another perfectly tailored uniform. "Come on in," he said, turning and disappearing back into his office.
    As McCade entered he noticed the office was quite luxurious, resembling more the working quarters of a successful businessman than the spartan day cabin of a naval officer. After dropping into a chair facing Swanson-Pierce's highly polished rosewood desk, McCade reached to pluck a cigar from an open humidor, and settled back. Puffing it alight, he watched Swanson-Pierce through the smoke. "Speaking of shooting people in public places, Walt . . . you wouldn't happen to know why I'm suddenly so unpopular, would you?" McCade allowed some white ash to drift down toward the plush carpet.
    Swanson-Pierce