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good medical facility and now they'd have it.
    He lit a cigar and activated a viewscreen. What he saw was a computer simulation of what the stars would look like if he and Pegasus were travelling in normal space. Real or not they were pretty, glittering like diamonds thrown on black velvet, each one an unfathomable mystery.

Four
    Hundreds of red, yellow, and green eyes stared out at McCade from their electronic lairs. He blew smoke at them and waited for something to happen. Pegasus was about to make a hyperspace jump, and as usual, there was little for him to do but wait. Pegasus would leave hyperspace in a few moments at the precise point specified by the Il Ronnians.
    While routine in toward the center of the human empire, hyperspace jumps were a little more exciting when you were deep inside Il Ronnian space and dependent on their coordinates. What if they'd given him the coordinates for a sun? Or a planet? He'd be dead, that's what.
    But why bother? There're lots of easier ways to kill a single human.
    Nonetheless there was a rock in his gut as the ship's computer made the shift to normal space. The viewscreens shimmered as they switched from simulated to actual input. He felt slightly nauseated but the sensation quickly passed.
    Suddenly a host of proximity alarms went off. Someone was waiting for him. A lot of someones. It looked like half the Il Ronnian fleet had turned out to greet him. Battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and hundreds of interceptors all swarmed around his tiny ship.
    The Il Ronn had been afraid that the treacherous humans might send an entire fleet instead of a single ship. And McCade couldn't blame them. After all, why trust the same folks who ripped you off in the first place?
    The dulcet tones of the ship's computer suddenly flooded the control room. It had analyzed the situation and given itself permission to speak. "Due to this ship's current tactical situation, the chances of a successful engagement are zero. Under these conditions any decision to engage will nullify the hull warranty and the manufacturer's responsibility to honor it. If you prefer suicide to surrender, I will dump the ship's atmosphere."
    "Gee thanks," McCade replied dryly. "But in this case I think I'll surrender. Now shut up."
    Clearly disappointed, the computer snapped, "Have it your way," and returned to its regular duties.
    The com set chimed and McCade flicked it on. "Sam McCade."
    As the com set came to life McCade found himself face to face with an Il Ronnian naval officer. Although he'd dealt with Il Ronnians before, including a rather unpleasant naval commander named Reez, it was still a shock.
    Like all Il Ronnians this one looked like the traditional human image of the "Devil." The alien's eyes were almost invisible under a craggy brow, long pointy ears lay flat against his head, and his leathery skin had a slightly reddish hue. He even had a long tail with a triangular appendage on the end. And McCade knew that down below the range of the vid pickup, there would be two cloven hooves. Everything in fact except horns.
    The similarity between Il Ronnian physiology and the traditional Judeo-Christian image of evil had long been a matter for academic debate. Some scholars thought the Il Ronnians' devillike appearance could account for the instant enmity that had sprung up between the two races at first contact. They suggested that after a thousand years of negative conditioning humans weren't capable of liking a race that resembled the devil.
    This argument was very popular with those who opposed war with the Il Ronn.
    Meanwhile, other scholars disagreed. They maintained that ancient depictions of the devil were based on early visits to Earth by Il Ronnian explorers. Explorers so brutal that their very appearance had come to symbolize evil.
    They pointed out that the Il Ronnians had a stardrive long before man, were known to use brutal tactics on less advanced races, and were evil.
    As a result this second group of