Part 40 (1/2)

He opened the boat-port and stood in the opening. Derec had been a guest in Don Loris' castle for a good long while, now. Hoddan wondered if he considered his quarters cozy.

”Evening, Derec,” said Hoddan cordially. ”You're looking well!”

”I don't feel it,” said Derec dismally. ”I feel like a fool in the castle yonder. And the high police official I came here with has gotten grumpy and snaps when I try to speak to him.”

Hoddan said gravely: ”I'm sure the Lady Fani-”

”A tigress!” said Derec bitterly: ”We don't get along.”

Looking at Derec, Hoddan found himself able to understand why. Derec was the sort of friend one might make on Walden for lack of something better. He was well-meaning. He might even be capable of splendid things-even heroism. But he was horribly, terribly, appallingly civilized!

”Well! Well!” said Hoddan kindly. ”And what's on your mind, Derec?”

”I came,” said Derec dismally, ”to plead with you again, Bron. You must surrender! There's nothing else to do! People can't have death, rays, Bron! Above all, you mustn't tell the pirates how to make them!”

Hoddan was puzzled for a moment. Then he realized that Derec's information about the fleet came from the spearmen he'd brought back, loaded down with cash. Derec hadn't noticed the absence of the flas.h.i.+ng lights at sunset-or hadn't realized that they meant the fleet had gone away.

”Hm,” said Hoddan. ”Why don't you think I've already done it?”

”Because they'd have killed you,” said Derec. ”Don Loris pointed that out. He doesn't believe you know how to make death rays. He says it's not a secret anybody would be willing for anybody else to know.

But you know the truth, Bron! You killed that poor man back on Walden. You've got to sacrifice yourself for humanity! You'll be treated kindly!”

Hoddan shook his head. It seemed somehow very startling for Derec to be harping on that same idea, after so many things had happened to Hoddan. But he didn't think Derec would actually expect him to yield to persuasion. There must be something else. Derec might even have nerved himself up to do something quite desperate.

”What did you really come here for, Derec?”

”To beg you to-”

Then, in one instant, Derec made a hysterical gesture and Hoddan's stun-pistol hummed. A small object left Derec's hand as his muscles convulsed from the stun-pistol bolt. It did not fly quite true. It fell a foot or so to one side of the boat-port instead of inside.

It exploded luridly as Derec crumpled. There was thick, strangling smoke. Hoddan disappeared. When the thickest smoke drifted away there was nothing to be seen but Derec lying on the ground, and thinner smoke drifting out of the still-open boat-port.

Nearly half an hour later, figures came very cautiously toward the s.p.a.ceboat. Thal was their leader. His expression was mournful and depressed. Other brawny retainers came uncertainly behind him. At a nod from Thal, two of them picked up Derec and carted him off toward the castle.

”I guess he got it,” said Thal dismally. He peered in. He shook his head. ”Wounded, maybe, and crawled off to die.” He peered in again and shook his head once more. ”No sign of 'im.”

A spearman just behind Thal said: ”Dirty trick! I was with him to Walden, and he paid off good! A good man! Shoulda been a chieftain!

Good man!”

Thal gingerly entered the s.p.a.ceboat. He wrinkled his nose at the faint smell of explosive still inside.

Another man came in. Another.

”Say!” one of them said in a conspiratorial voice. ”We got our share of that loot from Walden. But he hadda share, too! What'd he do with it? He could've kept it in this boat here. We could take a quick look! What Don Loris don't know don't hurt him!”

”I'm going to find Hoddan first,” said Thal, with dignity. ”We don't have to carry him outside so's Don Loris knows we're looking for loot, but I'm going to find him first.”

There were other men in the s.p.a.ceboat now. A full dozen of them. Their spears were very much in the way.

The boat-door closed quietly. Don Loris' retainers stared at each other. The locking-dogs grumbled for half a second, sealing the door tightly. Don Loris' retainers began to babble protestingly.

There was a roaring outside. The s.p.a.ceboat stirred. The roaring rose to thunder. The boat lurched. It flung the spear-men into a sprawling, swearing, terrified heap at the rear end of the boat's interior.

The boat went on out to s.p.a.ce again. In the control-room Hoddan said dourly to himself: ”I'm in a rut. I've got to figure out some way to s.h.i.+p a pirate crew without having to kidnap them. This is getting monotonous!”

Chapter 11.

There was a disturbed air which enveloped all the members of Hoddan's crew, on the way to Walden. It was not exactly reluctance, because there was self-evident enthusiasm over the idea of making a pirate voyage under him. When men went off with Hoddan, they came back rich.

But nevertheless there was an uncomfortable sort of atmosphere in the renovated yacht. They'd transs.h.i.+pped from the s.p.a.ceboat to the yacht through lifeboat-tubes, and they were quite docile about it because none of them knew how to get back to ground. Hoddan left the s.p.a.ceboat with a timing signal set for use on his return. He'd done a similar thing off Krim. He drove the little yacht well out, until Darth was only a spotted ball with visible clouds and ice-caps. Then he lined up for Walden, direct, and went into overdrive.

Within hours he noted the disturbing feel of things. His followers were not happy. They moped. They sat in corners and submerged themselves in misery. Large, ma.s.sive men with drooping blond moustaches-ideal characters for the roles of pirates-had tears rolling down from their eyes at odd moments. When the s.h.i.+p was twelve hours on its way, the atmosphere inside it was funereal. The spearmen did not even gorge themselves on the food with which the yacht was stocked. And when a Darthian gentleman lost his appet.i.te, something had to be wrong.

He called Thal into the control-room.

”What's the matter with the gang?” he demanded vexedly. ”They look at me as if I'd broken all their hearts! Do they want to go back?”

Thal heaved a sigh, indicating depression beside which suicidal mania would be hilarity. He said pathetically: ”We cannot go back. We cannot ever return to Darth. We are lost men, doomed to wander forever among strangers, or to float as corpses between the stars.”

”What happened?” demanded Hoddan. ”I'm taking you on a pirate cruise where the loot should be a lot better than last time!”

Thal wept. Hoddan astonishedly regarded his whiskery countenance, contorted with grief and dampened with tears.

”It happened at the castle,” said Thal miserably. ”The man Derec, from Walden, had thrown a bomb at you. You seemed to be dead. But Don Loris was not sure. He fretted, as he does. He wished to send someone to make sure. The Lady Fani said: 'I will make sure!' She called me to her and said, 'Thal, will you fight for me?' And there was Don Loris suddenly nodding beside her. So I said, 'Yes, my Lady Fani.'

Then she said: 'Thank you. I am troubled by Bron Hoddan.' So what could I do? She said the same thing to each of us, and each of us had to say that he would fight for her. To each she said that she was troubled by you. Then Don Loris sent us out to look at your body. And now we are disgraced!”

Hoddan's mouth opened and closed and opened again. He remembered this item of Darthian etiquette.

If a girl asked a man if he would fight for her, and he agreed, then within a day and a night he had to fight the man she sent him to fight, or else he was disgraced. And disgrace on Darth meant that the shamed man could be plundered or killed by anybody who chose to do so-and he would be hanged by indignant authority if he resisted. It was a great deal worse than outlawry. It included scorn and contempt and opprobrium. It meant dishonor and humiliation and admitted degradation. A disgraced man was despicable in his own eyes. And Hoddan had kidnapped these men who'd been forced to engage themselves to fight him, and if they killed him they would obviously die in s.p.a.ce, and if they didn't they'd be ashamed to stay alive. The moral tone on Darth was probably not elevated, but etiquette was a force.

Hoddan thought it over. He looked up suddenly.

”Some of them,” he said wryly, ”probably figure there's nothing to do but go through with it, eh?”

”Yes,” said Thal dismally. ”Then we will all die.”

”Hmm,” said Hoddan. ”The obligation is to fight. If you fail to kill me, that's not your fault, is it? If you're conquered you're in the clear?”

”True. Too true!” Thal said miserably. ”When a man is conquered he is conquered. His conqueror may plunder him, when the matter is finished, or he can spare him, then he may never fight his conqueror again.”

”Draw your knife,” said Hoddan. ”Come at me.”

Thal made a bewildered gesture. Hoddan leveled a stun-pistol and said: ”Bzzz. You're conquered. You came at me with your knife, and I shot you with my stun-pistol. It's all over. Right?”