Part 7 (2/2)
The stun-pistol buzzed. He leaped and howled and fled. Hoddan had aimed accurately enough, but prudence suggested that if he appeared to kill anybody, the matter might become serious. So he'd fired to sting the man with a stun-pistol bolt at about the same spot where, on Walden, he'd scorched members of a party of police in ambush. It was nice shooting.
But this happened to be a time and place where prudence did not pay.
There was a concerted gasp of outrage. Men leaped to their feet. Large knives came out of elaborate holsters. Figures in all the colors of the rainbow--all badly soiled--roared their indignation and charged at Hoddan. They waved knives as they came.
He held down the stun-pistol trigger and traversed the rus.h.i.+ng men. The whining buzz of the weapon was inaudible, at first, but before he released the trigger it was plainly to be heard. Then there was silence.
His attackers formed a very untidy heap on the floor. They breathed stertorously. Hoddan began to retrieve his possessions. He rolled a man over, for the purpose.
A pair of very blue, apprehensive eyes stared at him. Their owner had stumbled over one man and been stumbled over by others. He gazed up at Hoddan, speechless.
”Hand me that, please,” said Hoddan. He pointed.
The man in the purple cloak obeyed, shaking. Hoddan completed the recovery of all his belongings. He turned. The man in the purple cloak winced and closed his eyes.
”Hm-m-m,” said Hoddan. He needed information. He wasn't likely to get it from the men in the grid's control room. He would hardly be popular with any of these, either. He irritably suspected himself of a tendency to make enemies unnecessarily. But he did need directions. He said: ”I have a letter of introduction to one Don Loris, prince of something-or-other, lord of this, baron of that, and claimant to the dukedom of the other thing. Would you have any idea how I could reach him?”
The man in the purple cloak gaped at Hoddan.
”He is ... my chieftain,” he said, aghast. ”I ... am Thal, his most trusted retainer.” Then he practically wailed, ”You must be the man I was sent to meet! He sent me to learn if you came on the s.h.i.+p! I should have fought by your side! This is disgrace!”
”It's disgraceful,” agreed Hoddan grimly. But he, who had been born and raised in a s.p.a.ce-pirate community, should not be too critical of others. ”Let it go. How do I find him?”
”I should take you!” complained Thal bitterly. ”But you have killed all these men. Their friends and chieftains are honor bound to cut your throat! And you shot Merk, but he ran away, and he will be summoning his friends to come and kill you now! This is shame! This is--” Then he said hopefully: ”Your strange weapon! How many men can you fight? If fifty, we may live to ride away. If more, we may even reach Don Loris' castle.
How many?”
”We'll see what we see,” said Hoddan dourly. ”But I'd better charge these other pistols. You can come with me, or wait. I haven't killed these men. They're only stunned. They'll come around presently.”
He went out of the warehouse, carrying the bag which was again loaded with uncharged stun-pistols. He went back to the grid's control room. He pushed it open and entered for the second time. The red-headed man swore and rubbed at his hand. The man who'd smiled unpleasantly lay in a heap on the floor. The second unshaven man jittered visibly at sight of Hoddan.
”I'm back,” said Hoddan politely, ”for more kilowatts.”
He put his bag conveniently close to the terminals at which his pistols could be recharged. He snapped open a pistol b.u.t.t and presented it to the electric contacts.
”Quaint customs you have here,” he said conversationally. ”Robbing a newcomer. Resenting his need for a few watts of power that comes free from the sky.” The stun-pistol clicked. He snapped the b.u.t.t shut and opened another, which he placed in contact for charging. ”Making him act,” he said acidly, ”with manners as bad as the local ones. Going at him with knives so he has to be resentful in his turn.” The second stun-pistol clicked. He closed it and began to charge a third. He said severely: ”Innocent tourists--relatively innocent ones, anyhow--are not likely to be favorably impressed with Darth!” He had the charging process going swiftly now. He began to charge a fourth weapon. ”It's particularly bad manners,” he added sternly, ”to stand there grinding your teeth at me while your friend behind the desk crawls after an old-fas.h.i.+oned chemical gun to shoot me with.”
He snapped the fourth pistol shut and went after the man who'd dropped down behind a desk. He came upon that man, hopelessly panicked, just as his hands closed on a clumsy gun that was supposed to set off a chemical explosive to propel a metal bullet.
”Don't!” said Hoddan severely. ”If I have to shoot you at this range, you'll have blisters!”
He took the weapon out of the other man's hands. He went back and finished charging the rest of the pistols.
He returned most of them to his bag, though he stuck others in his belt and pockets to the point where he looked like the fiction-tape pictures of s.p.a.ce pirates. But he knew what s.p.a.ce pirates were actually like. He moved to the door. As a last thought, he picked up the bullet-firing weapon.
”There's only one s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p here a month,” he observed politely, ”so I'll be around. If you want to get in touch with me, ask Don Loris. I'm going to visit him while I look over professional opportunities on Darth.”
He went out once more. Somehow he felt more cheerful than a half-hour since, when he'd landed as the only pa.s.senger from the s.p.a.ce liner. Then he'd felt ignored and lonely and friendless on a strange and primitive world. He still had no friends, but he had already acquired some enemies and therefore material for more or less worthwhile achievement. He surveyed the sunlit scene about him from the control-room door.
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