Part 29 (2/2)

There was a roaring outside. The s.p.a.ceboat stirred. The roaring rose to thunder. The boat lurched. It flung the spearmen 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!”

XI

There was a disturbing air which was shared by 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. So far as past enterprises were concerned, Hoddan as a leader was the answer to a Darthian gentleman's prayer. The partial looting of Ghek's castle, alone, would have made him a desirable leader. But a crew of seven, returned from s.p.a.ce, had displayed currency which amounted to the wealth of fabled Ind. n.o.body knew what Ind was, any longer, but it was a synonym for fabulous and uncountable riches.

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 triggerable 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 mustaches--ideal characters for the roles of pirates--tended to squeeze tears out of 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, but 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 kidnaped 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.”

”Hm-m-m,” 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?”

Thal said miserably:

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

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

Thal bewilderedly made the gesture. Hoddan leveled a stun-pistol and said:

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