Ger pulled a wrench from his tool kit and took a preliminary slash at
the radio. Completely puzzled, Jak protested, "Wait! What do you mean
'pirate?' Pirate? What--"
"Silence!" Flim roared.
Only then did Jak notice the pistol. Since the successful conclusion
of the Crime War, when Organized Crime, the greatest blight that ever
sapped a planet, was eradicated, guns could be found only in museums.
Even before the War, guns had become a rarity among the law abiding
citizenry; since the slaughter of fifteen thousand people a year in
hunting and home accidents in the State of America alone had brought
about anti-firearm laws and sent the gun the way of the private
automobile.
* * * * *
Of course, the small criminal divisions of the Earth Patrol and the
Space Patrol still carried pistols, although more as ornaments than
weapons. The pistol in the clip holster on Flim's right leg seemed to
be the standard Patrol arm--not a "needle gun," or a "disintegrater,"
or a "heat ray," or any other impractical dream weapon, but a Morgia,
30-shot, 6 mm, semi-automatic pistol with adjustable optical sight. The
Morgia alarmed Jak sufficiently to prevent him from interfering as Ger
tore into the radio with wrench and pliers.
Drusilla squeaked and drifted aside. "There, there, fair lady," Flim
crooned. "No harm shall come to you."
"Watch what you call her!" Jak rasped. "I demand to know what you're
doing! There's no time for your hobby. Drusilla needs obstetric
attention, and I'm--"
"Silence!" Flim turned to Drusilla. "Ah, fair one, you shall have every
attention, obstetric and otherwise. Fear not. Such gorgeous green hair!
Those lips! Do I detect the master touch of Per BT1414?"
Drusilla managed to subdue her blushing and said, "Yes. He did my
eyelids too. Do you like them?"
"Blue as the skies of Earth!" Flim's gaze dropped. "However, in that
robe, I cannot tell--"
"What--" Jak tried to shout in mounting disgust at this performance.
"Stupid!" Drusilla spat. "Can't you see what Captain Flim is? Don't you
remember that tridie we saw on Mars about Jean Lafitte? Daun TA1924 was
Jean, and he rode his Model T-Ford into New Orleans to help Olehickory
Jackson. He was a pirate, and that's what Captain Flim is."
Flim murmured, "True, fair lady. I follow a great tradition! Jean
Lafitte, Robert Kidd, Mary Ree, Henry Morgan, and Long John Ag! The
old Brotherhood of the Coast shall become the brotherhood of the space
between worlds ripe for plunder. Among the cosmic motes--"
"You need a psycodoc," Jak said, proud to create an interruption
himself for once. "How can you be a pirate? No one is. The Space Patrol
would put you in Corrective School for twenty semesters if you were.
That's a worse negative action than falsehood in advertising!"
"I am a pirate," Flim said in defiance of Jak's logic. "The Space
Patrol! Avast! The Space Patrol is fit for nothing but rescue and
exploration. No pirates? What of the Crime War? The noble cause of
Organized Crime put planes into the void. They sent one of the first to
Luna in the old days."
Jak could see no other course but to believe the man, whose brain had
obviously deteriorated. He said, "Check. You're a pirate. Why? Why is
he wrecking my equipment, and why are you armed?"
"Because there is nothing exciting!" Flim declaimed. "The whole Solar
System is humble drum. I would have ridden the star-plane to new
adventure, but they refused me. On Earth, they made me a microcataloger
maintainer. Me! Its sole benefit was to acquaint me with the great
piratical traditions of the past by revealing records available only to
qualified scholars. No, there is nothing both legitimate and exciting
to do any more."
Jak said, "Why don't you find a quick cure for dementia praecox? That
hasn't been done."
"I dislike your tone," Flim rasped. "Looge! Silence him!"
The scarred man, who had stood without moving, blinked his visible eye
and grunted, "Yer, uh, what?"
"Silence him!"
"Oh. Er, how?"
"Knock him down!" Flim cried. "Beat him! Use your fists!"
Drusilla giggled. "Now we'll see if you're brave as you always tell me,
Jak."
* * * * *
Jak gaped at her in amazement. "Drusilla," he wheezed. "Are you turning
against me completely? After all--our child! I know you're attracted to
this man. All women are attracted by anything vulgar, but--"
Drusilla placed one hand on her hip and fluffed her hair with the
other. "All you've ever done for me is give me three boring months in
the Rings," she said.
Jak stood with open mouth, and Looge squeezed past Flim. Grasping his
right wrist with his left hand, Looge drew back his arm. "No, no," Flim
said. "Use one hand at a time!"
Looge mumbled and cocked his right arm. With no gravity, the force of
this movement yanked his magnetized boots from the deck and sent him
sprawling across the astrogator's couch.
Flim stroked the loathsome triangle of hair on his chin and sighed,
"How decadent we are these days! He does not even understand brutality."
"Bring over the rest of your crew," Jak said. "They may."
With nauseous pride, Flim bellowed, "This is my crew! We three against
the void! Ger, find a plank!"
Ger turned holding a mess of loosened wiring in his hand and asked, "A
what?"
"A plank."
Drusilla said, "I know what you mean. Jak has one in quarters. He does
woodcarving. Of all the silly hobbies--"
"Don't be so helpful," Jak told Drusilla. "Leave that plank alone. It's
the only piece of red cedar this side of Oak Ridge."
"You shall walk it," Flim predicted. "It is one of the most famous
piratical traditions. In shark infested waters, a plank was extended
over the side of the ship and all male prisoners were required to walk
out it until they fell to their--death."
Jak shuddered at the pirate's calm use of the ugly archaic word. Flim
inclined his head to Drusilla. "You, of course, fair lady, will be
spared so awful a fate. When this creature, who, I perceive, has used
you most cruelly, is no more, we shall see the stars together."
Drusilla simpered and tittered. Jak belched (the ultimate expression
of disgust) for he had never seen a woman behave in such an abnormal
manner. He resolved to discuss the matter with the Eugenics Counselor
as soon as he reached Earth, if he did. Flim's intention to devitalize
him seemed but an impossible threat since Jak had never seen anyone
go through the strange process nor reviewed any remains afterward. He
said, "I can't walk a plank in space. I would just drift back to the
plane, unless you made a sudden change in velocity. Besides, I can last
for weeks with the purifier in my suit."
"Who mentioned a spacesuit?" Flim sneered.
"Without it I couldn't walk at all."
Flim frowned ferociously. "True. Too true. Avast, how I wanted to see
you walk the plank. We could take you to Earth and land on a Pacific
island."
"That would take too long," Jak objected. "Let me speak for a minute."
Jak placed a hand over his heart. "Captain Flim, my indoctrination
makes your methods repellant, but, in my unconscious, I've a certain
admiration for you. There may be some of the old romance in me. I know
a way of--uh--of devitalization that you may not. I've always wished
that when my time came to--uh--go, this way would be used. It's even
more romantic than Walk the Plank. It's called the Firing Squad."
"The Firing Squad," Flim mused. "Never mind, Ger. Return the plank."
Ger, carrying a one meter length of red cedar, shrugged and drifted
back to the passage. Flim stroked the mess on his upper lip and said,
"Interesting. How does the Firing Squad operate? Do I soak you in
alcohol and ignite it?"
"No!" Jak gasped quickly. "The Firing Squad was men with weapons.
Rifles, I think. The person to be treated stood before a wall and
performed a rite called Smoking the Cigarette, whatever that was. Then
an officer gave commands, and the person was perforated by the riffles
or rifles."
"What a manner to death!" exclaimed Flim.
Exhibiting great self-control, Jak did not wince at the word, although
Drusilla giggled. Flim inexpertly dragged the 6 mm Morgia from the clip
holster and smirked at it. He said, "We have but the single weapon,
although I will have Ger and Looge stand by to simulate a complete
group. I have wanted to test this pistol ever since Ger pockpicked a
Patrolman in Mars Base. It is but an advanced model of the flintlock
used by noble pirates of old."
"Let me show you," Jak said. His fingers barely touched the knob of the
optical sight before Flim slapped them away.
"I am expert in these matters," the pirate affirmed. His gauntleted
hands fumbled until he succeeded in pulling back the slide and letting
it snap forward. "A wonderful modern improvement!" he exclaimed. "Henry
Morgan loaded his from the other end of the barrel."
Drusilla made an unseemly noise with her mouth. "I never thought you
were brave, Jak," she jeered. "Why didn't the big hero take that away
from the Captain?"
"How did I know he didn't have a shell in the chamber? I didn't want
you to be hurt--"
"Silence!" commanded the pirate. "Male prisoner, prepare to be
perforated. Which wall shall we use?"
"Outside. I wouldn't want Drusilla to see--"
"Yes, outside. We shall spare the fair lady any unpleasantness. Don
your armor, male prisoner."
"What?"
Flim said, "Your spacesuit." He bowed to Drusilla. "Soon, I shall
return to claim you, fair lady. Together, we shall approach the speed
of light."
Drusilla began to pant. Jak pulled his spacesuit from the rack and
squirmed into it. "Aren't you going to tell me seelata?" he asked.
"Seelata, Jak," Drusilla said absently, her eyes on Flim.
Several words, the meaning of which Jak did not know, seeped from his
unconscious mind. As they became vocal, Flim glanced at him with an
expression--indicative of faint admiration. The pirate said, "Avast, it
is the custom. All male prisoners must be deathed unless they join the
jolly crew. You wish to join?"
Clutching his helmet to his aluminum breast, Jak thrust out his wedge
of chin and cried, "Never! I regret having one vitality to give for my
planet!"
"I salute you," said Flim, and clamped on his helmet. Ger and Looge did
likewise; and Jak, with a despairing glance at the entranced Drusilla,
sealed his own. Flim adjusted Jak's tuning dial and said, "Hear me?"
"Yes."
"Men! Follow the prisoner. Forward!"
They stepped out on the dark side of the Box, a right quadrangular
prism of dull metal. A tube ran through the long axis of the craft with
a swivel-mounted Carver Atomicket located at the center of gravity and
steering jets slightly forward. By turning the Atomicket, acceleration
or deceleration could result without the necessity for rotating the
entire plane.
Their suits glowing with luminous paint, the four men stood for a
moment beneath the starry spectacle. Jupiter, the largest celestial
object in sight, appeared as a small belted moon to left. Flim placed
the muzzle of the Morgia against the face of Jak's helmet.
"That's not correct!" Jak protested.
Flim lowered the pistol slightly. He said, "Are you certain all this is
not a trick? I suspected something below."
Jak's heart shuddered. He wondered what would happen to Drusilla. This
mental case would never take her to Earth, the only place she would
have a chance. She should have realized her own peril instead of ogling
the pirate. He pleaded, "No. No trick."
Flim stated, "I am prepared to death you at any instant. Be careful.
How do you wish it arranged?"
"Stand at the tail, side by side, and I'll stand at the nose. That's
forty meters apart. A good distance for the Firing Squad."
Jak took two jerky steps which brought him into position over the
control cabin.
Jak said, "One last request. Shoot me through the faceplate. I'll
devitalize instantly whether you hit the brain or not."
Flim's voice crackled through the radio. "Out of respect for the fair
lady below, I shall avoid brutality and accommodate you. However, I am
placing Ger and Looge behind me. I still feel this may be a trick."
"That's not right. All three--"
"Behind me," Flim insisted. "What were the commands?"