"Then _get_ one," Butt's low, lazy voice floated out.
"No, thanks. You're as handy with that thing as I am with a
rocketboard." The Captain's words got a little fainter as he walked
forward. Butt growled like a gusher about to blow.
"I'm counting on your being a good guy, Brown." The Captain's
voice quavered just a bit. "I'm banking on what I heard about the
blast-happy Browns every time I lifted gravs in New Kalamazoo; they
have a code, they don't burn unarmed men."
* * * * *
Just about this time, events in the lifeboat went down to a mumble. The
top of my head got wet and I looked up. There was sweat rolling down
the Second Assistant's forehead; it converged at his nose and bounced
off the tip in a sizable stream. I twisted out of the way.
"What's happening?" Sis gritted, straining toward the lock.
"Butt's trying to decide whether he wants him fried or scrambled," the
Computer's Mate said, pulling her back. "Hey, purse, remember when the
whole family with their pop at the head went into Heatwave to argue
with Colonel Leclerc?"
"Eleven dead, sixty-four injured," the purser answered mechanically.
"And no more army stationed south of Icebox." His right ear twitched
irritably. "But what're they saying?"
Suddenly we heard. "By authority vested in me under the Pomona College
Treaty," the Captain was saying very loudly, "I arrest you for
violation of Articles Sixteen to Twenty-one inclusive of the Space
Transport Code, and order your person and belongings impounded for
the duration of this voyage as set forth in Sections Forty-one and
Forty-five--"
"Forty-three and Forty-five," Sis groaned. "Sections Forty-three and
Forty-five, I told him. I even made him repeat it after me!"
"--of the Mother Anita Law, SC 2136, Emergency Interplanetary
Directives."
* * * * *
We all waited breathlessly for Butt's reply. The seconds ambled on and
there was no clatter of electrostatic discharge, no smell of burning
flesh.
Then we heard some feet walking. A big man in a green suit swung out
into the crossway. That was Butt. Behind him came the Captain, holding
the blaster gingerly with both hands. Butt had a funny, thoughtful look
on his face.
The girls surged forward when they saw him, scattering the crew to one
side. They were like a school of sharks that had just caught sight of a
dying whale.
"M-m-m-m! Are all Venusians built like that?"
"Men like that are worth the mileage!"
"_I want him!" "I want him!" "I want him!_"
Sis had been let go. She grabbed my free hand and pulled me away. She
was trying to look only annoyed, but her eyes had bright little bubbles
of fury popping in them.
"The cheap extroverts! And they call themselves responsible women!"
I was angry, too. And I let her know, once we were in our cabin.
"What about that promise, Sis? You said you wouldn't turn him in. You
_promised_!"
She stopped walking around the room as if she had been expecting to get
to Venus on foot. "I know I did, Ferdinand, but he forced me."
"My name is Ford and I don't understand."
"Your name is Ferdinand and stop trying to act forcefully like a girl.
It doesn't become you. In just a few days, you'll forget all this and
be your simple, carefree self again. I really truly meant to keep my
word. From what you'd told me, Mr. Brown seemed to be a fundamentally
decent chap despite his barbaric notions on equality between the
sexes--or worse. I was positive I could shame him into a more rational
social behavior and make him give himself up. Then he--he--"
She pressed her fingernails into her palms and let out a long, glaring
sigh at the door. "Then he kissed me! Oh, it was a good enough
kiss--Mr. Brown has evidently had a varied and colorful background--but
the galling idiocy of the man, trying that! I was just getting over the
colossal impudence involved in _his_ proposing marriage--as if _he_ had
to bear the children!--and was considering the offer seriously, on its
merits, as one should consider _all_ suggestions, when he deliberately
dropped the pretense of reason. He appealed to me as most of the savage
ancients appealed to their women, as an emotional machine. Throw the
correct sexual switches, says this theory, and the female surrenders
herself ecstatically to the doubtful and bloody murk of masculine
plans."
* * * * *
There was a double knock on the door and the Captain walked in without
waiting for an invitation. He was still holding Butt's blaster. He
pointed it at me. "Get your hands up, Ferdinand Sparling," he said.