Boy, was that a break for our side!
* * * * *
So, like I said, Biggs donged out the dinner call, and we all went
into the mess hall. Talk about irony! Here we were, a score of honest,
hard-working spacemen and an equal number of pirates, sitting down to
the same table, eating the same meal.
Screwy? Sure--but that was Hake for you. As Mr. Biggs had said, he
was a show-off. But don't think he took any chances. We were unarmed,
his men were walking hardware stores. As for the conviviality of that
banquet, that was strictly on the stinko! To outward appearances, we
were all palsy-walsy at the banquet table; actually we of the _Saturn_
were being fattened for the slaughter to follow.
Still--well, you know the old gag. "The condemned man ate a hearty
meal." That's what I did, and that's what most of the other fellows
did, too. Because Mr. Lancelot Slops had come up with another Q.E.D.
that cooking is, after all, nothing but applied chemistry.
We had, just to make you drool a little, chilled consommé with a light
sherry. Then a tempting wisp of baked whiting, served with Moselle
Erdener Treppchen, and was the Old Man fuming! (He'd been saving that
for his golden anniversary). Then a chicken sauté Florentine....
They were the preludes. The main drag-'em-out was a saddle of lamb
accompanied by peas in mint, potatoes Parisienne, and served along
with Pommard, 1974. The salad was a Salad Alma; the dessert was
something which Biggs told me later was Plombière a l'Havane Friandises
(pineapples, bananas, frozen custard, and not a damn bit of tapioca in
it!)
This came along with the Piper Heidsieck, '65. A demi-tasse was next,
then liqueurs--
It was here that Runt Hake called a halt. "We'll transfer the
beverages," he said, "to our own ship. We want no drunkenness aboard
while we--ah--do that which is now necessary. Captain Hanson?"
He nodded significantly toward the turret room. I rose, so did Todd.
Surprisingly, Biggs joined our group as we moved up deck. Hake said,
with a malevolent regretfulness I shall never forget, "We have enjoyed
our banquet exceedingly, Captain. But you understand I can allow
nothing to stand in the way of my next--ah--duty. So--"
Hanson said stonily, "You will give us a lifeskiff before scuttling the
_Saturn_, Hake?"
Hake lied, "Captain, I had planned to do that very thing. But a most
unfortunate accident ... it seems that some of my men were so careless
as to blast holes in each of the skiffs. Of course if you'd still like
to take your chances in the damaged craft--?"
Oh, he was a whipper, that Hake! I looked at Todd and saw the same
thought mirrored in his eyes that I was thinking. This was our last
chance. If we didn't get Hake now, it would be too late. I tensed
myself. If we could grab the pirate chieftain, maybe his men would not
dare do anything for fear of hurting him. And Hake, quick as he was on
the trigger, might not get us both before--
Then once again Lancelot Biggs intervened. To me he barked, "No! No,
Sparks!" And to Hake, quietly, almost tenderly, "Why, Mr. Hake--it's
all a big mistake, isn't it? These rough, nasty old men think you want
to hurt them! And you don't at all. Aren't they the old meanies?"
* * * * *
And then--hold your hats, folks!--and then Runt Hake's soft mouth began
to twitch! Yes, twitch! It pursed up like the mouth of a kid, his eyes
wrinkled, and he began to blubber!
"Hurt them?" he complained. "Me hurt them? Why, I wouldn't do a thing
like that! I love them! They're my pals." And he tossed his pierce gun
away, reached out and patted Biggs' cheek!
Beside me I heard Lt. Todd whisper hoarsely, "Good gods of Greece,
what is this!" I myself was stunned for a moment. But I had sense
enough to stoop down and get Runt Hake's gun before this crazy
interlude had passed. "He's blown his fuses!" I squalled. "Grab him,
Todd! Mr. Biggs, come with me! You and I will round up his crew--"