"All right," he agreed surlily, "but if I go to the Converter, I want to take this one with me for company."
"Stow it," said Jim. "You'll have me for company."
"Why do you believe him?"
"He has nothing to gain by lying. Ask Alan."
Alan Mahoney, Hugh's friend and boyhood chum, had listened to the argument round-eyed, without joining it. He, too, had suffered the nerve-shaking experience of viewing the outer stars, but his ignorant peasant mind had not the sharply formulated opinions of Ertz, the Chief Engineer. Ertz had been able to see almost at once that the very existence of a world outside the Ship changed all his plans and everything he had believed in; Alan was capable only of wonder.
"What about this plan to fight the muties, Alan?"
"Huh? Why, I don't know anything about it. Shucks, I'm not a scientist. Say, wait a minute; there was a junior officer sent in to help our village scientist, Lieutenant Nelson." He stopped and looked puzzled.
"What about it? Go ahead."
"Well, he has been organizing the cadets in our village, and the married men, too, but not so much. Making 'em practice with their blades and slings. Never told us what for, though."
Ertz spread his hands. "You see?"
Joe nodded. "I see," he admitted grimly.
Hugh Hoyland looked at him eagerly. "Then you're with me?"
"I suppose so," Joe admitted. "Right!" added Jim.
Hoyland looked back to Ertz. "How about you, Bill Ertz?"
"What choice have I got?"
"Plenty. I want you with me wholeheartedly. Here's the layout: The Crew doesn't count; it's the officers we have to convince. Any that aren't too addlepated and stiff-necked to understand after they've seen the stars and the Control Room, we keep. The others--" he drew a thumb across his throat while making a harsh sibilance in his cheek, "the Converter."
Bobo grinned happily and imitated the gesture and the sound.
Ertz nodded. "Then what?"
"Muties and Crew together, under a new Captain, we move the Ship to Far Centaurus! Jordan's Will be done!"
Ertz stood up and faced Hoyland. It was a heady notion, too big to be grasped at once, but, by Jordan! he liked it. He spread his hands on the table and leaned across it. "I'm with you, Hugh Hoyland!"
A knife clattered on the table before him, one from the brace at Joe-Jim's belt. Joe looked startled, seemed about to speak to his brother, then appeared to think better of it. Ertz looked his thanks and stuck the knife in his belt.
The twins whispered to each other for a moment, then Joe spoke up. "Might as well make it stick," he said. He drew his remaining knife and, grasping the blade between thumb and forefinger so that only the point was exposed, he jabbed himself in the fleshly upper part of his left arm. "Blade for blade!"
Ertz's eyebrows shot up. He whipped out his newly acquired blade and cut himself in the same location. The blood spurted and ran down to the crook of his arm. "Back to back!" He shoved the table aside and pressed his gory shoulder against the wound on Joe-Jim.
Alan Mahoney, Hugh Hoyland, Bobo: all had their blades out, all nicked their arms till the skin ran red and wet. They crowded in, bleeding shoulders pushed together so that the blood dripped united to the death.
"Blade for blade!"
"Back to back!"
"Blood to blood!"
"Blood brothers, to the end of the Trip!"
An apostate scientist, a kidnaped scientist, a dull peasant, a two-headed monster, a apple-brained moron; five knives, counting Joe-Jim as one; five brains, counting Joe-Jim as two and Bobo as none; five brains and five knives to overthrow an entire culture.
"But I don't want to go back, Hugh." Alan shuffled his feet and looked dogged. "Why can't I stay here with you? I'm a good blade."
"Sure you are, old fellow. But right now you'll be more useful as a spy."
"But you've got Bill Ertz for that."
"So we have, but we need you too. Bill is a public figure; he can't duck out and climb to the upper levels without it being noticed and causing talk. That's where you come in; you're his go-between."
"I'll have a Huff of a time explaining where I've been."
"Don't explain any more than you have to. But stay away from the Witness." Hugh had a sudden picture of Alan trying to deceive the old village historian, with his searching tongue and lust for details. "Keep clear of the Witness. The old boy would trip you up."
"Him? You mean the old one; he's dead. Made the Trip long since. The new one don't amount to nothing."
"Good. If you're careful, you'll be safe." Hugh raised his voice. "Bill! Are you ready to go down?"
"I suppose so." Ertz picked himself up and reluctantly put aside the book he had been reading _The Three Musketeers_, illustrated, one of Joe-Jim's carefully stolen library. "Say, that's a wonderful book. Hugh, is Earth really like that?"
"Of course. Doesn't it say so in the book?"
Ertz chewed his lip and thought about it. "What is a house?"
"A house? A house is a sort of a... a sort of a compartment."
"That's what I thought at first, but how can you ride on a compartment?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Why, all through the book they keep climbing on their houses and riding away."
"Let me see that book," Joe ordered. Ertz handed it to him. Joe-Jim thumbed through it rapidly. "I see what you mean. Idiot! They ride horses, not houses."
"Well, what's a horse?"
"A horse is an animal, like a big hog, or maybe like a cow. You squat up on top of it and let it carry you along."
Ertz considered this. "It doesn't seem practical. Look, when you ride in a litter, you tell the chief porter where you want to go. How can you tell a cow where you want to go?"
"That's easy. You have a porter lead it."
Ertz conceded the point. "Anyhow, you might fall off. It isn't practical. I'd rather walk."
"It's quite a trick," Joe explained. "Takes practice."
"Can you do it?"
Jim sniggered. Joe looked annoyed. "There are no horses in the Ship."
"OK, O.K. But look. These guys Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, they had something--"
"We can discuss that later," Hugh interrupted. "Bobo is back. Are you ready to go, Bill?"
"Don't get in a hurry, Hugh. This is important. These chaps had knives."
"Sure. Why not?"
"But they were better than our knives. They had knives as long as your arm, maybe longer. If we are going to fight the whole Crew, think what an advantage that would be."
"Hm-m-m." Hugh drew his knife and looked at it, cradling it in his palm. "Maybe. You couldn't throw it as well."
"We could have throwing knives, too."
"Yes, I suppose we could."
The twins had listened Without comment. "He's right," put in Joe. "Hugh, you take care of placing the knives. Jim and I have some reading to do." Both of Joe-Jim's heads were busy thinking of other books they owned, books. that discussed in saguinary detail the infinitely varied methods used by mankind to shorten the lives of enemies. He was about to institute a War College Department of Historical Research, although he called his project by no such fancy term.
"O.K.," Hugh agreed, "but you will have to say the word to them."
"Right away." Joe-Jim stepped out of his apartment into the passageway where Bobo had assembled a couple of dozen of Joe-Jim's henchmen among the muties. Save for Long Arm, Pig, and Squatty, who had taken part in the rescue of Hugh, they were all strangers to Hugh, Alan, and Bill, and they were all sudden death to strangers.
Joe-Jim motioned for the three from the lower decks to join him. He pointed them out to the muties, and ordered them to look closely and not to forget: these three were to have safe passage and protection wherever they went. Furthermore, in Joe-Jim's absence his men were to take orders from any of them.