Tor was'sputtering. "B-B-But you just told Valt . . ."
"What I just told Valt," Jirik replied, "Was that I wouldn't permit personal weapons on board; and I won't. But, if anyone goes into town, they go armed, and to hell with local customs or laws. I'd rather bail you out of jail than identify your body at the Morgue. Can you handle any weapons?"
"Not really," Tor replied, "Oh, we hunted with slugthrowers, but those were two-hand weapons, too big to conceal. I did do some target shooting with a hand needler."
Jirik grunted. "Well, you stick with Bran or me. Or with Valt, evidently! Bran, are you as worried about Valt as I am?"
Bran nodded'soberly. "I can't decide whether he's gone kill crazy, or is just vengeful. Either way, he could be as much of a danger to us as Cony and his terrorists! We may have to consider buying him out."
Jirik nodded, but before he could reply, Valt stalked into the compartment and threw an ornate vibroblade on the table in front of Jirik. When inactivated, a vibroblade looked innocent enough, merely an ornate cylinder some four to eight inches long. When a switch on the cylinder was pressed, however, a blade nearly the length of the handle was released, much as in the case of a common knife. This blade's thickness, however, measured only three millimeters at its thickest point. It's edge was measured in molecules, and was many times sharper than the razors still used for shaving on some backward worlds. A power cell caused the ultra sharp blade to vibrate vertically rapidly enough to produce a humming sound. It was said that a vibroblade could penetrate a man's body without the user feeling any resistance at all. Even severing a man's rib resulted in nearly undetectable resistance It was a killing weapon, pure and simple.
"All right, Valt, "Jirik said in a emotionless tone. "If you insist on daily practice with this thing," he nudged the vibroblade gingerly, "You can check it out from me. Then, you can check it back in again after your practice session. You don't have a blaster or a needler with you, do you?"
Valt had been staring at the deck, avoiding his shipmates' eyes. He shook his head curtly.
"Good!" Jirik continued. "Now, we've decided that Cony will find out about Telson on Farout. I've warned the others, and now I'm warning you. Stay aboard as much as possible. If you must go into town, go armed, and don't go alone
Valt's head jerked and he stared at Jirik. "But, I thought you said . . ."
"I said," Jirik interrupted, "That I wouldn't permit weapons to be kept in your personal kit. I don't give a damn what kind of weapons you own, as long as you keep them locked in the weapons locker." He shrugged. "Hell, I like good weapons. I've got a pretty good collection in the weapons locker right now. I usually don't approve of going armed on civilized planets, either. But as long as any of us can be attacked by terrorist thugs at any time, I want every man to be able to defend himself. So, the order stands. If you go on-planet, go armed, and don't go alone."
"If we can move along, Captain," Bran said pointedly, "We know that as soon as Cony finds out that there are no reports or spy-eyes, he's going to want to question one of us. We have to decide what we're going to do about it."
Jirik sighed. "Yeah. Well, I guess Valt and me will have to go on-planet, and give them a shot at us."
"No!" Bran's shout made all heads jerk in his direction. Jirik's face clouded, and he seemed about to explode.
Bran hurriedly added, to forestall Jirik's eruption, "Sorry, Captain, but that just won't work. You've been speaking for the crew since we arrived on the rim. They know that you're an experienced negotiator, and therefore an experienced liar." His smile took the sting from his words. "If I were Cony, and I were already suspicious, the fact that I couldn't talk to any crewman but you would make me sure that we were up to something. No, if I were Cony, I'd want to talk to one of the other crewmen. That means me or Tor, since Valt was on Boondock all the time. Of the two, I'd pick Tor."
Jirik's thundered "Tor?" and Tor's squealed "Me?" were simultaneous.
Bran's nod was unperturbed by the reaction. "Think about it, Captain. You're a terrorist leader who has to find out what went wrong. There are two people that you can ask. One is an experienced, sophisticated spacer. The other is a teenager on his first voyage. Who would you prefer to ask?"
Jirik sighed and nodded. "He's right, Tor. I'm afraid that you're going to have to stay on the Lass on Farout."
But Bran was shaking his head, somberly. "Sorry, Captain, but that won't work, either. Oh, it's just possible that we might get by with it, but I doubt it. If you were Cony, wouldn't you find it suspicious if a youngster on his first voyage, visiting his third strange planet, spent the whole time aboard? I certainly would. No, I'm afraid that our best chance of convincing Cony is to let them talk to Tor."
Jirik's face was thunderous. "I don't like it. The kid's not ready to handle this kind of intrigue!"
Bran shrugged. "He'll have to be ready. I don't like it either, Captain; but all we can do is hope that he can handle it."
"I can handle it!" Tor exclaimed excitedly. "Don't worry, Captain. Unless they use those drugs you mentioned, or a brain scanner, I won't tell them anything but the story that we agreed upon."
Jirik's expression was grave. "I know that you'll try, Tor. But, what you need to understand is that, most likely, no one is going to be sitting you down and throwing questions at you. It's going to be either much more subtle, or much more brutal than that. You'll have to assume that anyone that you talk to is a terrorist. If you're lucky, it may be another teenager like yourself, or even a gorgeous girl fawning all over you. If you're unlucky, it may be a couple of husky thugs beating the stuffing out of you; and pain can be very persuasive."
"I'll be with him, Captain," Bran volunteered. "And I'll be armed. If it's thugs, they won't take Tor easily."
"I know that you're good, Bran," Jirik replied somberly. "I just hope that you're enough protection." Jirik turned to Tor, "I'm sorry, kid. Bran's right. I'm afraid that you're going to be on the firing line. I'd hoped that it wouldn't happen this soon."
Tor straightened and preened. "I can do it, Captain. Trust me. I won't let you down."
Jirik assured the young man of his confidence, but his obvious worry made his assurances seem hollow. His somber, preoccupied mood continued as they continued their discussions, though the plainly excited and confident Tor seemed not to notice.
Jirik's black humor persisted for most of the jump period. His "talk" with Valt about weapons and vengeance did not go well. Valt seemed bent on turning himself into an instant warrior.
Jirik had already begun considering ways to raise the capital to buy out Valt's share when, on the last ship's "day" before breakout, he happened across Valt practicing with his vibroblade and a needler in the partly empty hold that had been occupied by Boondock's share of the cargo.
He stood for several moments, watching Valt's ungraceful efforts with the 'blade. He suddenly realized that this was the way to convince Valt, not by trying to reason with him. He went on into the hold and challenged Valt to some two-man practice.
Valt first looked incredulous, then turned his head and noisily cleared his throat to cover what was obviously a pitying smile. "Er, Captain," he began, "I, uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I'm, uh, younger than you, and I've been practicing."
"And I'm old, fat, and out of shape, right?" Jirik replied "Well, maybe so, Valt. But, I have been in a fight or two myself. Who knows, You might learn a few points."
Valt was obviously reluctant, but at last permitted himself to be persuaded. Jirik returned to his cabin and retrieved some practice weapons that had been stored in the bottom of a trunk for years. Returning to the hold, he tossed a practice vibroblade at Valt, and then stripped off his tunic and boots. The men began circling cautiously.