Bran looked apprehensive. "You're talking about treason and sedition, here. I don't know if the crew is ready to handle something like that. Hell, I don't know if I'm ready to handle something like that!" He turned to Jirik. "I dunno, Captain, We could be getting in 'way over our heads, here. As you said, we're not mercenaries."
"Yeah," Jirik replied. He turned to Cony. "I don't think that we'd be interested; but maybe we could check around for you once we get back to the inner worlds. What were you going to offer?"
Cony smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps you should have asked that before you refused so precipitously, Captain." He shrugged. "How much we'd offer would depend upon the deal. But, Captains with large-ship experience are rare on the rim, and captains with both large-ship and combat experience are practically nonexistent. Frankly, I would prefer to hire both ship and crew. Alternatively, I'll offer you more than the fair market value of the Lass, and offer you and your crew a premium salary to man her. Failing that, I'll still offer to purchase the ship, and take my chances on finding a crew." He named amounts for each alternative. The sums were impressive
Jirik and Bran exchanged glances. "Perhaps I was a bit hasty in dismissing your offer, Mr. Cony," Jirik replied, "I suppose that I could be persuaded to consider your offer. But, what's the hurry? I mean, why hire us now? A moment ago, you mentioned that you won't control the rim worlds for almost five years. Why hire us now, for a rebellion that won't take place for five years?"
Cony smiled with the air of a man with a secret. "Don't worry, Captain, you won't have to wait for five years to see action. In fact, we're going to use you to help accelerate our ascent to power on the rim. We'll be staging raids designed to embarrass the Longtermer governments of the holdout rim worlds, as well as to gather notoriety for our cause. You won't be bored, I promise you!"
Jirik shifted uneasily in his chair. "Well, you must understand that I own only a forty per cent share of the Lass. Each of the other crewmen owns twenty per cent. It would take a unanimous vote of all of us to sell the old bitch. I'm not saying that it's impossible; your offer is quite good. What I'm saying is that I can't speak for the others. I'd have to consult them." He shrugged. "As for me, it would take more credits than that to get me to commit treason; or to go back into combat, for that matter!"
Cony smiled knowingly. He recognized haggling when he heard it. They dickered for over an hour before Jirik tentatively accepted Cony's offer for an astronomical number of credits
"Of course," Jirik added at the close of the session, "I will have to consult the crew. But, with what you're offering, we can buy out the shares of anyone who wants out. I'll let you know how it goes."
Cony's grim expression was back. "There's a problem, Captain. We're talking about serious matters, here. Security is a primary consideration. I cannot permit you to return to your ship unescorted. In fact, I'm afraid that your entire crew's movements and communication will have to be restricted. Also, depending upon how much you must tell them, any crewman that opts out may have to be dealt with as a security risk."
Jirik's face clouded. "Are you talking about murder? If you are, and any of my crewmen is hurt or killed because he wanted out, I warn you that I won't be understanding!"
"No, no, Captain!" Cony protested hastily, if insincerely, "We're not murderers. However, any crewman who opts out will have to be held incommunicado until his knowledge is no longer a threat!"
Jirik appeared slightly mollified, but protested, "That could be years!"
Cony shrugged. "It's necessary, Captain. I suggest that you be very persuasive when you talk to your crew!"
Two of the Boondocker thugs escorted them back to the Guild office, where Jirik withdrew the considerable number of credits. It took a large suitcase to hold it all, even in large-denomination bills. Jirik commented ironically about how fortunate they were to have bodyguards to safeguard the huge amount of cash. Neither of the guards replied, though one of them smiled cheerfully. The only words that either of them spoke as the four travelled to the shuttle port was a warning not to attempt to contact anyone without permission. Departing the space station in the Lass' boat, Jirik told the men that he would have to call the ship to prevent an alarm being raised. As they approached the limit of the Lass' detector range, Jirik hailed the ship. Tor appeared in the comm screen, though Valt was visible in the background. Neither man was obviously armed, to Jirik's relief.
Tor's expression was excited-and relieved. "Captain! Are you all right? How about Mr. Fergson . . . er . . . Bran?"
Jirik grinned. "We're fine, kid. We're coming back in the 'Slingshot'. Be ready to receive us, will you? Oh, yes. We'll be bringing some visitors aboard."
Tor frowned. "Visitors? Are you sure? I mean . . . uh . . . who are they?"
Jirik shrugged. "Just some Boondockers that we met on the surface. Don't worry, son. Everything's all right. I'll tell you about it when we get aboard. Open the boat lock for the 'Slingshot'." Tor nodded, and Jirik signed off.
One of the thugs was frowning. "Your lifeboat has a name? Isn't that kind of unusual, Captain?"
Jirik shrugged. "A bit, I guess. My astrogator's from Ander's World. Hell, they name everything there. He started calling the boat by name, and I guess we just sort of picked it up. Why, is anything wrong?" The thug shook his head doubtfully. Jirik made a mental note to mention his lie to Valt at the first opportunity, and another to remind himself that there might be more to these thugs than slabs of muscle.
To Jirik's obvious relief, there were no weapons in sight when the group boarded the Lass. Tor met them at the port.
"Where's Valt?" Jirik asked. One of the thugs was hovering over him
Tor glanced at the big Boondocker before replying, "He's on the bridge, Captain. It seems that he's having trouble with the nav comp."
Jirik sighed. "You'd better check it out, Bran."
Bran's answer was lost in one of the Boondockers' bellow. "Hold it!" He stared at Tor suspiciously. "What's the problem, kid?"
Tor looked to Jirik, who nodded. "I-I don't know, sir. Valt j-just said that the comp was acting funny on the last jump. N-Now he says that it won't work right at all. He's been messing with it all afternoon."
The thug frowned. "I know a little about astrogation. I think that I'll go help him." He threw a significant glance at his companion. "Why don't you stay here with the Captain? C'mon, Fergson!" The big man stamped off toward the bridge, Bran trailing in his wake. His companion moved back a step, to where he could better cover both Jirik and Tor.
Tor looked at the Boondocker nervously. "Is something wrong, Captain?"
Jirik clapped the youngster on the back, making him stumble. "Naw, kid, nothing to worry about. I just made us a deal, and as part of it, this guy," he gestured with this thumb. "and his friend will be staying aboard for a while. We may even receive other visitors." The Boondocker responded to Jirik's inquiring look with a noncommital grunt. An intense look from Jirik contained a warning for Tor. Just because the other guy did all the talking for the pair, they couldn't assume that the silent one was stupid. They set off for the bridge.
"What is it, Bran?" Jirik asked as the entered the bridge, "Anything serious?" Bran had the nav comp's access panel removed. The other Boondocker was hanging over his shoulder, his eyes moving unceasingly between the Engineer and Valt, who was standing casually to one side.
Bran glanced up. "I don't think so. Valt said that he noticed a glitch on the last jump computations, and I'm getting some funny readings from my diagnostics. It shouldn't take more than half an hour or so."