Sais cried: "No, Jarl—!" Before they could stop her, she was running to him. She threw her arms around him. "Jarl, they're mad with fear of my father's weapon! If you give rey Gundre's daughter to them, they will gamble the fate of the outlaw worlds on their bargain with him—!"
For a moment Jarl held her to him. Her warmth, the softness of her body, brought new strain, new tension. The fragrance of her dark hair stabbed like a knife-blade.
Slouched on the chart table, Bor Legat smiled and swung the proton grenade. "Well, Corvett?"
Again Jarl looked from one raider to another. But their hard faces showed no trace of mercy, no hint of indecision.
Bleakly, he turned back to Bor Legat.
The Mercurian set the proton bomb down on the table with a thud. A grim finality was in the gesture.
"We've got three Earth days, Corvett," he said in a flat, hard voice. "Three days to turn you over to rey Gundre." And then: "It could seem three thousand years to your lovely Sais, if you stay stubborn."
Once more, the seconds dragged like eons. Again Jarl looked to the raider chiefs, the burly crewmen.
A thought moiled in the far reaches of his brain: If I could only snatch a weapon....