Consternation reigned, for organized piracy had disappeared with the fall of the Council of Boskone. Furthermore, this was not in any sense a treasure ship; she was an ordinary passenger liner.
She had had little enough warning—her communications officer had sent out only a part of his first distress call when the blanketing interference jammed his channels. The pirate—a first-class superdreadnought—flashed up and a visual beam drove in.
“Go inert,” came the terse command. “We’re coming aboard.”
“Are you completely crazy?” The liner’s captain was surprised and disgusted, rather than alarmed. “If not, you’ve got the wrong ship. Everything aboard—including any ransom you could get for our passenger list—wouldn’t pay your expenses.”
“You wouldn’t know, of course, that you’re carrying a package of Lonabarian jewelry, or would you?” The question was elaborately skeptical.
“I know damned well I’m not.”
“We’ll take the package you haven’t got, then!” the pirate snapped. “Go inert and open up, or I’ll do it for you—like this.” A needle-beam lashed out and expired. “That was through one of your holds. The next one will be through your control room.”
Resistance being out of the question, the liner went inert. While the intrinsic velocities of the two vessels were being matched, the pirate issued further instructions.
“All officers now in the control room, stay there. All other officers, round up all passengers and herd them into the main saloon. Anybody that acts up or doesn’t do exactly what he’s told will be blasted.”
The pirates boarded. One squad went to the control room. Its leader, seeing that the communications officer was still trying to drive a call through the blanket of interference, beamed him down without a word. At this murder the captain and four or five other officers went for their guns and there was a brief but bloody battle. There were too many pirates.