A larger group invaded the main saloon. Most of them went through, only half a dozen or so posting themselves to guard the passengers. One of the guards, a hook-nosed individual wearing consciously an aura of authority, spoke.
“Take it easy, folks, and nobody’ll get hurt. If any of you’ve got guns, don’t go for ’em. That’s a specialty that. . . .”
One of his DeLameters flamed briefly. Cloud’s right arm, almost to the shoulder, vanished. The man behind him dropped—in two different places.
“Take it easy, I said,” the pirate chief went calmly on. “You can tie that arm up, fella, if you want to. It was in line with that guy who was trying to pull a gun. You nurse over there—take him to sick-bay and fix up his wing. If anybody stops you tell ’em Number One said to. Now, the rest of you, watch your step. I’ll cut down every damn one of you that so much as looks like he wanted to start something.”
They obeyed.
In a few minutes the looting parties returned to the saloon.
“Did you get it, Six?”
“Yeah. In the mail, like you said.”
“The safe?”
“Sure. Wasn’t much in it, but not too bad, at that.”