"No!" Jak gasped quickly. "The Firing Squad was men with weapons. Rifles, I think. The person to be treated stood before a wall and performed a rite called Smoking the Cigarette, whatever that was. Then an officer gave commands, and the person was perforated by the riffles or rifles."
"What a manner to death!" exclaimed Flim.
Exhibiting great self-control, Jak did not wince at the word, although Drusilla giggled. Flim inexpertly dragged the 6 mm Morgia from the clip holster and smirked at it. He said, "We have but the single weapon, although I will have Ger and Looge stand by to simulate a complete group. I have wanted to test this pistol ever since Ger pockpicked a Patrolman in Mars Base. It is but an advanced model of the flintlock used by noble pirates of old."
"Let me show you," Jak said. His fingers barely touched the knob of the optical sight before Flim slapped them away.
"I am expert in these matters," the pirate affirmed. His gauntleted hands fumbled until he succeeded in pulling back the slide and letting it snap forward. "A wonderful modern improvement!" he exclaimed. "Henry Morgan loaded his from the other end of the barrel."
Drusilla made an unseemly noise with her mouth. "I never thought you were brave, Jak," she jeered. "Why didn't the big hero take that away from the Captain?"
"How did I know he didn't have a shell in the chamber? I didn't want you to be hurt—"
"Silence!" commanded the pirate. "Male prisoner, prepare to be perforated. Which wall shall we use?"
"Outside. I wouldn't want Drusilla to see—"
"Yes, outside. We shall spare the fair lady any unpleasantness. Don your armor, male prisoner."