Jean gasped in amazement, fought unsuccessfully to free herself from the burly arms, then subsided in a gale of infectious laughter. The Falcon grinned, tugged her free.
"You've met Schutler," he said. "This bald-headed old space-buzzard is Crandal, better known as the Encyclopedia. And this other is Jericho Jones, my number one mate."
The wizened man bobbed his head nervously. "Glad to know you, Miss," he said. "Now, Curt, about those reports."
"Howdedo, Miss," Jericho said, smiled toothily.
Schutler shoved forward. "How was the kid brother, Curt? Is he still dishing out the—" His voice trailed away, his gaze flicking about the group. "Sorry, Curt," he finished gently. "He was a good man."
The Falcon swallowed painfully, forced a smile, wincing a bit from the hands of the men where they touched his arms.
"He made his choice," he said slowly, and the words were like an eulogy.
He shrugged. "Take Jean to the women's quarters, Schutler," he finished unemotionally. "Later, she and I will dine together." He made an almost imperceptible gesture with one hand, and the giant's eyes widened in surprise.
"Sure, Curt," Schutler agreed. "We'll walk part-way with you."
"I don't think—" Jean began, then fell silent.