“Explodes on impact, I suppose.”
“No. It just drills its way in.”
“That doesn’t sound very efficient.”
“Brother, you’d be amazed. It’ll blast a hole in a man big enough to throw a dog through.”
Monroe-Alpha handed it back. “And in the meantime your opponent has ended your troubles with a beam that acts a thousand times as fast. Chemical processes are slow, Felix.”
“Not that slow. The real loss of time is in the operator. Half the gunfighters running around loose chop into their target with the beam already hot. They haven’t the skill to make a fast sight. You can stop ’em with this, if you’ve a fast wrist. I’ll show you. Got something around here we can shoot at?”
“Mmm…this is hardly the place for target practice.”
“Relax. I want something I can knock out of the way with the slug, while you try to burn it. How about this?” Hamilton picked up a large ornamental plastic paperweight from Monroe-Alpha’s desk.
“Well…I guess so.”
“Fine.” Hamilton took it, removed a vase of flowers from a stand on the far side of the room, and set the target in its place. “We’ll face it, standing about the same distance away. I’ll watch for you to start to draw, as if we really meant action. Then I’ll try to knock it off the stand before you can burn it.”
Monroe-Alpha took his place with lively interest. He fancied himself as a gunman, although he realized that his friend was faster. This might be, he thought, the split second advantage he needed. “I’m ready.”
“Okay.”
Monroe-Alpha started his draw.
There followed a single CRACK! so violent that it could be felt through the skin and in the nostrils, as well as heard. Piled on top of it came the burbling Sring-aw-ow! as the bullet ricocheted around the room, and then a ringing silence.
“Hell and breakfast, ” remarked Hamilton. “Sorry, Cliff-I never fired it indoors before.” He stepped forward to where the target had been. “Let’s see how we made out. ”
The plastic was all over the room. It was difficult to find a shard large enough to show the outer polish. “It’s going to be hard to tell whether you burned it, or not.”
“I didn’t.”
“Huh?”
“That noise-it startled me. I never fired.”
“Really? Say, that’s great. I see I hadn’t half realized the advantages of this gadget. It’s a psychological weapon, Cliff.”
“It’s noisy.”
“It’s more than that. It’s a terror weapon. You wouldn’t even have to hit with your first shot. Your man would be so startled you’d have time to get him with the second shot. And that isn’t all. Think…the braves around town are used to putting a man to sleep with a bolt that doesn’t even muss his hair. This thing’s bloody. You saw what happened to that piece of vitrolith. Think what a man’s face will look like after it stops one of those slugs. Why a necrocosmetician would have to use a stereosculp to produce a reasonable facsimile for his friends to admire. Who wants to stand up to that kind of fire?”
“Maybe you’re right. I still say it’s noisy. Let’s go to dinner.”
“Good idea. Say-you’ve got a new nail tint. I like it.”
Monroe-Alpha spread his fingers. “It is smart, isn’t it? Mauve Iridescent it’s called. Care to try some?”
“No, thank you. I’m too dark for it, I’m afraid. But it goes well with your skin.”
They ate in the pay-restaurant Hamilton had discovered. Monroe-Alpha automatically asked for a private room when they entered; Hamilton, at the same moment, demanded a table in the ring. They compromised on a balcony booth, semi-private, from which Hamilton could amuse himself by staring down at the crowd in the ring.
Hamilton had ordered the meal earlier in the day, which was the point which had caused his friend to consent to venture out. It was served promptly. “What is it?” Monroe-Alpha demanded suspiciously.
“Bouillabaisse. It’s halfway between a soup and a stew. More than a dozen kinds of fish, white wine, and the Great Egg alone knows how many sorts of herbs and spices. All natural foods.”
“It must be terribly expensive.”