"All right," he said to John, and obediently picked up a handgun. Something low caliber, that he knew how to use and wouldn't wreck something doing so. Besides, he could always kick it up a notch if he had to.

"You're telling me," Stephen said to John's mother. He'd actually entertained the idea of looking for cigarettes or something like them on the vacation world, and then decided that the enforced cold turkey was probably good for him. Probably.

He picked up his bag, made sure the handgun's safety was on, and boarded the shuttle, finding himself a seat.